The 100 (The 100 Series) (10 page)

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.”

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
touch
me,” 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,
real
doctors…”

“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.