by Kass Morgan
The trees were closer now. She could see the bark, the twisted branches, the canopy of leaves. After spending her whole life staring at one solitary tree, it was startling to see so many all together, like turning a corner and facing a dozen clones of your best friend.
Glass turned to glance at one particularly large tree and gasped. A boy with curly hair was slumped against the trunk.
A boy in a guard’s uniform.
“Luke!” Glass shouted, breaking into a jerky run. As she got closer, she saw that his eyes were closed. Was he unconscious or…
“Luke!” she cried again before the thought could gain traction.
Glass’s limbs felt both clumsy and electrified, like a reanimated corpse. She tried to speed up, but the ground seemed to be pulling her down. Even from a dozen meters away, she could tell: It was Luke. His eyes were closed, his body slack, but he was breathing. He was alive.
Glass fell to her knees by his side and fought the urge to throw herself across him. She didn’t want to hurt him any further. “Luke,” she whispered. “Can you hear me?”
He was pale, and over his eye there was a deep cut, which oozed blood down the bridge of his nose. Glass pulled her sleeve down over her hand and pressed it against the cut. Luke moaned slightly but didn’t move. She pressed a little harder, hoping to staunch the bleeding, and looked down to survey the rest of him. His left wrist was purple and swollen, but apart from that, he looked okay. Tears of relief and gratitude sprang to her eyes, and she let them slide down her cheeks. After a few minutes, she took her sleeve away and examined the wound again. It looked like the bleeding had stopped.
Glass put a hand on his chest. “Luke,” she said gently. She ran her fingers lightly over his collarbone. “Luke. It’s me. Wake up.”
Luke stirred at the sound of her voice, and Glass let out a mangled sound that was part laugh, part sob. He groaned, his eyelids fluttering open and sinking closed again. “Luke, wake up,” Glass repeated, then brought her mouth to his ear, just like she used to do on mornings when he was in danger of missing check-in at work. “You’re going to be late,” she said with a small smile.
His eyes opened again, slowly, and fixed on her. He tried to speak, but no sound came out. Instead he smiled back.
“Hey there,” Glass said, feeling her fear and sorrow melt away for a moment. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re here, Luke. We made it. Welcome to Earth.”
CHAPTER 2
Wells
“You look exhausted,” Sasha said, tilting her head to the side so her long black hair spilled across her shoulder. “Why don’t you go to bed?”
“I’d rather be here with you.” Wells suppressed a yawn by turning it into a grin. It wasn’t hard. Every time he looked at Sasha, he noticed something that made him smile. The way her green eyes glowed in the flickering light of the campfire. How the smattering of freckles on her sharp cheekbones could be as fascinating to him as the nighttime constellations were to her. She was staring at them now, her chin pointed upward as she gazed in wonder at the sky.
“I can’t believe you lived up there,” she said quietly before lowering her eyes to meet Wells’s. “Don’t you miss it? Being surrounded by stars?”
“It’s even more beautiful down here.” He raised his hand, placed a finger on Sasha’s cheek, then gently traced a path from one freckle to another. “I could stare at your face all night. I couldn’t do that with the Big Dipper.”
“I’d be surprised if you lasted five more minutes. You can barely keep your eyes open.”
“It’s been a long day.”
Sasha raised an eyebrow, and Wells smiled. They both knew that was a bit of an understatement. Over the past few hours, Wells had been kicked out of the camp for helping Sasha—the hundred’s former prisoner—escape. That was before he ran into Clarke and Bellamy, who had just rescued Bellamy’s sister, Octavia, thereby proving that Sasha’s people, the Earthborns, weren’t the enemy they’d once appeared to be. That alone would’ve been a lot to explain to the rest of the camp members, most of whom were still a little uneasy around Sasha, but it was only the beginning. Just that evening, Bellamy and Wells had made a shocking discovery. Although Wells, the son of the Chancellor, had grown up privileged on Phoenix, while Bellamy, an orphan, had scraped by on Walden, they were in fact half brothers.
It was all too much to process. And while Wells was mostly happy, the shock and confusion kept the full weight of the news from sinking in. That, and the fact that he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in ages. Over the past few weeks, he’d become the de facto leader of the camp. It wasn’t a position he’d necessarily sought, but his officer training combined with his lifelong fascination with Earth had given him a certain set of skills. Yet, while he was glad to be able to help, and grateful for the group’s trust, the position came with an enormous amount of responsibility.
“Maybe I’ll rest for a minute,” he said, lowering his elbows to the ground, then lying back so he could rest his head in Sasha’s lap. Although he and Sasha were sitting apart from the rest of the group gathered around the campfire, the crackle of the flames didn’t fully mask the sound of the typical evening arguments. It was just a matter of time before someone came rushing over to complain that someone else had taken her cot, or to get Wells to settle a dispute about water duty, or to ask what they were meant to do with the scraps from that day’s hunt.
Wells sighed as Sasha ran her fingers through his hair, and for a moment, he forgot about everything except the warmth of her skin as he let his head sink against her. He forgot about the terrible week they’d just had, the violence they had witnessed. He forgot about finding the body of his friend Priya. He forgot that his father had been shot in front of his eyes during a scuffle with Bellamy, who’d been desperate to get onto the dropship with his sister. He forgot about the fire that had destroyed their original camp and killed Clarke’s friend, Thalia—a tragedy that had severed the last remaining bonds of his and Clarke’s romance.
Maybe he and Sasha could spend the whole night out in the clearing. It was the only way they’d get any privacy. He smiled at the idea and felt himself sinking deeper toward sleep.
“What the hell?” Sasha’s hand stopped suddenly, and there was a note of anxiety in her voice.
“What’s wrong?” Wells asked as his eyes snapped open. “Is everything okay?”
He sat up and took a quick survey of the clearing. Most of the hundred were still huddled in clumps around the fire, speaking in low murmurs that blended into a soothing hum. But then his gaze fell on Clarke, and although she was curled up next to Bellamy, he could tell she was focused on something else entirely. Although his intense, all-consuming feelings for her had evolved into something akin to real friendship, he could still read her like a tablet. He knew her every expression: the way she pursed her lips in concentration when studying a medical procedure, or how her eyes practically sparkled when talking about one of her weird interests, like biological classification or theoretical physics. Right now, her brows were knitted together in concern as she threw her head back, assessing and calculating something in the sky. Bellamy’s head was tilted up too, his expression stony. He turned and whispered something in Clarke’s ear, an intimate gesture that would’ve once made Wells’s stomach roil, but now only filled him with apprehension.
Wells looked up but didn’t see anything unusual. Just stars. Sasha was still staring at the sky. “What is it?” Wells asked, placing his hand on her back.
“There.” Sasha’s voice tightened as she pointed straight up into the night, high above the infirmary cabin and the trees that ringed the clearing. She knew this sky as well as he knew the stars up close. An Earthborn, she’d been looking up her whole life, while he’d been looking down. Wells followed her finger and saw it: a swiftly moving bright light, arcing toward Earth. Toward them. Just behind it was another, then two more. Together they looked like a star shower, raining down on the peaceful gathering around the fire.
; Wells inhaled sharply as his entire body went rigid.
“The dropships,” he said quietly. “They’re coming down. All of them.” He felt Sasha’s body tense next to his. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close as they watched the descending ships in silence for a moment, their breath falling into the same rhythm.
“Do you… do you think your father’s on one of them?” Sasha asked, clearly trying to sound more hopeful than she felt. While the Earthborns had come to terms with sharing the planet with a hundred juvenile delinquents in exile, Wells sensed that facing the entire population of the Colony was an entirely different matter.
Wells fell silent as hope and dread battled for supremacy in his already overtaxed brain. There was a chance that his father’s injury hadn’t been as serious as it’d appeared, that he’d made a full recovery and was making his way down to Earth. Then again, there was also a chance that the Chancellor was still clinging to life in the medical center—or worse, already floating still and silent among the stars. What would he do if his father didn’t disembark from one of those dropships? How could Wells go on knowing that he’d never get to win the Chancellor’s forgiveness for the terrible crimes Wells committed back on the Colony?
Wells tore his eyes away and twisted around to look across the fire. Clarke had turned to look at him, and they locked eyes, which filled Wells with a flood of sudden gratitude. They didn’t have to exchange a single word. She understood his mixture of relief and dread. She knew how much he stood to gain or lose when those doors opened.
“He’s going to be so proud of you,” Sasha said, squeezing Wells’s hand.
Despite his anxiety, Wells felt his face soften into a smile. Sasha understood too. Even though she’d never met Wells’s father, even though she’d never witnessed their complicated relationship, she also knew what it was like to grow up with a parent responsible for the well-being of an entire community. Or in Wells’s case, a parent responsible for all known survivors of the human race. Sasha’s father was the leader of the Earthborns, just as Wells’s father was leader of the Colony. She knew what it meant to bear the weight of that duty. Sasha understood that being a leader was as much a sacrifice as it was an honor.
Wells looked around the fire at the gaunt, exhausted faces of the nearly one hundred teenagers who’d survived the traumatic first few weeks on Earth. Normally, the sight filled him with various degrees of worry as he fretted about food stores and other rapidly dwindling supplies, but this time, all he felt was relief. Relief and pride. They’d done it. Despite the odds, they’d survived, and now help was on its way. Even if his father wasn’t on one of those dropships, there would be huge amounts of rations, tools, medicine—everything they needed to make it through the upcoming winter and beyond.
He couldn’t wait to see the look on the new arrivals’ faces when they saw how much the hundred had accomplished. They had certainly made some mistakes along the way, and there had been horrible losses—Asher and Priya, almost Octavia—but there had been triumphs too.
Wells turned his head and saw Sasha staring at him in concern. He grinned, and before she had time to react, he tangled his fingers in her glossy hair and brought his lips to hers. She seemed surprised at first, but soon relaxed into him and kissed him back. He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then stood. It was time to tell the others.
He shot a quick glance at Clarke, silently asking for her consent. She pressed her lips together and turned briefly to Bellamy before meeting Wells’s eyes and nodding.
Wells cleared his throat, which caught a few people’s attention, but not many. “Can everyone hear me?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the buzz of conversation and the crackle of flames.
A few meters away, Graham exchanged a sneer with one of his Arcadian friends. When they’d first landed on Earth, he’d led the charge against Wells, trying to convince the others that the Chancellor’s son had been sent as a spy. And while most of the hundred had grown loyal to Wells, Graham hadn’t lost all his power—there was still a considerable portion of the camp who feared Graham more than they trusted Wells.
Lila, a pretty Waldenite who fawned over Graham, whispered something to him, then giggled loudly at whatever he whispered back.
“Will you shut up?” Octavia snapped, shooting them a dark look. “Wells is trying to talk.”
Lila glared at Octavia and muttered something under her breath, but Graham looked mildly amused. Maybe it was because Octavia had spent less time in camp than the others, but she was one of the few who wasn’t intimidated by Graham, and she was willing to stand up to him.
“What’s going on, Wells?” Eric asked. The tall, serious-faced Arcadian was holding the hand of his boyfriend, Felix, who’d recently recovered from a mysterious illness. Though naturally undemonstrative, Eric’s relief had temporarily overpowered his reserve. Wells hadn’t seen him let go of Felix’s hand all day.
Wells smiled. Soon, they wouldn’t have to worry about battling strange diseases. There would be fully trained doctors on those dropships. Doctors with more medicine than there had been on Earth in centuries.
“We did it,” Wells said, unable to contain his excitement. “We lasted long enough to prove that Earth is survivable, and the others are on their way.” He pointed up at the sky with a grin.
Dozens of heads snapped up, the flickering flames reflecting on their faces. A chorus of whoops and cries—and a few curses—rang out in the clearing as everyone jumped to their feet. The ships were low in the sky now, descending rapidly, picking up speed as they approached Earth.
“My mom is coming!” a young girl named Molly said, bouncing from side to side. “She promised me she’d be on the first ship.”
Two Walden girls clutched each other and began squealing, while Antonio, a normally cheerful Waldenite who’d grown quiet in recent days, started muttering to himself. “We did it… we did it…”
“Remember what my father told us,” Wells said, shouting over the noise. “About our crimes being forgiven. From this point on, we’re regular citizens again.” He paused, then grinned. “Actually, that’s not entirely true. You’re not regular citizens—you’re heroes.”
There was a smattering of applause, but it was quickly drowned out by a piercing screech that suddenly filled the air. It seemed to emanate from the sky itself and grew to a deafening volume, forcing everyone in the clearing to cover their ears.
“They’re about to land,” Felix shouted.
“Where?” a girl asked in response.
It was impossible to say, but it was clear that the ships were coming in fast and hard, with no detectable control over their approach. Wells watched in helpless shock as the first vessel passed directly overhead, just a few kilometers above them, so low that showers of burning debris singed the tops of the tallest trees.
Wells cursed under his breath. If the trees caught on fire, it wouldn’t matter who was on those dropships—they’d all be dead before morning.
“Great,” Bellamy said, loud enough to be heard over the din. “We risk our lives to prove that Earth is safe, just so they can come down and set it on fire.” His voice had its usual careless, mocking tone, but Wells could tell Bellamy was scared. Unlike the others, he’d forced his way onto the dropship—and gotten the Chancellor shot in the process. There was no way of knowing whether Bellamy would be forgiven for his crimes, or whether the guards had orders to shoot him on sight.
As the dropship moved past the clearing, Wells caught a glimpse of the letters on the side—Trillion Galactic, the company that built the ships generations ago. His stomach twisted as he realized that one was flying on its side, at a full forty-five-degree angle to Earth. What could that mean for everyone inside the cabin? It passed over the clearing, disappearing behind the tops of the tallest trees, continuing its descent out of their line of vision.
Wells held his breath, waiting. After a tortured moment, a flash of light and fire exploded f
ar out beyond the trees. It was at least a few kilometers from their camp, but seemed as bright as a solar flare. A millisecond later came the delayed sound of the crash, a deep thundering that drowned out all other noise. Before anyone could process what they’d just seen, the second ship passed directly over their heads and landed in the same catastrophic fashion, sending up more light and noise. A third ship followed.
Each crash shook the ground, sending violent vibrations up through Wells’s feet and into his stomach. Was this what happened when their ship crashed? Their landing had also been terrible—a few people had even been killed. The frightening noises stopped abruptly. As Earth grew quiet again, flames shot into the sky, coloring the darkness, and smoke began to curl upward. Wells turned away from the trees and back to the others. Their faces, illuminated in the orange light from above, asked the same question that was repeating on a loop in his own head: Could anyone have survived that?
“We have to go to them,” Eric said firmly, raising his voice to be heard over the chorus of gasps and nervous murmurs.
“How will we find them?” Molly asked, trembling. Wells knew she hated being in the woods, especially at night.
“It looks like they might’ve landed near the lake,” Wells replied, rubbing his fingers in circles against his temples. “But they could be much farther.” If anyone even survived, he thought. He didn’t need to say it out loud. They were all thinking the same thing. Wells turned back toward the crash. The flames rising above the trees were subsiding, shrinking down into the woods. “We better start moving. Once that fire goes out, there’s no way we’ll be able to find them in the dark.”
“Wells,” Sasha murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder, “maybe you should wait until morning. It’s not safe out there.”
