by Kass Morgan
The vial Clarke carried in her pocket could never have a heartbeat, she knew; just the opposite. The toxic cocktail of drugs inside was designed to stop a heart for good.
When Clarke got home, her parents weren’t there. Although they both spent most of the day in their lab, over the past few weeks, they’d conveniently found excuses to leave right before Clarke returned from her training and rarely came back until just before she went to sleep. It was probably for the best. As Lilly grew sicker, Clarke could barely look at her parents without feeling a surge of rage. She knew she wasn’t being fair—the moment anyone protested, the Vice Chancellor would have her parents executed and Clarke Confined within days. But that didn’t make it any easier for her to meet their eyes.
The lab was quiet. As Clarke wound her way through the maze of empty beds, all she could hear was the drone of the ventilation system. The soft buzz of conversation had faded as more and more bodies were secreted away.
Lilly seemed even thinner than she’d been the day before. Clarke crept toward her bed and ran her hand gently down her friend’s arm, shuddering as bits of her skin fell away. She slipped her other hand into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around the vial. It would be so easy. No one would ever know.
But then Lilly’s pale lashes fluttered open, and Clarke froze. As she stared into Lilly’s eyes, a cold wave of terror and revulsion crashed over her. What was she thinking? An overpowering urge to destroy the vial tore through her body, and she had to take a deep breath to keep herself from hurling it against the wall.
Lilly’s lips were moving, but no sound was coming out. Clarke leaned forward and gave her a small smile. “Sorry, didn’t catch that, Lil.” She lowered her head so her ear was closer to Lilly’s mouth. “What did you say?”
At first, Clarke could only feel the soundless wisp of air on her skin, as if there wasn’t enough breath in Lilly’s lungs to push the words out of her mouth. But then a faint moan escaped from her chapped lips. “Did you bring it?”
Clarke raised her head to look into her friend’s panic-filled brown eyes. She nodded slowly.
“Now.” The word was barely audible.
“No,” Clarke protested, her voice shaking. “It’s too soon.” She blinked back the tears that had begun to fill her eyes. “You could still get better,” she said, but the lie sounded hollow, even to her.
Lilly’s face contorted in pain, and Clarke reached for her hand. “Please.” Lilly’s voice was ragged.
“I’m sorry.” Clarke gave Lilly’s fragile hand a gentle squeeze as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. “I can’t.”
Lilly’s eyes grew wide, and Clarke inhaled sharply. “Lil?” But Lilly remained silent, staring at something only she could see. Something that filled her eyes with terror. The physical pain racking Lilly’s body was terrible, Clarke knew, but the hallucinations, the demons who were with her every moment, hovering at her bedside, were worse.
“No more.”
Clarke closed her eyes. The guilt and remorse she’d feel could never compare to Lilly’s pain. It’d be selfish to let her own fear prevent her from bringing her friend the peace she wanted—the respite from pain she deserved.
Her whole body was trembling so hard, she could barely remove the vial from her pocket, let alone fill the syringe. She stood next to the bed and clasped Lilly’s hand with one arm, using the other to position the needle over Lilly’s vein. “Sleep well, Lil,” she whispered.
Lilly nodded and gave Clarke a smile that she knew would be burned into her brain for the rest of her life. “Thank you.”
Clarke held Lilly’s hand for the few minutes it took for her friend to slip away. Then she rose and placed her fingers against Lilly’s still-warm neck, searching for a pulse.
She was gone.
Clarke sank to the damp ground, gasping as her lungs reached desperately for the cool air, then rolled onto her side. Through the tears blurring her vision, she could make out the shapes of people standing all around her, their dark, featureless silhouettes still and quiet.
Her best friend, the only person who truly knew Clarke, who knew what she had done to Lilly and still loved her. Thalia had told her to make things right with Wells tonight—and then Wells
had held Clarke back while they watched Thalia die.
“I’m so sorry, Clarke,” Wells was saying, reaching for her. She pushed his hand away.
“I can’t believe you,” she said, her voice cold and quiet. Rage billowed in her chest, as if there were flames inside her that needed only fury and grief to blaze into an inferno. “There was no way you’d make it,” Wells stammered. “I just—I couldn’t let you go. You would’ve been killed.”
“So you let Thalia die instead. Because you get to decide who lives and who dies.” He started to protest, but she kept going, shaking with rage. “Tonight was a mistake. You destroy everything you touch.”
“Clarke, please, I—”
But she just stood up, shaking the bits of cinder from her clothes, and walked into the forest without looking back.
They all had ash in thhad ash eir lungs and tears in their eyes. But Wells had blood on his hands.
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CHAPTER 31
Glass
“I’ll get a ring as soon as I find one at the Exchange,” Luke said to Glass, his hand on her lower back as he guided her through the crowded corridors back toward Phoenix. Most of the people who’d assembled to watch the comet were heading back to their residential units on the lower decks, making it difficult to move toward the skybridge. But Glass was hardly aware of which direction they were heading. Her heart was still thumping with joy, and she was shaking, holding tight to Luke’s hand.
“I don’t need a ring.” She reached up to touch the locket, which seemed to be radiating warmth through her chest. Nothing could happen immediately, she knew. Although she turned eighteen in a few weeks, they couldn’t risk getting married until the Chancellor woke up and confirmed her pardon—or never woke up at all. Her mother would understand eventually, once she saw how much Luke loved Glass. They’d get married and apply for permission to start a family, someday. But for now, just the promise of a future together was enough. “This is perfect.”
They turned out of the stairwell and into the corridor that led to the skybridge. Luke stopped short and pulled Glass to him as a dozen guards jogged by, so close a few of their sleeves brushed against Glass’s arm, although their eyes trained straight ahead. She shivered and leaned into Luke, who was watching them with a strange expression on his face. “Do you know what’s going on?” she asked.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Luke said too quickly, his words at odds with the tension in his jaw. But then he raised their interlocked fingers to his lips and kissed her hand. “Let’s go.”
Glass smiled as they continued walking. The thud of the guards’ boots had faded away, and they had the whole hallway to themselves. Suddenly, Luke stopped and raised her arm into the air. Before Glass had time to ask what he was doing, he’d spun her around and lowered her into a dip.
Glass laughed as Luke wrapped one arm around her waist and swept her across the empty hallway. “What’s gotten into you?”
He paused and pulled her even closer to him, then leaned in and murmured into her ear. “I hear music when I’m with you.” Glass just smiled and, in the middle of the hallway, closed her eyes as they swayed from side to side.
Finally, Luke stepped back, gesturing in the direction of the skybridge. “It’s almost curfew,” he said.
“Okay,” she agreed, sighing. They walked hand in hand across the skybridge, exchanging knowing smiles that made every cell in Glass’s body buzz with excitement. At the entrance to Phoenix, they stopped, reluctant to say good-bye. Luke ran his finger along the locket chain.
“I love you,” he said, squeezing her hand before giving her a little shove. “Let me know once you get home. I’ll come by tomorrow to talk t
o your mom.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “Tomorrow.”
Finally, Glass turned and began walking across the skybridge. She’d made it halfway across when a shrill beep echoed through the empty space. She looked around, startled. The cluster of guards at the Phoenix end of the bridge broke apart, and she could hear someone barking orders. Glass froze as thke sound grew louder and more urgent. She turned to look at Luke, who’d started taking a few hesitant steps forward.
“The bridge is closing,” a disembodied woman’s voice announced over the speakers. “Please clear the area.” There was a brief pause, then the message repeated. “The bridge is closing. Please clear the area.” Glass gasped as a barrier began to descend at the Phoenix checkpoint. She lunged forward and could see Luke running as well, but they were both too far away.
Glass reached the clear partition just as it locked into the floor, slamming her hands against it. Luke slid to a stop on the other side. He was saying something, but although she could see his mouth moving, no sound reached her ears.
Tears filled her eyes as she watched him bang his fists against the wall in frustration. She didn’t understand. The skybridge hadn’t been closed since the plague outbreak in the first century. She knew if it was closing now, it might not open again.
“Luke!” she cried, the word falling uselessly from her lips. She pressed her hand against the clear partition and held it there. Their eyes locked.
“I love you,” Glass said.
Luke pressed his own hand to the wall, and for a moment, Glass could almost feel the warmth of his skin. I love you too, he mouthed. He gave her a sad smile and motioned for her to start walking. She paused, not wanting to leave without knowing what was going on, when she’d see him again. The alarm was still sounding overhead, ringing in her ears.
Go, Luke mouthed, his face serious.
Glass nodded and turned, forcing herself to keep her eyes straight ahead. But before she turned onto the hallway that led away from the skybridge, she glanced over her shoulder one last time. Luke hadn’t moved. He was still standing there, his hand pressed against the wall.
Glass ran home, weaving through crowds of panicked civilians and stone-faced guards.
“Oh, thank god,” Sonja said as Glass rushed into the flat. “I was so worried.” She shoved a water pitcher into Glass’s arms. “Go fill this up in the bathroom. I’m not sure how much longer the water will last.”
“What’s going on?” Glass asked. “They closed the skybridge.”
“What were you doing near the bridge?” her mother asked, then blinked, taking in the clothes Glass had changed into after the comet viewing party. “Oh,” she said flatly, a wearied understanding overtaking her features. “That’s where you were.”
“What’s happening?” Glass repeated, ignoring her mother’s look of disapproval.
“I’m not sure, but I have a feeling…” She trailed off, then pressed her lips together. “I think this is it. The day we all knew was coming.”
“What are you talking about?”
Her mother took the pitcher back from Glass and turned to the sink. “The ship wasn’t built to last this long. It was just a matter of time before things started to break down.”
The water had reached the top of the pitcher and was now overflowing into the sink, but Sonja just stood there. “Mom?”
Finally, her mother shut off the water and turned around to face Glass. “It’s the airlock,” she said quietly. “There’s been a breach.een a br” A shout rang out from the corridor, and her mother shot a quick glance at the door before she forced a smile and continued. “But don’t worry. There’s a reserve of oxygen on Phoenix. We’ll be okay until they figure out what to do. I promise, Glass, we’ll get through this.”
Glass felt the realization dawning in her mind, twisting her stomach with dread. “What does that have to do with the bridge?” she asked, her voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.
“They’re already running out of oxygen on Arcadia and Walden. We had to take security precautions to make sure…”
“No,” Glass breathed. “The Council is going to let them all die?”
Sonj
a stepped forward and squeezed Glass’s arm. “They had to do something, or else no one would survive,” she was saying, but Glass barely registered her words. “It’s the only way to protect the Colony.”
“I have to find him,” Glass said, trembling. She took a shaky step back. Her head was a frenzy of words and images that bounced off one another, creating more panic than sense.
“Glass,” her mother said, with something that sounded like pity. “I’m so sorry, but you can’t. There’s no way. All the exits are sealed.” She stepped forward and pulled her daughter into a hug. Glass tried to wriggle free, but her mother tightened her hold. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“I love him,” Glass sobbed, her body shaking.
“I know.” Sonja reached out and took Glass’s hand. “And I’m sure he loves you too. But maybe this is for the best.” She gave a sad smile that sent chills down Glass’s spine. “At least this way, you don’t have to say a terrible good-bye.”
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CHAPTER 32
Wells
Wells watched Clarke stride off into the woods, feeling as if she’d punched through his sternum and torn away a chunk of his heart. He was only vaguely aware of the gleeful roar of the flames as they swallowed the supplies, the tents… and anyone who’d been unfortunate enough to be left inside. Around him, a few people had fallen to the ground, gasping for breath or shaking with horror. But most were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the inferno, their figures still and quiet.
“Is everyone okay?” Wells asked hoarsely. “Who’s missing?” The numbness at Clarke’s words was burning away, replaced by a frantic energy. He stepped forward to the edge of the tree cover, shielding his eyes as he tried to peer through the wall of flames. When no one answered, he took a breath and shouted, “Did everyone make it out?” There was a ripple of vague nods.
“Do we need to go farther?” a small Walden girl asked, her voice trembling as she took a step deeper into the woods.
“It doesn’t look like it’s spreading to the trees,” an Arcadian boy said hoarsely. He was standing next to a few battered water jugs and blackened containers he’d carried out of the camp.
The boy was right. The ring of bare dirt that bordered the clearing was wide enough that the flames engulfing the tents flickered just out of reach of the lowest branches.
Wells turned, searching through the darkness for a sign of Clarke. But she’d disappeared into the shadows. He could almost feel her grief pulsing through the darkness. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to go to her, but he knew it was hopeless.
Clarke was right. He destroyed everything he touched.
“You look tired,” the Chancellor said, surveying Wells from across the dinner table.
Wells looked up from the plate he’d been staring at, then nodded curtly. “I’m fine.” The truth was, he hadn’t slept in days. The look of fury Clarke had given him was branded into his brain, and every time he closed his eyes, he could see the terror on her face as the guards dragged her away. Her anguished scream filled the silence between his heartbeats.
After the trial, Wells had begged his father to lift the charges. He swore Clarke had nothing to do with the research, and that the guilt she’d been carrying around had nearly killed her. But the Chancellor had simply claimed that it was out of his hands.
Wells shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He could barely stand to be on the same ship as his father, let alone sit across from him at dinner, but he had to maintain some semblance of civility. If he allowed his rage to break free, his father would simply accuse Wells of being too irrational, too immature to understand the law.
“I know you’re angry with me,” the Chancellor said before taking a sip of water. “But I can’t overrule
the vote. That’s why we have the Council, to keep one person from becoming too powerful.” He glanced down at the chip flashing in his watch, then looked back at Wells. “The Gaia Doctrine is harsh enough as it is. We have to hold on to whatever shred of freedom we have left.”
“So you’re saying that even if Clarke is innocent, it’d be worth it to let her die in order to keep democracy alive?”
The Chancellor fixed Wells with a stare that, a few days ago, would’ve made him sink into his chair. “I believe innocent is a relative term here. There’s no denying she knew about the experiments.”
“Rhodes forced them to conduct those experiments. He’s the one who should be punished!”
“That’s enough,” the Chancellor said in a voice so cold, it almost extinguished Wells’s rage. “I refuse to listen to this heresy in my own home.”
Wells was about to launch an angry retort, but he was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. His father silenced him with a final look as he opened the door and ushered in the Vice Chancellor himself.
Wells could barely contain his hatred as Rhodes gave him a curt nod in greeting. The Vice Chancellor wore his usual self-satisfied look as he followed the Chancellor into his study. After they closed the door firmly behind them, Wells stood up from the table. He knew he should go to his room and shut the door, like he always did when his father took meetings in their home.
A few days ago, he might have. A few days ago, he wouldn’t have dared to eavesdrop on a private conversation. But now he didn’t care. He crept toward the door and pressed himself against the wall.
“The dropships are ready,” Rhodes began. “There’s no reason to wait.” “There are plenty of reasons to wait.” There was a note of irritation in his father’s voice, as if they’d already had this discussion many times. “We’re still not sure if the radiation levels are safe.”
