Homecoming

by Kass Morgan

  “But, Luke, you understand what that means, right? They’ll punish you.” Glass’s voice trembled with fear. “I know he saved my life, but Rhodes is dangerous. You should have seen the way he talked about executing Bellamy. It was… awful. Who knows what he’s capable of?”

  “I know.” Luke’s jaw clenched and unclenched.

  They were both quiet for a moment. Glass took his hand and squeezed it. He felt far away, distant, like he did when he was preparing for a spacewalk.

  “Luke.” She squeezed his hand again. Slowly he turned to look at her. “It can’t end this way.” After all they had been through, after all they had fought for and survived, it’d be madness to let Rhodes turn either of them into scapegoats just like he was doing to Bellamy.

  “It won’t,” Luke said, pulling her into a tight embrace.

  She breathed in his familiar scent, which was now layered with earthy smells that she was growing to love as she began to associate them more and more with Luke. His heart beat a steady rhythm against her cheek. Her blood pressure began to fall, her pulse slowed, and the adrenaline in her veins subsided. This was all she needed. He was all she needed.

  Glass pulled away suddenly. Luke’s head shot around, his instincts programed to check for danger.

  “I know what to do,” Glass said.

  Luke looked down at her, his brows knit together. “What?”

  “We’ll leave.”

  “What do you mean ‘leave’? Where would we go?”

  “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. Wells can help us. He and Sasha can tell us which way to go. We can hide out for a while—as long as it takes for us to be sure that when we get back, all this will have been forgotten.”

  “What about the Earthborns? The dangerous ones?” Luke asked, looking at her as if she’d gone completely insane.

  “We’ll have to take our chances.”

  Luke stared at her for a long moment, and Glass braced for the weary shake of his head, and some vagaries about not abandoning his duties. But to her surprise, a small smile crept across his face. “We’d have to go tonight, then. We don’t want to give Rhodes the chance to find me.”

  Glass looked at him, startled. “Seriously? You really want to go off on our own?”

  He placed his uninjured hand on her waist. “Do you know what’s kept me going this last year? All the time you were in Confinement, those nights on Walden when I was certain we were dying? It was the thought of being on Earth with you. Even when I was sure it was just a fantasy, I couldn’t stop imagining exploring the planet with you. Just us.” He let go of her waist and ran his fingers through her hair. “It’s incredibly risky, though. You know that.”

  She nodded. “I know. But I’d rather be in danger out there with you than risk being here without you.” She smiled up at him and ran her hand softly across his stubbly cheek. He took her hand in his and kissed her fingertips.

  “And I’d rather be out there with you than cause anyone else more pain,” he said.

  “Then let’s go get ready. We’ll take whatever supplies we can grab without attracting attention and then head out.”

  “I have to finish this shift. You get some water and whatever food you can hide in your clothes, and we’ll meet back here after sundown. While everyone’s eating dinner.”

  “Okay,” Glass agreed. “I’ll find Wells. And I think we should tell Clarke too. She needs to know what they’re planning for Bellamy. Because if it isn’t you, it’s going to be someone else.”

  “Can we trust her?”

  “Yes.” Glass was emphatic. “We can trust her.”

  “Good.” Luke bent his head to give Glass a quick, soft kiss. “We’ll be just like Adam and Eve,” he said with a smile.

  “There’s no way I’m dressing in leaves, no matter how long we’re alone in the woods.”

  Luke made a show of looking her up and down, then grinned mischievously, making it clear exactly where his mind was. “Go get ready,” he said, tapping her elbow. With one last lingering look, he turned around and headed back to the infirmary cabin.

  CHAPTER 10

  Clarke

  For one fleeting, blissful moment, Clarke was happy. As Keith stood up for the first time since the dropships landed and took a few steps, everyone in the infirmary cabin cheered. Clarke stood in front of him, holding out her arms as he hobbled forward. He had one skinny arm wrapped protectively around his ribs, the other waving out to the side for balance. He stepped into Clarke’s arms, and she hugged him gently. The boy was going to be fine.

  “Okay, buddy, let’s get you back to bed. That’s enough for one day,” Clarke said.

  “Thanks, Dr. Clarke.” Keith’s smile was big enough to light up the room.

  “Just ‘Clarke.’” She smiled, easing him back down onto the cot. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the one unoccupied cot in the cabin, and all the temporary happiness flooded out of her, leaving only panic and despair in its wake. Guards had come that afternoon to move Bellamy to a new prison cabin they’d built on the edge of the clearing, a dismal, windowless shack made of sheet metal salvaged from the crash site. He was locked up by himself, with two armed men outside the door at all times. Clarke wasn’t sure exactly what Rhodes had planned, but she knew it was just going to get worse. Either Bellamy would succumb to infection from a lack of proper medical care, or else Rhodes would expedite his demise by…

  She shook the thought out of her head. It was too terrible to contemplate. She would figure something out. She had to.

  As Keith gingerly settled himself, Clarke turned to Marin, whose leg had shown huge improvement. The wound had begun to heal with no hint of infection. “You’re next, Marin,” Clarke said. “We’ll get you up and walking in no time.”

  “I can’t wait.” Marin grinned. “How long have I been on this planet, and I still haven’t seen so much as a tree or a leaf?”

  “Well, that’s what you get for being unconscious when we brought you in here,” Clarke teased, her light tone belying the dread building in her stomach. “But I’ll bring you a few samples later, to tide you over.”

  “Clarke?” someone called from the doorway, a desperate tinge to the voice.

  Clarke spun around to see a pale, anxious-looking Glass shifting her weight from side to side. “Glass, what’s wrong?”

  “I… I need to talk to you for a sec.”

  “Sure.” Clarke hurried over to her as quickly as her overtaxed legs would allow. Glass’s face was drawn and pale. “Is everything okay?” Clarke’s heart seized a little. Had something happened to Wells?

  “I think we should go outside,” Glass said, shooting a nervous look around the cabin.

  Clarke nodded and, without another word, followed Glass through the door and into the clearing. The late-afternoon sun seemed to mellow the frenetic scene somewhat, although everywhere she looked, Clarke could see signs of strain—people arguing over rations, guards casting uneasy glances toward the trees, and, in the distance, people bending their heads to avoid meeting the eyes of the two guards standing to attention in front of Bellamy’s prison. The idea of him in there, alone and ill, made Clarke want to break into a sprint and crash through the door, guards be damned.

  She tore her eyes away and turned her attention to Glass. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s about Luke… and Bellamy.”

  Clarke scrunched up her face in confusion. What could Bellamy and Luke possibly have to do with each other? Bellamy had basically been unconscious or asleep since Luke landed on Earth—had they even met?

  Glass inhaled and exhaled slowly, as if summoning the courage to speak. “Clarke, I just—I thought you should know. They’re planning to execute Bellamy.” Her voice had grown faint, as if saying the terrible word took a physical toll.

  Clarke’s stomach dropped out, and she bit her lip to stifle a cry. “Execute him?” she whispered. Glass nodded.

  It wasn’t as if Clarke hadn’t expected something like this. He
r medical training had taught her to consider every eventuality and face even the grimmest head-on. But there was an enormous difference between forcing herself to imagine the worst-case scenario and actually hearing it articulated on another person’s lips.

  “They’re planning to hold a trial, but it’s going to be a total sham,” Glass continued, her face growing more pained with each word. She explained that Rhodes was going to make Luke kill Bellamy. “But we’re not going to let them force Luke to do it,” she said quickly. “We’re leaving camp. Tonight. That should buy you some time.”

  “How… how will that help us?”

  “If Luke isn’t there to carry out Rhodes’s orders, they’ll have to rethink the execution. It’s not a permanent solution, but it might buy you an extra day to figure something out.”

  “Is that… is that why you’re leaving? So Luke won’t have to kill Bellamy?”

  Glass nodded, unhinging something in Clarke’s chest, allowing a surge of unprecedented affection and gratitude to rush forth. Clarke wanted to grab Glass’s hand and beg her forgiveness for every snide comment, every time she’d giggled inwardly at one of Glass’s mistakes in school. She’d never judged a person so unfairly. But she couldn’t move, could barely speak. They were going to kill Bellamy. They were going to drag the boy she loved into the clearing, point a gun at the kindest, bravest person she’d ever met, and end his life with the twitch of a finger.

  But then Clarke’s brain kicked into another gear, and she felt other instincts taking over. No. She refused to let this happen. She saved lives; she didn’t stand by and watch them fade into oblivion. She would save Bellamy. If Glass could find the courage to flee the camp with Luke, Clarke could find the courage to do whatever was necessary.

  At that thought, the gravity of Glass’s plan began to sink in. “Glass, there has to be another way. It’s too dangerous. You guys don’t know the terrain, and there are—there are… people… out there who want to hurt us.”

  “Wells told us about the other faction of Earthborns. We’ll be careful, I promise.” She forced a smile that didn’t reach her wide, sad blue eyes. “But listen, Clarke,” Glass said, putting her hand on Clarke’s arm. “Just because Luke isn’t here doesn’t mean Bellamy will be safe. They’ll find someone else to do it.”

  Clarke nodded, her mind whirring. “I know. I think I have a plan.” She thought of Scott’s sour breath and penetrating stare. A shudder passed through her, but her resolve was firm: She would use whatever powers of persuasion she had to get Scott to free Bellamy.

  “Can I help?” Glass asked, her face full of hope and concern. “I mean, before we leave?”

  Clarke ran through the plan forming in her head one more time, then nodded slowly before stammering what she needed Glass to do. For a second, Clarke worried that she’d said too much. Glass was staring at her with enormous eyes, her mind turning behind them. But something in Glass’s face shifted, and a look of understanding and resolve took over. It was clear she understood the lengths Clarke was willing to go to in order to save Bellamy.

  She could only hope it was enough.

  CHAPTER 11

  Wells

  Wells had never set out to be in charge. It had just evolved. He saw things that needed to be done, and he did them. If he thought something could be done better, he suggested it. It wasn’t a power thing, like it clearly was with Rhodes. It was just the best way Wells had found to keep people alive.

  He stepped into the supply shed and surveyed the stacks of odds and ends they’d collected from the crash sites. He knew Rhodes wouldn’t want him assessing their inventory, but the Vice Chancellor had been conspicuously absent for most of the day, and Wells figured he could always come up with some excuse if he were caught. He needed to do something to keep busy. He could hardly stand to be in the clearing. The sight of the armed guards in front of the new prison made him physically ill. He racked his brain trying to come up with a way to help Bellamy, but he couldn’t think of a way to talk to Rhodes without making the situation even worse.

  So until he came up with a plan that didn’t involve getting both him and Bellamy killed, he’d take inventory.

  There hadn’t been much in the way of actual supplies prepared and loaded onto the hundred’s dropship by whoever was in charge up there on the Colony. It seemed as if they hadn’t believed the hundred would survive the trip, let alone spend more than a month on Earth. There had been a smattering of useful things—one case of medicine and first-aid tools; two cartons of protein paste, which were long gone; and a handful of blankets, water containers, cooking utensils, and weapons. The second round of dropships hadn’t carried much more. Wells figured that was the result of having no advance notice when they left the Colony.

  But somehow, the hundred and the newcomers had managed to stockpile an impressive number of supplies. They had repurposed broken seats and shards of metal into water buckets, cots, chairs, and tables. They had used straps and wires to bind canvas and upholstery into tarps and tents and blankets. They had foraged for wide, flat leaves they could dry out and use for multiple purposes—from woven baskets to plates and bowls. They used everything they could find to cook, clean, and protect themselves. It was awe-inspiring, really, that all these people had put their heads together and figured out how to survive. Wells had never been so aware of how easy they’d had it on the ship.

  The quiet of the supply shed was a welcome change from the hubbub outside. Wells took his time assessing their inventory, making a mental note that they needed to start gathering more leaves and small pieces of wood for kindling. They were doing okay on berries and plants, and a whole new crew was training to track animals—which was good, considering that it’d be a long time before Bellamy would be able to go hunting.

  Wells stood up and stretched his arms over his head. He heard a soft thunk against the side of the building. Maybe it was Felix dragging the rain barrels over, as Wells had asked him to. He stepped outside to see if he could help. Moving around the side of the shed, his eyes landed on Kendall and his body went rigid. The younger girl had seemed sweet at first and had paid so much attention to Wells he’d thought she’d had a harmless crush on him. But over the past week, he’d grown more concerned with her behavior. Nothing about her quite added up, from her strange accent, to the way her story about ending up in Confinement kept changing.

  But that wasn’t the most troubling part. Wells’s skin prickled as he thought about Priya, his friend who’d been violently killed and left hanging from a tree. They’d all thought the Earthborns had done it, of course, just like they’d murdered Asher. But even the horrific details of that terrible day didn’t add up. Priya had been strung up with a rope from the hundred’s own camp, and the gruesome letters carved into her feet bore a startling resemblance to the handwriting on her grave maker—a marker Kendall had fashioned herself.

  Part of Wells thought he was just being paranoid, that he’d been rattled by the traumatic events. But there was also part of him that knew not to let Kendall out of his sight.

  She stood alone, her back to him, leaning over one of the rain barrels. She was reaching down into it.

  “Hey, Kendall,” Wells said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

  Kendall jumped at the sound of his voice and faced him with a large smile plastered on her face.

  “Oh, hi, Wells,” she said smoothly.

  “What’s going on? What’s up with the rain barrel?”

  “Nothing. Just checking to see how much was in there. Felix just rolled these over. I don’t know how he did it with so much water in them.”

  “It’s not hard if you get it at the right angle,” Wells replied. “Why do you need to check the water level?”

  Kendall looked up at the sky and held up her hands near her shoulders, palms up, as if checking the air for moisture. “It doesn’t look like we’re going to have any rain today, and I wanted to be sure we had enough.”

  Wells studied her face. Something about her wa
s out of synch—it was almost as if her semiclueless voice and her piercing stare belonged to two different people but had accidentally ended up together.

  “Did you find something in there?”

  Kendall tittered. “In the rain barrel? No. Why?”

  “What were you doing with your hand in it, then?”

  “Wells, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t have my hand in the barrel.”

  “Kendall, I saw you standing there reaching into it.”

  She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. For a moment so brief Wells thought he might be imagining it, her expression transformed from innocent and awkward to cool and calculating. Then she opened her eyes wide again, smiled shyly, and shrugged. “Wells, I don’t know what to tell you. I wasn’t reaching into the barrel. I have to get to my hunting shift.” Before Wells could say another word, she turned on her heel and scurried back to the center of camp.

  Wells felt uneasy. Something wasn’t right. He looked down into the barrel, but all he saw was crystal clear water, about halfway up the side. With a frustrated slap of his palms against the side of the barrel, Wells decided he needed to tell Rhodes what he’d just seen. Making sure the water was safe to drink was more important than some stupid power struggle.

  It wasn’t hard to track down the Vice Chancellor. He just had to spot the clump of guards gathered around, waiting for orders. With an excuse me or two, he made his way to the front of the group and stood behind Rhodes, who was talking to Officer Burnett, his second-in-command.

  “Sir?” Wells said in his well-trained officer’s respectful tone.

  Rhodes spun around and looked Wells over from head to toe. He seemed surprised to see Wells again. “Yes, Officer Jaha? How can I help you?”

  Wells felt the eyes of the guards on him. “I witnessed something I think you should know about, sir.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yes. I saw a girl named Kendall dropping something into one of the rain barrels. I believe she was putting something into our water supply.”