Homecoming by Kass Morgan
Glass had never felt this alone, not even during her long months in Confinement. At least there she saw her bunkmate or the guards, and someone brought her food. But here, with Luke unconscious and the constant threat of another attack hanging over her, Glass was both isolated and terrified. There was no one to call for help. Glass kept one eye on Luke, and one eye on the woods surrounding the cabin. She listened so hard her head hurt, straining to catch the slightest snapping of a single twig—anything that would warn her if they came back.
Glass stood by the front door, nervously scanning the leaves for anything out of place. The cool forest air washed over her face, taunting her with the memories of everything she and Luke had enjoyed together—the trees, the moonlight reflecting off the water—all the beauty that would become meaningless if Luke was taken from her. He stirred on the makeshift bed on the floor behind her. She ran across the room and grabbed his hand, stroking his hot forehead.
“Luke? Luke, can you hear me?”
His eyelids fluttered but didn’t open. He moved his lips, but no sound came out. Glass squeezed his hand and bent down to whisper in his ear.
“It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. I’m going to figure something out.”
“I’m late for patrol,” he said, twisting from side to side as if trying to get out of bed.
“No, you’re not, you’re fine.” Glass placed her hand on his shoulder. Did he think he was back on the ship? “You have nothing to worry about.”
Luke barely managed a nod before closing his eyes again. Within seconds, he was asleep. His grip slackened on Glass’s hand, and she gently placed his arm down on the bed. She checked his leg. The redness had spread all the way down to his knee and up to his hip. She didn’t know much about this kind of thing, but Glass had enough sense to know that if she didn’t get him some help, Luke was going to die. They had to go. Now.
Glass sat down at the wooden kitchen table and tried to clear her head, trying to push away the fear that had been gnawing a hole through her gut for days. Fear was not going to get them out of here. She had to think. They had to get back to camp. That was their only shot at getting Luke the help he needed. But Glass would have to figure out how to transport Luke, who could barely walk even with her help, and evade the Earthborns at the same time. A spacewalk was suddenly looking simple compared to this. How could they possibly move fast enough to escape, with Luke in this condition?
Glass scanned the tiny cabin, searching for inspiration. The paralyzing grip of fear slowly began to release its hold on her, and her mind kicked into gear. Yes, if she could get him to the river… that would work… but how to move him? Her eyes fell on an odd device she and Luke had scratched their heads at when they first got there. It leaned upright against a wall in the corner, behind a broom and some other ancient-looking cleaning supplies. She crossed the room and dug it out, laying it down on the floor. It was as tall as she was, made of long wooden slats. It was almost a long plank, but at one end the slats all curved back on themselves. There was a rope tied there.
It reminded her of something she’d read about in tutorial once. Something kids used to ride in the snow on Earth. She racked her brain for the word. Slide? Sloop? Glass stepped on the slats with one foot, testing their strength. It was old, but it was solid. If she could get Luke onto it, she could pull him, but she’d have to make a few adjustments.
She stood up, grabbed a few items from around the room, and laid them out on the floor next to the… sled! It was a sled. She was sure of it. Now she just needed to make it work. She arranged and rearranged things into different configurations, testing them, then trying again. Glass shook her head grimly. If someone had told her six months—or even six weeks—ago that she’d be rigging a contraption out of junk she’d found in an abandoned cabin on Earth to carry her mortally wounded boyfriend through the woods, she’d have laughed in their face and asked if they’d gotten into the illegal moonshine they sold on Arcadia.
She stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. It was going to work. It had to work. Glass would use the rope to pull Luke along behind her. To keep him in place, she had cut a blanket into long strips that would secure him around the waist, arms, and good leg, all tied to the top of the sled.
It was pretty rudimentary, but with any luck, it would get them to the water. That was all she needed.
Glass crossed to Luke and gently roused him. “Luke,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m going to move you, okay? We need to get back to camp.” He didn’t respond. Glass slid her hands under his arms, crossed her arms over his chest, and, with a grunt, eased him onto the floor. He flinched as his injured leg moved, but didn’t wake up. She pulled him onto the sled and fastened the sheet around him. Glass squatted down, grabbed the rope and looped it around her hands, and rose to a standing position. She took a few steps forward, and Luke moved along the floor behind her. It had worked.
Glass grabbed Luke’s gun—though she wasn’t sure she had the nerve to use it—and lumbered toward the door. At the last second, she turned back and snatched a pack of matches off the table in case she’d need to start a fire during their journey. The weight behind her was awkward and threw her off-center, but she would have to get the hang of it. Without a backward glance, she stepped out of the cabin, dragging the sled behind her into the narrow clearing that circled the house.
Thwack! Glass spun her head around, searching for the source of the sound. Thwack! It came again.
She glanced at the forest. In the twilight, every shadow looked like it could be an enemy.
She lunged back toward the cabin, yanking Luke behind her. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and felt something whiz by her ear.
Glass strained against the weight of the sled and heard Luke groan in pain. She yanked open the door and charged through it as an arrow smacked in the door frame, quivering where her head had been only a split second before.
The sled slid in after her, and Glass dropped the harness and slammed the door shut, just as two more arrows thudded into it. She leaned against the closed door, gripping the gun in her suddenly clammy hand. She looked around the cabin. Could she barricade the door? Would they break in through one of the windows?
She latched the door and tentatively lifted Luke’s gun, steeling herself. If one of the Earthborns broke in through the window, could she fight them? Could she bring herself to fire a gun at another living person? Even if she did, there was clearly more than one of them. One girl who had never before fired a gun was no match for a group of murderous Earthborns.
From the sled, Luke groaned.
“It’s going to be all right. I’ll figure something out,” she said, wincing at the lie. How could she escape a cabin that was surrounded by angry Earthborns?
She peered through the corner of a window. The graying light played tricks with the shadows, but there was movement out there. Figures darted between the trees, their hands gripping bows and axes.
Glass leaned against the door and closed her eyes. This was it. This time, they would finish off Luke and kill her too.
She listened for the sound of footsteps, the crash of windows, the feel of the door being smashed open behind her.
No sound came but the wind, and the rush of the river. They were expecting her to come out. Had they been outside the entire time, waiting for her to emerge so they could get a clean shot?
They had her cornered. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but hope that they’d get tired of waiting and batter down the door or crash in through the windows. Her mind raced, searching for any way out.
Even if she was able to distract them long enough to get away from the cabin without being riddled with arrows, what then?
Frantic, she cast her eyes around the room, desperate for something—anything—she could use as a distraction, to buy them some time. Nothing. She was about to let out a scream of frustration when she realized there was something in her hand. She’d been clutching it so tightly she’d almost
A desperate, foolish plan formed in her mind. If she couldn’t outrun them to the river, she would need to find a way to escape that didn’t call for running. Before she had time to think better of it, she set to work.
Glass crawled across the floor and sat under the window by the front door. She wrapped a strand of the ripped bed sheet around the end of a piece of firewood and struck a match. She lit the sheet, and a few seconds later, she was gripping a burning torch.
As the flame flickered and grew, Glass took a deep breath and counted down. “Three, two, one…” She jumped up and with a quick glance out the open window, aimed for the pile of dried firewood Luke had stacked up against the wall of the cabin before he’d gotten hurt.
She dropped back down to the floor and waited. There was silence, and for a painful moment, she thought her plan had already failed. Then she heard it: a sharp crackling, followed by a soft whoosh as the pile of wood caught fire. The cabin began to glow as the flames caught on the brush and spread outward toward the woods—just as she’d hoped.
Glass turned to Luke. He hadn’t moved. His breathing was shallow, and his brow twitched as he lay, barely conscious, by the fireplace. If Luke died, Glass would die too. She knew that as clearly as she knew her own name.
The sound of the flames was growing louder, and within a few minutes, the air in the cabin began to change. Glass cursed to herself when she realized the foolish thing she’d done—the house may have been made of stone, but that wouldn’t stop the smoke from suffocating them if the fire encircled the whole place. A little bit of smoke was just starting to waft in through the open window, visible in the flickering light of the fire.
Glass moved closer to the door, getting ready for a quick exit. As the smoke began to fill the room, she pulled the blanket off of Luke and doused it with the last of their water. Outside, she could hear voices calling to one another across the clearing.
She knelt next to Luke and pulled the soaked blanket over both of them. The air grew warmer and she could see orange flickering against the window from under the edge of the blanket. Now the voices outside were laughing and cheering. Let them think they’d won. Let them think she was already dead. Perhaps they would be too shocked to chase her when she and Luke made their escape.
Luke shifted on the sled, a low moan escaping his lips.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have gotten you help sooner. We shouldn’t have stayed so long.”
The air was boiling now, so hot Glass could almost feel her skin melting and peeling away. The smoke was coming in through the window in thick billows, making it hard to see anything, hard to breathe. They huddled under the blanket, Glass trying to guess just how much longer they could survive before it was too late. If they waited too long, the flames would be around the whole house, and there would be no way to escape. They would suffocate if they stayed here in the smoke. Eyes stinging, Glass pushed herself off the floor and ran to the door. It was now or never.
Glass yanked open the door and peered out. Night had fallen outside, and the roaring flames were playing havoc with the shadows, casting flickering orange and black lights across the clearing and on the trees.
She grabbed the sled’s rope, hunkered under the blanket, and charged through the door. She gasped as she passed from the furnace of the cabin into the cooler night air.
Luke moaned as she pulled him across the bumpy ground, downhill toward the river. For several long seconds, she ran with only the crackling of the fire behind her.
She heard the first shouts as she reached the boat and started pushing it into the water. The firelight and smoke hadn’t been quite enough to cover her escape.
“Luke,” she said as she pulled him up. “You have to help me. Just for a moment.”
His eyes twitched open, and she could feel his muscles straining to move. He stood on his one good leg, and she slipped under his arm. Together they stumbled forward, and she tried to slow his fall as he almost collapsed into the boat. She tossed the sled in after him and began pushing the boat down the slope into the water.
Arrows flew by, landing with a splash just ahead of her. She could hear the thud of feet running down the hill toward them as she threw her entire weight against the boat, shoving it out into the current.
At the last second, she leapt, nearly missing the boat as the water grabbed it and pulled it downstream.
She whipped her head around and saw shadows against the flaming cabin, rushing down the hill toward her. Glass lay down next to Luke as more arrows ricocheted off the sides of the metal boat.
They picked up speed as the surging of the river took control of their movement. She poked her head up and could see figures running along the shore, silhouetted against fire and moonlight. They hardly looked human.
She kept her head down as the river swept them around a curve, and the last arrows pinged off the boat. After a few tense moments of holding her breath, Glass sat up, grabbing the paddle and sticking it into the water, trying to propel the boat even faster than the current. When it finally seemed like they’d outdistanced the Earthborns, she reached out and tried to use the paddle to pull the boat back to the shore, but she couldn’t get enough leverage. Her heart pounded as the boat continued to move swiftly down the river. She had no idea if they were headed in the right direction. She needed to use Luke’s compass. If he’d been right about heading due north from the camp, then they needed to head south.
It took nearly another half hour for the river to narrow to the point that the thick brush slowed them down. Eventually, Glass was able to drop into the chilly water and yank the boat onto the shore. She pulled the compass out of her pack and set it on the ground, the way Luke had showed her. Thank goodness, they had been heading south. At least, southeast. It wouldn’t be too difficult to get back on track, she hoped. And if she could actually move with Luke…
“One more time, Luke,” she said. “I just need you to get up and walk with me one more time.”
He groaned, but when she pulled him out of the hull of the boat he cooperated, letting her help him to stand. He staggered a few feet through the shallow water before finally dropping on the bank.
Relieved of their weight, the boat rode higher in the water, and the brisk current pulled it away into the night. Working quickly and silently, Glass maneuvered Luke back onto the sled and took up the rope again.
Just hold on, Luke, she thought to herself as she threw her entire weight against the sled and broke into a run.
The sounds of the river faded as they made their way deeper into the woods, but Glass was too afraid to stop and look behind them. She had to keep moving. She had to find help for Luke, even if it was the last thing she ever did.
CHAPTER 21
Wells
It was entirely his fault. All of it.
Wells slammed his fist into the rock wall, hard. Blood dripped down his knuckles, but he didn’t feel any physical pain. All he felt was the weight of his own stupid, selfish mistakes piling higher and higher, threatening to topple down and crush him at any moment.
He never thought he could feel worse than he did after Clarke was arrested or after his mother died. But this was the lowest Wells had ever been. He spun around in the tiny room, looking for something else to kick or hit. There was just his narrow bed. The bed Sasha had slept in just hours ago. And now she was dead.
Wells fell onto the mattress and lay on his back. The ache in his chest was so strong and solid, he felt like he could pick it up and hold it in his hands. He covered his face with his arms. He just wanted to block out the light, turn off his brain, and push away everyone and everything. He wanted blankness. He wanted to drift in the deep and endless silence of space. If he were back on the ship, he wouldn’t hesitate before wrenching open the airlock and hurtling himself into the void.
He would end it if he could. He would tak
If only he had stopped himself before he set all of this in motion. If only he hadn’t made the leak on the airlock worse, then the dropships wouldn’t have had to leave so suddenly. They would have had more time to prepare the ships, and maybe they could have sent more people down. Instead, everyone who didn’t fight his or her way onboard was up there dying as the oxygen dwindled.
If only he hadn’t staged a fake attack to break Bellamy out of prison, maybe Rhodes and the others wouldn’t have been so afraid of the aggressive faction of Earthborns. Maybe they wouldn’t have been so quick to the violence that killed Sasha. And if he hadn’t gotten involved with Sasha in the first place, maybe she could have gone on living a long, peaceful life without him.
Wells thought he would suffocate under the pressure of all these thoughts. His breath came in shallow gulps, and he felt clammy with panic. There was nowhere to go, nothing he could do, nothing worth saying. He was trapped.
Just as he thought he might run for the door and escape Mount Weather, he heard a familiar voice saying his name. He opened his eyes and saw Clarke outlined by the light from the hallway.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
Wells jerked upright, then scooted back and leaned against the wall, burying his head in his hands. Clarke lowered herself onto the bed next to him. They sat like that in silence for a few minutes.