Текст книги "The 100 / The Hundred"

Автор книги: Кэсс Морган

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

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CHAPTER 31

Glass

“I’ll get a ring as soon as I find one at the Exchange,” Luke said to Glass, his hand on her lower back as he guided her through the crowded corridors back toward Phoenix. Most of the people who’d assembled to watch the comet were heading back to their residential units on the lower decks, making it difficult to move toward the skybridge. But Glass was hardly aware of which direction they were heading. Her heart was still thumping with joy, and she was shaking, holding tight to Luke’s hand.

“I don’t need a ring.” She reached up to touch the locket, which seemed to be radiating warmth through her chest. Nothing could happen immediately, she knew. Although she turned eighteen in a few weeks, they couldn’t risk getting married until the Chancellor woke up and confirmed her pardon—or never woke up at all. Her mother would understand eventually, once she saw how much Luke loved Glass. They’d get married and apply for permission to start a family, someday. But for now, just the promise of a future together was enough. “This is perfect.”

They turned out of the stairwell and into the corridor that led to the skybridge. Luke stopped short and pulled Glass to him as a dozen guards jogged by, so close a few of their sleeves brushed against Glass’s arm, although their eyes trained straight ahead. She shivered and leaned into Luke, who was watching them with a strange expression on his face. “Do you know what’s going on?” she asked.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Luke said too quickly, his words at odds with the tension in his jaw. But then he raised their interlocked fingers to his lips and kissed her hand. “Let’s go.”

Glass smiled as they continued walking. The thud of the guards’ boots had faded away, and they had the whole hallway to themselves. Suddenly, Luke stopped and raised her arm into the air. Before Glass had time to ask what he was doing, he’d spun her around and lowered her into a dip.

Glass laughed as Luke wrapped one arm around her waist and swept her across the empty hallway. “What’s gotten into you?”

He paused and pulled her even closer to him, then leaned in and murmured into her ear. “I hear music when I’m with you.” Glass just smiled and, in the middle of the hallway, closed her eyes as they swayed from side to side.

Finally, Luke stepped back, gesturing in the direction of the skybridge. “It’s almost curfew,” he said.

“Okay,” she agreed, sighing. They walked hand in hand across the skybridge, exchanging knowing smiles that made every cell in Glass’s body buzz with excitement. At the entrance to Phoenix, they stopped, reluctant to say good-bye. Luke ran his finger along the locket chain.

“I love you,” he said, squeezing her hand before giving her a little shove. “Let me know once you get home. I’ll come by tomorrow to talk to your mom.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Tomorrow.”

Finally, Glass turned and began walking across the skybridge. She’d made it halfway across when a shrill beep echoed through the empty space. She looked around, startled. The cluster of guards at the Phoenix end of the bridge broke apart, and she could hear someone barking orders. Glass froze as thke sound grew louder and more urgent. She turned to look at Luke, who’d started taking a few hesitant steps forward.

“The bridge is closing,” a disembodied woman’s voice announced over the speakers. “Please clear the area.” There was a brief pause, then the message repeated. “The bridge is closing. Please clear the area.” Glass gasped as a barrier began to descend at the Phoenix checkpoint. She lunged forward and could see Luke running as well, but they were both too far away.

Glass reached the clear partition just as it locked into the floor, slamming her hands against it. Luke slid to a stop on the other side. He was saying something, but although she could see his mouth moving, no sound reached her ears.

Tears filled her eyes as she watched him bang his fists against the wall in frustration. She didn’t understand. The skybridge hadn’t been closed since the plague outbreak in the first century. She knew if it was closing now, it might not open again.

“Luke!” she cried, the word falling uselessly from her lips. She pressed her hand against the clear partition and held it there. Their eyes locked.

“I love you,” Glass said.

Luke pressed his own hand to the wall, and for a moment, Glass could almost feel the warmth of his skin. I love you too, he mouthed. He gave her a sad smile and motioned for her to start walking. She paused, not wanting to leave without knowing what was going on, when she’d see him again. The alarm was still sounding overhead, ringing in her ears.

Go, Luke mouthed, his face serious.

Glass nodded and turned, forcing herself to keep her eyes straight ahead. But before she turned onto the hallway that led away from the skybridge, she glanced over her shoulder one last time. Luke hadn’t moved. He was still standing there, his hand pressed against the wall.

Glass ran home, weaving through crowds of panicked civilians and stone-faced guards.

“Oh, thank god,” Sonja said as Glass rushed into the flat. “I was so worried.” She shoved a water pitcher into Glass’s arms. “Go fill this up in the bathroom. I’m not sure how much longer the water will last.”

“What’s going on?” Glass asked. “They closed the skybridge.”

“What were you doing near the bridge?” her mother asked, then blinked, taking in the clothes Glass had changed into after the comet viewing party. “Oh,” she said flatly, a wearied understanding overtaking her features. “That’s where you were.”

“What’s happening?” Glass repeated, ignoring her mother’s look of disapproval.

“I’m not sure, but I have a feeling…” She trailed off, then pressed her lips together. “I think this is it. The day we all knew was coming.”

“What are you talking about?”

Her mother took the pitcher back from Glass and turned to the sink. “The ship wasn’t built to last this long. It was just a matter of time before things started to break down.”

The water had reached the top of the pitcher and was now overflowing into the sink, but Sonja just stood there. “Mom?”

Finally, her mother shut off the water and turned around to face Glass. “It’s the airlock,” she said quietly. “There’s been a breach.een a br” A shout rang out from the corridor, and her mother shot a quick glance at the door before she forced a smile and continued. “But don’t worry. There’s a reserve of oxygen on Phoenix. We’ll be okay until they figure out what to do. I promise, Glass, we’ll get through this.”

Glass felt the realization dawning in her mind, twisting her stomach with dread. “What does that have to do with the bridge?” she asked, her voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“They’re already running out of oxygen on Arcadia and Walden. We had to take security precautions to make sure…”

“No,” Glass breathed. “The Council is going to let them all die?”

Sonja stepped forward and squeezed Glass’s arm. “They had to do something, or else no one would survive,” she was saying, but Glass barely registered her words. “It’s the only way to protect the Colony.”

“I have to find him,” Glass said, trembling. She took a shaky step back. Her head was a frenzy of words and images that bounced off one another, creating more panic than sense.

“Glass,” her mother said, with something that sounded like pity. “I’m so sorry, but you can’t. There’s no way. All the exits are sealed.” She stepped forward and pulled her daughter into a hug. Glass tried to wriggle free, but her mother tightened her hold. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“I love him,” Glass sobbed, her body shaking.

“I know.” Sonja reached out and took Glass’s hand. “And I’m sure he loves you too. But maybe this is for the best.” She gave a sad smile that sent chills down Glass’s spine. “At least this way, you don’t have to say a terrible good-bye.”

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CHAPTER 32

Wells

Wells watched Clarke stride off into the woods, feeling as if she’d punched through his sternum and torn away a chunk of his heart. He was only vaguely aware of the gleeful roar of the flames as they swallowed the supplies, the tents… and anyone who’d been unfortunate enough to be left inside. Around him, a few people had fallen to the ground, gasping for breath or shaking with horror. But most were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the inferno, their figures still and quiet.

“Is everyone okay?” Wells asked hoarsely. “Who’s missing?” The numbness at Clarke’s words was burning away, replaced by a frantic energy. He stepped forward to the edge of the tree cover, shielding his eyes as he tried to peer through the wall of flames. When no one answered, he took a breath and shouted, “Did everyone make it out?” There was a ripple of vague nods.

“Do we need to go farther?” a small Walden girl asked, her voice trembling as she took a step deeper into the woods.

“It doesn’t look like it’s spreading to the trees,” an Arcadian boy said hoarsely. He was standing next to a few battered water jugs and blackened containers he’d carried out of the camp.

The boy was right. The ring of bare dirt that bordered the clearing was wide enough that the flames engulfing the tents flickered just out of reach of the lowest branches.

Wells turned, searching through the darkness for a sign of Clarke. But she’d disappeared into the shadows. He could almost feel her grief pulsing through the darkness. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to go to her, but he knew it was hopeless.

Clarke was right. He destroyed everything he touched.

“You look tired,” the Chancellor said, surveying Wells from across the dinner table.

Wells looked up from the plate he’d been staring at, then nodded curtly. “I’m fine.” The truth was, he hadn’t slept in days. The look of fury Clarke had given him was branded into his brain, and every time he closed his eyes, he could see the terror on her face as the guards dragged her away. Her anguished scream filled the silence between his heartbeats.

After the trial, Wells had begged his father to lift the charges. He swore Clarke had nothing to do with the research, and that the guilt she’d been carrying around had nearly killed her. But the Chancellor had simply claimed that it was out of his hands.

Wells shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He could barely stand to be on the same ship as his father, let alone sit across from him at dinner, but he had to maintain some semblance of civility. If he allowed his rage to break free, his father would simply accuse Wells of being too irrational, too immature to understand the law.

“I know you’re angry with me,” the Chancellor said before taking a sip of water. “But I can’t overrule the vote. That’s why we have the Council, to keep one person from becoming too powerful.” He glanced down at the chip flashing in his watch, then looked back at Wells. “The Gaia Doctrine is harsh enough as it is. We have to hold on to whatever shred of freedom we have left.”

“So you’re saying that even if Clarke is innocent, it’d be worth it to let her die in order to keep democracy alive?”

The Chancellor fixed Wells with a stare that, a few days ago, would’ve made him sink into his chair. “I believe innocent is a relative term here. There’s no denying she knew about the experiments.”

“Rhodes forced them to conduct those experiments. He’s the one who should be punished!”

“That’s enough,” the Chancellor said in a voice so cold, it almost extinguished Wells’s rage. “I refuse to listen to this heresy in my own home.”

Wells was about to launch an angry retort, but he was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. His father silenced him with a final look as he opened the door and ushered in the Vice Chancellor himself.

Wells could barely contain his hatred as Rhodes gave him a curt nod in greeting. The Vice Chancellor wore his usual self-satisfied look as he followed the Chancellor into his study. After they closed the door firmly behind them, Wells stood up from the table. He knew he should go to his room and shut the door, like he always did when his father took meetings in their home.

A few days ago, he might have. A few days ago, he wouldn’t have dared to eavesdrop on a private conversation. But now he didn’t care. He crept toward the door and pressed himself against the wall.

“The dropships are ready,” Rhodes began. “There’s no reason to wait.”

“There are plenty of reasons to wait.” There was a note of irritation in his father’s voice, as if they’d already had this discussion many times. “We’re still not sure if the radiation levels are safe.”

Wells inhaled sharply, then froze to keep his breath from disturbing the silence outside the study door.

“That’s why we’re emptying the detention center. Why not put the convicts to good use?”

“Even Confined children deserve a chance at life, Rhodes. That’s why they’re given a retrial on their eighteenth birthday.”

The Vice Chancellor scoffed. “You know none of them are going to be pardoned. We can’t afford to waste the resources. We’re running out of time as it is.”

What does he mean, running out of time? Wells wondered, but before he had a chance to think it through, his father broke in.

“Those reports are grossly exaggerated. We have enough oxygen for another few years at least.”

“And then what? You’ll order the entire Colony onto the dropships and just hope for the best?”

“We’ll send the Confined juveniles in the detention center, like you suggested. But not yet. Not until it’s our last resort. Unless the breach in sector C14 worsens, we’ve got a little time left still. The first prisoners will be sent in a year.”

“If that’s what you think is best.”

Wells heard the Vice Chancellor rise from his chair, and in a flash, he ran silently into his room and collapsed onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what he’d heard. The Colony was on its last breath. They had only a few years left up in space.

It all clicked into place, why everyone was being found guilty: There weren’t enough resources on the ship to support its population. It was a horrifying thought, but an even more terrible realization was making its way to the front of his brain. Clarke’s birthday was in six months. Wells knew he’d never convince his father to pardon her. Being sent to Earth would give her a second chance. But they weren’t going to start the mission for another year. Unless he did something, Clarke was going to die.

His only chance was to speed up the mission, to have the first group sent right away.

A terrifying plan began to take shape, and his chest tightened in fear as he realized what he would have to do. But Wells knew there was no other way. To save the girl he loved, he’d have to endanger the entire human race.

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CHAPTER 33

Bellamy

Bellamy slid down the trunk of the tree and sank to the ground, feeling as hollow as the burned-out shell of the dropship. He’d been searching for Octavia for hours, tearing through the forest and screaming her name until his throat was raw, but the woods had answered him with nothing but maddening silence.

“Hey.” A weary voice interrupted his thoughts. Bellamy turned to see Wells walking slowly toward him. Soot was smeared across his face, and the skin on his left forearm was badly scratched. “Any luck?”

Bellamy shook his head. “I’m so sorry.” Wells pressed his lips together and stared at a spot on the ground just beyond Bellamy for a long moment. “If it’s any consolation, I really don’t think she was here. We just searched the clearing pretty thoroughly. Everyone made it out in time except…” His voice trailed off.

“I know,” Bellamy said quietly. “I’m really sorry, man. I’m sure you did your best.”

Wells winced. “I don’t even know what that means anymore.” Bellamy looked at him in confusion, but before he had time to say anything, Wells gave him a small smile. “Octavia will turn up soon. Don’t worry.” Then he turned and trudged back into the clearing, where a few people were sifting through the ashes, looking for anything that had survived the blaze.

In the rosy dawn light, Bellamy could almost make himself believe that the horrors of the last few hours were nothing but a nightmare. The flames had long since died out, and while much of the grass had been burned away, the soil underfoot was damp. The fire hadn’t reached the trees, whose flowers stretched out to greet the light, blissfully unaware of—or unconcerned with—the tragedy below. But that was the thing about grief, Bellamy knew. You couldn’t expect anyone else to share your suffering. You had to carry your pain alone.

He heard a few of the kids arguing over what they thought had started the fire: whether the wind had carried a spark from their campfire to scorch the tents, or if someone had done something stupid.

But Bellamy didn’t give a shit what had caused it. All he cared about was Octavia. Had she gotten lost while running for safety, or had she left camp before the fire even started? And if so, why?

He rose shakily to his feet, holding on to the tree trunk for balance. He couldn’t stop to rest, not now, when every hour meant Octavia might be in danger. Now that it was light, he could search again. Farther this time. It didn’t matter how long it took. He wouldn’t stop moving until he found her.

As Bellamy moved deeper into the shade, he exhaled, relieved to be away from the insultingly bright sunlight. Relieved to be alone. But then his eyes landed on a figure winding its way toward him. He paused and squinted through the green-shadowed gloom. It was Clarke.

“Hey,” he asked hoarsely, his stomach twisting uneasily at the sight of her pale, drawn face. “Are you okay?”

“Thalia’s dead?” She said it more like a question, as though hoping he would assure her that it wasn’t true.

Bellamy nodded slowly. “I’m sorry.” She started to tremble, and he instinctively pulled her into his arms. For a long moment they just stood there, Bellamy holding Clarke’s shaking form tight against him. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her hair.

Finally, Clarke straightened up and stepped back with a sigh. Although tears were running down her face, the brightness had returned to her eyes, and a hint of color hat of cold snuck back into her cheeks. “Where’s your sister?” she asked, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“She’s not here. I’ve been searching for hours, but it’s been too dark. I’m going out to look for her again.”

“Wait.” Clarke reached into her pocket. “I found this in the woods. Out past the stream, toward that giant rock formation.” She placed something in Bellamy’s hand. He inhaled audibly as his fingers closed around the familiar strip of satin. It was Octavia’s red ribbon.

“Was it tied to a tree?” he asked faintly, unsure what he hoped the answer would be.

“No.” Clarke’s dirt-streaked face softened. “I saw it on the ground. It must’ve fallen out of her hair at some point. She was wearing it last night, wasn’t she?”

“I think so,” Bellamy replied, his brain frantically racing for snippets of memory. “Yes. She had it when she went to sleep.”

“Okay,” Clarke said with sudden firmness. “So that means she left the camp before the fire started. Look,” she added, in answer to Bellamy’s questioning look, “there’s no ash on it. No sign that it was anywhere near the flames.”

“You may be right,” Bellamy said softly, rubbing the ribbon between his fingers. “I just don’t understand why she would have left before the fire started.” He glanced back up at Clarke. “Weren’t you outside the infirmary last night? Did you notice anything?”

Clarke shook her head, her expression suddenly unreadable. “I stepped away for a while,” she said, her voice tense. “I’m sorry.”

“Never mind,” Bellamy said. He slipped the ribbon into his pocket. “I never got to apologize. You were right about O all along. I’m sorry.” Clarke just nodded in acknowledgment. “Thanks for telling me about the ribbon. I’m going out to look for her.”

He started to turn away, but Clarke reached out to lay a hand on his wrist. “I’ll come with you.”

“That’s nice of you, but I have no idea how long I’ll be gone. This isn’t like when we went out to find the medicine. It might be a while.”

“I’m coming with you,” she repeated. Her voice was firm, and there was a fire in her eyes that made him hesitate to contradict her.

“Are you sure?” Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “I doubt Wells will be happy to hear that.”

“He’s not going to hear it from me. We’re done.”

Bellamy’s brain buzzed with questions that never made it to his lips. “Okay, then.” He took a step forward and gestured for her to follow. “But I should warn you… I’ll probably take off my shirt at some point.” He glanced over his shoulder and saw a smile flicker across her face, so small it might have been a trick of the light filtering through the heavy leaves.

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