“Not the landing,” she said, stopping to look up at him. “On Phoenix. It was… terrifying.” She turned to glance up at the sky, then sighed and shook her head. “They don’t have much time left.”
Her words were like a fist to Wells’s gut. Before he could ask what she meant, though, Eric stepped in to lead the young woman through the woods to the camp, freeing Wells to return to the lake.
A hot coil of guilt tightened around Wells’s stomach. He didn’t need to know the details to understand that he had probably been responsible for whatever grim fate lay ahead for the people still on the Colony. He may have become a leader down here on Earth, but he was still a coldhearted murderer back on the ship. Wells could almost feel the cool metal of the airlock at his fingertips as he opened it, just a little, allowing precious oxygen to leak out of the ship. He had only been trying to speed up the inevitable so Clarke could travel to Earth before her eighteenth birthday—before her certain execution. But, he knew now, he had also hastened the demise of thousands of innocent people still trapped on the Colony.
As he got closer to the lake, he wrinkled his nose at the now-familiar smell of the crash site. Under the acrid scent of smoke and the metallic tang of blood and sweat, he sensed something else. It took him a moment to place it, but as soon as he did, his heart began to pound: It was fuel. The smashed dropships were leaking it into the grass, dirt, and water all around them. Most of the flames had started to die out, but all it would take was one spark in the wrong place to turn the whole place into an inferno.
Then, like a scene out of a nightmare, Wells saw it happen. About a hundred meters away, an enormous flame shot out the top of one of the charred dropships, hurtling chunks of flaming wreckage into the air. “Watch out!” Wells shouted, breaking into a run. “Everybody, move.”
Luckily, the injured had all been triaged in another area, but there was too much smoke in the air to confirm that the others had moved to safety. Wheezing, Wells ran forward, coughing and wiping his eyes with his sleeves as he called out for anyone who needed help.
There was a faint buzzing sound, like something flying through the air. Wells looked up but couldn’t see anything but dark gray smoke. It grew louder, but before Wells could react, he felt himself flying through the air, landing on the ground with a hard thud. He tried to roll over, but something—or someone—was on top of him. After a moment, the weight moved, and Wells looked up with a groan. Just a few meters from his head was an enormous piece of smoldering fuselage. If he hadn’t been knocked to the ground, it would’ve crushed his skull.
He turned to the other side and saw a slim figure standing over him, a girl wearing the Colony’s standard-issue thin gray pants and T-shirt. She reached for his hand and pulled him to his feet. “Thank you,” Wells said, blinking rapidly as he waited for his vision to clear. When the world came back into focus, the first thing he saw sent a wave of joy through him.
It was Glass.
They locked eyes at the same moment, and their faces lit up into matching giant grins. Wells closed the space between them in an instant and wrapped his arms around his childhood best friend, pulling her into a tight hug. A million images flashed rapid-fire through his brain—years of happy memories crashing together and replaying in a steady stream. He had been so focused on following Clarke to Earth that he hadn’t had much time to worry about Glass after she bolted from the dropship just before the hundred launched. The familiar smell of her hair—that particular blend of Glass and the synthetically scented shampoo back on the Colony—filled him with comfort, and for a brief moment, Wells was transported back to simpler times.
Growing up, she’d been the only one able to forget the fact that he was the Chancellor’s son, the only one who made him feel like he wasn’t on display. Around Glass, he could be immature, or playful, or sometimes even mischievous—like the time he said he was taking her to the archives to watch a video of some boring royal wedding when his real plan was to watch a great white shark attack an orca. And in turn, Glass wasn’t afraid to show him her goofy side. While the rest of the ship saw Glass as this perfectly polished, well-mannered Phoenician girl, Wells knew that she liked to make up silly dances and that she burst into laughter anytime someone mentioned Uranus.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Wells said, pulling away so he could look at her. “Are you okay? I was so worried about you.”
“Are you kidding? Think about how worried I was about you,” she said. “No one knew if you guys made it. Are you okay? What’s it like here?”
It made his head spin just thinking about how much he had to tell her. So much had happened since the last time they’d seen each other. He’d set the Eden Tree on fire to get himself arrested, been Confined, faced off with his father, rode with the rest of the hundred on the dropship Glass had escaped from, and spent the last few weeks fighting for his life on Earth.
“The weird thing is—” he started.
“Are there actually—” she said at the same time.
“You go first,” they both said together, then laughed. They pulled away from each other, the smiles fading on their lips as the scent of smoke and charred metal reminded them of where they were, and why. Wells struggled with the question that bubbled up in his throat, and the way Glass’s face grew serious told him she knew what he was thinking. He swallowed hard and found the courage to ask.
“Do you know anything about my father?”
Glass pressed her lips together, and her eyes filled with sympathy, a look Wells recognized from the terrible weeks after his mother’s death. Wells braced himself for whatever she was about to tell him, just grateful that if he had to hear agonizing news, it would be from her.
“They haven’t told anyone much,” she began, her voice soft but steady. Wells held his breath, waiting for her to continue. “But the last we heard, he was still in a coma.” Glass paused, waiting for him to absorb the information.
Wells nodded, his mind swirling with images of his father lying alone in the medical center, his tall, broad frame looking frail under a thin sheet. He focused his efforts on keeping his expression neutral as Glass’s words sank down into his chest, lodging themselves in the deepest part of his heart. “Okay,” he said with a long sigh. “Thanks for telling me.”