Читаем Homecoming полностью

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.

“You good?” he shouted to Wells over the din.

“Good,” Wells grunted as he clubbed an Earthborn over the head with a sickening crack. “You?”

Before Bellamy could respond, an Earthborn with maniacal eyes lurched at him. The man let out a cackling yelp as he swung an ax high in the air, aimed right at Bellamy’s head. Bellamy sidestepped just as the blade came down. He felt a breeze as it whisked by his cheek. The Earthborn growled in frustration. Flush with renewed energy, Bellamy dropped into a low, defensive crouch, bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready for round two. His opponent raised the ax again and took a few staggering steps forward. Nostrils flaring and adrenaline coursing through him, Bellamy forced himself to stand still and let the man approach. Wait, he told himself. Just wait. When the Earthborn was close enough that Bellamy could smell the sweat on him and the ax had just begun its descent toward Bellamy’s head again, Bellamy dropped to the ground and rolled out of range. The Earthborn screamed in rage.

Bellamy waited again, letting his enemy tire himself out. As the man got close, Bellamy squatted down low, pulled one knee into his chest, and, with all his strength, kicked the Earthborn square on the side of his kneecap. The man’s leg splintered under him, and he dropped to the ground like he’d been shot.

Перейти на страницу:

Похожие книги

Бозон Хиггса
Бозон Хиггса

Кто сказал что НФ умерла? Нет, она затаилась — на время. Взаимодействие личности и искусственного интеллекта, воскрешение из мёртвых и чудовищные биологические мутации, апокалиптика и постапокалиптика, жёсткий киберпанк и параллельные Вселенные, головокружительные приключения и неспешные рассуждения о судьбах личности и социума — всему есть место на страницах «Бозона Хиггса». Равно как и полному возрастному спектру авторов: от патриарха отечественной НФ Евгения Войскунского до юной дебютантки Натальи Лесковой.НФ — жива! Но это уже совсем другая НФ.

Антон Первушин , Евгений Войскунский , Игорь Минаков , Павел Амнуэль , Ярослав Веров

Фантастика / Зарубежная образовательная литература, зарубежная прикладная, научно-популярная литература / Научная Фантастика / Фантастика: прочее / Словари и Энциклопедии