The 100 (The 100 Series) (27 page)

Luke took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Maybe there’s a way to change your mom’s mind,” he said earnestly. “Maybe I could talk to her. You know, prove that I’m not some barbarian. That I’m serious about my future—
our
future. That I’m serious about you.”

Glass gave him a soft smile. “I wish it were that easy.”

“No, I mean it.” He took her hands in his. “She thinks I’m just some Walden jerk taking advantag
e of you. She needs to know that this isn’t just a fling. It’s real.”

“I know,” Glass said, squeezing his hand. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” Luke said, pulling something out of his pocket. He turned to face her, his gaze unblinking.

“Glass,” he began, his eyes glowing, “I don’t want to spend another day without you. I want to go to sleep every night with you by my side and wake up next to you every morning. I want nothing else but you, for the rest of my life.”

He held out his outstretched palm, with a small, golden object in it. It was her locket.

“I know it’s not exactly a ring, but—”

“Yes,” she said simply, because there was nothing else to say, nothing sa="-1">
else to do but put on the locket and kiss the boy she loved so much it hurt, as behind them the comet streaked the sky with gold.

Bellamy couldn’t sleep. His mind was a jumble of thoughts all elbowing for his attention, making it impossible to tell where one stopped and the other began.

Staring up at the stars, he tried to imagine what was happening on the ship. It was strange to think of life going on as usual hundreds of kilometers away—the Waldenites and Arcadians toiling away while the Phoenicians complimented one another’s outfits on the observation deck and ignored the stars. That was the only thing he’d miss about the Colony—the view. Before the launch, he’d heard of a comet passing, which would’ve been pretty spectacular to see from the ship.

He squinted into the darkness, trying to figure out how many days they’d been on Earth. If he’d counted correctly, then the comet was meant to appear tonight. There was going to be a fancy viewing party on Phoenix, and less-formal gatherings on Walden and Arcadia. Bellamy sat up and scanned the sky. He couldn’t see anything from the clearing—the trees blocked too much of the sky—but he’d have a better view from the ridge.

Octavia was sleeping peacefully beside him, her glossy hair fanned out underneath her, her red hair ribbon tied to her wrist. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, then took off at a jog across the clearing.

The thick canopy of leaves blocked most of the starlight, but after all his hunting expeditions, he knew this area of the forest well, anticipating every slope and turn and hidden log. When he finally reached the ridge, he paused to catch his breath. The cool night air had helped to clear his head, and the burning in his calves was a welcome distraction.

The star-filled sky looked just as it had every other night since they’d landed on Earth, and yet there was something different about it—the stars were pulsing, charged, as if waiting for something big to happen. And then, all at once, it did. The comet erupted across the sky, a streak of gold against the glittering silver, brightening everything around it, even the ground.

His skin sizzled as if some of the sparks had seeped into his own body, invigorating his cells with something beyond energy—with hope. Tomorrow he and Octavia would leave here for good. Tomorrow they would be free of the Colony forever, no one telling them what to do or how to be.

He closed his eyes and imagined how that would feel. Freedom from everyone and everything—even from his past. Even, perhaps, from the memories that had haunted him all his life.

Bellamy ran down the walkway, ignoring his neighbors’ grumbles and the empty threats of the guards he knew were too lazy to chase a remarkably fast nine-year-old just to issue a reprimand. But as he got closer to his flat, his excitement slipped away. Ever since that terrible night when he caught his mom trying to hurt Octavia, he got nervous coming home.

He unlocked the door and burst inside. “Mom?” he called, carefully shutting the door behind him before he said anything else. “Octavia?” He waited, but there was only silence. “Mom?” he said again. He walked through the main room, his eyes widening at the overturned furniture. His moding entther must have been in another one of her bad moods. He crept toward the kitchen, his stomach wriggling like it was trying to escape through his belly button.

Someone groaned, and he rushed inside to find his mother
on the floor, lying in a sticky puddle of blood. A knife lay beside her.

He gasped and hurried over, shaking her shoulder frantically. “Mom,” he shouted. “Wake up.
Mom.
” But all she did was flutter her eyelids and let out another faint groan. Bellamy leapt to his feet, gasping as he realized the knees of his pants were soaked with blood. He had to find someone. He had to get help.

He dashed back into the main room and was about to go run for a guard when a noise brought him skidding to a halt. His eyes fell on the closet, which was slightly open, a sliver of shadow creeping out of the gap between the door and the wall. He took a few steps toward it as a tiny tearstained face peeked out.

“Are you okay?” he whispered to his sister, reaching for her hand. “Come on.” But she shrank back into the darkness, trembling. Bellamy’s fear for his mother slid away as he stared at the little girl she’d made terrified to come into the light. “Come on, Octavia,” he coaxed, and slowly, tentatively, she poked her head out again.

Finally, she toddled out of the closet, looking around the room with wide eyes. “Here,” Bellamy said, picking up the red ribbon he’d given her from the floor of the closet. He tied it around her dark curls in his best approximation of a bow. “You look beautiful.” He grabbed her hand, feeling his heart swell as her little fingers wrapped around his. He led her to their
mother’s bedroom, lifted her onto the bed, then curled up next to her, praying that he wouldn’t hear any other noises from the kitchen.

They sat there together on the bed, waiting quietly, until finally their mother’s moans stopped and there was only silence.

“It’s okay, O,” he said, holding his little sister tight to his chest. “It’s okay. You’ll never have to hide again.”

As the comet’s trail faded into blackness, Bellamy hurried back down the slope, eager to get back before Octavia woke up and realized he’d gone. But as he came around the bend, searching for the familiar collection of tents, all he could see were flames.

The entire camp was on fire.

Bellamy skidded to a stop, gasping as his lun
gs took their first breath of smoke-filled air. For a moment, his vision was filled with flames and shadows, but then shapes began to emerge. Figures were sprinting in every direction, some pouring out of the burning tents while others rushed toward the trees.

Only one thought consumed him as he jogged over to their blankets, his eyes searching the darkness for his sister’s sleeping form. The knot of dread in his stomach told him what he already knew. Octavia wasn’t there.

He called her name, jerking his head from side to side,
praying that she’d call to him from the edge of the clearing, from someplace safe.

“Octavia!” he yelled again, looking wildly in all directions, squinting to see through the smoke.
Don’t panic
, he told himself, but it was no use. The flames tore through the darkneughin, lookinss and Octavia was nowhere to be found.

Bellamy had come down from scanning the heavens only to find himself in the depths of hell.

For some period of time—minutes, hours, Clarke wasn’t sure—all she could hear was the sound of their hearts, the whisper of their mingled breaths. But then a scream clawed its way out from the clearing, dragging them apart. Clarke and Wells jumped to their feet, Clarke holding on to Wells’s arm for balance as the world slid back into terrifying focus.

He grabbed her hand and they ran back into the clearing. She heard more screams, but none were as frightening as the roar and crackle that made every nerve in her body stand at attention.

Flames rose up from the tents, some of which had already collapsed into smoldering heaps, like corpses on an ancient
battlefield. Shadowy figures sprinted for the safety of the forest, pursued by tendrils of hungry flames.

Thalia
, Clarke thought in horror, and started to run. She was too weak to make it out of the infirmary tent on her own.

“
No!
” Wells shouted, forcing his voice over the chaos of screams. “Clarke, it’s not safe!”

But his words slid off her like a spray of ash. She made a beeline for the tent, smoke filling her lungs, blinking to see in the smoldering air.

His arm wrapped around her waist like a steel band, pulling her forcibly into the shelter of the trees. “Let me go,” she shrieked, thrashing with all her might. But Wells held her tight, forcing her to watch helplessly as fire engulfed the infirmary fewer than a hundred meters away. The entire side of the tent was up in flames. The plastic tarp on top was melting, and smoke filtered out of the gap between the front flaps.

“Get
off
.” She sobbed, twisting again as she tried to wrestle free.

He slid his arm under her and began dragging her backward. “
No
,” she shrieked, feeling the sound tear her throat, pounding at him helplessly with her fists. “I need to get her out.” She dug her heels into the grass, but Wells was stronger, and she couldn’t hold her ground. “
Thalia!
”

“Clarke, I’m so sorry,” Wells whispered in her ear. She
could tell he was crying, but she didn’t care. “You’ll die if you go in there. I can’t let you.”

The word
die
ignited a reserve of power that exploded through her. Clarke gritted her teeth and lunged forward, momentarily escaping Wells’s hold. Her entire being had reduced to a single, desperate thought—saving the only friend she had left in the universe.

She screamed as her arm was wrenched behind her back. “Let me
go
.” This time, it was more of a plea than an order. “I’m begging you. Let me go.”

“I can’t,” he said, wrapping his arms around her again. His voice was shaking. “I can’t.”

The clearing was empty now. Everyone had made it into the woods, taking whatever supplies they could carry. But no one had thought to grab the frail girl who was now being burned alive just a few meters away.

“Help,” Clarke cried. “Someone,
please
help.” But there was no answer Mom?e gexcept for the roar and crackle of the fire.

The flames on the top of the infirmary tent rose higher, the sides collapsing toward each other, as if the fire were inhaling the tent and everything inside of it. “
No
.”

There was a crack, and the flames shot up even higher. Clarke shrieked with horror as the entire tent collapsed into a storm of fire, then slowly crumbled into ash.

It was over.

As she walked away from the medical center, Clarke could almost feel the vial pulsing in her pocket, like the heart in the old story Wells had discovered at the library the other day. He’d offered to read it to her, but she’d flatly refused. The last thing she needed right now was to hear creepy pre-Cataclysm literature. She had enough scenes of horror playing out in her real life.

The vial Clarke carried in her pocket could never have a heartbeat, she knew; just the opposite. The toxic cocktail of drugs inside was designed to stop a heart for good.

When Clarke got home, her parents weren’t there. Although they both spent most of the day in their lab, over the past few weeks, they’d conveniently found excuses to leave right before Clarke returned from her training and rarely came back until just before she went to sleep. It was probably for the best. As Lilly grew sicker, Clarke could barely look at her parents without feeling a surge of rage. She knew she wasn’t being fair—the moment anyone protested, the Vice Chancellor would have her parents executed and Clarke Confined within days. But that didn’t make it any easier for her to meet their eyes.

The lab was quiet. As Clarke wound her way through the maze of empty beds, all she could hear was the drone of the ventilation system. The soft buzz of conversation had faded as more and more bodies were secreted away.

Lilly seemed even thinner than she’d been the day before.
Clarke crept toward her bed and ran her hand gently down her friend’s arm, shuddering as bits of her skin fell away. She slipped her other hand into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around the vial. It would be so easy. No one would ever know.

But then Lilly’s pale lashes fluttered open, and Clarke froze. As she stared into Lilly’s eyes, a cold wave of terror and revulsion crashed over her. What was she thinking? An overpowering urge to destroy the vial tore through her body, and she had to take a deep breath to keep herself from hurling it against the wall.