Most of the hundred stood outside.
Every one of them held something in their hands ranging from guns they had scavenged, blades forged from scrap to spears sharpened with desperation. Even those without weapons stood beside someone who had one, with their backs straighten and jaws locked tight they all had their eyes fixed on the tree line like it might blink first.
They were done waiting and preparing. They would not stand still and let execution come walking out of the forest.
Not after everything they'd gone through.Yes, they had invaded territory that wasn't theirs.
Yes, their flares had burned villages they hadn't even known existed.
Yes, people had died because of them, mistakes stacked on mistakes, ignorance paid for in blood and to some extent they did deserve what was coming to them for sure.
But this was still their only chance at survival.
Earth was all they had left after over a hundred years away from it.
And they weren't about to let it be ripped from them by people who saw them as monsters fallen from the sky.
So they prepared. Jason had done all he could to prepare them and make sure they had a fighting chance, he and Bellamy.
Traps lined the approaches. Pits disguised beneath leaves, tripwires strung low and cruel, sharpened stakes angled just enough to tear flesh and to kill immediately if possible. Every person in camp had been walked through the layout again and again, memorizing safe paths, warning signs and the landmarks.
Because dying to the enemy was one thing.
Dying to your own preparation was unforgivable. Still… no matter how careful they were, everyone knew the truth.
Some of them weren't going to make it. Bellamy stood near the gate, rifle slung across his chest, eyes sweeping over the crowd. He took a breath, then raised his voice.
"We don't fold today," he said firmly. "We don't run. We don't kneel."
Heads turned toward him, "We've survived the ark, We've survived sickness we've survived each other." A few grim smiles flickered. "And yeah we screwed up. Bad. But we're still here."
He lifted his chin.
"And we're going to survive this too."
The words settled over the camp, not erasing fear, but sharpening it into something usable. Resolve. Defiance.
Clarke stepped forward beside him.
"They'll be coming soon," she said. "Maybe minutes, seconds. So stay sharp, trust the plan and don't hesitate."
A boy near the back swallowed hard and asked the question everyone had been avoiding.
"Where's Jason?"
Before anyone could answer, the sound of hooves broke into their ears.
Weapons immediately snapped up instantly. Fingers tightened on triggers. Several people were visibly shaking as silhouettes burst from the tree line.
"Horses!" a sentry shouted.
Bellamy squinted and then immediately shouted at the sentries. "Hold—"
Finn's breath left him in a rush, "Shit," he muttered. "He did it."
The riders broke into the clearing, "David! John! Ryan!" someone yelled.
The relief died the moment they saw them properly. They were all bloody with. Torn clothes. John slumped unconscious, barely upright. Ryan clung to the saddle like sheer will was the only thing keeping him there.
Clarke ran forward.
"Get them to the drop ship now!"
People surged into motion. David was helped down, legs nearly giving out. John was lifted carefully, his head lolling due to his wounds. Ryan tried to protest but nearly collapsed.
Raven was already there, hands gripping David's shoulders.
"Where is he?" she demanded. "Where's Jason?"
David sucked in a breath.
"He went after them."
Her eyes widened, "What?"
"Yeah," David said hoarsely. "Said he'd buy us time and try to them back."
Bellamy cursed sharply.
"That bastard's going to get himself killed." Raven swallowed hard, her voice steady only because it had to be.
"Okay. Then we proceed as planned." Octavia spun toward her.
"What? Raven what about Jason?" For a moment, Raven looked like she might break.
"We trust him," she said quietly. "Because he knows exactly what he's doing." She turned back to David, forcing focus.
"You're lucky you didn't trip any traps on the way in."
David huffed weakly, "Yeah. Would've been a stupid way to die after escaping grounders just to get killed by our own defenses."
His expression sobered.
"We don't have much time," he added. "There's an intersection near the gully. I saw grounder forces moving toward the camp, Jason said he'd hold them but that's a lot of fighters."
Bellamy nodded grimly.
"Then we don't waste what he's buying us."
Raven looked across the camp and locked eyes with Monty and Jasper near the far traps.
She nodded.
They nodded back and the injured were dragged into the drop ship.
Almost thirty minutes passed and it was still too quiet. Just then…
THUD.
A heavy impact echoed through the forest and a scream followed.
"ARGHHHHHHHHHH."
Every head snapped up due to the agonizing screams.
Another scream joined it.
Then another.
Traps far out the perimeter of the camp had been triggered. Bellamy raised his rifle.
"They're here," he shouted. "Get ready!"
———————————
The grounders surged forward at their target. Their feet struck the forest floor in rhythm, most had their blades raised and kept low without making much noise as they charged towards their opponents. They had number and the momentum. They believed this battle would end quickly.
Then the ground collapsed. A section of earth gave way with a violent, splintering crack, the illusion of safety ripped open as weighted beams released. Four grounders disappeared in an instantly, dragged down as massive sharpened logs dropped from above. The impact was thunderous, bones shattered and bodies folded at impossible angles. One scream cut off halfway, crushed.
The forest went silent for a fraction of a second. Then panic snapped into being.
Men stumbled back, shouting warnings in their language, eyes suddenly locked on the dirt beneath their feet instead of the enemy ahead. The confidence that had carried them forward cracked, but it didn't break not yet.
They rushed again and just then they heard a sharp metallic twang sliced through the air.
Fromll behind a dense thicket, a massive iron hook burst forward, swinging with terrifying speed. It punched through one grounder's chest, lifting him clean off his feet before slamming him into another. The force alone snapped ribs. Blood sprayed across bark and leaves as bodies were flung aside like broken dolls.
A third man tried to move when a hook hook clipped him, tearing flesh, sending him spinning into a tree where he crumpled, down choking.
That was when Tristan raised, "Wait."
His commanding voice cut through the screaming like steel.
The remaining grounders froze. Tristan stepped forward slowly, surveying the carnage not with horror but with surprise. His gaze lingered on the traps, the angles, the spacing.
"Clever," he murmured.
He bent and picked up a stone, and tossed it ahead.
The rock skipped across dirt and leaves. Once. Twice.
Nothing.
Tristan's lips curled faintly. He turned and pointed to one of his men.
"You. Go."
The grounder hesitated fear flickering across his facebut obedience won. He moved forward inch by inch, spear probing the ground ahead of him. He pressed his weight slowly, testing every step, listening for tension, watching for the faintest shift in soil.
When nothing happened, he advanced again.
Behind him, the others followed precisely in his footprints, boots landing exactly where his had been.
The man glanced back and nodded.
Then a sound cracked the air in a sudden burst.
His head snapped sideways as a bullet punched through his skull. He dropped instantly, lifeless before his body hit the ground, Shock rippled through the line.
Another shot rang out and a second grounder fell, chest exploding backward as he collapsed mid-step.
Fear detonated around that die to the two sudden deaths.
6
Men broke formation, scrambling to retreat and that was enough to doom them.
A weighted frame trap snapped loose, the spiked beams came crashing down from above impaling two grounders as they tried to flee. Another stumbled sideways and triggered a rolling ball trap: a massive, spike-studded weight thundered down a shallow slope, crushing one man outright and tearing through another who screamed until his body was silenced beneath it.
The forest erupted with agony
A grounder had stepped onto a spike mat trap and the iron spikes angled upward beneath a layer of leaves. His foot plunged straight through flesh and bone. He collapsed, howling, unable to pull free without destroying what little remained of his leg.
Two others rushed to help him. One slipped and impaled his calf. The other froze, staring at the blood soaking into the dirt.
Tristan's jaw clenched as there were too many deaths
'And still not a single camper had fallen.'
More traps followed. A pitfall swallowed a few men whole, a spring-loaded cannon trap detonated, hurling sharpened branches through bodies that never saw it coming.
Those who survived long enough to run were cut down by precise gunfire from unseen positions.
"STOP!" Tristan roared. "MOVE BACK NOW!"
The horn sounded retreat.
They pulled back hard, dragging the wounded, leaving the dead where they lay. Blood marked their path as they dragged their wounded away.
Twenty meters out, they regrouped.
From the camp, a sentry shouted, "They're retreating!" Bellamy lowered his rifle slowly. His hands were steady, but his face was grim.
"They know now," he said quietly. "The ground and most of our traps won't fool them again."
He turned to Lincoln. "Did we hit them hard enough?"
Lincoln nodded once. "Yes, you all actually did. This wasn't expected."
Murphy exhaled sharply. "I hear a 'but.'"
Lincoln didn't look at him. "But Tristan doesn't quit that easily until he's achieved his goal.
Clarke's stomach tightened. "You mean—"
"He'll adapt," Lincoln said. "And when he does, he'll come harder."
The sentries reset their grips at what they'd heard. Fingers tightened on triggers ready to go again. They strained their eyes as they watched for any movement from the tree lines.
Raven stared into the trees and whispered, barely audible even to herself,
"Where the hell are you, Jason."