Homecoming
Page 65
It was monstrous. No one should have to see this, his sister least of all. He only hoped that his unbowed head would make his sister proud of him. He wanted to show her how to live, even after he was gone.
Bellamy wished he could reach out and grab Clarke’s hand. Why hadn’t they brought her out yet? Had something happened? Or was she silent, her heart in her throat as she struggled against the ropes? He couldn’t believe this beautiful, brilliant girl was about to be executed. It was inconceivable to think that someone so full of life, whose green eyes lit up in wonder every time she spotted a new plant, who went days without sleeping in order to care for her patients, was about to be shut off like a piece of machinery.
“Clarke!” he shouted, unable to contain himself any longer. “Where are you?” All he could hear was the anxious whispering of the crowd. “Clarke!” he screamed again, his voice echoing throughout the clearing, but not loud enough to reach her if she’d already…
“Calm down, Mr. Blake,” Rhodes commanded, as if Bellamy were an overexcited child instead of a condemned prisoner moments away from death. “I’ve decided to show your friends mercy. Neither Officer Jaha nor Ms. Griffin is going to die today.”
A sliver of hope pierced the dread that had been building in his chest, allowing him to take his first real breath since leaving the cabin. “Prove it to me,” he said hoarsely. “Let me see them.”
Rhodes must’ve nodded, because a moment later, someone was fumbling with Bellamy’s blindfold.
He blinked as the world came back into focus. A line of guards stood about ten meters in front of him. The entire camp was gathered behind them, with Wells, Octavia, and Clarke in the front. They’re still alive. Relief poured through him. That was all that mattered. He didn’t care what happened to him anymore as long as they were safe.
Wells and Clarke still had their hands bound, but Octavia was struggling against the guards holding her. “Bellamy!” she shrieked.
He met her eyes and shook his head. No, he communicated silently with a sad smile. There was nothing she could do now. She stared at him, her big blue eyes filled with panic and tears.
I love you, he mouthed. It’s going to be okay.
Through her sobs, Octavia managed to force a smile. “I love you. I love you…” But then her face crumpled, and she turned away. Graham said something to the guard, and he released Octavia’s arms, letting Graham hold on to her instead. But even from a distance, it was clear he was being gentle. He even wrapped his arm around her, shielding her from the horror that was about to take place before her eyes.
“Guards, at the ready!” Rhodes shouted.
Bellamy turned to Clarke. Unlike his sister, she’d refused to look away and was staring at Bellamy so intensely, for a flickering moment, he felt the rest of the world melt away. It was only him and Clarke, just like it’d been when they first kissed or that magical night in the woods when Bellamy had felt that Earth was far closer to the heavens than the Colony had ever been.
Just look at me, he could feel her saying to him. Just look at me, and it’ll all be okay.
Sweat was pouring down his face, but he didn’t look away from her. Not even when the guards cocked their guns, and his heart began beating so fast, he was sure it’d explode before the first bullet.
Just look at me.
He tilted his chin higher and clenched his fists, inhaling sharply through his nose. It would happen any second now. He tried to slow down time for a moment. He deepened his breathing and willed his heart rate into a steadier rhythm. He inhaled the scents of camp and Earth: cold ashes, wet dirt, crushed leaves, and air—the crisp, clean, delicious scent of the very air they were breathing at that moment. He’d had the chance to be here, and that was enough.
Just look at me.
Several shots rang out across the clearing, abrupt and loud. Bellamy realized a few things all at once: He wasn’t in any pain, he hadn’t felt a blow, and the sound had come from behind them, not in front of them. It wasn’t Rhodes’s men who had fired—someone was firing on them.
Then he saw them—a swarming band of aggressive Earthborns fanning out through the camp, swinging clubs and raising guns to fire at the Colonists. The entire place had erupted into chaos. No one was watching him anymore. Except for the high-tech bands around his wrists, he was free to run. Bellamy looked around frantically, hoping for a break. He found it: Rhodes’s right-hand man, Burnett, lay dead nearby. Bellamy wasn’t one to waste an opportunity—plus there was nothing he could do to help the guy. He dropped to his knees and turned his back to the body, blindly fumbling in Burnett’s pocket.
“Clarke, Wells—keys!” he yelled. They raced over. Wells and Clarke stood back-to-back and Bellamy unlocked her restraints. After he and Wells were freed as well, they bolted toward the supply cabin, where they knew they could find weapons.
Once they had armed themselves as best they could—Bellamy with a bow and arrow, Wells with an ax, and Clarke with a spear—they headed into the fray, moving in a circle with their backs to each other. It was a brutal, dirty battle. All around them, the hundred and the Colonists fought side by side. Barely taking the time to breathe, Bellamy aimed and shot, again and again. He was grimly satisfied to see his arrows finding their marks as a few Earthborns screamed and collapsed to the ground at the edges of the clearing. Bellamy’s arms began to burn from exertion, but he was driven by a desperate, almost primal energy.
Bellamy wished he could reach out and grab Clarke’s hand. Why hadn’t they brought her out yet? Had something happened? Or was she silent, her heart in her throat as she struggled against the ropes? He couldn’t believe this beautiful, brilliant girl was about to be executed. It was inconceivable to think that someone so full of life, whose green eyes lit up in wonder every time she spotted a new plant, who went days without sleeping in order to care for her patients, was about to be shut off like a piece of machinery.
“Clarke!” he shouted, unable to contain himself any longer. “Where are you?” All he could hear was the anxious whispering of the crowd. “Clarke!” he screamed again, his voice echoing throughout the clearing, but not loud enough to reach her if she’d already…
“Calm down, Mr. Blake,” Rhodes commanded, as if Bellamy were an overexcited child instead of a condemned prisoner moments away from death. “I’ve decided to show your friends mercy. Neither Officer Jaha nor Ms. Griffin is going to die today.”
A sliver of hope pierced the dread that had been building in his chest, allowing him to take his first real breath since leaving the cabin. “Prove it to me,” he said hoarsely. “Let me see them.”
Rhodes must’ve nodded, because a moment later, someone was fumbling with Bellamy’s blindfold.
He blinked as the world came back into focus. A line of guards stood about ten meters in front of him. The entire camp was gathered behind them, with Wells, Octavia, and Clarke in the front. They’re still alive. Relief poured through him. That was all that mattered. He didn’t care what happened to him anymore as long as they were safe.
Wells and Clarke still had their hands bound, but Octavia was struggling against the guards holding her. “Bellamy!” she shrieked.
He met her eyes and shook his head. No, he communicated silently with a sad smile. There was nothing she could do now. She stared at him, her big blue eyes filled with panic and tears.
I love you, he mouthed. It’s going to be okay.
Through her sobs, Octavia managed to force a smile. “I love you. I love you…” But then her face crumpled, and she turned away. Graham said something to the guard, and he released Octavia’s arms, letting Graham hold on to her instead. But even from a distance, it was clear he was being gentle. He even wrapped his arm around her, shielding her from the horror that was about to take place before her eyes.
“Guards, at the ready!” Rhodes shouted.
Bellamy turned to Clarke. Unlike his sister, she’d refused to look away and was staring at Bellamy so intensely, for a flickering moment, he felt the rest of the world melt away. It was only him and Clarke, just like it’d been when they first kissed or that magical night in the woods when Bellamy had felt that Earth was far closer to the heavens than the Colony had ever been.
Just look at me, he could feel her saying to him. Just look at me, and it’ll all be okay.
Sweat was pouring down his face, but he didn’t look away from her. Not even when the guards cocked their guns, and his heart began beating so fast, he was sure it’d explode before the first bullet.
Just look at me.
He tilted his chin higher and clenched his fists, inhaling sharply through his nose. It would happen any second now. He tried to slow down time for a moment. He deepened his breathing and willed his heart rate into a steadier rhythm. He inhaled the scents of camp and Earth: cold ashes, wet dirt, crushed leaves, and air—the crisp, clean, delicious scent of the very air they were breathing at that moment. He’d had the chance to be here, and that was enough.
Just look at me.
Several shots rang out across the clearing, abrupt and loud. Bellamy realized a few things all at once: He wasn’t in any pain, he hadn’t felt a blow, and the sound had come from behind them, not in front of them. It wasn’t Rhodes’s men who had fired—someone was firing on them.
Then he saw them—a swarming band of aggressive Earthborns fanning out through the camp, swinging clubs and raising guns to fire at the Colonists. The entire place had erupted into chaos. No one was watching him anymore. Except for the high-tech bands around his wrists, he was free to run. Bellamy looked around frantically, hoping for a break. He found it: Rhodes’s right-hand man, Burnett, lay dead nearby. Bellamy wasn’t one to waste an opportunity—plus there was nothing he could do to help the guy. He dropped to his knees and turned his back to the body, blindly fumbling in Burnett’s pocket.
“Clarke, Wells—keys!” he yelled. They raced over. Wells and Clarke stood back-to-back and Bellamy unlocked her restraints. After he and Wells were freed as well, they bolted toward the supply cabin, where they knew they could find weapons.
Once they had armed themselves as best they could—Bellamy with a bow and arrow, Wells with an ax, and Clarke with a spear—they headed into the fray, moving in a circle with their backs to each other. It was a brutal, dirty battle. All around them, the hundred and the Colonists fought side by side. Barely taking the time to breathe, Bellamy aimed and shot, again and again. He was grimly satisfied to see his arrows finding their marks as a few Earthborns screamed and collapsed to the ground at the edges of the clearing. Bellamy’s arms began to burn from exertion, but he was driven by a desperate, almost primal energy.
