Homecoming

CHAPTER 10: Clarke

For one fleeting, blissful moment, Clarke was happy. As Keith stood up for the first time since the dropships landed and took a few steps, everyone in the infirmary cabin cheered. Clarke stood in front of him, holding out her arms as he hobbled forward. He had one skinny arm wrapped protectively around his ribs, the other waving out to the side for balance. He stepped into Clarke’s arms, and she hugged him gently. The boy was going to be fine.

“Okay, buddy, let’s get you back to bed. That’s enough for one day,” Clarke said.

“Thanks, Dr. Clarke.” Keith’s smile was big enough to light up the room.

“Just ‘Clarke.’” She smiled, easing him back down onto the cot. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the one unoccupied cot in the cabin, and all the temporary happiness flooded out of her, leaving only panic and despair in its wake. Guards had come that afternoon to move Bellamy to a new prison cabin they’d built on the edge of the clearing, a dismal, windowless shack made of sheet metal salvaged from the crash site. He was locked up by himself, with two armed men outside the door at all times. Clarke wasn’t sure exactly what Rhodes had planned, but she knew it was just going to get worse. Either Bellamy would succumb to infection from a lack of proper medical care, or else Rhodes would expedite his demise by…

She shook the thought out of her head. It was too terrible to contemplate. She would figure something out. She had to.

As Keith gingerly settled himself, Clarke turned to Marin, whose leg had shown huge improvement. The wound had begun to heal with no hint of infection. “You’re next, Marin,” Clarke said. “We’ll get you up and walking in no time.”

“I can’t wait.” Marin grinned. “How long have I been on this planet, and I still haven’t seen so much as a tree or a leaf?”

“Well, that’s what you get for being unconscious when we brought you in here,” Clarke teased, her light tone belying the dread building in her stomach. “But I’ll bring you a few samples later, to tide you over.”

“Clarke?” someone called from the doorway, a desperate tinge to the voice.

Clarke spun around to see a pale, anxious-looking Glass shifting her weight from side to side. “Glass, what’s wrong?”

“I… I need to talk to you for a sec.”

“Sure.” Clarke hurried over to her as quickly as her overtaxed legs would allow. Glass’s face was drawn and pale. “Is everything okay?” Clarke’s heart seized a little. Had something happened to Wells?

“I think we should go outside,” Glass said, shooting a nervous look around the cabin.

Clarke nodded and, without another word, followed Glass through the door and into the clearing. The late-afternoon sun seemed to mellow the frenetic scene somewhat, although everywhere she looked, Clarke could see signs of strain—people arguing over rations, guards casting uneasy glances toward the trees, and, in the distance, people bending their heads to avoid meeting the eyes of the two guards standing to attention in front of Bellamy’s prison. The idea of him in there, alone and ill, made Clarke want to break into a sprint and crash through the door, guards be damned.

She tore her eyes away and turned her attention to Glass. “What’s going on?”

“It’s about Luke… and Bellamy.”

Clarke scrunched up her face in confusion. What could Bellamy and Luke possibly have to do with each other? Bellamy had basically been unconscious or asleep since Luke landed on Earth—had they even met?

Glass inhaled and exhaled slowly, as if summoning the courage to speak. “Clarke, I just—I thought you should know. They’re planning to execute Bellamy.” Her voice had grown faint, as if saying the terrible word took a physical toll.

Clarke’s stomach dropped out, and she bit her lip to stifle a cry. “Execute him?” she whispered. Glass nodded.

It wasn’t as if Clarke hadn’t expected something like this. Her medical training had taught her to consider every eventuality and face even the grimmest head-on. But there was an enormous difference between forcing herself to imagine the worst-case scenario and actually hearing it articulated on another person’s lips.

“They’re planning to hold a trial, but it’s going to be a total sham,” Glass continued, her face growing more pained with each word. She explained that Rhodes was going to make Luke kill Bellamy. “But we’re not going to let them force Luke to do it,” she said quickly. “We’re leaving camp. Tonight. That should buy you some time.”

“How… how will that help us?”

“If Luke isn’t there to carry out Rhodes’s orders, they’ll have to rethink the execution. It’s not a permanent solution, but it might buy you an extra day to figure something out.”

“Is that… is that why you’re leaving? So Luke won’t have to kill Bellamy?”

Glass nodded, unhinging something in Clarke’s chest, allowing a surge of unprecedented affection and gratitude to rush forth. Clarke wanted to grab Glass’s hand and beg her forgiveness for every snide comment, every time she’d giggled inwardly at one of Glass’s mistakes in school. She’d never judged a person so unfairly. But she couldn’t move, could barely speak. They were going to kill Bellamy. They were going to drag the boy she loved into the clearing, point a gun at the kindest, bravest person she’d ever met, and end his life with the twitch of a finger.

But then Clarke’s brain kicked into another gear, and she felt other instincts taking over. No. She refused to let this happen. She saved lives; she didn’t stand by and watch them fade into oblivion. She would save Bellamy. If Glass could find the courage to flee the camp with Luke, Clarke could find the courage to do whatever was necessary.

At that thought, the gravity of Glass’s plan began to sink in. “Glass, there has to be another way. It’s too dangerous. You guys don’t know the terrain, and there are—there are… people… out there who want to hurt us.”

“Wells told us about the other faction of Earthborns. We’ll be careful, I promise.” She forced a smile that didn’t reach her wide, sad blue eyes. “But listen, Clarke,” Glass said, putting her hand on Clarke’s arm. “Just because Luke isn’t here doesn’t mean Bellamy will be safe. They’ll find someone else to do it.”

Clarke nodded, her mind whirring. “I know. I think I have a plan.” She thought of Scott’s sour breath and penetrating stare. A shudder passed through her, but her resolve was firm: She would use whatever powers of persuasion she had to get Scott to free Bellamy.

“Can I help?” Glass asked, her face full of hope and concern. “I mean, before we leave?”

Clarke ran through the plan forming in her head one more time, then nodded slowly before stammering what she needed Glass to do. For a second, Clarke worried that she’d said too much. Glass was staring at her with enormous eyes, her mind turning behind them. But something in Glass’s face shifted, and a look of understanding and resolve took over. It was clear she understood the lengths Clarke was willing to go to in order to save Bellamy.

She could only hope it was enough.