Day 21
Page 8The clearing was quiet and still. The people he’d kicked out of the infirmary cabin had joined the others around the fire pit. Everyone seemed to still be asleep.
Wells had started to turn back when a flash of movement near the tree line caught his eye. Something darted from behind a tree and ran deeper into the woods—a short, wiry figure dressed in black.
Without thinking, Wells started sprinting across the tree line, his feet flying over the uneven, root-tangled ground. He closed in on the intruder, lunging forward to tackle him with a shout. Wells grunted as a knee jabbed him in the stomach, but it didn’t stop him from rolling over and pinning the stranger to the damp ground. He had one of them—an Earthborn.
Wells’s blood was pumping so swiftly through his veins, it took him a moment to get a clear look at the person whose wrists he’d clamped, the owner of the green eyes staring furiously up at him.
It was a girl.
CHAPTER 5
Bellamy
Bellamy didn’t care that the Earthborn was a girl. She was a spy. She was the enemy. She was one of the people who had killed Asher and taken his sister.
Fear flashed in her eyes, and her black hair flew across her face as she thrashed in the dirt, trying to wrench herself free. But Bellamy, kneeling next to Wells, only tightened his hold. They couldn’t let her escape, not before she told them where Octavia was.
He helped Wells pull the girl to her feet and yanked her sharply forward. “Where the hell is she?” he shouted. His face was so close to hers, his breath sent wisps of her hair flying. “Where’d you take my sister?”
The girl winced but said nothing.
“Bellamy,” Wells said sharply. “Calm down. We don’t know anything yet. She might have nothing to do with—”
“Like hell she doesn’t,” Bellamy said, cutting him off. He reached over and yanked on the girl’s hair, bringing her face up to his. “You tell me right now, or this is going to get really unpleasant, really fast.”
“Knock it off,” Wells shouted. “For all we know, she doesn’t speak English. Before we do anything, we need to—”
Wells was cut off once again, this time by a thunderstorm of shouts and footsteps as the rest of the group, drawn by the noise, came to investigate. “You caught one,” Graham said, shoving his way to the front. His voice was tinged with something close to admiration.
“So she’s from Earth?” asked a Walden girl, awestruck.
“Can she talk?” another asked.
“She’s probably a mutant. You might catch radiation poisoning just by touching her,” a tall Arcadian boy said, craning his neck for a better look.
Bellamy didn’t care if the girl was radioactive, or if she had goddamn wings. All he cared about was finding out where she and her friends had taken his sister.
“What are we going to do with her?” a girl asked as she shifted her spear from one hand to the other.
“We kill her,” Graham said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And then we put her head on a spike to let the others know how we deal with people who threaten us.”
“Bellamy, back off,” Wells ordered, struggling to hold her still.
Graham scoffed. “Want to have a little fun with her first? I can’t say I’ve ever understood your taste in girls, mini-Chancellor, but I guess we all have needs.”
Wells ignored Graham, and turned to ask a Walden boy for rope. “We’ll tie her up and keep her in the infirmary until we figure out what to do with her.”
Bellamy glared at Wells as rage bubbled up from his stomach into his chest. That wasn’t good enough. The longer they stood here, the farther away her people could be dragging Octavia. “She needs to tell us where to find my sister,” he snapped, daring Wells to challenge him. As if it were his decision to make. Bellamy hadn’t really cared when the others started deferring to Wells. Better him than Graham. But that didn’t mean Wells got to decide what to do about this girl—the only link to Bellamy’s sister.
The Walden boy came running over with the rope. Wells bound the girl’s hands behind her back, then deftly tied her feet together so she could only take short, shuffling steps. His smooth, practiced moves reminded Bellamy that Wells wasn’t just a spoiled Phoenician. Before his arrest, he’d been training as a guard. As an officer, in fact. Bellamy’s hands tightened into fists at his side.
“Clear a path,” Wells shouted, escorting his prisoner toward the cabin. Her long black hair had fallen away from her face, and Bellamy was able to really look at her for the first time. She was young, maybe Octavia’s age, with almond-shaped green eyes. Her furry black top wasn’t even the strangest thing about her. It was something about her skin, Bellamy realized. The Colonists’ skin came in a wide array of shades, but the hundred had all burned their first week on Earth, before Clarke started urging people to limit their sun exposure. But the captive’s skin had a sort of glow, and a smattering of freckles across her high cheekbones. Unlike the rest of them, she had grown up in the sunlight.
His anger turned to nausea as he thought about how her people might be treating Octavia. Did they have her tied up? Locked in a cave somewhere? She hated small places. Was she terrified? Was she crying for him? At that moment, he would’ve taken the ax and chopped off his hand if he thought it would help his sister.
Bellamy followed Wells and the Earthborn into the infirmary cabin, which was now empty except for the still-sleeping Clarke. He watched as Wells directed the girl to sit on the other cot, checked that her hands were tied securely behind her, then took a step back, surveying her with an expression he must have picked up during officer training.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
She glowered and tried to rise to her feet, but her bound hands threw her off-balance. It was easy for Wells to push her back on the cot. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” he continued.
Wells crouched down so he was eye level with the girl. “We didn’t know anyone was still living here. If we’ve done something to offend you, we’re sorry. But—”
“Sorry?” Bellamy spat. “They took my sister and killed Asher. We’re not apologizing for anything.”
Wells shot him a warning look, then turned back to the Earthborn. “We need to know where you took our friend. And you’re going to stay here until you give us some useful information.”
She turned to Wells, but instead of responding, she simply pressed her lips together and glared.
Wells rose to his feet, rubbed his head in frustration, then started to turn away.
“That’s it? That’s your idea of questioning her?” Bellamy said, torn between fury and bewilderment. “Do you know what your father and his Council friends do when they need information from someone?”
“That’s not how we’re doing things here,” Wells said with infuriating self-righteousness, as if half the people in camp hadn’t been interrogated by his father’s guards at some point. He walked over to Clarke’s cot, adjusted her blanket, then headed toward the door.
“You’re just going to leave her there?” Bellamy asked incredulously, his eyes darting between the prisoner and Wells.
“We’re going to have people guarding the cabin round the clock. Don’t worry, she’s not going to escape.”
Bellamy took a step forward. “Yeah, she’s sure as hell not going to escape because I’m staying in here with her. With both of them.” He tipped his head toward the sleeping Clarke. “You think it’s a good idea to leave her in here with a killer?”