Finally, Glass turned and began walking across the skybridge. She’d made it halfway across when a shrill beep echoed through the empty space. She looked around, startled. The cluster of guards at the Phoenix end of the bridge broke apart, and she could hear someone barking orders. Glass froze as thke sound grew louder and more urgent. She turned to look at Luke, who’d started taking a few hesitant steps forward.
“The bridge is closing,” a disembodied woman’s voice announced over the speakers. “Please clear the area.” There was a brief pause, then the message repeated. “The bridge is closing. Please clear the area.” Glass gasped as a barrier began to descend at the Phoenix checkpoint. She lunged forward and could see Luke running as well, but they were both too far away.
Glass reached the clear partition just as it locked into the floor, slamming her hands against it. Luke slid to a stop on the other side. He was saying something, but although she could see his mouth moving, no sound reached her ears.
Tears filled her eyes as she watched him bang his fists against the wall in frustration. She didn’t understand. The skybridge hadn’t been closed since the plague outbreak in the first century. She knew if it was closing now, it might not open again.
“Luke!” she cried, the word falling uselessly from her lips. She pressed her hand against the clear partition and held it there. Their eyes locked.
“I love you,” Glass said.
Luke pressed his own hand to the wall, and for a moment, Glass could almost feel the warmth of his skin. I love you too, he mouthed. He gave her a sad smile and motioned for her to start walking. She paused, not wanting to leave without knowing what was going on, when she’d see him again. The alarm was still sounding overhead, ringing in her ears.
Go, Luke mouthed, his face serious.
Glass nodded and turned, forcing herself to keep her eyes straight ahead. But before she turned onto the hallway that led away from the skybridge, she glanced over her shoulder one last time. Luke hadn’t moved. He was still standing there, his hand pressed against the wall. Glass ran home, weaving through crowds of panicked civilians and stone-faced guards.
“Oh, thank god,” Sonja said as Glass rushed into the flat. “I was so worried.” She shoved a water pitcher into Glass’s arms. “Go fill this up in the bathroom. I’m not sure how much longer the water will last.”
“What’s going on?” Glass asked. “They closed the skybridge.”
“What were you doing near the bridge?” her mother asked, then blinked, taking in the clothes Glass had changed into after the comet viewing party. “Oh,” she said flatly, a wearied understanding overtaking her features. “That’s where you were.”
“What’s happening?” Glass repeated, ignoring her mother’s look of disapproval.
“I’m not sure, but I have a feeling…” She trailed off, then pressed her lips together. “I think this is it. The day we all knew was coming.”
“What are you talking about?”
Her mother took the pitcher back from Glass and turned to the sink. “The ship wasn’t built to last this long. It was just a matter of time before things started to break down.”
The water had reached the top of the pitcher and was now overflowing into the sink, but Sonja just stood there. “Mom?”
Finally, her mother shut off the water and turned around to face Glass. “It’s the airlock,” she said quietly. “There’s been a breach.een a br” A shout rang out from the corridor, and her mother shot a quick glance at the door before she forced a smile and continued. “But don’t worry. There’s a reserve of oxygen on Phoenix. We’ll be okay until they figure out what to do. I promise, Glass, we’ll get through this.”
Glass felt the realization dawning in her mind, twisting her stomach with dread. “What does that have to do with the bridge?” she asked, her voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.
“They’re already running out of oxygen on Arcadia and Walden. We had to take security precautions to make sure…”
“No,” Glass breathed. “The Council is going to let them all die?”
Sonja stepped forward and squeezed Glass’s arm. “They had to do something, or else no one would survive,” she was saying, but Glass barely registered her words. “It’s the only way to protect the Colony.”
“I have to find him,” Glass said, trembling. She took a shaky step back. Her head was a frenzy of words and images that bounced off one another, creating more panic than sense.
“Glass,” her mother said, with something that sounded like pity. “I’m so sorry, but you can’t. There’s no way. All the exits are sealed.” She stepped forward and pulled her daughter into a hug. Glass tried to wriggle free, but her mother tightened her hold. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“I love him,” Glass sobbed, her body shaking.
“I know.” Sonja reached out and took Glass’s hand. “And I’m sure he loves you too. But maybe this is for the best.” She gave a sad smile that sent chills down Glass’s spine. “At least this way, you don’t have to say a terrible good-bye.”
32
Wells
Wells watched Clarke stride off into the woods, feeling as if she’d punched through his sternum and torn away a chunk of his heart. He was only vaguely aware of the gleeful roar of the flames as they swallowed the supplies, the tents… and anyone who’d been unfortunate enough to be left inside. Around him, a few people had fallen to the ground, gasping for breath or shaking with horror. But most were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the inferno, their figures still and quiet.
“Is everyone okay?” Wells asked hoarsely. “Who’s missing?” The numbness at Clarke’s words was burning away, replaced by a frantic energy. He stepped forward to the edge of the tree cover, shielding his eyes as he tried to peer through the wall of flames. When no one answered, he took a breath and shouted, “Did everyone make it out?” There was a ripple of vague nods.
“Do we need to go farther?” a small Walden girl asked, her voice trembling as she took a step deeper into the woods.
“It doesn’t look like it’s spreading to the trees,” an Arcadian boy said hoarsely. He was standing next to a few battered water jugs and blackened containers he’d carried out of the camp.
The boy was right. The ring of bare dirt that bordered the clearing was wide enough that the flames engulfing the tents flickered just out of reach of the lowest branches.
Wells turned, searching through the darkness for a sign of Clarke. But she’d disappeared into the shadows. He could almost feel her grief pulsing through the darkness. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to go to her, but he knew it was hopeless.
Clarke was right. He destroyed everything he touched. “You look tired,” the Chancellor said, surveying Wells from across the dinner table.
Wells looked up from the plate he’d been staring at, then nodded curtly. “I’m fine.” The truth was, he hadn’t slept in days. The look of fury Clarke had given him was branded into his brain, and every time he closed his eyes, he could see the terror on her face as the guards dragged her away. Her anguished scream filled the silence between his heartbeats.
After the trial, Wells had begged his father to lift the charges. He swore Clarke had nothing to do with the research, and that the guilt she’d been carrying around had nearly killed her. But the Chancellor had simply claimed that it was out of his hands.
Wells shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He could barely stand to be on the same ship as his father, let alone sit across from him at dinner, but he had to maintain some semblance of civility. If he allowed his rage to break free, his father would simply accuse Wells of being too irrational, too immature to understand the law.
“I know you’re angry with me,” the Chancellor said before taking a sip of water. “But I can’t overrule the vote. That’s why we have the Council, to keep one person from becoming too powerful.” He glanced down at the chip flashing in his watch, then looked back at Wells. “The Gaia Doctrine is harsh enough as it is. We have to hold on to whatever shred of freedom we have left.”