This time, I was sure I hadn't landed that blonde at the bar.
And this time, I didn't wake up to grey.
My head throbbed, my headache replaced with a pain that pulsed the side of my skull. Tentatively, my hands sought out the tender skin next to my ear, feeling the rushing gash of blood.
My chest was strapped by a dull red seatbelt, the fraying fabric digging into my armpit. Beyond my scattered vision was a row of seats filled with..kids.
My brows furrowed, where the hell was I?
A crackle and thud bursts from the side of the place. It hisses and squeals like the screws are about to burst at the seam. There's a collective murmur as a soft hiss settles into the room, an airtight shutting of some kind of hydraulic door.
I can't tell if this is some death trap incinerator or a Star Wars submarine. But by the looks of the pitch black windows and the old hunk of metal I know I'm dying either way.
My hands clutch my seat, feeling molded rubber under my hands.
Once again, there's a jolt as the place heaves up, deattatching from something else. It's like plane turbulence, except there's no pilot.
A light flickers dimly above my head and I'm looking up at a small televised screen as it murmurs with static. Slowly the image of a middle aged man pops up in the screen.
The splatter of mirth fills the room.
"Prisoners of The Ark, hear me now." The voice is loud, crackling and popping as turbulence guides the aircraft through levels of atmospheric pressure.
My heads calculating a dozen possibilities. A hundred scenarios where this is all a dream.
But the smell of rubber and salt still clings to my nose.
"-chance for all of us, indeed for mankind itself….-we're sending you because your crimes have made you expendable…." A boy beside me clenches his fist, his eyes narrowing at a kid across from us.
I can see the spit hit the ground as he smirks. "Your dad is a dick, Wells"
Thunder roars behind the metal walls.
"-military base built within a mountain….stay alive." It's an execution, like words given to a criminal in death row.
Where the fuck am I?
I'm gulping scraping oxygen as the seat beneath me rumbles and shivers.
Think. Maddox. Think.
"Hey man, os this some kind of joke? Where are we?" I'm chuckling nervously as I finally turn to my left. Meeting the eyes of a kid with the faint stench of grass still clinging to him.
Surprise marres the Asian boys features as he hesitantly looks to the boy next to him before finally turning back.
"Uh, I'm guessing one of the spare shuttles. I mean you'd think they'd tell us anything before they just plopped us on earth." The boy chuckled nervously.
There it was again. That word…earth.
"Earth?" I whisper, so faintly that I'm surprised the boy heard it over the shrieks and shouts that came from the upper floor.
The guy once again nervously looked to his friend, the pair raising curious glances at me.
"Yeah…big blue and green ball, third planet to the sun" the boy explained, like I was an idiot who had absolutely lost his mind.
This time, as the lights flickered incessantly in the dark shelter of the aircraft, the speckled sky came into view. The pitch black galaxy was baffling to the naked eye, and it was something I was sure I'd only seen on tv.
Forgotten was the perplexed looks of the boys beside me, and the incessant rock of the vents near my head.
Gone was the headache that drummed through every nerve in my body and the numbness in my left hand.
It's only now that I realize we're not going up.
Were going down.
-
Clarke sighed.
Her head banged against her seat as she tried, much to her dismay, to block the incessant whispers of her ex-best friend.
Her hands gripped the buckle strapped to her chest, her mind wandering to her mother, whose comforting face was the last thing she'd seen before blacking out.
Now, she was strapped to a falling ship that would imminently descend upon a radiation-infested Earth.
"Mount Weather, huh?" Clarke remarked, anxiously staring at the face of Chancellor Jaha. His face was a stark resemblance to the boy sitting next to her. However, the more she looked at the grainy image projected above her head, the more furious she became.
The resemblance was uncanny, which made looking at his son an even harder task. Wells was her best friend, but right now, she wished they'd sat her somewhere else, somewhere where his pleas for forgiveness wouldn't reach her.
However, as she desperately tried to formulate a plan, her eyes caught the scene unfolding in the seats across from hers.
"What the fuck are you talking about?!" A shout that echoed in the upper floor ceased Wells' once-passionate dialogue. The boy across from them had an incredulous look on his face. His eyebrows were upturned, and sweat was matting his light brown hair.
He was talking to Monty, a boy she'd seen once or twice in Earth Skills, but somehow she couldn't pinpoint exactly why the boy's face seemed so familiar.
"Come on, man, tell me the truth! This is a prank, right?" the boy shouted once again, his hands clasping onto Monty's thin jacket. His words were met with an even more bizarre look from Monty and his friend Jasper.
Monty laughed uncomfortably, seemingly struggling against the stronger boy's grip. "Wish I were joking, man. Just calm down, yeah?" Monty replied, assuring the boy with an awkward pat to his wrist.
Clarke could've sworn she saw madness erupt in the boy's eyes. They were a crazy shade of green—so vibrant and bizarre she wondered if that was the same color as trees.
"Oh no, Marbles has finally lost his marbles, huh?" Wells quipped from beside her. His comment made her jump, his breath coming far too close to her liking. She looked at the boy again; he still hadn't let go of Monty's jacket.
"What do you mean?" Clarke asked. Marbles? she thought. Was that his name?
Wells raised his brows, whether that was from her response or her question, she didn't know. But as her gaze followed his own, she saw Monty's jacket tear from the strength of the boy's grip.
Monty looked shocked, and as for his friend Jasper, an annoyed expression made its way onto his face.
"What do you think you're doing?" Jasper yelled, pushing the boy's hand off Monty's torn jacket.
Clarke's brows furrowed even further when the boy—Marbles—seemed to jump back in confusion, equally as perplexed as he stared down at his own hands.
It took him a few seconds before he looked up once more—not at the fuming duo beside him, but right at her.
Clarke unknowingly flinched as if the intensity of his radioactive eyes were poison itself. She held his stare for a few moments, his face clenching before he looked away completely.
She let out a breath. He isn't the only one going crazy in this death trap, she thought. Her birthday wasn't for another month, and yet the cold chill that ran down her spine at the thought of being floated still put her on edge. Except now that fear had vanished, replaced with the uncertainty of humanity's last hope: Earth.
Before she could ponder the fate that awaited her on Earth, the drop ship shook.
Her metal seatbelt dug into her thighs, and she squeezed hard into the armrests, feeling the pressure as the entire manifest tumbled and twisted.
Sparks burst outside the window, red flashing fire catching onto the side panels of the ancient piece of junk, and Clarke wished she'd never left the Ark.
The turbulence as they entered Earth's atmosphere was enough to knock everyone to the side. Her blonde, wispy hair flew into her face, caught onto her sweaty forehead.
Overhead, she could hear the Chancellor's final goodbye crackling through the thunderous wave of panic that flooded the floor.
In the heat of panic, she heard the thud of bodies hitting the floor, followed by the unfamiliar pull of gravity as the entire manifest latched to the ground.
Silence.
For seventeen years, no—for ninety-seven years—there had never been true silence on the Ark. The hum of the vents, the constant thrum of the life support systems, the white noise of artificial life—they were always there. But here, in this broken, plummeting ship, there was nothing.
Absolute quiet.
Monty's voice broke the silence, "Listen... no hum…"
The sound of buckles snapping open filled the air as chaos erupted once again.
Clarke's mind raced. She looked toward the upper floor and saw two bodies sprawled across the aisle. Shit.
Her eyes followed the movement as someone scrambled toward the ladder leading to the lower floors.
Theyre opening the ship, she realized with a jolt.
"No! Stop!" Clarke shouted, pushing past the prisoners who were crowding the door.
"The air could be toxic!"
But her warning fell on deaf ears as they rushed toward the exit. Clarke grabbed the ladder, her fingers slipping against the metal, and tumbled down to the lower floor.
Down below, a hundred prisoners huddled around the large, mechanical latch leading to the outside world.
Clarke felt her skin prickling—fear or excitement, she couldn't tell. It didn't matter. All she could focus on was the feeling of impending doom pressing down on her.
Her eyes met the gaze of a guard, his face a mixture of grim resignation and something else. His uniform was too tight, and blood was splattered across his arms.
His cold eyes meet hers, "if the airs toxic than were already dead."
She frowns, he had a point, but there was something off about the way his hands fidgeted to his waist.
Bellamy," a meek girl pushes her way to the front, her inky hair brushing past clarke's shoulder, enveloping the guard In a passionate hug.
It's only when someone points out the resemblance that Clarke really looks at the them. The same green eyes and inky black hair.
Her eyes widen, the ark forbade siblings due to overpopulation, but the rules have rarely stopped anyone from committing crimes on the ark.
She was looking at a hundred other kids that could testify to that fact.
Wheres your wristband", Clarke asks over the whispers and jittering kids, the guards hands are devoid of one, unlike the ones strapped to every prisoner on the ship.
So he isnt one of us, she thinks then why is he here?
The girl, Octavia, scoffs. "Do you mind? i haven't seen my brother in a year."
There's a burst of yelps from inside the inner floor, no doubt surprise from her existence. She can see the contours of octavia face forming into a snarl like she's about to jump the next person who makes a comment.
Octavia's face whips back to the entrance, where her brother mutters something in defiance. However, before Clarke can even reach them, they're already reaching for the latch to the door.
Streams of blinding light shadow through the cracks, bursting as a wave of air-real air- pushes back Clarkes sweaty hair.
She stands there, rooted in place as a scene she thought she'd never lay eyes on, unfolds in front of her.
She can hear Octavia screaming something. But it's forgotten in the face of earth, the sight of a home humanity had long abandoned.
But most importantly, it's the gasp of fresh unfiltered air that leaves her gasping for more. She'd been born on the ark, with no rela oxygen, no sun, no snow or rain. But here, Clarke felt more alive than she had in years.
Her eyes are fixated on the breeze brushing past the tall jungle trees, so immersed she barely notices the glare directed her way.