by Kass Morgan
The cart jolted and his head rolled back. He drew a breath and righted it, cricking his neck straight again.
The pale soldier was staring at him across the dark wagon. Wells stared back.
“Who are you?” Wells asked, and this time sound actually came out.
“We’re the Protectors,” the boy said in a strange, almost dreamy voice.
“Protectors,” Wells spat as he recalled the smoke from the explosions. The bodies on the ground. “You tried to kill us. Who the hell are you and what do you want?”
“We raided your camp,” the boy said calmly. “We took what was useful and discarded what wasn’t. You’ll learn.”
Panic rose in Wells’s chest, but he wrestled it down. “If you just needed supplies, why did you take us with you?”
The boy’s icy blue eyes fixed Wells with an appraising glare. “You may be useful. Or you may not. We’ll know soon. It doesn’t take long to weed out the weak.”
Wells refused to look away, the feat of holding in his rage made that much easier by whatever drug they’d injected him with, still wending its way out of his system.
The older man who’d seized Wells nodded. “You’re young. Strong,” he said. “If Earth wills it, you’ll do just fine.”
The other two repeated dully, “If Earth wills it.”
Wells heard a gasp down the line. He swiveled his head to see Eric starting to wake up. Eric blinked a few times; then his eyes widened. His jaw twitched like he was about to start yelling, but Wells shook his head a tiny bit, praying Eric was lucid enough to pick up the signal.
He was. Eric swallowed, blinking once in reply, and lowered his eyes to the floor. Good, Wells thought. I need time to get more answers.
“Where are you taking us?” Wells asked, trying to stay calm.
“You’ll like it there,” the third man, reedy and tall, said. Wells hadn’t heard him speak before. His voice was strangely sweet, lyrical, almost like he was reciting a nursery rhyme. “It’s the safest place.”
“The safest place where?” Wells asked, unable to hold back a note of frustration.
“The safest place on Earth,” the man said, smiling. “One day it will all be safe, if Earth wills it.”
“If Earth wills it,” they all said again, sending shivers down Wells’s back.
“And if you’re chosen, you will help us spread peace,” the pale soldier said.
“So you’re peacekeepers?” Wells said.
“We’re raiders,” said the older man. “And so will you be if you learn to keep your mouth shut.”
“I thought you called yourselves Protectors,” Wells said carefully. They all turned to stare at him for a long moment.
The sweet-voiced man smiled. “You’ll learn.”
He tried another tack. “How did you find our camp?”
“It’s not your camp anymore,” the older man said sharply. “It’s not your village either. Can’t have a village without Earth’s blessing.”
“So you destroyed it, and killed everyone in your way,” Eric said, his voice raw with pain. He was fully awake now and quivering with rage.
“We didn’t kill everyone,” the pale boy said, his eyes wide as if shocked. “We’re not monsters. We do Earth’s work, that’s all. We spared the strongest of you and kept the best of your women, didn’t we?”
Wells and Eric exchanged terrified glances. Who else had they taken? He prayed with every fiber in his body that they weren’t talking about Clarke, Octavia, or Glass. Or, his stomach churned, one of the younger girls like Molly.
“And we left the young and the weak.” The pale boy leaned forward, still protesting. “We didn’t kill them. Earth will do with them as She sees fit.”
The young. The weak. Wells’s heart raced as he thought about the infirmary, praying Clarke had been in there—one of the discarded they’d left behind when they’d raided the camp. But what about Bellamy? And Max?
“Why are you doing this?” came a husky, lilting voice at the end of the row. The Earthborn villager had woken up. He was staring at the soldiers, his eyes glittering with tears. “Why did you destroy what we worked so hard to build?”
The boy blinked, apparently confused by the question. “Because it was the right thing to do. It’s what we do everywhere.”
“Everywhere?” Wells repeated.
“Everywhere that’s left,” he said, gazing away out the dark, barred window. “Until all of Earth is safe.”
“Safe from what?” Wells snapped, unable to stop himself.
“You’ll learn,” said the older man, the one who’d taken him, as the others droned together, “You’ll learn.”
Wells clenched his fists behind him, settling in for the long ride. One way or another, these “raiders,” “Protectors,” whatever they were, were right—Wells was going to learn. He would learn as much as he possibly could.
And then he would fight back.
CHAPTER 6
Clarke
The red Hunter’s Moon had come and gone, the sun had risen on a new day, and the camp was still burning. A slow billow of smoke streamed up from the scorched earth, covering the sky in a sickly gray fog. But it did nothing to obscure what was left of the camp.
As Clarke stepped out of the infirmary cabin for a breath of air, she tried to brace herself for the devastation, but the scene before her was still like a punch to the gut. In addition to the guard tower, more than half of the newly built cabins had been destroyed. The clearing was strewn with pieces of charred wood, mangled bits of metal, and scraps of clothing. And until a few hours ago… bodies.
Whoever had attacked them had vanished as quickly and mysteriously as they’d appeared, but there was no pretending that yesterday’s events had been a terrible dream. At sunset, twenty-two bodies would be lowered into freshly dug graves. Now Clarke, her father, and Dr. Lahiri were doing everything in their power to make sure that number didn’t rise, that all of the injured stayed with them… including her mother.
As she turned toward the section of camp where the residential cabins used to stand, the horizon rippled with waves of heat. They’d tried to douse the fires at first, but the Council had called an end to it. Clarke understood. They had only a few things left: water and a tiny bit of reserve energy. There was no sense in wasting both of them on a losing battle, especially since the wind was faint and the flames were no longer spreading. One of the smoldering cabins had become a makeshift bonfire. The beds in the infirmary were strictly for the injured, so Clarke wasn’t surprised to see people huddled around the cabin, warming themselves.
We’ll need food, Clarke thought dimly, rubbing her eyes, which itched from smoke. Last night, they’d checked the camp’s food stores, knowing what they’d find. Everything they’d stocked up for winter had been taken by the raiders. Bellamy would have to take a hunting party out soon.
But the food, weapons, and wood stores were meaningless compared to what else had been stolen. The dead and wounded were all accounted for, which meant that nineteen people were missing. No one past middle age had been taken—and thankfully all the children were safe—but that was little comfort to their friends and family. One woman had to be physically restrained from going after the daughter she’d seen dragged away. To Clarke’s surprise, Bellamy had been one of the people to hold her back, even though they’d taken Octavia and Wells. Even in his frenzied haze of fury and pain, he’d realized the futility of going after their attackers unprepared and unarmed.
Clarke stepped over a charred log, once the lintel of the guards’ barracks, and ran numbers in her head. Around two hundred currently safe or only slightly injured. Nearly thirty gravely injured. Twenty-two dead. Nineteen missing.
Octavia. Glass. Graham. Eric. Wells. Her best friend. Her first love. The boy who’d risked everything to protect her.
Clarke’s breath stuttered. She pressed her hands to her knees, drawing in a shaky gasp, willing the sob that was rising in her throat to stay put. Not now. Not yet. Not until
they’d done all they could to help the injured, soothe the dying, ready the camp for another long night… and figure out what to do next. Clarke retied her ponytail and turned back toward the infirmary.
Then a distant voice stopped her. Bellamy.
Clarke turned to see him in quiet conversation with Rhodes and Max beside the dwindling bonfire. His back was to her, head bowed. She’d hardly laid eyes on him all day. He’d been too busy patrolling and taking stock of the camp to come by the infirmary. Or maybe he’d been avoiding her.
Part of her wanted to keep walking to avoid having to look into his pained eyes. She should’ve trusted him, should’ve believed him, instead of writing off his concerns as paranoia. He was one of the smartest, most intuitive people she’d ever met, and yet she’d treated him like a disturbed patient.
She headed toward the bonfire, the shame in her chest burning hotter than the flames. As she neared the small group, their conversation became audible.
“What else?” Max was asking.
“Heaped piles of leaves,” Bellamy said, motioning to the woods. “And when Luke and I scouted this morning, we confirmed what I’d suspected. There were holes dug under the leaf piles. They may have hid supplies there for the attack. Or themselves, even. Makeshift bunkers.”
“And you previously heard voices in the trees?” Max asked.
Clarke froze as Bellamy drew a deep breath, his shoulders rising with it.
“Yeah, last week. All I heard was one sentence. Two words. ‘This one.’ And then a whistle from another tree, and that was it. I looked up into the trees for what felt like an hour, but I couldn’t see a damn thing.”
“I wish you’d come to us sooner,” Rhodes said. Then, maybe at Bellamy’s expression, he winced, stepping back a hair. “But yes. I certainly understand.”
“You have a theory?” Max cut in, nodding to Bellamy.
Bellamy straightened, adjusting his bow strap. “I think they’ve been watching us for the past month, maybe longer. They knew all our plans. Our routines. They knew the layout of all the buildings and when they’d be unguarded. And…” His voice broke slightly. “They knew who they were going to kill and who they were going to take.”
“You think they were planning to take you?” Max asked.
“If I’d happened to be an easier target… yeah, I think so.”
Even from here, Clarke could hear the bitter longing in his voice. He wished he’d been taken so he could be with his siblings and do his best to protect them. Bellamy sighed and looked around the clearing, his eyes landing on Clarke.
His jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, she thought he was going to ignore her. He blames me, she thought. Of course he does. All of this is my fault. But then he let out a long breath, nodded good-bye to Rhodes and Max, and came over to join her.
She braced herself for a blast of anger from him, but he clasped her shoulders and pulled her into an embrace. The warmth of his skin, the weight of his arms, unlocked something inside her. All the fear and guilt she’d been desperately holding back came rushing forward, and soon tears were streaming down her cheeks. Once they started, she couldn’t seem to get them to stop.
“Are you okay?” Bellamy whispered in her ear.
Sobs wracked her body, and for a few moments, she couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. She fell into him and he tightened his hold, stroking her hair.
Finally, she took a step back and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry,” she said hoarsely. “You knew, Bellamy. You knew the whole time and I didn’t listen. I wish there were better words, but all I can say is that I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I’m—”
“No, Clarke.” Bellamy grabbed her hand. “No. This is not your fault. It’s theirs. Whoever they are.”
She shook her head so viciously it hurt. “I should have trusted you.”
“Yeah.” He shut his eyes briefly and sighed. “Yes, okay, I agree. You should have. But you know what? I’m not sure I would have either, if I’d been in the same position. We’re all just doing the best we can.”
Bellamy drew her in again, pressing his hand against her back, solid and forgiving, even when he had no reason to be.
Clarke rested her cheek against his chest, allowing herself one moment to close her eyes, but when she opened them again and peered up at Bellamy, he was looking out past her at the forest, his brow lined with worry. She could hear his heart thudding too fast.
He wanted to get out of here. To find his brother and sister, and hurt the people who took them. Bellamy didn’t have time for anger. There was only time for action.
All this death, destruction, loss could have been prevented if she’d just done the one thing she’d promised Bellamy to do: to have his back. To be his partner. To listen. But Bellamy was right. It was done. All Clarke could do now was try to be better from this point on.
She pulled softly away, wiped her cheeks with one last sniff, and nodded up at him. “What’s next?”
He pointed toward Max and Rhodes, who were rounding up a few guards and other familiar faces. “We’re about to announce our plan.”
CHAPTER 7
Bellamy
The surviving Colonists and Earthborns clustered around the bonfire, shooting nervous glances toward the woods.
We’re not safe anywhere, Bellamy thought bitterly as he joined Max and the other members of the Council in the center of the crowd. They were one short: An Arcadian woman named Fiona, who’d established herself as a wise and warm presence during her short time on Earth, was now lying in the expanding cemetery.
Max raised his hand and the murmurs died away, leaving an uneasy silence. Bellamy shifted his weight from side to side. Every minute they spent discussing the situation was another minute wasted. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to go now. He had half a mind to head out on his own, but then his eyes traveled across the crowd and landed on the group of children that had all been rescued safely, most of them clinging to Molly, who at thirteen was now the oldest of their group. They were all looking at Bellamy, eyes wide and shining with something that looked strangely more like hope than fear.
They trust me, he realized. They don’t see me as a former criminal who keeps screwing up. They’re counting on me.
Rhodes nodded to Max, stepped forward, and began to speak. The sound of his voice still set Bellamy’s teeth on edge. Though they were on the same side now, it would take more time than a couple of months to undo the bone-deep resentment Bellamy felt toward him. Still, there were more important things to focus on right now… like finding and destroying the bastards who’d taken Wells and Octavia.
“I know that you’re all hoping for answers about what happened to us last night,” Rhodes said. “I’ll start with what we do not know. We do not know who attacked us.”
The crowd grumbled, anxiety rippling through them in a wave.
“But we will find out,” Rhodes cut in, raising a hand to quiet them. “We do not know what their motivation for attacking us was, beyond stealing our supplies. But we will find out.”
His voice was firmer now, and the crowd was with him. Even Bellamy found himself nodding along.
“We do not know why they took our people, but believe me when I tell you that we will find out.” He smiled grimly, an unspoken promise of revenge lingering under his words. The crowd was hushed. “We do not know where they took our people… but we now know how to find out.” Rhodes backed up a step, motioning Bellamy forward. “My fellow Councilor Bellamy Blake led a small scouting party into the forest this morning.”
The murmurs returned, but this time, they contained a note of surprise and admiration. Bellamy cleared his throat.
“The people who attacked our camp were skilled at hiding their plans,” Bellamy started, “but they were a lot sloppier about covering up their tracks.”
He scanned the crowd and found Luke leaning against a tree on the far side. He’d been with Bellamy when they found the telltale wagon ruts leading away from
camp. Bellamy tried to catch his eye, but Luke was staring off into the distance, his dazed look a stark contrast to his usual alert, focused expression. Bellamy knew exactly what he was feeling. He’d seen the agony in Luke’s face when he’d told Bellamy that Glass had been taken.
Bellamy pointed toward the dimming eastern sky. “The attackers took our friends that way, due east. There were no signs of struggle or violence, so we’ve got to assume they were captured unharmed for a reason.”
His stomach clenched saying it. Octavia had to be alive. Wells too. They had to be, or else the fire keeping him alive would go out, and he’d disintegrate into ash.
“We have a trail,” he went on, more firmly. “And we had some weapons still at Mount Weather. Not many, but enough to give us a fighting chance. Tonight, I’m going to head out with a small group of volunteers. We’re going to find the bastards who took our people and we’re going to bring them home.”
The crowd responded with shouts of approval at first, then a low grumble rose up beneath it, and an older woman Bellamy recognized from back on Walden stepped forward, shaking her head.
“You can’t take all the weapons with you. We’ll be defenseless if they attack again while you’re gone.” A few heads nodded in agreement.
“I understand you’re worried,” Bellamy said, speaking loudly to make sure everyone heard. “But we only have three guns, and we’ll need every one of them for our rescue mission.”
“But what about us?” an Earthborn man shouted. “Why do their lives matter more than ours?”
Max stepped forward. “Bellamy and his team are going to be following the attackers. If, for some unknown reason, they decide they want to raid our camp a second time, Bellamy will know. They’ll come back with the guns and fight for us.”
“That’s a ridiculous plan,” the older woman said. “They need to leave at least one of the guns here. Besides, Bellamy’s far and away the best hunter. Without him, we’ll starve. He should stay behind.”