Check out my other Fanfics
TWD: Zombie System
Breathing techniques in Naruto
-----------------------------
When night finally fell, we brought out the jerky and the mead inside the bunker. The exhaustion of the day weighed heavily on us, and the silence was almost comforting—until Myles suddenly asked what that horn was, and why a strange fog had rolled in so quickly. His question immediately caught everyone's attention.
I paused, staring into the dim flicker of our lantern, before admitting, "I don't know. But something about it feels wrong. That horn—it almost sounds like a warning." My words seemed to settle over the group, casting a quiet unease, though they eventually nodded and tried to brush it off, slipping into casual conversations to distract themselves.
But my mind didn't let it go. This… this must be the moment. Clarke, Finn, and Wells—they should still be inside that van around this time, right? If my memory of the story is correct, then things are starting to line up.
I can't help but feel conflicted about Clarke. On one hand, I admire her—she shines in moments of leadership, carrying herself with strength most people her age wouldn't even dream of. On the other hand, she makes idiotic choices at times, and somehow the consequences always twist in her favor. Classic "protagonist aura." It's frustrating. And, if I'm being honest with myself, there are times she just comes off as… well, a bitch. I hate to admit it, but it's true. Still, maybe that contradiction is what makes her interesting.
I smirked faintly at the thought, muttering a half-hearted joke about "classic women" under my breath, but the mood quickly shifted back to the fog. It had already passed over our position, leaving an unsettling calm in its wake. Did that mean it hadn't reached Clarke's group yet? If so, then Atom's death should still be looming on the horizon—a shame, really. Another wasted potential.
Meanwhile, in the camp, I knew chaos must already be unfolding. Murphy, hot-headed and reckless, would have started his attempt on Jasper's life. Poor Jasper—barely hanging on as it is. If not for Monty and Octavia stepping in, he probably wouldn't have survived. Honestly, I can almost understand Murphy's frustration. Jasper's constant screams are enough to grate on anyone's nerves, but murder? That's rash, even for him. Still, that's just who Murphy is—driven by anger, reckless in his decisions, and doomed to make enemies.
Morning came, and the mist of the night slowly thinned, letting the pale light of dawn spill across the forest. Clarke, Finn, and Wells moved cautiously through the undergrowth, their hushed conversation weaving between tension and weariness. The forest was still damp from the storm, leaves dripping as though the trees themselves had been sweating in the fog.
Their voices carried faintly in the air until a sharp rustling drew their attention. Ahead, Bellamy and a group of delinquents emerged from the shadows. The atmosphere thickened instantly. Atom was slumped against a tree, his body broken by the acidic fog from the night before. His wheezing breaths were ragged, desperate—each one a reminder of his slow, inevitable death.
"Kill me," Atom gasped, his voice strained with unbearable pain.
Bellamy's jaw clenched. He raised his knife, stepping closer as if preparing to grant the mercy Atom begged for. But his hand trembled, hesitation weighing him down. He couldn't bring himself to do it. His eyes hardened, yet the blade remained still.
And then Clarke stepped forward. Without a word, she knelt beside Atom, her face steady but her eyes heavy with sorrow. She reached for him, cradled him softly, and whispered something only he could hear. Before anyone could protest, she made the choice Bellamy couldn't—her hands silenced Atom's suffering.
The group fell into stunned silence. No one dared to speak. For a moment, even the forest seemed to hold its breath.
Unseen by any of them, Jones crouched behind a jagged outcrop of rock not far away. His body was still, but his eyes were sharp, following every movement. A faint glint passed across his gaze, the kind that appeared when a man reached a decision deep within himself.
So this is how it plays out, he thought. Bellamy can't do it, but Clarke can. The pieces move just like before.
His attention shifted then, narrowing onto Wells, who was walking quietly, almost solemnly, toward the camp. Jones's expression darkened. His hand tightened against the stone he leaned on, and for a brief second, his eyes flickered with something unreadable—resolve, perhaps, or the weight of a choice yet to be made.
When they returned to camp, Octavia rushed straight to Clarke, panic in her voice.
"Murphy tried to kill Jasper," she blurted. "Do you have the medicine?"
Clarke, still shaken from what had just happened in the woods, gave her a firm nod. Without waiting, Octavia spun around and stormed toward her brother.
Bellamy stepped in front of her, raising a hand. "O, wait."
But Octavia shoved past him, her eyes locking on Atom's lifeless body being carried into camp. The sight made her breath hitch, and her grief came spilling out.
"You did this," she snapped at Bellamy.
Bellamy's jaw tightened. "He knew the risk."
Octavia's anger only grew. "He followed you. He did everything you asked, and now he's dead!"
The two clashed bitterly, Octavia's fury colliding with Bellamy's hard pragmatism, until Bellamy finally cut her off, voice low but commanding:
"Get him out of here."
The others hesitated, but at Bellamy's order, Atom's body was taken away, leaving the camp heavy with silence and tension.
From the shadows, Murphy sneered. "Your crazy sister stopped me from putting Jasper out of his misery."
The camp went quiet. Bellamy's eyes darkened, rage simmering. "Call her crazy again," he warned, his tone low and dangerous.
Tension hung heavy until Finn leaned close to Clarke. "Something's off."
Clarke frowned, glancing toward Wells. "What do you mean?"
"You should talk to him," Finn muttered.
Later, Clarke confronted Wells away from the others. "Tell me the truth," she demanded, her voice trembling.
Wells hesitated, then finally confessed. Tears welled in Clarke's eyes as the truth hit her. For a long moment, she stared at him, anger and grief warring inside her—then she stepped forward and embraced him. The hug was heavy, desperate, a fragile reconciliation in the chaos of camp life.
When dawn came, Wells was on watch. He stood near the edge of camp, scanning the treeline.
Footsteps approached. Jones appeared, carrying himself with false ease.
"Couldn't sleep?" Wells asked, gesturing toward the campfire.
Jones shrugged. "Figured you could use company."
"Sit," Wells said, motioning to a log.
Jones nodded, settling down. His hands twitched slightly, something glinting faintly as he kept one hand hidden. Wells didn't notice.
A bird called out in the distance, sharp and sudden. Wells turned his head toward the sound.
"I'm sorry," Jones whispered.
Confusion flickered in Wells's eyes, then dread. He moved just in time to avoid the first strike, but the blade sliced across his fingers, blood spraying as he cried out in pain.
Jones lunged again, this time burying the knife deep into Wells's neck.
Gasping, choking, Wells fell to the ground, hands clutching at the wound as blood spilled through his fingers. He tried to crawl, tried to breathe, but the strength drained from him.
Jones stumbled back, panic flashing across his face before he bolted into the trees—leaving the bloodied knife behind. The knife wasn't his. It was Murphy's.
On the ground, Wells convulsed, coughing and choking as his vision blurred. His hands fell limp, body stilling as the forest grew silent again.
Unseen by the camp, he bled out alone.
-----------------------------------
What do you think about this Chapter ??
Any Suggestions?
🌟 Want to support the story even more?
You can join my Patreon for special perks and to help keep the story alive:
👉 patreon.com/xavien1
📚 A little note: I'm still pursuing my college degree, so I may not be able to upload every single day. I'll do my best to keep the story going as consistently as possible, and I deeply appreciate your patience and understanding.