Текст книги "The 100 / The Hundred"

Автор книги: Кэсс Морган

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

ʀublishe

ʀublishe

CHAPTER 12

Clarke

Clarke sat in the dark infirmary tent, watching nervously as Thalia tossed and turned in her sleep, restless from the fever that set in as the infection grew worse.

“What do you think she’s dreaming about?”

Clarke turned and saw Octavia sitting up, staring at Thalia wide-eyed.

“I’m not sure,” Clarke lied. From the expression on Thalia’s face, Clarke could tell she was thinking about her father again. She’d been Confined for trying to steal medicine after the Council had weighed against treating him; with limited medical supplies, they’d deemed his prospects too grim to be worth the resources. Thalia still didn’t know what happened to him—whether he’d succumbed to his disease after her arrest, or whether he was still clinging to life, praying that he’d get to see his daughter again someday.

Thalia moaned and curled into a ball, reminding Clarke of Lilly on one of her bad nights, when Clarke would sneak into the lab so her friend wouldn’t have to be alone. Although no one was keeping Clarke from helping Thalia, she felt just as frantic, just as helpless. Unless they found the medicine that had been flung from the dropship, there was nothing she could do to ease her suffering.

The flap flew open, flooding the tent with light and cool, pungent air, and Bellamy tumbled in. He had a bow slung over his shoulder, and his eyes were bright. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said with a grin as he strode over to Octavia’s cot. He stooped down to ruffle her hair, which was still secured with a neatly tied red ribbon. He was close enough that Clarke couldn’t help but notice the faint smell of sweat clinging to his skin, blending with another scent she couldn’t identify but that made her think of trees.

“How’s the ankle?” he asked Octavia, making an exaggerated show of squinting and examining it from all angles.

She flexed it gingerly. exed itkMuch better.” She turned to Clarke. “Am I ready to leave yet?”

Clarke hesitated. Octavia’s ankle was still fragile, and there was no way of making an effective brace. If she put too much pressure on it, she’d sprain it all over again, or worse.

Octavia sighed, then stuck her bottom lip out in a pleading expression. “Please? I didn’t come all the way to Earth to sit in a tent.”

“ Youdidn’t have a choice,” Bellamy said. “But Icertainly didn’t risk my ass coming here just to watch you get gangrene.”

“How do you know about gangrene?” Clarke asked, surprised. No one would ever have developed that kind of infection back on the Colony, and she doubted many other people read ancient medical texts for fun.

“You disappoint me, Doctor.” He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for one of those.”

“One of those what?”

“One of those Phoenicians who assume all Waldenites are illiterate.”

Octavia rolled her eyes as she turned to Bellamy. “Not everythingis an insult, you know.”

Bellamy opened his mouth, but then thought better of it and folded his lips into a smirk. “You better watch it, or I’ll leave without you.” He adjusted the bow on his shoulder.

“Don’t leave me,” she said, suddenly serious. “You know how I feel about being trapped inside.”

A strange expression flashed across Bellamy’s face, and Clarke wondered what he was thinking about. Finally, he smiled. “Okay.

I’ll take you outside, but just for a little bit. I want to try hunting again before it gets dark.” He turned to Clarke. “That is, if the doctor says it’s okay.” Clarke nodded. “Just be careful.” She gave him a quizzical look. “Do you really think you’ll be able to hunt?” No one had seen a mammal yet, let alone tried to kill one.

“Someone has to. Our nutrition packs won’t last a week at the rate they’re going.”

She gave him a small smile. “Well, best of luck.” Clarke walked over to Octavia’s cot and helped Bellamy lift her to her feet.

“I’m fine,” Octavia said, balancing on one foot as she clutched Bellamy’s arm. She hopped forward, pulling him toward the flap. “Let’s go!”

Bellamy twisted to look back over his shoulder. “Oh, by the way, Clarke, I found some debris from the crash when I was out in the woods. Any interest in checking it out tomorrow?”

Clarke inhaled as her heart sped up. “You think it could be the missing supplies?” She took a step forward. “Let’s go now.”

Bellamy shook his head. “It was too far away. We wouldn’t make it back before dark. We’ll go tomorrow.”

She glanced at Thalia, whose face was still contorted in pain. “Okay. First thing in the morning.”

“Let’s wait until the afternoon. I’ll be hunting in the morning. That’s when the animals are out looking for water.” Clarke suppressed the urge to ask him where he’d learned that, although she couldn’t quite mask the surprise on her face. “Until tomorrow, then?” Bellamy asked, and Clarke nodded. “Great.” He grinned. “It’s a date.”

She watched them lumber out of the tent, then went back over to Thalia. Her friend’s e s fr/p>yes fluttered open. “Hi,” she said weakly.

“How are you feeling?” Clarke asked, moving to check Thalia’s vital signs.

“Great,” she croaked. “Just about ready to join Bellamy on his next hunting expedition.”

Clarke smiled. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was. Off and on.”

“I’m just going to take a quick look, okay?” Clarke asked, and Thalia nodded. Clarke pushed the blanket aside and lifted Thalia’s shirt. Streaks of red radiated out from the oozing wound, suggesting that the infection was making its way into her bloodstream.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” Thalia said hollowly. They both knew she wasn’t getting any better.

“Can you believe they’re really siblings?” Clarke asked, purposefully changing the subject as she replaced Thalia’s blanket.

“Yeah, it’s crazy to think about.” Thalia’s voice grew slightly stronger.

“What’s crazy is pulling a stunt like that on the launch deck,” Clarke said. “But it was really brave. They would’ve killed him if they’d caught him.” She paused. “They’ll kill him when they come down.”

“He’s done a lot to keep her safe,” Thalia agreed, turning her face away from Clarke in an attempt to hide a grimace as a new wave of pain washed over her. “He really loves you, you know.”

“Who? Bellamy ?” Clarke asked, startled.

“No. Wells. He came to Earthfor you, Clarke.”

She pressed her lips together. “I didn’t ask him to.”

“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of,” Thalia said, her voice quiet.

Clarke shuddered and closed her eyes. “I’m not asking anyone for forgiveness.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Thalia paused to catch her breath. The effort it took to speak was wearing her out.

“You need to rest,” Clarke said, reaching over to pull the blanket up over her friend’s shoulders. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

“ No!” Thalia exclaimed. “Clarke, what happened wasn’t your fault.”

“Of course it was my fault.” Clarke refused to meet her friend’s gaze. Thalia was the only one who knew what Clarke had really done, and Clarke couldn’t bear to face that right now, to see the memory reflected in her friend’s dark, expressive eyes. “And what does it have to do with Wells anyway?”

Thalia closed her eyes and sighed, ignoring the question. “You need to let yourself be happy. Or else, what’s the point of anything?”

Clarke opened her mouth to launch a retort, but the words disappeared as she watched Thalia lean over, suddenly coughing. “It’ll be okay,” Clarke whispered, running her hand through her friend’s sweat-dampened hair. “You’ll be okay.”

This time, the words weren’t a prayer but a declaration. Clarke refused to let Thalia die, and nothing was going to stop her. She wouldn’t let her best friend join the chorus of ghosts in her head.

ʀublishe

ʀublishe

ʀublishe

CHAPTER 13

< vIt1" fafont size="+0"> Wells

Wells looked up at the star-filled sky. He never imagined how homesick it would make him to stare at the familiar scene from hundreds of kilometers away. It was unsettling to see the moon so tiny and featureless, like waking up to find that your family’s faces had been erased.

Sitting at the campfire around him, the others were grumbling. They’d been on Earth less than a week, and already their rations were dwindling. The fact that they had no medicine was troubling, but right now the bigger concern was the food supply. Either the Colony miscalculated their provisions, or Graham and his friends had been hoarding more than he’d realized. Either way, the effects were already beginning to show. It wasn’t just the hollows forming under their cheekbones—there was a hunger in their eyes that terrified Wells. He could never let himself forget that they’d all been Confined for a reason, that everyone surrounding him had done something to endanger the Colony.

Wells most of all.

Just then, Clarke emerged from the infirmary tent and walked toward the campfire, her eyes skimming the circle as she searched for a spot. There was an empty space next to Wells, but her gaze skipped right over him. She sat beside Octavia, who was perched on a log, her injured leg stretched out in front of her.

Wells sighed as he turned to look around the clearing, the flames flickering on the dark forms of the three tents they’d finally built—the infirmary, a structure to hold supplies, and Wells’s personal favorite, a ditch for collecting water, in case it ever rained. At least their camp wasn’t turning out to be a complete failure. His father would be impressed when he joined them on Earth.

Ifhe joined them. It was becoming harder and harder to convince himself that his father was fine, that the bullet wound was only superficial. His chest tightened painfully as he thought of his father clinging to life in a hospital bed, or worse, his body floating somewhere through space. His father’s words still rang in his ears: If anyone can make this mission a success, it’s you.After a lifetime of urging Wells to work harder and do better, he wondered if the Chancellor might have given his last order to his son.

A strange noise came from the trees. Wells sat up straighter, all his senses on the alert. There was a cracking sound, followed by a rustling. The murmurs by the fire turned to gasps as a strange shape materialized out of the shadows, part human, part animal, like something from the ancient myths.

Wells leapt to his feet. But then the creature moved past the tree line and into the light.

Bellamy stood with an animal carcass draped over his shoulders, a trail of blood in his wake.

A deer. Wells’s eyes traveled over the lifeless animal, taking in its soft brown fur, spindly legs, delicately tapered ears. As Bellamy moved toward them, the deer’s head swayed back and forth from its limp neck—but it never made a full arc, because each time it swung back, it knocked against something else.

It was another head, swinging from another slender neck. The deer had two heads.

Wells froze as everyone around the fire scrambled to their feet, some of them inching forward for a better look, others backing up in terror. “Is it safe?” one girl asked.

“It’s safe.” Clarke’s voice came from the shadows, and then she stepped into the light. “The radiation might have mutated the { mu ranggenetic material hundreds of years ago, but there wouldn’t be any trace of it now.”

Everyone fell silent as Clarke stretched out her hand to stroke the creature’s fur. Standing in a pool of moonlight, she never looked so beautiful.

Clarke turned to Bellamy with a smile that made Wells’s stomach twist. “We’re not going to starve.” Then she said something Wells couldn’t hear, and Bellamy nodded.

Wells exhaled, willing his resentment to drain away. He took another deep breath before walking toward Bellamy and Clarke. She stiffened as he approached, but Wells forced himself to keep his eyes on Bellamy. “Thank you,” Wells said. “This will feed a lot of people.”

Bellamy stared at him questioningly as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“I mean it,” Wells said. “Thanks.”

Finally, Bellamy nodded. Wells went back to his place by the fire, leaving Bellamy and Clarke to talk quietly, their heads bowed together.

The observation deck was completely empty. Staring out into the immeasurably vast sea of stars, Wells could easily imagine that they were the only two living things in the entire universe. He tightened his arm around Clarke. She pressed her head against his chest and exhaled, sinking closer to him as the air left her body. As if she was happy to let him breathe for them both.

“How’d it go today?” she murmured.

“Fine,” Wells said, not sure why he was bothering to lie when Clarke was pressed against his chest. She could read his heartbeat like it was Morse code.

“What happened?” she asked, concern flickering in her large green eyes.

His officer training entailed periodic trips to Walden and Arcadia to monitor the guards. Today, he’d observed them seize a woman who’d gotten pregnant with an unregistered child. There’d be no chance at lenience. She would be Confined until she gave birth, the child would be placed in the Council’s care, and the mother would be executed. The law was harsh but necessary. The ship could only support a certain number of lives, and allowing anyone to disrupt the delicate balance would jeopardize the entire race. But the look of panic in the woman’s eyes as the guards had dragged her away was burned into Wells’s brain.

Surprisingly, it’d been his father who helped Wells make sense of what he’d seen. That night at dinner, he’d sensed something was wrong, and Wells had told him about the incident, trying to sound soldierly and detached. But his father had seen through the act and, in a rare gesture, put his hand over Wells’s across the table. “What we do isn’t easy,” he’d told his son, “but it’s crucial. We can’t afford to let our feelings keep us from doing our duty—keeping the human race alive.”

“Let me guess,” Clarke said, interrupting his thoughts. “You arrested some criminal mastermind for stealing books from the library.”

“Nope.” He swept a piece of hair behind her ear. “She’s still at large. They’re forming a special task force as we speak.”

She smiled, and the flecks of gold in her eyes {d igotten pre seemed to sparkle. He couldn’t imagine a prettier color.

Wells turned his attention back to the enormous window. Tonight, the clouds covering Earth didn’t remind him of a shroud—they were merely a blanket. The planet hadn’t died, it’d only slipped into an enchanted sleep until the time came for it to welcome humanity home.

“What are you thinking about?” Clarke asked. “Is it your mom?”

“No,” he said slowly. “Not really.” Wells reached out and absentmindedly wrapped a lock of Clarke’s hair around his finger, then let it fall back to her shoulder. “Though I guess, in a way, I’m always thinking about her.” It was hard to believe that she was really gone.

“I just want to make sure she’s proud of me, wherever she is,” Wells continued, a chill passing over him as he glanced toward the stars.

Clarke squeezed his hand, transferring her warmth to him. “Of course she’s proud of you. Any mother would be proud of a son like you.”

Wells turned back to Clarke with a grin. “Just mothers?”

“I imagine you’re a hit with grandparents, too.” She nodded gravely, but then giggled when Wells playfully smacked her shoulder.

“There’s someone else I want to make proud.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “She’d better watch her back,” she said, reaching out to wrap her hands behind Wells’s head. “Because I’m not very good at sharing.”

Wells grinned as he leaned forward and closed his eyes, brushing his lips against hers for a teasing kiss before moving down to her neck. “Neither am I,” he whispered into her ear, feeling her shiver as his breath tickled her skin. She pulled him closer, her touch melting away the tension until he forgot about his day, forgot that he’d have to repeat it all tomorrow and the day after that. All that mattered was the girl in his arms.

The smell of the roasting deer was foreign and intoxicating. There was no meat on the Colony, not even on Phoenix. All the livestock had been eliminated in the middle of the first century.

“How do we know when it’s done?” an Arcadian girl named Darcy asked Wells.

“When the outside starts to crisp and the inside turns pink,” Bellamy called without turning his head.

Graham snorted, but Wells nodded. “I think you’re right.” After the meat cooled, they chopped it into smaller pieces and began passing it around the fire. Wells carried some to the other side of the circle, distributing it to the crowd.

He handed a piece to Octavia, who held it in front of her as she looked up at Wells. “Have you tried it yet?” Wells shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Well, that’snot fair.” She raised her eyebrows. “What if it turns out to be disgusting?”

He glanced around the circle. “Everyone else seems to be okay with it.”

Octavia pursed her lips together. “I’m not like everyone else.” She looked a { Sh/fontt him for a moment, as if waiting for him to speak, then smiled and pushed her piece toward him. “Here, you take the first bite and tell me what you think.”

“I’m okay, thanks,” Wells said. “I want to make sure everyone else—”

“Come on.” She giggled as she tried to slip it into his mouth. “Take a bite.”

Wells snuck a quick glance around the circle to make sure Clarke hadn’t been watching. She wasn’t—she was caught up in conversation with Bellamy.

Wells turned back to Octavia. “Okay,” he said, taking the piece of meat from her hands. She looked disappointed not to feed it to him, but Wells didn’t care. He took a bite. The outside was tough, but as his teeth sank in, the meat released a flood of flavor unlike anything Wells had tasted before, simultaneously salty and smoky and faintly sweet. He chewed some more and then swallowed, bracing for his stomach to reject the alien substance. But all he felt was warmth.

The kids who’d eaten first had risen from the fire and begun milling around the clearing, and for a few minutes, the soft hum of their conversation merged with the crackling of the flames. But then the sound of confused murmurs began to rise to the surface, making the skin on the back of Wells’s neck prickle. He rose to his feet and walked over to where a group was standing near the tree line.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“ Look.” One of the girls pointed to something in the trees.

“What?” Wells squinted into the darkness.

“There,” another girl said. “Did you see it?”

For a moment, Wells thought they were playing a trick on him, but then something caught his eye. A flash of light, so brief that he might have imagined it. There was another flash a few feet away, then another, this one a little higher up. He took a step toward the edge of the clearing, which was now ablaze with glowing lights, as if invisible hands had decorated it for a party. His eyes landed on the closest orb, a ball of light hanging from the lowest branch of a nearby tree.

There was something moving inside. A creature. It was some sort of insect, with a tiny body and disproportionately large, delicate wings. The word fluttered to Wells’s lips. Butterfly.

Some of the others had followed him into the forest and were now staring in wonder alongside him. “Clarke,” he whispered into the darkness. She needed to see this. He tore his eyes away and spun around, ready to go run and find her. But she was already there.

Clarke stood a few feet away, utterly transfixed. A soft glow lit up her face, and the tense, worried expression that had clung to her features since the crash had fallen away.

“Hey,” Wells said softly, not wanting to disrupt the stillness. He expected Clarke to scowl at him, or silence him, or walk away. But she didn’t move. She stood right where she was, staring up at the luminous butterflies.

Wells didn’t dare move or say another word. The girl he thought he’d lost was still in there, somewhere, and in that instant, he knew: He could make her love him again.

ʀublishe

ʀublishe

ʀublishe

CHAPTER 14

Bellamy

Bellamy didn’t know why the ~"27"> wasancient humans even bothered doing drugs. What was the point of shooting junk into your veins when walking through the forest had the same effect? Something happened each time he crossed the tree line. As he moved away from the camp in the early morning sunlight, setting out on another hunting expedition, he began taking deeper breaths. His heart pounded with strong, slow, steady beats, his organs marching in time to a pulse in the ground. It was like someone had hacked into his brain and cranked up his senses to a setting Bellamy hadn’t known existed.

But the best part was the quiet. The ship had never been completely silent. There was always a low hum of background noise: the drone of the generators, the buzz of the lights, the echo of footsteps in the hallway. It had freaked him out the first time he entered the forest, not having anything to drown out his thoughts. But the more time he spent here, the quieter his mind became.

Bellamy scanned the ground, his eyes skipping over the rocks and damp patches as they searched for clues. There were no tracks to follow as there’d been yesterday, but something told Bellamy to turn right, and go deeper into the forest where the trees grew thicker, covering the ground with strange shadows. That’s where he would go if he were an animal.

He reached behind his shoulder to grab one of the arrows from the sling he’d constructed. Although it was terrible to watch them die, his aim had vastly improved over the past few days, so he knew the animals didn’t suffer much. He’d never forget the pain and fear in the first deer’s eyes as it staggered across the ground. Yet shooting an animal was less of a crime than a lot of the crap the other kids had done to end up here. While he might be cutting the creature’s life short, Bellamy knew that it had lived every moment of that life completely free.

The hundred prisoners might have been promised their freedom, but Bellamy knew he wouldn’t be afforded the same privilege, not after what he’d done to the Chancellor. If he was still around when the next ship landed, the first person off it would probably shoot him on the spot.

Bellamy was done with all of it—the punishments, the stations, the system. He was through following other people’s rules. He was sick of having to fight to survive. Living in the forest wouldn’t be easy, but at least he and Octavia would be free.

Holding his arms out for balance, he half shuffled, half skidded down the slope, trying his best to not make any noise that could scare an animal away. He landed at the bottom with a thud, mud squelching under his tattered boots. Bellamy winced as water sloshed through the gap above the soles. It would be uncomfortable walking back to camp with wet socks, something he’d learned the hard way. He wasn’t sure why that wasn’t mentioned in any of the books he read. What was the point of knowing how to build a snare out of vines, or which plants to use to treat burns, if you couldn’t walk?

Bellamy laid his socks over a branch to dry, then dipped his feet into the stream. It was already hotter out than it had been when he left camp, and the cold water felt incredible on his skin. He rolled his pants up to his knees and waded in farther, grinning like a complete doofus as the water swirled around his calves. It was one of his favorite things about Earth, how mundane stuff like washing your feet suddenly felt like a huge deal.

The trees weren’t as dense by the stream, and the sun shone brighter. Bellamy’s face and arms suddenly felt unbearably hot. He pulled off his T-shirt, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it onto the grass before reaching down to scoop water into his hands and splash it over his face. He shiser miled, still blown away by the revelation that water could have a taste. They’d always made crude jokes about the ship’s recycled water supply, how you were basically drinking your great-grandfather’s piss. Yet now he realized that the centuries of filtration and purification had stripped the liquid until it was no more than a collection of hydrogen and oxygen molecules. He reached down and cupped another handful. If he’d had to describe it, he would say it tasted like a combination of Earth and sky—and then he’d punch whoever laughed at him for it.

A crack sounded from inside the woods. Bellamy spun around so quickly, he lost his balance and fell backward with a splash. He quickly scrambled to his feet, rocks and mud shifting beneath his bare toes as he turned to look for the source of the sound.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Bellamy pushed his hair back and saw Clarke standing on the grass. It was startling to see someone else in the woods, which he’d come to think of as belonging exclusively to him. But the flash of irritation he was expecting never came. “You couldn’t wait till afternoon?” he asked, making his way back to the bank.

Clarke blushed. “We need that medicine,” she said as she looked away from his bare chest. She was so tough most of the time, it was easy to forget that she grew up in a world of fancy concerts and lecture parties. Bellamy grinned as he shook his head, sending droplets of water flying.

“ Hey,” she shouted, jumping backward as she tried to flick the water off. “We haven’t tested this stream yet. That could be toxic.”

“Since when did our badass surgeon become such a priss?” He sat down in a sunny patch of grass and patted the spot next to him in invitation.

“A priss?” Clarke lowered herself to the ground with a huff. “You could barely hold the knife last night, your hand was shaking so badly.”

“Hey, I killedthe deer. I think I did more than my fair share. Besides”—he paused as he lay back on the grass—“you’re the one who’s trained to cut things open.”

“I’m not, really.”

Bellamy brought his hands behind his head and tilted his face toward the sun, exhaling as the warmth seeped into his skin. It was almost as nice as being in bed with a girl. Maybe even better, because the sun would never ask him what he was thinking. “Sorry to insult you,” he said, stretching out the words as a relaxed heaviness settled in his limbs. “I know you’re a doctor, not a butcher.”

“No, I mean I was Confined before I finished my apprenticeship.”

The note of sorrow in her voice reverberated strangely in Bellamy’s gut. He gave her a weak smile. “Well, you’re doing a great job for a quack.”

She stared at him, and for a second, he worried he’d offended her. But then she nodded and stood up. “You’re right,” she said. “Which is why we need to find that medicine. Come on.”

Bellamy rose to his feet with a groan, slipped into his shoes and socks, then slung his shirt over his shoulder.

“I’d recommend putting your shirt back on.”

“Why? Are you worried you won’t be able to control yourself? Because if you’re concerned about my virtue, I have to tell you, I’m not—”

“I meant”—she cut him off with a small smile—“there are some poisonous plants out here that ouback o could make that pretty back of yours erupt with pus-filled boils.”

He shrugged. “For all I know, that might be your thing, doctor girl. I’ll take my chances.”

She laughed for what Bellamy was pretty sure was her first time on Earth. He felt a surprising flicker of pride that he’d been the one to make it happen.

“Okay,” he said lightly, pulling his shirt over his head and smiling to himself when he caught Clarke’s eyes on his stomach. “The wreckage was farther west. Let’s go.” He started walking up the slope, then turned to look at Clarke. “The direction the sun sets in.”

She ran a few steps to catch up to him. “You taught yourself all of this?”

“I guess. There aren’t a lot of lectures on Earth’s geography on Walden.” The statement didn’t carry the bitterness it might have, had it been directed at Wells or Graham. “I’d always been interested in that stuff, and then when I found out they were planning on sending Octavia to Earth…” He paused, not sure how much it was safe to share. But Clarke was looking at him expectantly, her green eyes full of curiosity and something else he couldn’t quite identify. “I figured, the more I knew, the better equipped I’d be to keep her safe.”

They reached the top of the slope, but instead of heading back toward camp, Bellamy led them deeper into the woods. The trees grew so close together that their leaves blocked most of the sun. What little light made it through dappled the ground in golden pools. Bellamy smiled as he saw Clarke taking care to step around them, like a little kid trying to avoid the lines crossing the skybridge.

“This is how I imagined Sherwood Forest,” she said, her voice full of reverence. “I almost expect to see Robin Hood pop out from behind a tree.”

“Robin Hood?”

“You know.” She stopped to look at him. “The exiled prince who stole medicine to give to the orphans?” Bellamy stared at her blankly. “With the enchanted bow and arrows? You kind of remind me of him, now that I think about it,” she added, smiling.

Bellamy ran his hand along a vine-covered branch that shimmered slightly in the dim light. “We don’t get a lot of story time on Walden,” he said stiffly. But then his voice softened. “There aren’t many books, so I used to make up fairy tales for Octavia when she was little. Her favorite was about an enchanted trash can.” He snorted. “It was the best I could do.”

Clarke smiled. “It was brave, what you did for her,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I’d say the same thing about you, but I have a feeling you’re not exactly here by choice.”

She held up her wrist, which, like all the others’, was still encased in the monitor bracelet. “What gave it away?”

“I’m sure he deserved it,” Bellamy said with a grin. But instead of laughing, Clarke turned away. He’d meant it as a joke, but he should have known that he couldn’t be so glib with her—with anyone who was here, really. They were all hiding something. Bellamy most of all.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. He apologized so rarely, the word felt strange in his mouth. “We’ll find the medicine chest. What’s in it, anyway?”

“Everything. Sterile bandages, painkillers, antibiotics… things that could make all the difference to…” She paused for a moment. “To the injured people.”