In the end, his only option had been to spend the night outside with the prisoner. The three cabins were packed with the nearly one hundred people who’d sprinted for safety in the chaos after the second attack. There was barely room for everyone to sit down, let alone sleep.
Wells and Bellamy had carried the sobbing but lucid Tamsin to the infirmary cabin, followed by Clarke, who’d shoved people out of the way to make room for her newest patient. Luckily, the wound hadn’t been life threatening, and even with a dozen terrified people surrounding her, Clarke had managed to stitch up and bandage Tamsin’s leg. But when Eric and Graham had come in, dragging Sasha between them, the cabin had erupted in a frenzy of angry shouts.
“I say we kill her now,” Graham had bellowed, transforming a number of the shouts into cheers.
“Absolutely not,” Bellamy growled. “Not before she tells us where to find my sister.”
Graham’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but they’ve probably killed Octavia by now. Our only shot at justice is cutting this little bitch’s head off and leaving it in the woods for her friends to find.”
There’d been no chance at a peaceful solution, not when everyone was half-crazed with fear and adrenaline. And so Wells had volunteered to spend the night outside with the prisoner—keeping her safe but separate from the group until they figured out what to do with her.
A few people had objected to that plan as well, saying that it was too dangerous for Wells to be in the clearing by himself, but when they realized it was either that or keep Sasha inside with them, they’d fallen silent.
Wells knew he should’ve been terrified after seeing what had happened to Asher and Tamsin, but as he settled against a tree a few meters away from Sasha, curiosity soon swept his fear aside. He couldn’t quite believe he was looking at someone born on Earth, someone who’d be able to answer all the questions that had kept him up late into the night as a kid. What did snow feel like? Had she ever seen a bear? Were there still cities standing? What was left of New York? Chicago? But he must’ve lulled himself to sleep with his questions, and turned them into the stuff of dreams.
“Um, Wells?” Kendall said again. “Are you okay?”
Wells turned to her and rubbed his eyes. “Yes, fine. What’s going on?”
“I said I’d come ask you about breakfast. What are the rations today?”
Wells sighed. “No breakfast today, I’m afraid.” Bellamy’s rabbits and Graham’s raccoon were long gone, and they had to be extremely careful with their protein packets—no more than one per person per day.
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Kendall said. “I’ve been up since dawn carving Asher’s name into his marker. It looks pretty good. Want to come see?”
“Maybe later,” Wells said. “And, um, thanks.”
When it became clear that Kendall wasn’t going to leave on her own, he asked for her help spreading the bad news about breakfast. She seemed disappointed that Wells didn’t want to come see her handiwork, but set off with a smile, pleased at being useful to Wells.
After Kendall had trudged back to the cabin to relay the bad news, Wells reached into his pocket for the crumpled protein packet left over from the day before. He glanced at Sasha. Her skin was paler than it’d been when they’d captured her the day before, though Wells wasn’t sure whether that was from stress or hunger. Still, they couldn’t let her starve. She’d done nothing wrong, and it was cruel to treat her like a prisoner of war.
“Hey,” Wells said cautiously, holding out the protein packet. “Do you want some of this? You must be pretty hungry by now.”
Sasha stared at it for a moment, then looked up at Wells. “What is it?” she asked hoarsely.
“It’s protein paste. Haven’t you seen it before?” She shook her head. “Try it,” he insisted. “Hold out your hand.” He squeezed the rest of the paste into Sasha’s palm, then smiled as she dipped a finger into the paste and brought it to her mouth, wrinkling her nose.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she admitted, taking another dab. She finished the protein paste, then wiped her hands together. “But I know where you can find food—real food.”
Wells eyed her suspiciously. “Really?”
Sasha nodded. “I’ll take you there, if you’ll let me out of your camp.”
He paused. Strategically, they needed to keep her prisoner until they got Octavia back. Even if she was telling the truth about the rogue Earthborns, Sasha could turn out to be an important bargaining tool. He couldn’t risk losing her by falling into a trap. “What’s to keep you from running away?” Wells asked.
“You can tie my hands again, if it’ll make you feel better,” she said. “Listen, I’m only trying to help. And eat,” she added. Her stomach growled loudly in agreement.
“Okay,” Wells said slowly, surveying her face for any sign of treachery. “I’m just going to round up a few people to come with us.”
“No!” She locked eyes with Wells. “It’s not going to be a free-for-all. I’m trusting you to take only what you need, and just this one time. Deal?”
Wells hesitated. The others would be furious if they knew he’d let Sasha leave the camp, even if it was to help them find food. But then again, being a leader sometimes meant doing what you knew was right, even if it made you unpopular. That was one lesson his father had never let him forget.
“Happy birthday!” Wells’s mother singsonged, walking out of the kitchen carrying what looked suspiciously like a cake.
“How did you do that?” Wells asked, his voice full of wonder as he watched his mother place the white, frosting-covered confection on the table. There were even candles on it—twelve of them—although they were unlit. Candles were even more difficult to find than sugar and egg essence. If his mother lit them at all, it would only be for the briefest moment.
“Magic,” she said with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do anything illegal. Your father will have nothing to worry about.”
Unlike some of the other Council members, Wells’s father was incredibly strict about adhering to every detail of the Gaia Doctrine, the set of laws the Colony had laid out when they first launched into space. Just a few minutes earlier, while hurrying home from tutorial, Wells had seen Councilor Brisbane walking along A deck carrying two bottles of what was clearly black-market wine.