Day 21

by Kass Morgan

  She pointed, and Wells looked up to see that one of the trees was draped in finely woven, glistening threads that stretched across the branches, creating a sort of net.

  Sasha started to tug him forward, but Wells couldn’t pull his eyes away. The web was unexpectedly captivating, its geometric shapes oddly beautiful against the wild tangle of branches and leaves. “I thought spiders were tiny.”

  “Sometimes. But the ones that live in the woods are bigger.” She held up her arm. “Their legs can be this long.”

  Wells suppressed a shudder and sped up to walk next to Sasha. They were quiet as they continued through the grove, the leaves on the ground absorbing the sound of their footsteps. Something about the silence and shadows made Wells hesitant to disrupt the stillness. It had been the same back on the ship: People lowered their voices whenever they set foot in Eden Hall, a gathering space on Phoenix dominated by what they’d all believed to be the only tree left in the universe, brought onto Phoenix as Earth burned. That is, until Wells set fire to it, seeking arrest in order to be sent to Earth with Clarke.

  After another ten minutes, the forest thinned out again, and Sasha led him up a steep slope. When they reached the crest of the hill, she stopped and raised her hand. “Here we go,” she said, pointing to a group of trees up ahead.

  At first, Wells didn’t notice anything remarkable about them. But then he squinted and realized that there was something solid hanging from the branches.

  Sasha led him toward the closest tree. The boughs were sagging under the weight of dozens of long, green, oblong pods. She rose onto the balls of her feet and stretched her arm above her head, but her fingers only barely grazed the lowest pod.

  “Allow me.” Wells extended his own arm and just managed to grab the one she’d been reaching for. He snapped it off the branch and handed it to Sasha, marveling at the bumpy texture.

  With expert movements, she began peeling away the outer layer, revealing bright pink seeds. “What is that?” Wells asked.

  “You don’t have corn up in space?”

  “We grow some vegetables in the solar fields, but nothing like that.” He paused. “Doesn’t corn grow out of the ground?”

  Sasha shrugged. “Maybe it used to, but it grows on trees now. Just watch out for the blue ones. They’re really spicy.” She raised her cuffed hand. “If you undo these, we can climb up and pick as much as we can carry.”

  Wells paused. He wanted to trust her, and somehow felt he could trust her, but it could also be a monumentally stupid risk.

  Finally, he reached into his pocket and removed the key. “Okay. I’ll undo the cuffs, but if you run off, you know we’ll all come after you.”

  Sasha was quiet for a moment, then raised her shackled wrist. Wordlessly, Wells inserted the key into the lock and turned it until her cuff sprang open. She clenched and unclenched her fingers, then shook her hand and smiled. “Thanks.”

  In a flash, she’d scrambled up the trunk and was pulling herself onto a branch. She made it look easy, but when Wells tried to follow, he found it difficult to get a good hold. The bark was rough, but the moss covering it was slippery, and it took him a few tries before he got enough leverage to get off the ground.

  He was out of breath by the time he pulled himself onto the third-lowest branch, where the corn grew the thickest. Sasha had climbed nearly to the end of the branch, straddling it like a bench, and was using both hands to snap off ears of corn and toss them to the ground, which suddenly looked very far away.

  Wells took a deep breath and forced himself to look up. The view was breathtaking. Wells had seen innumerable photos of picturesque spots on Earth, but none of them captured the beauty of the orchard before them. The meadow stretched out below, and provided a stunning contrast to the hazy purple outlines of the mountains in the distance. He felt his skin tingle when his eyes settled on their jagged white tops. Snow.

  “I’ll have to show this to my father when he gets here,” Wells said before he had time to think better of it.

  Sasha whipped her head around. “Your father? There are more of you coming?”

  Wells wasn’t sure why the accusation in her voice made him feel guilty. The Colonists had spent the past three hundred years figuring out how to bring the human race back home. They had just as much right to the planet as the Earthborns. “Of course,” he said. “The ships weren’t built to last forever. Eventually, everyone will come down.” And by eventually, I mean in the next few weeks, Wells thought. All thanks to me. After Clarke’s arrest, he’d been desperate to make sure she was sent to Earth instead of facing execution. He knew that the Council was considering sending Confined teenagers, and he knew the mission needed to happen before Clarke’s eighteenth birthday—so he’d done something drastic, and dangerous. He purposely worsened the existing airlock breach. Now the remaining Colonists had little time left in space, and would be forced to come to Earth. He still felt sick thinking about what he’d done—but it had saved Clarke’s life.

  “Didn’t your father want to come with you?”

  Wells’s chest tightened as he thought about the last time he’d seen his father, the blood staining the Chancellor’s uniform as the door to the dropship had closed. He’d spent the past few weeks trying to convince himself that the bullet wound was superficial, that his father would recover in time to come down with the next wave of Colonists. But he had no way of knowing what had really happened, or if his father was even still alive.

  “He has a lot of responsibilities on the ship,” Wells said instead. “He’s the Chancellor.”

  Sasha’s eyes widened. “So, he’s in charge of everybody? Is that why you’re the leader of the group that came down?”

  “I’m not the leader,” Wells protested.

  “They all seem to listen to you.”

  “Maybe.” Wells sighed. “But I always feel like I’m letting someone down, no matter what I do.”

  Sasha nodded. “I know. My father… well, he’s actually in charge down here too.”

  Wells stared at her in surprise. “Really? Your father is the Chancellor?”

  “We don’t use that term, but it sounds like the same kind of thing.”

  “So you know what it’s like to…” He trailed off with a frown. It was strange trying to put his feelings into words, feelings that he’d spent the past sixteen years trying to ignore.

  “What? To be held to a higher standard than everyone else? To have everyone assume that you know the answers, when most of the time you don’t even know what questions you’re supposed to be asking?”

  Wells smiled. “Yeah. Something like that.”

  Sasha tossed another ear of corn to the ground, biting her lip. “I feel bad for my dad, but honestly, I’m sick of it too. They turn everything I do into some kind of political statement.”

  “What did you do?”

  Sasha laughed mischievously. “Some things I shouldn’t have. Including coming here.” She caught Wells’s eye, and the playfulness disappeared from her face. “What about you? Your father must really trust you to send you to Earth on your own.”

  Wells hesitated. It was best to let her believe that. Sasha would be more likely to treat the hundred with caution if she thought they were specially trained, handpicked for the mission, as opposed to useless criminals sent to possibly die.

  A gust of wind swept through the tree, whipping Sasha’s wild black hair into her face.

  “Hardly,” Wells said, wondering what it was about Sasha’s bright green eyes that made him feel reckless. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth.”

  Sasha raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

  “I was arrested a few weeks ago. For setting fire to the only tree in the Colony.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then to his surprise, laughed and slid one leg over the branch. “I guess I’d better hurry up before you take a dislike to this one.” Sasha lowered herself into the air, then let go, landing lightly on the ground. “Come on,” s
he called. “We have enough corn. Or are you scared?”

  Wells shook his head. It didn’t matter that he had no idea how the hell to get out of the tree. For the first time since they’d landed on Earth, he didn’t feel afraid of anything.

  CHAPTER 12

  Glass

  “You can’t do this,” Luke said, finally breaking the silence that filled the small repair room. They were in the now-abandoned guard station that stored the suits Luke and his fellow engineers used for spacewalks. “It’s beyond dangerous—it’s suicidal. If anyone goes out there, it will be me. I’m trained to do it.”

  Glass placed her hand on Luke’s arm and was surprised to feel him trembling. “No,” she said, looking him in the eye for the first time since she’d told him her plan. “It would be insane to have you risk your life on a spacewalk, only to be shot once you get to Phoenix.”

  “There aren’t exactly going to be guards waiting for me at the airlock. I doubt they think anyone would be crazy enough to try to get across on the outside of the ship,” Luke said. Not only were spacewalks performed exclusively by Luke and the rest of his highly trained team, they only did so when absolutely necessary, and only with everyone running support, monitoring oxygen and pressure levels, keeping an eye out for debris, providing backup in case of equipment failure. Glass tried not to think about the fact that she would be crossing without any of that.

  “Opening the airlock will set off alarms. They might arrest me, but they’re not going to shoot me on sight,” she insisted.

  “Glass.” Luke’s voice was hoarse. “I can’t let you do this.”

  “I’m not just doing it for us.” She looked up at him, willing herself to stay calm. “By closing the skybridge, Phoenix left all of Walden and Arcadia to die. I can’t let innocent people suffer, not if there’s something I can do to help. I need to open the skybridge.”

  Luke sighed and closed his eyes. “Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Then let’s get started.” He began methodically reviewing the equipment, explaining how everything worked—the pressurized suits, the clamps, the cord that would keep her tethered to the ship. His tone was calm and businesslike, as if he’d convinced himself that he was briefing a new guard, and not the only person he loved left in the universe.

  He led Glass to the large window next to the airlock and pointed out the handholds that stretched all the way across. “The airlock on Phoenix can be opened from the outside—just untwist the big wheel; that will let you into the airlock chamber. Once you’re inside, I’ll head to the skybridge and meet you there.”

  “It’s a date,” Glass said, managing a smile.

  Luke pulled out one of the guards’ thermal jumpsuits and handed it to Glass. “Sorry,” he said. “This is the smallest one.” It was clearly made for someone much larger, but it would have to do.

  Glass quickly pulled off her shirt and stepped out of her pants, shivering as the cold raised goose bumps along her arm. As she fumbled with the thermal, she looked up to see Luke staring at her with an intensity she’d never seen before, like he was trying to commit every line of her body to memory.

  “You’re getting it all bunched up,” he said, his voice thick. “It won’t work if it’s not right next to your skin. Here.” Glass stood perfectly still as he ran his hands over the fabric, smoothing out all the wrinkles, his fingers traveling deftly across her shoulders, down her back, over her hips. She shivered. Each time his hands moved to a new spot, she felt a tiny pang of loss. What if he was touching her for the very last time?

  Finally, he stepped away and reached for the space suit, checking various pieces of equipment before carrying it over to her.

  Neither of them spoke as Luke helped her step into the bottom part of the suit, fastening it tightly around her waist. He instructed her to raise her arms and pulled the top portion over her head. His face pale, he locked the two sections into place. There was an audible click, and Glass inhaled sharply. “Are you okay?” Luke asked, taking her hand.

  She nodded. He opened his mouth to respond, then changed his mind and reached for the gloves, which he pulled, one at a time, over Glass’s hands.

  Only the helmet was left. “I should’ve put my hair up first,” Glass said, holding up her gloves.

  “I’ll do it.” He reached into her pocket to remove the elastic band for her, then stepped behind her and smoothed her hair back into a ponytail, gently tucking a few stray strands behind her ears and wrapping the band around it tight.

  Luke smiled shakily as he stepped back. “I guess it’s go time.” He wrapped his arms around her, and even though she couldn’t feel the pressure through the suit, Glass felt warmer inside. “Be very, very careful out there, okay?” he said, his voice muffled. “If anything happens, come straight back. Don’t take any risks.”

  Glass nodded. “I love you.” She couldn’t count the number of times she’d said those words, but they seemed different now. She could hear the echo of every past I love you in them, and the promise of a lifetime more.

  Luke lowered his head and kissed her. For a moment, Glass closed her eyes and allowed herself to pretend that this was just a normal kiss, that she was a regular seventeen-year-old kissing the boy she loved. She leaned forward eagerly—and felt the weight of the bulky space suit jar her back to reality.

  Luke pulled away and picked up the helmet. “Good luck,” he said, bending down to kiss her forehead. Then he lowered the helmet over her head and locked it into place.

  Glass gasped as the world became dark and suffocating. She was back in Confinement. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. But then she felt Luke squeeze her hand through her glove, and she relaxed, taking a deep breath as air from her tank streamed directly into her nose.

  After days of oxygen deprivation, being able to breathe like this felt euphoric. She was suddenly wide awake, able to do anything. She gave Luke a thumbs-up sign to let him know that she was ready, and he walked over to the control panel. There was a crackling sound in her helmet, and then Luke’s voice was in her ear. “How you doing in there, spacewalker?”

  “I’m okay,” she said, not sure where she was supposed to speak. “Can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear,” he said. “Radio’s all set. Feel like a stroll?”

  Glass nodded, and he led her to the airlock. The suit was lighter than she’d expected, but walking still required a great deal of thought, almost like she was a toddler, experimenting with each limb before she tried to move it. Luke punched a code into the panel next to the heavy metal door, and it opened, revealing the tiny airlock chamber. On the other side was the door that led outside, to a minus-270-degree vacuum.

  He fastened a cable to the front of her suit, then checked again to make sure it was secure. Luke showed her where it attached to the ship, and how it extended and retracted to follow Glass’s movements. “Okay,” he said, his voice coming from somewhere behind her right ear. “I’m going back inside to close the first door. Then I’ll let you know when it’s safe to open the second door. You’ll have ten seconds to make it through before it closes automatically. Just grab on to the first handhold and swing yourself out.”

  “Sounds like a breeze.”

  Luke gave her gear a final check, then squeezed her hand. “You’ll be great.” He tapped the front of her helmet. “See you soon.”

  “See you soon,” she echoed.

  He disappeared back through the door, leaving her alone, with nothing between her and the vast emptiness of space except a metal door and a three-hundred-year-old space suit.

  “Okay,” Luke’s voice came from the speaker again. “Get ready. I’m going to open the second door.”

  Glass dragged herself forward, her legs suddenly heavy. After the longest eight steps of her life, she reached the door. “I’m ready.”

  “All right. I’m entering the code now.” There was a loud beep, and the door in front of Glass slid open.

  For a moment, all she could do was stand there and stare as she
got a clear view of space for the first time. Now she understood what Luke meant, when he said that it was beautiful. The darkness was rich, like the velvet her mother had made into a skirt once, and the stars sparkled against it, so much brighter than she’d ever seen them through a window. For once, the hazy gray sweep of Earth looked more mysterious than frightening. It was incredible to think that Wells was down there, walking around, breathing… if he’s still alive, the cynical part of her brain added.

  “Go for it,” Luke’s voice whispered in her ear.

  She took a deep breath and reached out for the first handle, forcing her gloved fingers to wrap around it and pulling herself through the door.

  And then she was in space, grasping a single handhold while she stared into the dizzying sea of stars and gas just waiting to swallow her whole. Behind her, the door closed with a thud.

  Glass swung herself around, briefly reveling in the thrill of weightlessness. Then she saw the path to Phoenix, and her mouth felt suddenly dry. It had never seemed that long when she was running to see Luke, but from this perspective, it looked endless. She would have to make her way around the entire side of Walden before she could even see the skybridge.

  You can do this, she reminded herself, gritting her teeth. You have to do this. One at a time. She moved her left hand to the next rung, then pulled her body across. In the absence of gravity, it required minimal effort, but her heart was pounding at an unsustainable rate.

  “How are you doing out there?” Luke’s voice echoed in her helmet.

  “It’s beautiful,” Glass said quietly. “Now I understand why you were always so quick to volunteer for this.”

  “It’s not as beautiful as you.”

  Glass swung from handhold to handhold, falling into a rhythm. “I bet you say that to all the girls from mission control.”

  “Actually, if I remember correctly, I’ve used that line on you before,” Luke said. Glass smiled. Back when they used to sneak to the solar fields, they would look at the stars through the window, and Luke would always tell Glass that she was prettier.