“Someone has to. Our nutrition packs won’t last a week at the rate they’re going.”
She gave him a small smile. “Well, best of luck.” Clarke walked over to Octavia’s cot and helped Bellamy lift her to her feet.
“I’m fine,” Octavia said, balancing on one foot as she clutched Bellamy’s arm. She hopped forward, pulling him toward the flap. “Let’s go!”
Bellamy twisted to look back over his shoulder. “Oh, by the way, Clarke, I found some debris from the crash when I was out in the woods. Any interest in checking it out tomorrow?”
Clarke inhaled as her heart sped up. “You think it could be the missing supplies?” She took a step forward. “Let’s go now.”
Bellamy shook his head. “It was too far away. We wouldn’t make it back before dark. We’ll go tomorrow.”
She glanced at Thalia, whose face was still contorted in pain. “Okay. First thing in the morning.”
“Let’s wait until the afternoon. I’ll be hunting in the morning. That’s when the animals are out looking for water.” Clarke suppressed the urge to ask him where he’d learned that, although she couldn’t quite mask the surprise on her face. “Until tomorrow, then?” Bellamy asked, and Clarke nodded. “Great.” He grinned. “It’s a date.”
She watched them lumber out of the tent, then went back over to Thalia. Her friend’s eyes fluttered open. “Hi,” she said weakly.
“How are you feeling?” Clarke asked, moving to check Thalia’s vital signs.
“Great,” she croaked. “Just about ready to join Bellamy on his next hunting expedition.”
Clarke smiled. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was. Off and on.”
“I’m just going to take a quick look, okay?” Clarke asked, and Thalia nodded. Clarke pushed the blanket aside and lifted Thalia’s shirt. Streaks of red radiated out from the oozing wound, suggesting that the infection was making its way into her bloodstream.
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” Thalia said hollowly. They both knew she wasn’t getting any better.
“Can you believe they’re really siblings?” Clarke asked, purposefully changing the subject as she replaced Thalia’s blanket.
“Yeah, it’s crazy to think about.” Thalia’s voice grew slightly stronger.
“What’s crazy is pulling a stunt like that on the launch deck,” Clarke said. “But it was really brave. They would’ve killed him if they’d caught him.” She paused. “They’ll kill him when they come down.”
“He’s done a lot to keep her safe,” Thalia agreed, turning her face away from Clarke in an attempt to hide a grimace as a new wave of pain washed over her. “He really loves you, you know.”
“Who? Bellamy?” Clarke asked, startled.
“No. Wells. He came to Earth for you, Clarke.”
She pressed her lips together. “I didn’t ask him to.”
“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of,” Thalia said, her voice quiet.
Clarke shuddered and closed her eyes. “I’m not asking anyone for forgiveness.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Thalia paused to catch her breath. The effort it took to speak was wearing her out.
“You need to rest,” Clarke said, reaching over to pull the blanket up over her friend’s shoulders. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”
“No!” Thalia exclaimed. “Clarke, what happened wasn’t your fault.”
“Of course it was my fault.” Clarke refused to meet her friend’s gaze. Thalia was the only one who knew what Clarke had really done, and Clarke couldn’t bear to face that right now, to see the memory reflected in her friend’s dark, expressive eyes. “And what does it have to do with Wells anyway?”
Thalia closed her eyes and sighed, ignoring the question. “You need to let yourself be happy. Or else, what’s the point of anything?”
Clarke opened her mouth to launch a retort, but the words disappeared as she watched Thalia lean over, suddenly coughing. “It’ll be okay,” Clarke whispered, running her hand through her friend’s sweat-dampened hair. “You’ll be okay.”
This time, the words weren’t a prayer but a declaration. Clarke refused to let Thalia die, and nothing was going to stop her. She wouldn’t let her best friend join the chorus of ghosts in her head.
CHAPTER 13
Wells
Wells looked up at the star-filled sky. He never imagined how homesick it would make him to stare at the familiar scene from hundreds of kilometers away. It was unsettling to see the moon so tiny and featureless, like waking up to find that your family’s faces had been erased.
Sitting at the campfire around him, the others were grumbling. They’d been on Earth less than a week, and already their rations were dwindling. The fact that they had no medicine was troubling, but right now the bigger concern was the food supply. Either the Colony miscalculated their provisions, or Graham and his friends had been hoarding more than he’d realized. Either way, the effects were already beginning to show. It wasn’t just the hollows forming under their cheekbones—there was a hunger in their eyes that terrified Wells. He could never let himself forget that they’d all been Confined for a reason, that everyone surrounding him had done something to endanger the Colony.
Wells most of all.
Just then, Clarke emerged from the infirmary tent and walked toward the campfire, her eyes skimming the circle as she searched for a spot. There was an empty space next to Wells, but her gaze skipped right over him. She sat beside Octavia, who was perched on a log, her injured leg stretched out in front of her.
Wells sighed as he turned to look around the clearing, the flames flickering on the dark forms of the three tents they’d finally built—the infirmary, a structure to hold supplies, and Wells’s personal favorite, a ditch for collecting water, in case it ever rained. At least their camp wasn’t turning out to be a complete failure. His father would be impressed when he joined them on Earth.
If he joined them. It was becoming harder and harder to convince himself that his father was fine, that the bullet wound was only superficial. His chest tightened painfully as he thought of his father clinging to life in a hospital bed, or worse, his body floating somewhere through space. His father’s words still rang in his ears: If anyone can make this mission a success, it’s you. After a lifetime of urging Wells to work harder and do better, he wondered if the Chancellor might have given his last order to his son.