He stepped over Bellamy, who’d apparently fallen asleep on the floor next to Clarke’s cot, then gently lowered Molly onto one of the other empty beds. When he straightened up, Clarke had turned from the Earthborn, and was now looking at Wells, her eyes wide.
“Hey.” He took a few steps forward. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Clarke said hoarsely, then cleared her throat. “Thank you… for giving me the antidote. You saved my life.” She sounded sincere. There was no trace of lingering anger in her voice, no sign that she still resented Wells for what he’d done during the fire. But her vague, polite tone was almost worse than fury, as if he were a stranger who’d performed some kind service. Was this what it would always be like between them now, he wondered, or could this maybe be a fresh start?
As Wells searched for the right response, Clarke’s eyes drifted to Molly. The detached expression on her face slid away, replaced by a penetrating gaze that was much more familiar. “What’s wrong with Molly?” she asked, her voice sharp with concern.
Grateful to have something else to talk about, Wells told Clarke how the younger girl had suddenly fallen ill. Clarke frowned and started to rise from her bed. “Wait,” Wells said, hurrying over. He placed a hand on Clarke’s shoulder before he had time to think better of it, then snatched it away. “You need to rest. Can you look at her from here?”
“I’m okay,” Clarke said with a shrug. She lowered her feet to the ground and stood up shakily. Wells fought the urge to offer her his arm.
She walked slowly over to Molly, then knelt down for a better look. “Hey, Molly. It’s me, Clarke. Can you hear me?”
Molly only whimpered in response, thrashing against the blanket Wells had wrapped her in. Clarke frowned as she placed her fingers on the girl’s wrist to check her pulse.
“What do you think?” Wells asked, taking a hesitant step toward them.
“I’m not sure.” She’d moved her hand to Molly’s neck to feel her glands, then twisted around to glance up at Wells. “Hey, how long have we been here? I seem to have lost track of time with the snakebite and everything.”
“Just over three weeks.” He paused, calculating in his head. “I think it was three weeks yesterday.”
“Day twenty-one,” Clarke said quietly, more to herself than to him.
“What’s that? What are you talking about?”
Clarke looked away, but Wells could see the fear in her eyes. He knew what that haunted look meant. He remembered the anguish he’d felt when Clarke had finally confided in him about her parents’ experiments. “You don’t think it has something to do with radiation, do you?” he asked. “But… wouldn’t people have gotten sick much earlier?”
Clarke pressed her lips together, scrunching her mouth to the side like she always did when giving her body time to catch up to her racing brain. “If it was in the air, yes, we wouldn’t have been able to breathe. But if it was just trace amounts in the water, then this would be the time. But I don’t think that’s what’s wrong with Molly,” she said quickly. “It doesn’t look like radiation poisoning.” A shadow of pain flickered in her eyes, and Wells knew she was thinking about her friend, the one who’d died. “I think she might be having a bad reaction to something. Is the rest of the universal antidote still in the medicine chest?”
“The rest of it?” Wells repeated. “There was just the one vial.”
Clarke stared at him. “Please tell me you didn’t use the whole thing on me. That was probably twelve doses!”
“And how exactly was I supposed to know that?” Wells asked, indignation tugging at the guilt that had begun to coil around his stomach.
“So it’s all gone?” Clarke turned back to Molly and cursed under her breath. “This isn’t good.”
Before Wells could ask Clarke to elaborate, the door flew open, and Eric hurried inside, leading Felix by the hand. “Clarke? Thank god you’re awake. We need you.” Startled to see the normally stoic Eric so agitated, Wells hurried toward him and helped Eric settle Felix in one of the remaining empty cots.
“He passed out on our way back from the stream,” Eric said, looking anxiously from Clarke to Felix. “And he said he hasn’t been able to keep any food down.”
By this point, Bellamy had woken up. He rose to his feet slowly, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. “What’s going on? Clarke, what the hell are you doing out of bed?”
She ignored him as she took a few shaky steps in order to begin examining Felix. His eyes were open, but he had trouble focusing on Clarke, and didn’t seem able to answer any of her questions.
“What’s wrong with him?” Eric asked, searching Clarke’s face with an intensity that reminded Wells of the guards in the command center back on the ship, the ones in charge of scanning the monitors for asteroids or debris.
“I’m not sure,” she said, her voice a mix of confusion and irritation. Clarke hated being stumped. “But it’s probably nothing to worry about. It could be dehydration caused by the stomach flu. We’ll hydrate him and see what happens. Bellamy, can you bring us some more water?”
Bellamy hesitated and looked at Wells, as if about to suggest that he go, but then he nodded and hurried out the door.
Wells crouched down next to Clarke, close enough that he could speak softly, but far enough that there’d be no danger of brushing against her. “It’s weird, isn’t it? That Molly and Felix fell ill at pretty much the same time?”
“Not really. With a hundred people living together in such a small space, it’s a wonder there hasn’t been some sort of outbreak sooner.”
Wells glanced at Eric, who was busy stroking Felix’s hair, and lowered his voice. “But what if it isn’t the flu? What if it’s the radia—”
“It isn’t,” Clarke said as she tilted her head toward Felix’s chest to listen to his lungs as best she could without a stethoscope.
“But if it was. Is there anything in the medicine chest that would help?”
“My parents were developing something,” Clarke said softly. “There’s a bottle of pills that could slow the effects of radiation poisoning.”
“Shouldn’t we give it to them, then? To be safe?”