by Kass Morgan
“Are you okay?” Clarke asked, taking Sasha’s elbow as the girl’s knees started shaking.
“Fine,” Sasha said hoarsely.
“How long has it been since you’ve eaten anything?” Wells asked.
“A while.”
When Bellamy saw Wells glance over his shoulder toward the fire, where the two rabbits were already being devoured, he bristled. “No way are you feeding her what I hunted,” he said to Wells, his voice cold.
“I agree,” Graham interrupted. “We’re not feeding that little bitch.” About three-quarters of the group nodded in agreement. The others were already busy fighting for the last scraps of meat clinging to the rabbits’ bones.
Before anyone had time to respond, a shriek rose up from the shadows on the far side of the campfire. Bellamy ran toward the sound, a dozen others at his heels. They all slammed into him as he skidded to a stop.
Tamsin stumbled into the clearing, then collapsed on the ground with a shriek. Blood gushed from a wound in her thigh, just below the jagged hem of her shorts.
“Holy shit,” said Graham, standing next to Bellamy, too stunned to do more than stare at the arrow sticking out of Tamsin’s leg.
As Clarke rushed over, Bellamy turned to look at the Earthborn girl. She was being held in place by a grave-faced Azuma and a sneering Dmitri, her eyes wide with horror as she looked from the injured girl to the shadowy forest. But Bellamy knew better than to be fooled by her act.
The next time blood was spilled in the camp, it was going to be hers.
CHAPTER 11
Wells
“Wells?” Someone was prodding his arm. “Hey, Wells?”
Wells’s eyes snapped open, draining the last droplets of a dream from his mind. He’d been floating down a canal in Venice. No, wait, he’d been riding a horse into battle alongside Napoleon.
Kendall was standing over him, but Wells ignored her as he scrambled to his feet. The Earthborn—Sasha—was just where he’d left her; she hadn’t moved all night. Not that there was much opportunity for her to move with her ankles bound together. She was still sitting up against the tree, staring off into the distance with an inscrutable expression on her face, as if she’d trained herself not to betray her thoughts.
In the end, his only option had been to spend the night outside with the prisoner. The three cabins were packed with the nearly one hundred people who’d sprinted for safety in the chaos after the second attack. There was barely room for everyone to sit down, let alone sleep.
Wells and Bellamy had carried the sobbing but lucid Tamsin to the infirmary cabin, followed by Clarke, who’d shoved people out of the way to make room for her newest patient. Luckily, the wound hadn’t been life threatening, and even with a dozen terrified people surrounding her, Clarke had managed to stitch up and bandage Tamsin’s leg. But when Eric and Graham had come in, dragging Sasha between them, the cabin had erupted in a frenzy of angry shouts.
“I say we kill her now,” Graham had bellowed, transforming a number of the shouts into cheers.
“Absolutely not,” Bellamy growled. “Not before she tells us where to find my sister.”
Graham’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but they’ve probably killed Octavia by now. Our only shot at justice is cutting this little bitch’s head off and leaving it in the woods for her friends to find.”
There’d been no chance at a peaceful solution, not when everyone was half-crazed with fear and adrenaline. And so Wells had volunteered to spend the night outside with the prisoner—keeping her safe but separate from the group until they figured out what to do with her.
A few people had objected to that plan as well, saying that it was too dangerous for Wells to be in the clearing by himself, but when they realized it was either that or keep Sasha inside with them, they’d fallen silent.
Wells knew he should’ve been terrified after seeing what had happened to Asher and Tamsin, but as he settled against a tree a few meters away from Sasha, curiosity soon swept his fear aside. He couldn’t quite believe he was looking at someone born on Earth, someone who’d be able to answer all the questions that had kept him up late into the night as a kid. What did snow feel like? Had she ever seen a bear? Were there still cities standing? What was left of New York? Chicago? But he must’ve lulled himself to sleep with his questions, and turned them into the stuff of dreams.
“Um, Wells?” Kendall said again. “Are you okay?”
Wells turned to her and rubbed his eyes. “Yes, fine. What’s going on?”
“I said I’d come ask you about breakfast. What are the rations today?”
Wells sighed. “No breakfast today, I’m afraid.” Bellamy’s rabbits and Graham’s raccoon were long gone, and they had to be extremely careful with their protein packets—no more than one per person per day.
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Kendall said. “I’ve been up since dawn carving Asher’s name into his marker. It looks pretty good. Want to come see?”
“Maybe later,” Wells said. “And, um, thanks.”
When it became clear that Kendall wasn’t going to leave on her own, he asked for her help spreading the bad news about breakfast. She seemed disappointed that Wells didn’t want to come see her handiwork, but set off with a smile, pleased at being useful to Wells.
After Kendall had trudged back to the cabin to relay the bad news, Wells reached into his pocket for the crumpled protein packet left over from the day before. He glanced at Sasha. Her skin was paler than it’d been when they’d captured her the day before, though Wells wasn’t sure whether that was from stress or hunger. Still, they couldn’t let her starve. She’d done nothing wrong, and it was cruel to treat her like a prisoner of war.
“Hey,” Wells said cautiously, holding out the protein packet. “Do you want some of this? You must be pretty hungry by now.”
Sasha stared at it for a moment, then looked up at Wells. “What is it?” she asked hoarsely.
“It’s protein paste. Haven’t you seen it before?” She shook her head. “Try it,” he insisted. “Hold out your hand.” He squeezed the rest of the paste into Sasha’s palm, then smiled as she dipped a finger into the paste and brought it to her mouth, wrinkling her nose.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she admitted, taking another dab. She finished the protein paste, then wiped her hands together. “But I know where you can find food—real food.”
Wells eyed her suspiciously. “Really?”
Sasha nodded. “I’ll take you there, if you’ll let me out of your camp.”
He paused. Strategically, they needed to keep her prisoner until they got Octavia back. Even if she was telling the truth about the rogue Earthborns, Sasha could turn out to be an important bargaining tool. He couldn’t risk losing her by falling into a trap. “What’s to keep you from running away?” Wells asked.
“You can tie my hands again, if it’ll make you feel better,” she said. “Listen, I’m only trying to help. And eat,” she added. Her stomach growled loudly in agreement.
“Okay,” Wells said slowly, surveying her face for any sign of treachery. “I’m just going to round up a few people to come with us.”
“No!” She locked eyes with Wells. “It’s not going to be a free-for-all. I’m trusting you to take only what you need, and just this one time. Deal?”
Wells hesitated. The others would be furious if they knew he’d let Sasha leave the camp, even if it was to help them find food. But then again, being a leader sometimes meant doing what you knew was right, even if it made you unpopular. That was one lesson his father had never let him forget.
“Happy birthday!” Wells’s mother singsonged, walking out of the kitchen carrying what looked suspiciously like a cake.
“How did you do that?” Wells asked, his voice full of wonder as he watched his mother place the white, frosting-covered confection on the table. There were even candles on it—twelve of them—although they were unlit. Candles were even more difficult
to find than sugar and egg essence. If his mother lit them at all, it would only be for the briefest moment.
“Magic,” she said with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do anything illegal. Your father will have nothing to worry about.”
Unlike some of the other Council members, Wells’s father was incredibly strict about adhering to every detail of the Gaia Doctrine, the set of laws the Colony had laid out when they first launched into space. Just a few minutes earlier, while hurrying home from tutorial, Wells had seen Councilor Brisbane walking along A deck carrying two bottles of what was clearly black-market wine.
Wells stared longingly at the cake. Maybe there would even be enough left over to bring a piece to Glass. “You’re sure he won’t mind?” He didn’t know what the Chancellor would object to more: wasting resources on something with questionable nutritional value like a cake, or recognizing a birthday at all. The ancient tradition made too much fuss over one person, exaggerating the importance of the individual when, really, it was the species that mattered. A new life was always something to celebrate, but in the Chancellor’s eyes, there was no reason to give someone a false sense of their own importance once a year.
“Of course not.” His mother sat down in the chair next to him. “Although, there’s no reason this needs to be a birthday cake. It could be a ‘congrats for being the highest-ranked student for the third year in a row’ cake. Or a ‘hooray, you finally cleaned your room’ cake.”
Wells grinned. “Is Dad going to be home soon?” The Chancellor generally worked late, coming home after Wells was already in bed. He’d hardly seen him at all the past week and was excited that the three of them might get to spend the whole evening together.
“He should be.” She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “I told him we were having a special dinner in honor of his very special son.”
As she scooped salad into bowls, his mother asked him about his tutorials. He told her a funny story about a boy in his class who’d asked how many dinosaurs died during the Cataclysm. “Why don’t you start eating,” his mother said, when Wells’s stomach growled loudly.
Through the windows, the circadian lights were beginning to dim. His mother didn’t say anything, but her smiles became a little tighter, her laughter a little more forced. Finally, she reached over and squeezed Wells’s hand. “I think your father must’ve gotten held up. Let’s dig in to that cake now, okay?”
“Sure,” Wells said, doing his best to keep his voice cheerful, although he purposefully avoided his mother’s eyes. The cake was rich and sweet, but Wells was so focused on keeping his disappointment from his face that he hardly tasted it. He knew it wasn’t his father’s fault. As the Chancellor, he wasn’t just in charge of the well-being and safety of everyone in the Colony. He was responsible for the future of the human race. His primary duty was ensuring that the species survived long enough to make it back to Earth. Whatever was keeping him at work took precedence over his son’s birthday.
He felt a pang of guilt as he imagined his father sitting alone in his office, his face weary as he pored over the latest round of troubling reports, unable to appreciate the priceless relics that made the room Wells’s favorite place on the whole ship. He wouldn’t stop to look at the stuffed eagle, or take a moment to admire the painting of the dark-haired woman with the mysterious smile. The only relic he might catch a glimpse of was the pen holder inscribed with the ancient phrase Non Nobis Solum Nati Sumus. “We are not born for ourselves alone,” a quote from a Roman writer named Cicero.
The door opened, and Wells’s father walked in. Even though he was clearly exhausted, his back was straight and his stride purposeful. He looked from Wells’s mother to the half-eaten cake on the table and sighed. “I’m sorry. The Council meeting ran later than expected. I couldn’t get Brisbane to sign off on the new security measures on Walden.”
“That’s okay.” Wells rose to his feet so quickly, he jostled the table and sent the dishes teetering. “We saved you some cake.”
“I still have some more work to do.” He kissed Wells’s mother on the cheek and gave Wells a curt nod. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” Wells said, wondering if the hint of sadness in his father’s eyes was just his imagination.
The Chancellor disappeared into his study before another question arose, uninvited, in Wells’s mind. If his father had been tied up with Brisbane, why had Wells seen the Council member hours earlier on A deck?
Wells’s stomach twisted as an unfamiliar and uncomfortable realization passed over him.
His father was lying.
“Okay,” Wells said, nodding at Sasha. “But if it’s just the two of us, I’ll need to tie you to me, so you can’t bolt once we’re in the woods.”
“Fine.” She stood up and extended her hands.
Wells winced when he saw the red sores on her wrist where the rope had rubbed her skin away. “I’ll use the metal cuffs this time. They’ll be less irritating.” He fetched the cuffs from the supply tent, then took some bandages, which he wrapped around Sasha’s right wrist before locking one of the cuffs to it. He paused a moment, then snapped the other cuff to his own left wrist, taking care to tuck the key deep inside his pocket. “Ready?” he asked. She nodded, and after glancing around the clearing to make sure no one was watching, he led her across the tree line, shortening his step when the bite of the metal let him know he was moving too quickly.
Walking together became trickier once they were in the woods. While Wells had to slow down to navigate exposed roots and moss-covered rocks, Sasha sped up, springing lightly over the same obstacles. Wells couldn’t take a step without making a noise, but Sasha moved as gracefully and silently as a deer. This was clearly land she had crossed many times. He wondered what it was like to know a section of forest as intimately as you knew another person, lifting your foot over a fallen log as naturally as you might take someone’s hand.
Soon, she was leading Wells down a hill he’d never seen before, where the trees were thinner and the grass grew higher, almost up to their knees. Her long braid had come loose, and her dark hair rippled down her back.
“Do you think they’re worried about you?” he said finally.
At first, he wasn’t sure Sasha had heard him, because she didn’t turn around or break stride. But the chain connecting them trembled slightly. “Worried… and furious,” she said. “We were ordered to stay away from you, but I had to see for myself.” Wells lengthened his step so they were walking side by side for the first time. “I’ve spent my whole life imagining what it was like in space, what you were all like. I didn’t really get to know the people in the first group. I barely got to talk to any of them. So then when you all came down, I wasn’t going to miss my chance.”
Wells laughed, then winced as the chain went taut. Sasha had stopped in her tracks and was glowering at him. “What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Nothing. It’s just crazy to think about you imagining us when I’ve spent my whole life wondering about Earth.”
Sasha gave him a strange look but started walking again. “Really? So what do you want to know?”
Wells barely missed a beat. “How many people survived the Cataclysm? Are there still cities standing? What kinds of animals are there? Have you ever seen the ocean? What happens when…” He trailed off when he saw Sasha grinning at him. “What?”
“Why don’t we do one at time?”
“Okay,” Wells said with a smile. “The first one, then. Who survived? What happened after the bombs fell?”
“We’re not sure,” Sasha admitted. “Our ancestors made it to a self-sustaining bomb shelter deep underground, where the limestone kept them safe from radiation. It was only about fifty years ago that they emerged to the surface again. There’s been no other sign of human life—to the best of our knowledge, we’re the only ones who survived. But who knows? There may be others around the world.”
“And where are we exactly?” Wells asked.
Wells hesitated, unsure how much to reveal about the mission. Admitting that they’d all committed crimes and been sentenced to die on their eighteenth birthdays probably wasn’t the best way to seem trustworthy. “The dropships don’t have the most sophisticated navigation systems. We weren’t entirely sure where we were going to end up.”
Sasha looked skeptical. “Yet you landed within ten miles of the other dropship. You must have been sent to this area for a reason. You were probably meant to find us, right?”
The thought gave Wells chills. No one on the Colony could have known about the existence of Sasha’s people—could they? “If we’re in Virginia, are we near Washington, D.C.?” he asked, eager to change the subject. “Did any of the buildings survive?” His heart sped up as he thought about exploring the remains of the White House, or better yet, a museum. There had been famous ones in Washington, he recalled.
Disappointment swept through him as Sasha shook her head. “No, the city was razed. Just a few buildings are still standing, and only parts of them. Here, watch your head,” she said, ducking under a branch.
She led him over a small stream and then into a grove where the trees grew so close together, the branches almost knit into a roof overhead. Wells suddenly felt foolish, letting her take him in a direction the hundred hadn’t really gone before. What if it was a trap?
Something sticky and soft brushed against the back of his neck, and he let out a shout, swatting at it. Strands of a gossamer-like material broke apart in his fingers. “What is this?” he said, trying to wipe it away.
“Relax.” Sasha laughed, and Wells couldn’t help smiling, realizing how foolish he probably looked. “It’s just a spiderweb. See?”