Random Insanity

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Clarke digs her fingers through the newly upturned earth, picking out rocks and other debris. They have onions and potatoes to plant. Across from her, Finn smiles, but then his expression darkens as a shadow passes over her.

“Hey,” Bellamy says, “I need your help with something.”

“Help with what?” she asks without so much as a glance at him.

“I found what looks like a cache of medical supplies. But I’m not sure if any of it is worth bringing back.”

That gets her attention. She cocks her head, the sun behind him, blinding her. “The stuff would be well over a hundred years old.”

He shrugs. “It was sealed up pretty tight.”

Clarke pushes a strand of hair off of her face. If the cache was sealed like the Art Supply bunker, the stuff inside could still be good. And even if the meds have gone bad, there might be other salvageable items or equipment. The hair falls back into her face, and she tries to blow it away. Unsuccessfully.

“How far away is it?”

“It’s a bit of a walk. We probably won’t get back until after dark.”

She stands up, wiping her hands on her dirty pants. “You think it’s worth it?”

He nods. “We barely made it through winter. We need all the help we can get.”

Of course, he’s right. It’s pretty much what they argued about all day yesterday—she wanted more help with planting; he wanted more help securing the fence. “Okay,” she says, wiping the strand of hair away again. “I’ll grab my bag.”

She’s filling bottles of water when Finn finds her a moment later. “You can’t seriously be going with him?”

“Why not?”

“Because yesterday he was talking about burying you with the potatoes.”

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