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jennickels) wrote2022-04-05 10:40 am
Heaven Can't Wait - Chapter 55
Chapter Fifty-Five - Thanks for the Save
David retrains his weapon on Volkov and starts barking orders to the new Guards while Murphy’s group sets down the box in the corner. The techs get busy connecting it to some exposed wiring while Murphy saunters over to the cage door.
“Looks like you’re having a great time in there,” he says with a smirk.
Miller shoots him a look. “I’m sure we can find a reason to put you in here, too.”
Murphy chuckles. “For once, I can actually say I didn’t do anything.”
“Right.”
“Honest to God; I’m innocent this time.”
“I’ll believe that when the doors open again.”
Murphy snorts, leaning against the cage like he doesn’t have a care in the world while Miller keeps one eye on him and the other on Volkov’s men.
There are several tense minutes while David and the Guard sort out the chaos in the dark before the lights pop back on.
“Let there be light,” Murphy says triumphantly even though all he did was carry a box.
Volkov and his men are back in one corner where David’s Guardsmen are chaining them to the wall. The Grounders are milling around on the other side, hands raised against the pointed weapons. The Arkadian civilians are still just trying to stay out of the way.
One of the techs clears her throat. “Sorry, that took so long. We had some issues with this old generator, but you shouldn’t have any more troubles with the lights.”
“That’s good,” says David, holstering his weapon now that the most dangerous prisoners are restrained. The other Guards follow his lead.
Bellamy finally lets Miller pull him to shaky legs. “We need to clear this space out,” he tells David. “There are too many people in here.”
David nods, pulling a tablet from his jacket to consult. “I’ve been working on it.”
“And we need to start thinking about having two lockups,” he whispers, leaning into David. “I don’t mean one for Grounders and one for Arkadians, but we can’t have both sides of a conflict locked in one cage.”
David nods again then goes to release some of the prisoners, starting with the civilians.
Murphy still leans casually against the outside of the cage, arms crossed over his puffed-up chest. His face and hands are pock-marked with burns and scars from the Black Rain.
Bellamy takes up a place on the other side of the mesh wall, leaning heavily against the metal. “Thanks for the save,” he murmurs.
Murphy shrugs. “The techs did all the work,” he confesses, surprising both of them. A blush crawls across his face before he ducks his head and digs something out of his jacket pocket. “Here. I found this just outside of the Mess Hall. I thought you might want it.”
Murphy reaches around the open door and tosses Bae to Bellamy. The ragdoll has seen better days—obviously trampled multiple times while dropped in the hallway. Heaven would never go willingly without her doll. That must have been what she was fighting Benedict about. She dropped Bae and wanted to go back for her.
The memories of her bruised face overwhelm him momentarily. How could anyone hurt such a small, innocent being?
Bellamy squeezes the doll, blinking back tears. “Thanks, Murphy,” he croaks before clearing his throat. “I’ll make sure she gets it back.”
Murphy just shrugs like nothing he does deserves even the simplest verbal reward.
“Really,” Bellamy says more firmly, “I appreciate this. And the save. I don’t know what would have happened if you didn’t show up.”
Murphy pushes away from the cage, face flushed, “Like I said, it was mostly the techs. But don’t say I never did anything for you.”
“I owe you one.”
“More like two.” He glances down at the doll then strolls out of the Stockade holding up two fingers.
He’s definitely going to keep count.
The Stockade has cleared out considerably by then. The techs are all gone along with most of the civilian and Grounder prisoners. Even some of the Guardsmen have been released. Across the cage, Volkov and several of his friends are still cuffed to the wall. On the other side, two Grounders remain in a similar position.
David joins Bellamy, holding up a set of shackles, a sour look on his face. “I’m sorry to have to do this, Bellamy, but your assault isn’t a charge I can just ignore.”
Bellamy grimaces but holds up his hands. “You’re just doing your job.”
“Actually, I’m doing your job.”
Bellamy snorts as he lets David cuff and chain him to the wall. Probably not going to be my job much longer. I knew this was a bad idea—Kane should have listened to me.
Bellamy settles against the wall and tries to get comfortable, but his chest is tight where his ribs are cracked, and his head is still aching. He closes his eyes, trusting the shackles to keep everyone safely in their respective corners.
Outside, the storm continues to batter the station. He can feel the slight tremble in the metal, but any sound is drowned out by the soft drone of the generator. The lights stay on—bright and stead—overhead. Across the room, Volkov and his friends mutter together, probably still plotting Bellamy’s demise, but he’s too tired to care anymore. His eyes slide shut, blocking out the world, but that only lets the nightmares in a few moments later.
The air is cool that night, drifting in through the open flap of the tent. He can hear the snores of the other warriors and the occasional soft conversation of the patrols as they pass. He rolls over and buries himself in the furs that are his bed for the night and thinks of Heaven back home with the crazy old witch keeping her safe—the only person he could get to watch her. But he needed to be here. For his family and his people and for Skaikru that need protection from the wretched Azgeda.
He drifts to sleep thinking of his little girl and how she might get to grow up in a world not dominated by wars and death. Lexa has similar dreams, he thinks, and she might just be able to get them there. He knows it won’t be easy, but he’s willing to die for a better life for his daughter.
He’s not sure how much time passes before he hears noises outside the tent. The voices are foreign. They come in fast and hard. Gunfire rips through the camp. Screams. The smell of blood and death. He bolts upright, searching for his weapon as the flap of his tent is thrown open. Dark figures block the moonlight, guns drawn.
He freezes, terror gripping him. What do they want? Why are they attacking? Outside more gunfire and screaming. It takes his sleep-addled brain too long to connect the dots. The only people with guns are Skaikru. Skaikru is attacking them. But why?
The man at his tent glares. He doesn’t offer any warnings or demands.
“Please,” he says, “I have a daughter. She’s only two. Please-”
But the man doesn’t understand. He starts to repeat in English, but the man doesn’t give him a chance. The rifle spits bullets at him, shredding his chest.
Bellamy bolts awake, gasping for air. He tries to feel his chest, but his hands are still bound to the wall. His head falls back against the cool steel, sweat dripping into his eyes. Just a dream. Just a dream.
He’s not sure how much time has passed, but the other men in the cage have fallen asleep as well—Volkov snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Bellamy tries to get comfortable again, but his shoulders are tense, and his wrists hurt where the shackles are digging in. His headache hasn’t gotten any better either.
The Guards on duty walk back and forth from the cage to the doors of the Stockade out of boredom. He thinks about asking them for medical help, but that feels like it would take more energy than he has at the moment. He lets his eyes drift closed again and tries to delete the nightmare from his memories.
With a little maneuvering, he manages to pick up Bae where he dropped her in his lap. He rubs a thumb over her scuffed, lopsided face and plays with her strands of yarn hair until she’s as neat as he can get her. Tears blur the doll in his vision by the time he’s done. He presses Bae to his face and cries silently like he learned to do as a child so as to not wake his mother or alert any outside attention. It’s a talent he shares with Octavia.
Eventually, the tears dry up, leaving aching, burning eyes. He squeezes them shut and lets the exhaustion take over again.