Day 21
Page 7
That was all Wells needed to hear. Holding Clarke tight to his chest, he took off for the infirmary cabin. The tiny space was jammed with sleeping people—half a dozen were curled up on the few remaining blankets and cots. “Move it,” Wells bellowed, senseless to the indignant murmurs and sleepy protests. “Now.”
“What happened? Are they back?”
“Is it the Earthborns?” someone whimpered.
“Is that Clarke? Is she okay?”
Wells ignored them and set Clarke down on one of the now-empty cots, inhaling sharply as her head fell to the side. “Clarke,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking her gently. “Clarke!” He knelt down and brought his face close to hers. She was breathing, but just barely.
Bellamy burst inside. “Get them out of here,” Wells ordered, gesturing to the remaining kids who were still staggering to their feet, gazing at Clarke in sleepy confusion.
Bellamy herded them toward the door. “Everybody out,” he said, his voice ragged with exhaustion. When the last few had been unceremoniously removed, he stumbled over to Wells, who was tearing wildly through the medical supplies.
“What can I do?” Bellamy asked.
“Just keep an eye on her.” Wells tossed bandages and vials over his shoulder, praying that they had antivenom, praying that he’d recognize it. He cursed himself for not studying harder during his biology tutorials. He cursed himself for not paying closer attention to Clarke when she spoke offhandedly about her medical training. He’d been too busy admiring the ways her eyes lit up when she talked about her apprenticeship. And now there was a chance those eyes would be closed forever.
“You’d better hurry up.” Bellamy’s voice came from the cot. Wells spun around to see him crouching next to Clarke, brushing the hair off her pale face. The sight momentarily resurrected the rage Wells had felt when he’d seen Bellamy kiss Clarke in the woods.
“Don’t touch her.” He winced at the sharpness of his tone. “Just… give her space to breathe.”
Bellamy locked eyes with Wells. “She’s not going to be breathing for much longer unless we figure out a way to help her.”
Wells turned back to the medicine chest, willing himself to stay calm. When his eyes landed on a bright orange vial, his relief nearly knocked him to the ground.
A few years ago, a group of scientists had given a lecture on their research in Eden Hall. They were developing a universal antidote, a medicine that would give people a fighting chance of surviving when they finally returned to Earth. Not only had humans lost many of their natural immunities, but it was likely that many plants and animals had mutated, rendering the old medicines useless. The lecture felt like a lifetime ago, before Wells had met Clarke, before the Vice Chancellor forced her parents to study the effects of radiation on human test subjects. Wells had only gone because it fell under his responsibilities as the Chancellor’s son. He’d never thought he’d ever set foot on Earth, let alone need to use such an antidote to save the girl he loved.
Wells grit his teeth as he attached a syringe to the vial and positioned it over a blue vein in Clarke’s arm. He froze as his heart pounded a warning. What if he was wrong about the drug? What if he screwed up and injected a fatal air bubble into her blood?
“Give it to me,” Bellamy snapped. “I’ll do it.”
“No,” Wells said firmly. Though he hated to admit it, the thought of Bellamy saving Clarke was too much for him to bear. It was his fault she’d been sent to Earth in the first place, but it wasn’t going to be his fault that she died.
In a single motion, he plunged the syringe into her skin and pressed the top down, watching the antidote empty into her body. “Clarke,” he whispered, grabbing her hand. “Can you hear me?” He intertwined his fingers with hers and closed his eyes. “Please. Stay with me.” He sat there holding her hand for a few moments in silence.
“Thank god,” Bellamy breathed behind him.
Wells looked up to see Clarke’s eyes flutter open. He exhaled and swayed slightly, woozy with relief. “Are you okay?” he asked, not caring that his voice cracked.
She blinked at him in confusion. Wells braced for the moment when she would remember everything that happened, and her face would harden with loathing. But Clarke’s eyes closed again, and her lips curved into a small smile. “I found—” she murmured.
“What did you find?” Wells asked, squeezing her hand.
“I had no…” Clarke trailed off with a sigh as sleep overtook her.
Wells stood up, grabbed a blanket from one of the other cots, and spread it gently over Clarke. Bellamy was still standing stiffly behind him, his eyes fixed on the curled figure of the girl who, despite her immense strength, always looked younger—and somehow more fragile—when she slept.
Wells cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said, extending his hand. “For bringing her back.”
Bellamy nodded slowly, still in shock. “I was so worried. I thought…” He ran a hand through his hair, then slid to the ground and sat with his back against Clarke’s cot.
Wells bristled at the possessive gesture, but he found that he couldn’t say anything. He was grateful to Bellamy for bringing Clarke back to the camp, but it hurt to think about what they might’ve been doing for the past two days.
Wells lowered himself to the ground with a sigh. “I guess this means you didn’t find Octavia.”
“No. We found a trail, but it was… weird.” He spoke without looking up, and his voice was strangely flat. “The prints didn’t look like she ran off. It looked like she was dragged.”
“Dragged?” Wells repeated as the pieces of information clicked together, forming an even more troubling picture. “I can’t believe it. They took her.”
“They?” Bellamy’s head shot up. “Who?”
Wells told him about everything that had happened since Bellamy and Clarke left camp—the surprise attack, Asher’s death, the undeniable fact that there were other people on Earth.
When Bellamy finally spoke, his jaw was tight with anger. “And you think these people took Octavia during the fire?” Wells nodded. “Who are they? How did they survive the Cataclysm? And what the hell do these—these Earthborns want with my sister?”
“I don’t know. They might be defending their territory. Maybe they took her as a warning, and then when we didn’t show any signs of leaving, they killed Asher to make a stronger point.”
Bellamy stared at him for a long moment. “So you think they’re coming back?”
Wells opened his mouth to repeat the same vague response he’d been giving to the others in his attempt to prevent widespread panic. But when he met Bellamy’s eyes, the canned reassurances fell away. “Yes. They’ll be back.” He told Bellamy about Graham’s growing obsession with building an army, a move that would certainly lead to more deaths.
“It sounds like it hasn’t been a walk in the park here either,” Bellamy said with a snort. He glanced over his shoulder to check on Clarke, who still hadn’t stirred, though her face was peaceful and her breath was steady. “You should get some rest. I’ll keep an eye on Sleeping Beauty here, and let you know if there’s any change.”
Something in Bellamy’s tone rankled Wells. “I’m fine,” he said. “I have to stay up for guard duty, anyway. But you should definitely go to bed. You look exhausted.”
The boys stared at each other wordlessly until Bellamy raised his arms over his head and stretched his legs out with a groan. “I guess we’re both in it for the long haul, then.”
They sat in silence, each avoiding the other’s eyes, moving only to look at Clarke the few times she rolled over, or sighed in her sleep. As the night wore on, a handful of people tried to come back inside the infirmary cabin, but Wells shooed them away. It was slightly unfair to make people sleep outside when there was space indoors, but he couldn’t risk anything disturbing Clarke. Not after what she’d been through.
Wells wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but light was streaming between the logs when a loud thud jolted him from his doze, sending him jumping to his feet. Bellamy’s head snapped up. “What’s going on?” he asked, drowsily. Without waiting to respond, Wells hurried outside.
“What happened? Are they back?”
“Is it the Earthborns?” someone whimpered.
“Is that Clarke? Is she okay?”
Wells ignored them and set Clarke down on one of the now-empty cots, inhaling sharply as her head fell to the side. “Clarke,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking her gently. “Clarke!” He knelt down and brought his face close to hers. She was breathing, but just barely.
Bellamy burst inside. “Get them out of here,” Wells ordered, gesturing to the remaining kids who were still staggering to their feet, gazing at Clarke in sleepy confusion.
Bellamy herded them toward the door. “Everybody out,” he said, his voice ragged with exhaustion. When the last few had been unceremoniously removed, he stumbled over to Wells, who was tearing wildly through the medical supplies.
“What can I do?” Bellamy asked.
“Just keep an eye on her.” Wells tossed bandages and vials over his shoulder, praying that they had antivenom, praying that he’d recognize it. He cursed himself for not studying harder during his biology tutorials. He cursed himself for not paying closer attention to Clarke when she spoke offhandedly about her medical training. He’d been too busy admiring the ways her eyes lit up when she talked about her apprenticeship. And now there was a chance those eyes would be closed forever.
“You’d better hurry up.” Bellamy’s voice came from the cot. Wells spun around to see him crouching next to Clarke, brushing the hair off her pale face. The sight momentarily resurrected the rage Wells had felt when he’d seen Bellamy kiss Clarke in the woods.
“Don’t touch her.” He winced at the sharpness of his tone. “Just… give her space to breathe.”
Bellamy locked eyes with Wells. “She’s not going to be breathing for much longer unless we figure out a way to help her.”
Wells turned back to the medicine chest, willing himself to stay calm. When his eyes landed on a bright orange vial, his relief nearly knocked him to the ground.
A few years ago, a group of scientists had given a lecture on their research in Eden Hall. They were developing a universal antidote, a medicine that would give people a fighting chance of surviving when they finally returned to Earth. Not only had humans lost many of their natural immunities, but it was likely that many plants and animals had mutated, rendering the old medicines useless. The lecture felt like a lifetime ago, before Wells had met Clarke, before the Vice Chancellor forced her parents to study the effects of radiation on human test subjects. Wells had only gone because it fell under his responsibilities as the Chancellor’s son. He’d never thought he’d ever set foot on Earth, let alone need to use such an antidote to save the girl he loved.
Wells grit his teeth as he attached a syringe to the vial and positioned it over a blue vein in Clarke’s arm. He froze as his heart pounded a warning. What if he was wrong about the drug? What if he screwed up and injected a fatal air bubble into her blood?
“Give it to me,” Bellamy snapped. “I’ll do it.”
“No,” Wells said firmly. Though he hated to admit it, the thought of Bellamy saving Clarke was too much for him to bear. It was his fault she’d been sent to Earth in the first place, but it wasn’t going to be his fault that she died.
In a single motion, he plunged the syringe into her skin and pressed the top down, watching the antidote empty into her body. “Clarke,” he whispered, grabbing her hand. “Can you hear me?” He intertwined his fingers with hers and closed his eyes. “Please. Stay with me.” He sat there holding her hand for a few moments in silence.
“Thank god,” Bellamy breathed behind him.
Wells looked up to see Clarke’s eyes flutter open. He exhaled and swayed slightly, woozy with relief. “Are you okay?” he asked, not caring that his voice cracked.
She blinked at him in confusion. Wells braced for the moment when she would remember everything that happened, and her face would harden with loathing. But Clarke’s eyes closed again, and her lips curved into a small smile. “I found—” she murmured.
“What did you find?” Wells asked, squeezing her hand.
“I had no…” Clarke trailed off with a sigh as sleep overtook her.
Wells stood up, grabbed a blanket from one of the other cots, and spread it gently over Clarke. Bellamy was still standing stiffly behind him, his eyes fixed on the curled figure of the girl who, despite her immense strength, always looked younger—and somehow more fragile—when she slept.
Wells cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said, extending his hand. “For bringing her back.”
Bellamy nodded slowly, still in shock. “I was so worried. I thought…” He ran a hand through his hair, then slid to the ground and sat with his back against Clarke’s cot.
Wells bristled at the possessive gesture, but he found that he couldn’t say anything. He was grateful to Bellamy for bringing Clarke back to the camp, but it hurt to think about what they might’ve been doing for the past two days.
Wells lowered himself to the ground with a sigh. “I guess this means you didn’t find Octavia.”
“No. We found a trail, but it was… weird.” He spoke without looking up, and his voice was strangely flat. “The prints didn’t look like she ran off. It looked like she was dragged.”
“Dragged?” Wells repeated as the pieces of information clicked together, forming an even more troubling picture. “I can’t believe it. They took her.”
“They?” Bellamy’s head shot up. “Who?”
Wells told him about everything that had happened since Bellamy and Clarke left camp—the surprise attack, Asher’s death, the undeniable fact that there were other people on Earth.
When Bellamy finally spoke, his jaw was tight with anger. “And you think these people took Octavia during the fire?” Wells nodded. “Who are they? How did they survive the Cataclysm? And what the hell do these—these Earthborns want with my sister?”
“I don’t know. They might be defending their territory. Maybe they took her as a warning, and then when we didn’t show any signs of leaving, they killed Asher to make a stronger point.”
Bellamy stared at him for a long moment. “So you think they’re coming back?”
Wells opened his mouth to repeat the same vague response he’d been giving to the others in his attempt to prevent widespread panic. But when he met Bellamy’s eyes, the canned reassurances fell away. “Yes. They’ll be back.” He told Bellamy about Graham’s growing obsession with building an army, a move that would certainly lead to more deaths.
“It sounds like it hasn’t been a walk in the park here either,” Bellamy said with a snort. He glanced over his shoulder to check on Clarke, who still hadn’t stirred, though her face was peaceful and her breath was steady. “You should get some rest. I’ll keep an eye on Sleeping Beauty here, and let you know if there’s any change.”
Something in Bellamy’s tone rankled Wells. “I’m fine,” he said. “I have to stay up for guard duty, anyway. But you should definitely go to bed. You look exhausted.”
The boys stared at each other wordlessly until Bellamy raised his arms over his head and stretched his legs out with a groan. “I guess we’re both in it for the long haul, then.”
They sat in silence, each avoiding the other’s eyes, moving only to look at Clarke the few times she rolled over, or sighed in her sleep. As the night wore on, a handful of people tried to come back inside the infirmary cabin, but Wells shooed them away. It was slightly unfair to make people sleep outside when there was space indoors, but he couldn’t risk anything disturbing Clarke. Not after what she’d been through.
Wells wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but light was streaming between the logs when a loud thud jolted him from his doze, sending him jumping to his feet. Bellamy’s head snapped up. “What’s going on?” he asked, drowsily. Without waiting to respond, Wells hurried outside.
