Homecoming

But although it’d been less than seventy-two hours since the other Colonists arrived, those mornings felt like a distant memory. He hadn’t seen Sasha in days. They’d both agreed that it was safer for her to stay at Mount Weather until Wells figured out the right way to tell Rhodes about the Earthborns. He felt her absence as a physical ache.

The normally empty clearing was scattered with groups of miserable-looking people—new arrivals who hadn’t secured spots in the cabins and had spent a sleepless night staring terrified at the unfamiliar sky, or disgruntled members of the hundred who had chosen to brave the wet grass and frigid air rather than deal with the intruders who’d invaded their space.

A few adults were already standing around the cold fire pit, clearly waiting for someone to come light it for them. A group of guards stood off to the side, deep in conversation as they gestured toward the ridge where the splinter Earthborns had first appeared. After weighing the pros and cons of revealing that there were other people on Earth, Wells had told Rhodes about the two groups yesterday—about the peaceful ones led by Sasha’s father, and the violent ones who’d killed Asher and Priya. Ever since, Rhodes had stationed around-the-clock guards at the edges of the clearing.

Wells walked over to the fire pit and forced a smile. “Good morning,” he said.

The group nodded at him, but no one spoke. He knew how they felt, because he’d felt the same way during his first days here—disoriented, traumatized by the journey to Earth, but also haunted by the loss of the people left behind. He also knew that the only way to move forward was to keep busy.

“Who wants to learn how to start a fire?” he asked. They all accepted his offer, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, but only one—a woman in her twenties—hung around long enough to try it on her own. Wells stacked logs in her arms and steered her back toward the fire pit. He showed her how to stack the logs in a pyramid to get the best airflow and walked her through the steps of lighting them. When they were done, she smiled, and he saw a tiny spark of life return to her eyes.

“Great job,” Wells said. “Keep an eye on that, and when there’s some food to cook, we’ll build it up a little more.” He headed toward the small groups who had gathered for hunting duty, passing the cluster of guards on the way. He felt their eyes on him and stopped. They stood with their guns over their shoulders, waiting for someone to tell them what to do.

Although he’d been stripped of his officer’s rank when he was Confined, he cleared his throat and addressed them with the same voice he’d learned during training. “One of you should head out with each hunting party. We’ve got a lot of people to feed, and those guns could come in handy.”

The guards looked at each other as if checking for permission, then shrugged and followed him. Wells divided them up and gave them a few tips on walking quietly so they didn’t scare off their prey. The only two who stayed behind were the ones Rhodes had assigned to guard the infirmary cabin, to ensure that Bellamy didn’t escape.

The clearing grew increasingly noisy as hungry people spilled out of the overcrowded cabins, searching for something to eat for breakfast.

They were in desperate need of several more cabins, which would require a massive harvesting of logs and at least a week of building. He’d have to train twenty or thirty of the new arrivals to get it done quickly, before the weather got cooler. They also needed more water buckets, which they’d have to shape from metal wreckage. He made a mental note to send a group over to the crash site to get at least ten good pieces that could work. None of this would matter, though, if they didn’t get more food here, and fast. With Bellamy out of commission, that was going to be harder than ever. Wells exhaled slowly and organized his thoughts, letting the morning sunlight warm his face for a moment.

Opening his eyes, he crossed to the supply cabin and stopped to talk to the Arcadian boy who stood out front, reviewing a list. They had started keeping an inventory and assigning shifts to track what came in and out. Wells was about to ask the boy how they were doing on spare clothing when someone cleared his throat behind him. Wells turned and found himself face-to-face with Vice Chancellor Rhodes. Rhodes was studying Wells with a curious look, his lips pressed together in a tight smile that didn’t seem to reflect any actual happiness. Two older guards flanked the Vice Chancellor. Wells recognized them from his officer training—one had been his firearms instructor, and the other had once made him do five hundred push-ups. He grimaced at the memory.

“Good morning, Officer Jaha.”

“Good morning, Vice Chancellor Rhodes. Officers.” Wells saluted them, a gesture that felt out of place beneath the vast blue sky and soft clouds that floated overhead, instead of the harsh lights of Phoenix.