Текст книги "The 100 / The Hundred"

Автор книги: Кэсс Морган

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

“You should go back,” Glass said as they reached the Phoenix checkpoint, which was, as Luke had promised, free of guards. “I’ll be okay.”

Luke’s jaw tightened and he gave her a bitter smile. “You’re an escaped convict, and I’m stillnot good enough to meet your mother.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, thinking of the scan trail he’d already left behind. “It’s not safe for you to help me. I can’t let you risk your life. You’ve already done so much.”

Luke took a breath as if to say something, then nodded. “Okay, then.”

She forced what she hoped was a smile, holding back tears. “Thank you for everything.”

Luke’s face softened slightly. “Good luck, Glass.” He started to lean in, and Glass couldn’t help tipping her head up, out of habit—but then he stepped back, wrenching his eyes from her with an almost physical force. Without a word, Luke turned and moved soundlessly back the way they’d come. Glass watched him go, her lips aching for the good-bye kiss they’d never feel again.

When she reached the entrance to her flat, Glass raised her fist and tapped lightly. The door opened and Glass’s mother, Sonja, peered around it. A symphony of emotions played across her face in an instant—surprise, joy, confusion, and fear.

“Glass?” she gasped, reaching for her daughter, as if she wasn’t sure she was really there. Glass leaned gratefully into her mother’s hug, drinking in the smell of her perfume. “I thought I’d never see you again.” She gave Glass one more squeeze before pulling her inside and closing the door. Sonja stepped back and stared at her daughter. “I was just counting down the days.” Her voice faded into a whisper. “You turn eighteen in three weeks.”

Glass grabbed her mother’s clammy hand and led her to the couch. “They were going to send us to Earth,” Glass told her. “A hundred of us.” She took a deep breath. “I was supposed to be one of them.”

“Earth?” Sonja repeated slowly, holding the word almost at a distance, as if trying to get a better look. “Oh my god.”

“There was an altercation at the launch. The Chancellor…” Glass’s head swam as she recalled the scene from the launch deck. She sent up a silent prayer that Wells was okay down there on Earth, that he was with Clarke and didn’t have to grieve alone. “In the chaos, I was able to get away,” Glass continued. The details weren’t important right now. “I just came to say I love you.”

Her mother’s eyes widened. “So that’s how the Chancellor was shot. Oh, Glass,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her daughter.

The thud of footsteps echoed out in the hallway, and Glass flinched. She looked warily at the door before turning back to face her mother. “I can’t stay long,” she said, rising shakily to her feet.

“Wait!” Sonja jumped up and clutched Glass’s arm, pulling her back to the couch. Her fingers tightened around her wrist. “The Chancellor is on life Sr ied up ansupport, which means that Vice Chancellor Rhodes is in charge. You shouldn’t go yet.” She paused. “He has a very different approach to… governing. There’s a chance that he’ll pardon you. He can be convinced.” Sonja stood and gave Glass a smile that did little to illuminate her glistening eyes. “Just wait here.”

“Do you have to go?” Glass asked, her voice small. She couldn’t bear to say another good-bye. Not when every good-bye could be forever.

Her mother bent down and kissed Glass’s forehead. “I won’t be long.”

She watched Sonja apply a hurried layer of lipstick and slip out into the still-empty corridor, then pulled her knees into her chest and hugged them tightly, as if trying to keep everything inside her from spilling out.

Glass wasn’t sure how long she slept, but curled up on the cushions that still remembered the shape of her body, it seemed possible that the past six months had been a nightmare. That she hadn’t actually been imprisoned in a cell that contained nothing besides two metal cots, a silent, seething Arcadian cell mate, and the ghosts of sobs that remained long after her tears dried up.

When she opened her eyes her mother was sitting next to her on the couch, stroking Glass’s matted hair. “It’s all taken care of,” she said softly. “You’ve been pardoned.”

Glass rolled over to look up at her mother’s face. “How?” she asked, the surprise shocking her out of her sleep, chasing away the images of Luke that lingered on her eyelids when she first woke up. “Why?”

“People are growing restless,” her mother explained. “None of the convicted juveniles have made it past their retrials in the last year, and it makes the justice system look anything but just. You’re going to be the exception—the proof that the system’s still working how it’s supposed to, that those who can contribute to society are given the chance to return to it. It took a little convincing, but eventually Vice Chancellor Rhodes saw my side of things,” her mother finished, sinking back into the couch, looking exhausted but relieved.

“Mom—I can’t—I don’t—thank you.” Glass didn’t know what else to say. She smiled as she pushed herself up into a seated position and rested her head against her mother’s shoulder. She was free? She almost couldn’t comprehend the meaning of the word.

“You don’t need to thank me, sweetheart. I’d do anything for you.” Sonja pushed a piece of Glass’s hair behind her ear and smiled. “Just remember, you’re not to tell anyone about the Earth mission—I mean it.”

“But what happened to the others? Is Wells okay? Can you find out?”

Sonja shook her head. “As far as you’re concerned, there was no mission. What’s important is that you’re safe now. You have a second chance,” her mother murmured. “Just promise me you won’t do anything foolish.”

“I promise,” Glass said finally, shaking her head in disbelief. “I promise.”

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CHAPTER 9

Clarke

Clarke slipped through the flap of the designated infirmary tent and stepped into the clearing. Even without the luxury of wind Voked on—theows, she sensed that it was dawn. The sky erupted with color, and the pungent air stimulated sensors in her brain Clarke had never realized existed. She wished she could share the experience with the two people who had made her yearn to see Earth in the first place. But Clarke would never have that chance.

Her parents were gone.

“Good morning.”

Clarke stiffened. It was almost unfathomable that Wells’s voice had once been her favorite sound in the universe. He was the reason her parents were dead, their bodies floating through the depths of space, moving farther and farther from everything they’d known and loved. In a moment of weakness, Clarke had confided a secret that wasn’t hers to share. And even though he’d sworn not to tell a soul, Wells hadn’t even waited twenty-four hours before skipping off to his father, so desperate to be the perfect son, Phoenix’s golden child, that he betrayed the girl he’d pretended to love.

She turned to face Wells. There was nothing to keep her from lunging at him, but she wanted to avoid any confrontation that would prolong the exposure.

As she strode past him, Wells grabbed her arm. “Hold on a second, I just wanted to—”

Clarke spun around and wrenched herself free. “Don’t touchme,” she hissed.

Wells took a step back, his eyes wide. “I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was steady, but she could see the hurt on his face. Clarke had always been able to tell what Wells was feeling. He was a terrible liar, which was how she’d known, in that brief moment, that his promise to keep her secret had been sincere. But something had changed his mind, and it was Clarke’s parents who had paid the price.

Wells didn’t move. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay,” he said quietly. “We’re going to finish sorting through the wreckage today. Is there anything in particular you need for your patients?”

“Yes. A sterile operating room, IVs, a full-body scanner, realdoctors…”

“You’re doing an incredible job.”

“I’d be doing even better if I’d spent the past six months training at the hospital instead of in Confinement.” This time, Wells had braced for the barb, and his face remained impassive.

The sky was growing brighter, filling the clearing with an almost golden light that made everything look like it’d been polished overnight. The grass seemed greener, glistening with tiny drops of water. Purple blossoms began unfurling from what had seemed like an unremarkable shrub. The long, tapered petals stretched toward the sun, twisting in the air as if dancing to music only they could hear.

Wells seemed to read her mind. “If you hadn’t been Confined, you’d never have come here,” he said quietly.

She whipped her head back to face him. “You think I should be grateful for what you did? I’ve seen kids die, kids who never wanted to come here but had to because some little shit like you turned them in just to feel important.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Wells sighed and met her gaze straight on. “I’m so sorry, Clarke. I can’t tell you how sorry. But I didn’t do it to feel important.” He started to step forward, but then seemed to think better of it and shifted his weight back. “You were suffering, and I wanted to help. I couldn’t bear it, seeing you like that. I just wanted to help make the pain go away.”

T [t sto he tenderness in his voice made Clarke’s stomach twist. “They killed my parents,” she said quietly, imagining the scene as she had so many times before. Her mother bracing for the prick of a needle, her body systematically shutting down until those final dreadful moments when only her brain was left. Had they been offered the customary last meal? Clarke’s heart twinged as she imagined her father’s lifeless body in a release capsule, his fingers stained red from the berries he’d eaten alone. “That kind of pain never goes away.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the silence taking on a physical weight. But then Wells broke eye contact and turned his head up toward the trees above them. There were faintly musical sounds coming from the leaves.

“Do you hear that?” Wells whispered without looking at her.

The song was both haunting and joyful, the first few notes an elegy for the fading stars. Yet just when Clarke was sure her heart would break with the bittersweet loveliness, the melody soared, trumpeting the arrival of the dawn.

Birds. Real birds. She couldn’t see them, but she knew they were there. She wondered if the first colonists had heard birds singing as they’d boarded the final ship. Would the music have been a song of farewell? Or had the creatures already joined their voices together in a requiem for the dying Earth?

“It’s incredible,” Wells said, turning to look at her with a smile she recognized from long ago. Clarke shivered. It was like seeing a ghost—a specter of the boy to whom she’d been foolish enough to give her heart.

Clarke couldn’t suppress a smile as she watched Wells shift from side to side outside her front door. He always got nervous about kissing her in public, but it had gotten worse since he’d started officer training. The idea of making out with his girlfriend while in uniform seemed to make him uncomfortable, which was unfortunate because the sight of him in his uniform made her want to kiss him even more than usual.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Clarke turned to press her thumb to the scanner.

“Wait,” Wells said, glancing over his shoulder before grabbing hold of her arm.

Clarke sighed. “Wells,” she started as she tried to wiggle out of his grasp. “I need to go.”

He grinned as he tightened his grip. “Are your parents home?”

“Yes.” She inclined her head toward the door. “I’m late for dinner.”

Wells stared at her expectantly. He much preferred eating with her family to sitting across from his father in silence, but she couldn’t invite him to join them. Not tonight.

Wells cocked his head to the side. “I won’t make a face this time, no matter what your father added to the protein paste. I’ve been practicing.” His face broke into a comically bright smile as he nodded emphatically. “Wow. This is delicious!”

Clarke pressed her lips together for a moment before responding. “I just need to have a private conversation with them.”

Wells’s face grew serious. “What’s goi [Whi>

“It’s fine.” She stepped to the side and tilted her head so her eyes wouldn’t betray her by sending distress signals from behind the lies. She needed to confront her parents about their experiments, and she couldn’t put it off any longer.

“Okay, then,” he said slowly. “See you tomorrow?”

Instead of kissing her on the cheek, Wells surprised Clarke by wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. His lips pressed against hers, and for a moment, she forgot about everything except the warmth of his body. But by the time she’d closed the door, the tingle of Wells’s touch on her skin had been replaced by a prickle of dread.

Her parents were sitting on the couch. Their heads turned to her. “Clarke.” Her mother rose to her feet, smiling. “Was that Wells with you outside? Does he want to join us for din—”

“No,” Clarke said, more sharply than she’d meant to. “Can you sit down? I need to talk to you.” She crossed the room and settled on a chair facing her parents, trembling as two violent forces waged war for control of her body: burning fury and desperate hope. She needed her parents to admit what they’d done to justify her anger, but she also prayed they’d have a good excuse. “I figured out the password,” she said simply. “I’ve been in the lab.”

Her mother’s eyes widened as she sank back onto the couch. Then she took a deep breath, and for a moment, Clarke hoped she’d try to explain, that she had the words to make it all better. But then she whispered the phrase Clarke had been dreading. “I’m sorry.”

Her father took his wife’s hand, his eyes on Clarke. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said quietly. “I know it’s… shocking. But they don’t feel any pain. We make sure of that.”

“How could you?” The question felt flimsy, incapable of supporting the weight of her accusation, but she couldn’t think of anything else to ask. “You’re experimenting on people. On children.” Saying it aloud made her stomach churn. Bile crept up her throat.

Her mother closed her eyes. “We didn’t have a choice,” she said softly. “We’ve spent years trying to test radiation levels in other ways—you know that. When we reported back to the Vice Chancellor there was no way to gather conclusive evidence without human studies, we thought he understood it was a dead end. But then he insisted that we…” Her voice cracked. Clarke didn’t need her to finish the sentence. “We had no choice,” she repeated desperately.

“We always have a choice,” Clarke said, trembling. “You could have said no. I would have let them kill me before I agreed to that.”

“But he didn’t threaten to kill us.” Her father’s voice was infuriatingly quiet.

“Then what the hell are you doing this for?” Clarke asked shrilly.

“He said he would kill you.usiv [ou

The birdsong trailed off, leaving a charged silence in its wake, as if the music had seeped into the stillness, imbuing the air with melody. “Wow,” Wells said softly. “That was amazing.” He was still facing the trees, but he’d extended his arm toward her, as if reaching through time to hold the hand of the girl who used to love him.

The spell was broken. Clarke stiffened and, without a word, headed back toward the infirmary.

It was dark inside the tent. Clarke almost tripped as she stepped in, making a mental note to change the bandages on one boy’s leg, fix the sloppy stitches she’d given the girl with the gash on her thigh. She’d finally found a container with real bandages and surgical thread, but there wasn’t going to be much more she could do if they didn’t find the actual medicine chest. It hadn’t turned up in the wreckage, most likely thrown from the dropship during the crash and destroyed.

Thalia was lying on one of the cots. She was still asleep, and the newest bandage seemed to be holding up. Clarke had already changed the wrappings three times since she’d found Thalia after the crash, blood pouring out of an ugly gash in her side.

The memory of stitching up the wound made Clarke’s stomach churn, and she hoped that her friend remembered even less. Thalia had passed out from the pain and had been fading in and out of consciousness ever since. Clarke knelt down and brushed a strand of damp hair back from her friend’s brow.

“Hi,” she whispered as Thalia’s eyes fluttered open. “How are you feeling?”

The injured girl forced a smile that seemed to drain the energy from the rest of her body. “I’m just great,” Thalia said, but then winced, the pain flashing in her eyes.

“You used to be a much better liar.”

“I never lied.” Her voice was hoarse but still full of mock indignation. “I just told the guard that I had a neck problem and needed an extra pillow.”

“And then convinced him that black-market whiskey would keep you from singing in your ‘sleep,’ ” Clarke added with a smile.

“Yeah.… It’s too bad Lise wasn’t willing to play along.”

“Or that you can’t carry a tune to save your life.”

“That’s what made it so great!” Thalia protested. “The night guard would’ve done anything to shut me up at that point.”

Clarke shook her head with a smile. “And you say that Phoenix girls are lunatics.” She gestured toward the thin blanket draped over Thalia. “May I?”

Thalia nodded, and Clarke pulled it back, trying to keep her face neutral as she unwrapped the bandage. The skin around the wound was red and swollen, and pus was forming in the gaps between the stitches. The wound itself wasn’t the problem, Clarke knew. While it looked bad, it was the kind of injury they wouldn’t bat an eye at in the medical center. The infection was the real threat.

“That bad?” Thalia asked quietly.

“Nah, you look great,” Clarke said, the lie falling smoothly from her lips. Her eyes slid involuntarily toward the empty cot where a boy who died the day before had spent his final hours.

“That wasn’t your fault,” Thalia said quietly.

“I know.” Clarke sighed. “I just wished he hadn’t been alone.”

“He wasn’t. Wells was here.”

“What?” Clarke asked, confused.

“He came to check on him a few times. I think the first time he came into the tent, he was looking for you, but once he saw how badly that boy was hurt…”

“Really?” Clarke asked, not quite sure whether to trust the observations of a girl who’d spent most of the past day unconscious.

“It was definitely him,” another voice called. Clarke looked over and saw Octavia sitting up, a playful smile on her face. “It’s not every day Wells Jaha comes and sits by your bed.”

Clarke looked at her in disbelief. “How do you even know Wells?”

“He visited the care center with his father a few years ago. The girls were talking about it for weeks. He’s kind of a supernova.”

Clarke smiled at the Walden slang as Octavia continued. “I asked him if he remembered me. He said he did, but he’s too much of a gentleman to say no.” Octavia gave an exaggerated sigh and placed the back of her hand against her forehead. “Alas. My one chance at love.”

“Hey, what about me?” A boy Clarke had thought was asleep shot Octavia an injured look, and she blew him a kiss.

Clarke just shook her head and turned back to Thalia, her eyes traveling from her friend’s face back to the infected wound.

“That’s not a good sign, is it?” Thalia asked quietly, fatigue beginning to tug at the ragged edges of her voice.

“It could be worse.”

“Your lying skills are slipping as well. What’s going on?” She managed to raise an eyebrow. “Is love making you soft?”

Clarke stiffened and snatched her hand back from Thalia’s blanket. “Are your injuries making you delirious?” She glanced over her shoulder and was relieved to see Octavia absorbed in conversation with the Arcadian boy. “You knowwhat he did to me.” She paused as her stomach churned with revulsion. “What he did to my parents.”

“Of course I know.” Thalia looked at Clarke with a mixture of frustration and pity. “But I also know what he risked to come here.” She smiled. “He loves you, Clarke. The kind of love most people spend their whole lives looking for.”

Clarke sighed. “Well, I hope, for your sake, that you never find it.”

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