Day 21

by Kass Morgan

  “Yes, Clarke?” The tutor gestured toward a girl in the front row who had her hand raised. Glass and Cora rolled their eyes. Clarke always had a question, and the tutors were so delighted by her “intellectual curiosity” that they let her babble on, even after class was supposed to have ended.

  “Had any species already gone extinct? Or did that all happen after the Cataclysm?”

  “That’s an interesting question, Clarke. By the middle of the twenty-first century, at least a third of the…”

  “I wish she’d go extinct,” Glass muttered, not bothering to blink it to Cora as a message.

  Cora laughed, then sighed and placed her head back on her desk. “Wake me up when it’s over.”

  Glass groaned. “That girl needs to get a life,” she whispered. “If she doesn’t shut up, I’m going to float her.”

  After their tutor finally dismissed them, Glass jumped to her feet and grabbed Cora’s hand. “Come on,” she whined. “I need to find buttons for that dress.”

  “Are you going to the Exchange?” Clarke asked eagerly, looking up from her desk. “I’ll come with you. I’m trying to find a pillow for my friend.”

  Glass ran her eyes up and down Clarke’s ensemble of pants and a shirt so dowdy, they could’ve come from the Arcadia Exchange. “You can burn those pants, stuff the ashes into the shirt, and voilà, a new pillow for your friend and one less eyesore for us.”

  Cora burst out laughing, but the thrill of accomplishment Glass was expecting never came. Clarke’s eyes widened with hurt and surprise, then she pressed her lips together and spun away without a word.

  Whatever, Glass thought. That’s what she gets for being a suck-up and ruining everyone else’s day.

  Since they’d been kept late, Cora didn’t wind up having time for the Exchange, so Glass went home. She hated shopping by herself. She didn’t like the way the guards stared at her when the officer in charge wasn’t looking. Or the way men stared at her when their wives weren’t looking, for that matter.

  On the walk back, she thought about ways to make her father give her more of their ration points. The Remembrance Day Celebration was coming up, and for once, Glass was determined to have a prettier dress than Cora.

  She scanned into the flat and tossed her school bag on the floor. “Mom?” she called. “Mom, do you know where Dad is?”

  Her mother wandered out from her bedroom. Her face was pale under her artfully applied blush, and her eyes glistened strangely, though it might’ve just been a trick of the light. “What’s wrong?” Glass asked, looking over her shoulder. She wished her father would get here. She never knew what to do when her mother was in one of her moods. “Where’s Dad? Is he still at work? I want to talk to him about my allowance.”

  “Your father’s gone.”

  “Gone? What do you—?”

  “He left us. He’s moving in with”—she closed her eyes for a moment—“that girl from the committee.” Her voice was flat, as if she’d tucked her emotions away as neatly as one of her elaborate dresses.

  Glass froze. “What do you mean?”

  “It means your allowance is the least of our problems,” Sonja said, sinking onto the couch and closing her eyes. “We have nothing.”

  Her feet were cramping and her hands were raw by the time Glass crawled around the corner of the vent that led onto Phoenix. She prayed there wouldn’t be guards on the other side, that she’d be able to turn right around and bring Luke back with her. With everything that was going on, surely she could keep Luke out of sight until they made it to her mother’s flat, and then figure out how to get onto one of the dropships.

  Back when she first thought of going to Earth—when she was pulled from her Confinement cell and told that she and ninety-nine others would be sent to the surface on a dropship—the idea of the planet had filled her with terror. But now, a different image of life on the ground began to take shape. Holding hands with Luke as they walked through the woods. Sitting on the top of a hill in perfect, contented silence as they watched a real sunset. Perhaps some cities had survived—what if they could go to Paris like the couple on Luke’s plates?

  She was smiling as she reached forward to grasp the grate on the Phoenix side, but she couldn’t take hold. Her fingers scratched around for purchase and found nothing. She could feel the edges of the vent; something flat was covering it, sealing it shut from the other side.

  Glass rolled over so her feet were facing the end of the air shaft. She took a deep breath and kicked. Nothing happened. She kicked again, this time crying out in frustration when the grate rattled, but stayed in place. “No!” she exclaimed, wincing as her voice echoed through the vent. Camille must’ve blocked it off from the other side to keep anyone from following her. It made sense—one Walden stowaway had a much better chance of staying hidden than a whole stream of them. But in doing so, she’d sentenced Glass and Luke to die.

  Glass hugged her knees to her chest, trying not to imagine the look on Luke’s face when she told him the path was blocked. How he’d use every ounce of self-control to look stoic and brave, but wouldn’t be able to keep the despair from flickering in his eyes.

  She’d never get to see her mother. When the oxygen finally ran out on Phoenix, Sonja would be all alone, huddled in her tiny flat as she wheezed a last good-bye to the daughter who’d disappeared without a word.

  But just as Glass turned around to start the long crawl back, an idea flitted into her head. An idea so reckless and insane that it might actually work.

  If there was no way to get from Walden to Phoenix inside the ship, she would just have to go outside.

  CHAPTER 8

  Wells

  Molly wasn’t any better after breakfast. Her fever had grown worse and she couldn’t stop shivering, no matter how many blankets Wells covered her with.

  By midday, Molly was still curled up in one of the now-empty cabins, where she’d been since dawn. Wells surveyed her with a frown. Sweat beaded her pale forehead, and her eyes had an odd, yellowish tinge.

  Wells had been avoiding facing Clarke for the first time, but now he had no choice. He bent down, scooped the small girl into his arms, and walked out into the clearing. Most of the camp was too busy whispering about the Earthborn or sparring with Graham’s new spears on the far side of the clearing to notice, though a few people watched curiously as Wells pushed open the door to the infirmary cabin and carried Molly inside.

  The Earthborn girl was lying with her back to the door, either asleep or pretending to be. But Clarke was sitting up, staring at her so intensely that she didn’t notice Wells at first.

  He stepped over Bellamy, who’d apparently fallen asleep on the floor next to Clarke’s cot, then gently lowered Molly onto one of the other empty beds. When he straightened up, Clarke had turned from the Earthborn, and was now looking at Wells, her eyes wide.

  “Hey.” He took a few steps forward. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better,” Clarke said hoarsely, then cleared her throat. “Thank you… for giving me the antidote. You saved my life.” She sounded sincere. There was no trace of lingering anger in her voice, no sign that she still resented Wells for what he’d done during the fire. But her vague, polite tone was almost worse than fury, as if he were a stranger who’d performed some kind service. Was this what it would always be like between them now, he wondered, or could this maybe be a fresh start?

  As Wells searched for the right response, Clarke’s eyes drifted to Molly. The detached expression on her face slid away, replaced by a penetrating gaze that was much more familiar. “What’s wrong with Molly?” she asked, her voice sharp with concern.

  Grateful to have something else to talk about, Wells told Clarke how the younger girl had suddenly fallen ill. Clarke frowned and started to rise from her bed. “Wait,” Wells said, hurrying over. He placed a hand on Clarke’s shoulder before he had time to think better of it, then snatched it away. “You need to rest. Can you look at her from here?”

  “
I’m okay,” Clarke said with a shrug. She lowered her feet to the ground and stood up shakily. Wells fought the urge to offer her his arm.

  She walked slowly over to Molly, then knelt down for a better look. “Hey, Molly. It’s me, Clarke. Can you hear me?”

  Molly only whimpered in response, thrashing against the blanket Wells had wrapped her in. Clarke frowned as she placed her fingers on the girl’s wrist to check her pulse.

  “What do you think?” Wells asked, taking a hesitant step toward them.

  “I’m not sure.” She’d moved her hand to Molly’s neck to feel her glands, then twisted around to glance up at Wells. “Hey, how long have we been here? I seem to have lost track of time with the snakebite and everything.”

  “Just over three weeks.” He paused, calculating in his head. “I think it was three weeks yesterday.”

  “Day twenty-one,” Clarke said quietly, more to herself than to him.

  “What’s that? What are you talking about?”

  Clarke looked away, but Wells could see the fear in her eyes. He knew what that haunted look meant. He remembered the anguish he’d felt when Clarke had finally confided in him about her parents’ experiments. “You don’t think it has something to do with radiation, do you?” he asked. “But… wouldn’t people have gotten sick much earlier?”

  Clarke pressed her lips together, scrunching her mouth to the side like she always did when giving her body time to catch up to her racing brain. “If it was in the air, yes, we wouldn’t have been able to breathe. But if it was just trace amounts in the water, then this would be the time. But I don’t think that’s what’s wrong with Molly,” she said quickly. “It doesn’t look like radiation poisoning.” A shadow of pain flickered in her eyes, and Wells knew she was thinking about her friend, the one who’d died. “I think she might be having a bad reaction to something. Is the rest of the universal antidote still in the medicine chest?”

  “The rest of it?” Wells repeated. “There was just the one vial.”

  Clarke stared at him. “Please tell me you didn’t use the whole thing on me. That was probably twelve doses!”

  “And how exactly was I supposed to know that?” Wells asked, indignation tugging at the guilt that had begun to coil around his stomach.

  “So it’s all gone?” Clarke turned back to Molly and cursed under her breath. “This isn’t good.”

  Before Wells could ask Clarke to elaborate, the door flew open, and Eric hurried inside, leading Felix by the hand. “Clarke? Thank god you’re awake. We need you.” Startled to see the normally stoic Eric so agitated, Wells hurried toward him and helped Eric settle Felix in one of the remaining empty cots.

  “He passed out on our way back from the stream,” Eric said, looking anxiously from Clarke to Felix. “And he said he hasn’t been able to keep any food down.”

  By this point, Bellamy had woken up. He rose to his feet slowly, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. “What’s going on? Clarke, what the hell are you doing out of bed?”

  She ignored him as she took a few shaky steps in order to begin examining Felix. His eyes were open, but he had trouble focusing on Clarke, and didn’t seem able to answer any of her questions.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Eric asked, searching Clarke’s face with an intensity that reminded Wells of the guards in the command center back on the ship, the ones in charge of scanning the monitors for asteroids or debris.

  “I’m not sure,” she said, her voice a mix of confusion and irritation. Clarke hated being stumped. “But it’s probably nothing to worry about. It could be dehydration caused by the stomach flu. We’ll hydrate him and see what happens. Bellamy, can you bring us some more water?”

  Bellamy hesitated and looked at Wells, as if about to suggest that he go, but then he nodded and hurried out the door.

  Wells crouched down next to Clarke, close enough that he could speak softly, but far enough that there’d be no danger of brushing against her. “It’s weird, isn’t it? That Molly and Felix fell ill at pretty much the same time?”

  “Not really. With a hundred people living together in such a small space, it’s a wonder there hasn’t been some sort of outbreak sooner.”

  Wells glanced at Eric, who was busy stroking Felix’s hair, and lowered his voice. “But what if it isn’t the flu? What if it’s the radia—”

  “It isn’t,” Clarke said as she tilted her head toward Felix’s chest to listen to his lungs as best she could without a stethoscope.

  “But if it was. Is there anything in the medicine chest that would help?”

  “My parents were developing something,” Clarke said softly. “There’s a bottle of pills that could slow the effects of radiation poisoning.”

  “Shouldn’t we give it to them, then? To be safe?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Clarke’s tone brooked no arguments, but Wells pressed on, anyway. “Why?”

  Clarke jerked her head toward Wells and gave him a look of frustration, mingled with fear. “Because if it’s not radiation poisoning, then the pills will kill them.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Clarke

  “You sure you’ll be okay for a few hours?” Bellamy asked, examining Clarke’s still-swollen arm with a frown. “I’ll try not to go far, in case—”

  “I’m sure,” she interrupted. “Go hunting. It’s fine, I promise.” They were low on food, and when Wells had returned that afternoon to check on Molly and Felix, he’d swallowed his pride and asked Bellamy for help replenishing their supplies.

  Bellamy jerked his head toward the sleeping girl on the other side of the cabin. “Promise me you won’t talk to her,” he said. “I don’t trust her alone with you.”

  “I’m not alone,” Clarke said. “Molly and Felix are here.”

  “Unconscious people don’t count. Just keep your distance, okay? And try to get some rest.”

  “I will. I promise.” Clarke tried to keep her voice steady so Bellamy wouldn’t suspect how eager she was for him to leave. But the moment he was gone, she rose onto her knees to peer over at the Earthborn girl.

  She was wearing all black, but Clarke didn’t recognize most of the materials. The pants were tight and made out of something smooth and slightly shiny—maybe animal skin?—while the fabric draped over the top of her body looked softer. What was woven animal hair called? Wool? The bulky wrap around her shoulders was unmistakably animal fur. Clarke was desperate to find out what sort of creature it came from. So far, the only mammal she’d seen was a deer; the fur on the girl’s wrap was much thicker and darker.

  Across the room, Felix moaned in his sleep. Clarke hurried over and placed her hand against his forehead. His fever was also getting worse. She bit her lip as she thought about what she’d told Wells. It was true that radiation poisoning presented differently; after the nausea and fever came sores, bleeding gums, and hair loss. That’s what had made watching Lilly so terrible. Clarke had known what was in store for her friend before each new wave of suffering.

  As she headed back to her own cot, Clarke thought about the pills in the medicine chest. If Felix and Molly’s illness had nothing to do with radiation, the drug would kill them. But if Clarke was wrong, she’d be sentencing them to a long and painful death. The pills had to be administered in the early stages of radiation poisoning.

  She sat down and placed her head in her hands, wondering for the umpteenth time why the Council hadn’t bothered talking to her before they sent the hundred to Earth. Yes, she’d been a convicted criminal, but she was also the only person intimately acquainted with her parents’ research.

  “So who’s Lilly?” an unfamiliar voice called from the other side of the cabin.

  Clarke gasped and jerked her head toward the Earthborn girl, shocked into silence. So she did speak English. She was sitting up now, facing Clarke. Her long black hair was matted but still shiny, and her skin had a warm glow to it that made her eyes appear startlingly green.

  “What—what do you—?” Clarke s
tammered. Then she took a deep breath and forced herself to regain some semblance of composure. “Why do you want to know about Lilly?”

  The girl shrugged. “You said that name in your sleep, when you were having the fever dreams.” Her accent and cadence were different from what Clarke was used to, slightly more musical. Hearing it was thrilling, like the first time she had listened to a heartbeat during her medical training. “And then that boy acted so strange when you mentioned her,” the girl added.

  “Lilly was a friend of mine, back on the ship,” Clarke said slowly. Did the Earthborns even know about the Colony? A million questions jostled for dominance in Clarke’s brain, one rising to the surface quicker than the others. She decided to start small. “How many of you are there?”

  The girl looked thoughtful. “Right now, three hundred and fifty-four. Maybe three hundred and fifty-five if Delphine had her baby. She’s due any day.”

  A baby. Would it be born in a hospital? Was it possible they had any functioning equipment from before the Cataclysm? Had the Earthborns rebuilt any of the major cities? “Where do you live?” Clarke asked eagerly.

  The girl’s face darkened, and Clarke regretted her lack of tact. She was being kept prisoner; of course she didn’t want to tell Clarke where her friends and family were. “What’s your name?” she asked instead.

  “Sasha.”

  “I’m Clarke,” she replied, though she had a feeling the girl already knew that. She smiled and rose slowly to her feet. “This is insane. I can’t believe I’m talking to someone from Earth.” Clarke walked across the cabin and sat down next to Sasha. “Did you know there were people living in space? What did you think when you saw us?”

  Sasha stared at Clarke for a long moment, as if unsure whether she was being serious. “Well, I didn’t expect you to be so young,” she finally said. “The last ones were much older.”

  The words knocked the breath out of Clarke’s chest. The last ones? It couldn’t be. She must have misunderstood. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Are you saying you’ve already met people from the Colony?”