From The Ashes | The 100 S5 [Bellarke]

|13| Wonkru Divided

6 years and 7 days after Praimfaya

Graham stood up with an explosive curse, digging his fingers deep into the tangle of his hair.

He'd done what Octavia had asked and devoted every waking moment to testing all the angles and probabilities of their chances of escape. The odds still hadn't changed: it was either generations of solitude underground until their systems eventually wore out or risk certain death by drilling through the wall. He was sure that the caves were there, but if they proved to be yet another roadblock, if they drilled and still couldn't return to the surface, they would die.

Graham wanted to leave the bunker. He'd lived on recycled air and mechanically-harvested water his whole life; he didn't want to die in a cage. Not when there was a chance of freedom.

If he was alone, he would drill. But he wasn't. There were over twelve hundred people whose lives were also at stake, and he wasn't the type to take that kind of risk.

It wasn't his call, however; it was the council's. He was just an engineer – granted, he was the chief engineer – and his job was to keep people alive, not decide their futures.

"You've been clocking the overtime like crazy the past few days," Jeremy said, one of the few mechanics who'd made it on the list to survive in the bunker. He raised a curious eyebrow at Graham's obvious distress. "Everything all right?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah!" Graham pulled his fingers from his hair and attempted a cheerful smile. "Everything's fine."

He was a horrible liar, and everyone knew it.

"C'mon, man." Jeremy shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing in concern and the beginnings of suspicion. "You can tell me."

In other circumstances, Graham would tell him. Jeremy had a level head, he knew his stuff inside out, and was a damn good mechanic. He was no Raven Reyes, but he was a decent substitute. But the council had ordered secrecy of the highest level, and while Graham was a horrible liar, he wasn't a traitor.

"I-I can't," he managed, looking away. The unchangeable results of his many tests glared up at him from his screen, and he swiped them away a moment later, locking the files with his thumbprint on the corner of the screen. "Sorry, council's orders."

"Oh. Council's orders." Jeremy's voice grew bitter, and Graham remembered that the mechanic had lost his brother in the Praimfaya culling. "Right. Because every secret they keep is too important to share with us – the ones who are affected by their decisions."

"I'm sorry," Graham repeated, stepping back from his screen. He couldn't put off reporting back to Octavia any longer.

"Bullshit," Jeremy snapped, his jaw tight and his tears shiny with angry tears. "Whatever this is, it isn't good."

"It . . ." Graham hesitated, torn between keeping to his promise of silence and letting someone know that maybe, maybe they had a chance of getting out of here. "It might be, Jeremy. That's all I can say, but . . . just . . . don't" – he held a hand as he continued to back towards Engineering's exit door – "don't talk about this, all right? Seriously. I'll tell you everything as soon as I can, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever," Jeremy muttered, and the doors slid shut on his upset features.

~ ~ ~

Jaha stood in front of their potential escape route, eyeing the thick, whitewashed wall.

Behind the ten-foot concrete lay a myriad of life-sustaining wires and pipes . . . and maybe freedom. If their survival behind this was certain, he wouldn't hesitate to overrule the council and gather a group of those still loyal to him, even after the horrific events brought about by Alie, and bring their people to freedom.