by Kass Morgan
Glass braced for Sonja’s relief to curdle into disdain at the sight of him—the boy she blamed for ruining Glass’s life. But to her surprise, her mother stepped forward and clasped Luke’s hand in her own. “Thank you,” she said with quiet dignity. “Thank you for bringing her back.”
Luke nodded, evidently unsure how to respond, but his good manners and self-control won out as usual. “Actually, it was Glass who brought me. You have a remarkably brave daughter, Mrs. Sorenson.”
Sonja smiled as she released Luke and wrapped her arm around Glass. “I know.” She led them inside to the tiny but neat living room. Glass’s eyes darted around, but she saw no evidence of packing, or any intention to leave.
“What’s been going on over here?” she asked without thinking. “Do they know how much longer the oxygen will last? Are there plans to evacuate?”
Sonja shook her head. “No one knows. The Chancellor hasn’t emerged from his coma, so Rhodes is still in charge.” Glass felt a pang of sadness for Wells—it had been three weeks; at this point, it seemed like the Chancellor might never recover. Especially not in time to make it off the ship.
“So what are they telling people?” Glass asked, shooting her mother a look. The night before she fled for Walden, she’d seen her mother and Rhodes together—and they had looked cozier than friends had a right to be. But Sonja just shook her head.
“Nothing. There haven’t been any updates, any instructions.” She sighed and her face fell. “But people are talking, of course. Once they closed the skybridge, it became clear that… well… that things weren’t going to get any better.”
“What about the dropships?” Glass asked. “Has anyone said anything?”
“Not officially. The entrance to the launch was still shut, last I heard. But people have already started heading down there, just in case.”
She didn’t need to say anything else. The ship had been designed with enough dropships for the population of the original Colony. After three centuries in space, that number had more than quadrupled. Not even the harsh population controls enacted a century ago had managed to make much of a dent.
For children on Phoenix, the limited number of dropships had always been something of a joke. When someone gave a stupid answer during tutorial, or messed up during a game on the gravity track, one of their friends would inevitably say something along the lines of “We’re giving away your seat on the dropship.” It was safe to laugh about, because humans were supposed to stay on the Colony for at least another century. And when they finally did return to Earth, there’d be plenty of time for the dropships to shuttle everyone back and forth. No one had ever imagined what would happen in the event of a large-scale evacuation. The prospect was too grim.
“We should go now, then,” Glass said firmly. “There’s no point in waiting for an announcement. By then, it’ll be too late. All the spots will be taken.”
“I’ll just get my things,” Sonja said, her eyes darting around the room as she took inventory of her scant possessions.
“There’s no time,” Luke said, taking Glass’s mother by the arm and leading her toward the door. “Nothing is worth losing our chance at getting to Earth.” Sonja nodded, her eyes flickering with fear, and followed Luke through the door.
The closer they got to the launch deck, the more crowded the halls became—filled with anxious Phoenicians, some laden with bags and children, others carrying nothing but the clothes on their backs.
Luke grabbed Glass with one hand and Sonja with the other, guiding them through the crowd toward the stairwell. Glass tried not to make eye contact with any of the people she passed. She didn’t want to remember their faces when she thought about the dead.
CHAPTER 18
Clarke
“It’s not serious,” Clarke told Sasha as she finished cleaning the cut on her neck and turned to rummage through their dwindling bandage supply. She reached into the box, then hesitated, unsure whether to use one of the remaining bandages. While Sasha’s wound wasn’t deep and would certainly heal on its own, it’d feel good to be able to do something.
“You’re going to be fine,” Clarke said, wishing the same were true for the girl lying on the far side of the cabin, her poor, disfigured face covered with a blanket no one would want to remove. Clarke had asked to examine Priya’s body one more time before they buried her, to see if there was any important evidence she and Wells had missed in their shock and horror.
Wells nodded at her from where he was standing guard at the doorway, and Clarke followed him outside.
“Bellamy’s gone insane,” he whispered to Clarke, and explained what Bellamy had done, how he’d tried to force Sasha to give him information she didn’t have. “You need to talk to him.”
Clarke winced. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d driven him to do it; telling Bellamy about Lilly had pushed him over the edge. But she couldn’t imagine filling Wells in on what had happened in the woods. “He’s not going to listen to me,” she said, glancing around the clearing, somehow both relieved and disappointed not to see Bellamy anywhere.
“I’ll go look for him,” Wells said wearily. “Will you stay here and keep an eye on Sasha? If Bellamy comes back and finds her gone, he’ll murder all of us.” He grimaced at his choice of words, then closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.
Clarke’s hand extended out of habit, trained to ruffle Wells’s hair whenever stress prompted this uncanny imitation of his father. She caught herself just in time, and placed her hand on his shoulder instead. “You know none of this is your fault, right?”
“Yes, I know.” It came out sharper than he’d evidently meant, because he sighed and shook his head. “Sorry. I mean, thank you.”
Clarke nodded, then glanced over her shoulder at the infirmary cabin. “Does she really need to stay in there? It seems cruel to make her sit so near—” She cut herself off before she said the body. “Priya.”
Wells shuddered, then looked over at the other side of the clearing where a mutinous-looking Graham was standing with his friends. They were too far away to hear, but their heads swiveled back and forth between the grave Eric was digging, and the infirmary cabin behind Wells and Clarke. “I think it’s best to keep her away from the others for now. We can’t risk angering the Earthborns if something happens to her. Look what they’ve done already, unprovoked.”
He was speaking calmly, logically, in the same tone he’d use to talk about water shifts and firewood duty, but there was something in Wells’s expression that made Clarke wonder if perhaps he had another reason for wanting to keep Sasha safe.
“Okay,” Clarke agreed. After Wells left, she took a deep breath and walked back into the cabin. Sasha sat cross-legged on a cot, running her finger along the bandage on her neck.
“Try not to touch it,” Clarke said, sitting down on the edge of her own cot. “The bandage is sterile, but your hands aren’t.”
Sasha’s hand dropped to her lap as she shot a glance at Priya. “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly. “I can’t believe they did that to her.”
“Thank you,” Clarke said stiffly, unsure how to respond. But when she saw that the pain in Sasha’s face was real, she softened slightly. “I’m sorry we brought her here with you. It’ll just be for a little while.”
“It’s okay. You should take your time. It’s important to spend time with the dead. We always wait until the third sunset to bury anyone.”
Clarke stared at her. “You mean, you leave the body out?”
Sasha nodded. “People grieve differently. It’s important to give everyone time to say good-bye in their own way.” She paused and surveyed Clarke thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s different on the Colony. Death is rarer there, isn’t it? You have medicine for everything?” Her voice was frayed by a mix of wonder and longing that made Clarke wonder what kind of supplies the Earthborns had, and how many people they’d lost from a lack thereof.
“A lot of things. But not everything. A friend of mine lost his m
other a few years ago. It was terrible. She’d been in the hospital for months, but in the end, there was nothing they could do.”
Sasha drew her knees up to her chest. She’d removed her black leather boots, revealing thick socks that stretched all the way up her calves. “It was Wells’s mother, wasn’t it?” she asked.
Clarke blinked at her in surprise. “Did he tell you?” she asked.
Sasha turned away and began fiddling with the edge of her scraggly black sweater. “No, I just can tell he’s suffered a lot. You can see it in his eyes.”
“Well, he’s caused quite a bit of suffering himself,” Clarke said, slightly more harshly than she’d meant to.
Sasha raised her head and stared at Clarke with an expression that was more curious than hurt. “Haven’t we all? You know, it’s funny. When I thought about kids on the Colony, I imagined you all as totally carefree. After all, what could you have to worry about? You had robot servants, medicine that allowed everyone to live to a hundred and fifty, and you spent all day surrounded by stars.”
“Robot servants?” Clarke repeated, feeling her brow furrow. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Just from stories people told. We knew most of it probably wasn’t true, but it was fun to think about.” She paused and looked sheepish, then started to slip her feet back inside her boots. “Come on, I have something to show you.”
Clarke stood up slowly. “I told Wells we’d stay here.”
“So he’s in charge?”
It was an innocent question, but it still rankled Clarke. Yes, Wells had been working hard to keep the camp from dissolving into chaos, but that didn’t mean he got to order everyone around. “He’s not in charge of me,” Clarke said. “So where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” Seeing Clarke’s hesitation, Sasha sighed. “Don’t you trust me by now?”
Clarke considered the question. “I suppose I trust you as much as I trust anyone here. After all, you aren’t on Earth because you committed a crime.”
Sasha looked at her in confusion, but before she had time to ask a question, Clarke turned to quickly check on her patients. Molly and Felix were unchanged, but there was something odd about the Walden girl’s lip. It seemed to be stained with something—was it blood? Clarke suppressed a gasp as she thought back to Lilly’s final days, when her gums bled so badly, it became difficult to talk. But when Clarke grabbed a scrap of cloth to wipe the blood from the girl’s mouth, it came away easily, almost as if it were…
“Are you ready?” Sasha asked.
Clarke turned with a sigh and nodded. Perhaps Sasha could show her some medicinal plants the Earthborns used. At this point, she was ready to try anything.
She opened the door and they stepped into the clearing. “It’s okay,” she called to the boy and the girl Wells had assigned to guard the cabin, imbuing as much authority as possible into her voice. “I’m just taking the prisoner for a bathroom break.”
The girl stared at them warily, but the boy nodded. “It’s fine,” Clarke saw him mouth to the girl, who remained unconvinced. Clarke didn’t blame her. There was still no evidence to support Sasha’s claim about the rogue Earthborns. As they crossed the tree line, the back of Clarke’s neck prickled, and she started to wonder if it was really a good idea to go off in the woods with Sasha alone. A chilling thought passed over her. What if Sasha had been the one who killed all the Colonists?
They walked along in silence. When Sasha stopped to examine a plant growing along a fallen log, Clarke had trouble thinking about anything other than how far they’d walked, and if anyone would be able to hear her scream. She kept seeing Priya, her blue, puffy face and the terrible words etched into her feet.
She looked up and saw Sasha staring at her. “Sorry, what did you say?” Clarke asked.
“Just that you should probably pull up this wintershade. It’s growing awfully close to your camp.”
Clarke glanced at the log, briefly registering the bright red berries. “Are those good?” she asked, suddenly unable to remember the last time she’d had anything to eat.
“No! They’re really poisonous,” Sasha said, lurching to stop Clarke from touching the berries, though she hadn’t even started to reach for them.
A thought crashed through Clarke’s head, then seemed to settle in her chest. “What are the symptoms?”
Sasha shrugged. “You throw up a lot, I think. You basically can’t get out of bed for a week.”
Clarke raced through a list of the sick kids’ symptoms: nausea, fever, fatigue. “Oh my god,” she muttered, thinking about the stain on Molly’s mouth.
“That’s it,” Clarke said, turning to face Sasha. “That’s what’s making people sick. They must’ve eaten the berries.”
Sasha’s eyes widened, and then she gave Clarke a small smile. “They’re going to be okay, then. They tell you to stay away from wintershade, but unless you eat a whole bush, they’re not fatal.”
Clarke exhaled as relief washed over her. “Is there any sort of antidote?”
“Not that I know of,” Sasha said, thinking. “But when we were seven a friend of mine ate some on a dare. You should’ve seen the look on his parents’ faces when they found out, oh my god. But after a week or so he was totally back to normal—which for him meant causing all kinds of trouble. So I think you just have to wait it out.”
Clarke grinned and, before she thought better of it, pulled Sasha into a hug.
“So where are you taking me?” she asked, suddenly happy to be out in the woods. It felt like a long time since she’d been anywhere but the infirmary cabin.
“Keep walking. We’re almost there.”
They set off again, and after about ten minutes, Sasha stopped, looked over her shoulder to make sure no one besides Clarke was watching, then pulled aside a pile of brush, revealing the entrance to some sort of tunnel in the hillside. “This way,” Sasha said. “Come on. It’s perfectly safe.”
Again, Clarke felt a prickle of unease as she thought about how far they were from the camp. But as she caught sight of Sasha’s smiling, eager face, her suspicion slipped away. They were the ones who’d captured Sasha, who’d tied her up, denied her food, kept her away from her family. If she trusted Clarke, then Clarke owed it to her to return the favor.
She watched Sasha duck and disappear into the cave, then took a deep breath and followed her inside.
Clarke’s chest tightened as she was surrounded by darkness. She reached her hands to the side, trying to figure out how large the space was. But then her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she saw that the cave was larger than her bedroom back on the Colony. There was plenty of air, and enough room to stand up straight.
The dirt-packed ground was covered with piles of objects. Some she recognized, like broken seats from the dropship and an outdated tablet, like the ones they gave to little kids to play with at home. But there were lots of things she couldn’t identify, scraps of metal that looked similar to the ones Clarke had discovered in the woods, but not entirely the same.
“What is all this stuff?” Clarke asked, kneeling to examine a cracked water container.
“I found it after the first dropship crashed,” Sasha said quietly. “The Colonists left most of it behind, but I couldn’t just abandon it in the woods. I’d spent my whole life imagining what it was like on the Colony, and now that there was real stuff from space, right here… I needed to find out more.” She reached down and picked up the tablet with a wry smile. “I guess you don’t use these to summon your robot servants.”
Clarke was about to make a joke about sending a robot servant to make them something to eat, when a glint of burnished silver caught her eye.
Sasha followed her gaze. “That one’s my favorite,” she said, scooping it up. “I think it’s—”
“A watch,” Clarke said, suddenly numb.
Sasha gave her a funny look and handed it to her. “Are you okay?”
Clarke didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. She ran her
finger along the face, then, trembling, over the silver band. “Clarke,” Sasha called, her voice sounding far away. “What’s wrong?”
She turned the watch over slowly, although there was no doubt in her mind what she would see. There they were. Three letters carved into the metal.
D.B.G.
It was her father’s watch, the one that had been handed down through her family since her ancestor David Bailey Griffin carried it onto Phoenix right before the Exodus.
Clarke blinked rapidly. This couldn’t be real. She had to be hallucinating. There was no possible way for the watch to have made it to Earth. Her father had been wearing it the last time she saw him, moments before he died. Before he was given a lethal injection and floated into space.
She ran her finger along the band, and shivered as a chill passed through her whole body. Like she’d just held hands with a ghost.
In the end, they let her say good-bye to her father. Since Clarke had been charged but not yet sentenced, the Chancellor permitted the guards to escort her from her cell to the medical center.
Unfortunately, the Chancellor’s decision came too late for Clarke to see her mother. She knew that her mom was gone before the guards even told her—she could see it on their faces.
The guards led Clarke to a part of the medical center she’d never been in before. Apprentice medics didn’t participate in executions.
Her father was sitting on a chair in what, at first glance, appeared to be a regular exam room, except that there were no cabinets full of drugs, no bandages, no scanning equipment—nothing that was needed to save a life. Only the tools to end it.
“Clarke,” her father said with a smile that didn’t reach his wide, haunted eyes. “It’s going to be okay.” His voice was shaking, but his smile never wavered.
She broke free of the guards and flung herself at him. She’d promised herself she’d try not to cry, but it was useless. The moment she felt his arms around her, a series of sobs tore through her body. Tears streamed down her face and onto her father’s shoulder.
