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She opened the door and they stepped into the clearing. “It’s okay,” she called to the boy and the girl Wells had assigned to guard the cabin, imbuing as much authority as possible into her voice. “I’m just taking the prisoner for a bathroom break.”
The girl stared at them warily, but the boy nodded. “It’s fine,” Clarke saw him mouth to the girl, who remained unconvinced. Clarke didn’t blame her. There was still no evidence to support Sasha’s claim about the rogue Earthborns. As they crossed the tree line, the back of Clarke’s neck prickled, and she started to wonder if it was really a good idea to go off in the woods with Sasha alone. A chilling thought passed over her. What if Sasha had been the one who killed all the Colonists?
They walked along in silence. When Sasha stopped to examine a plant growing along a fallen log, Clarke had trouble thinking about anything other than how far they’d walked, and if anyone would be able to hear her scream. She kept seeing Priya, her blue, puffy face and the terrible words etched into her feet.
She looked up and saw Sasha staring at her. “Sorry, what did you say?” Clarke asked.
“Just that you should probably pull up this wintershade. It’s growing awfully close to your camp.”
Clarke glanced at the log, briefly registering the bright red berries. “Are those good?” she asked, suddenly unable to remember the last time she’d had anything to eat.
“No! They’re really poisonous,” Sasha said, lurching to stop Clarke from touching the berries, though she hadn’t even started to reach for them.
A thought crashed through Clarke’s head, then seemed to settle in her chest. “What are the symptoms?”
Sasha shrugged. “You throw up a lot, I think. You basically can’t get out of bed for a week.”
Clarke raced through a list of the sick kids’ symptoms: nausea, fever, fatigue. “Oh my god,” she muttered, thinking about the stain on Molly’s mouth.
“That’s it,” Clarke said, turning to face Sasha. “That’s what’s making people sick. They must’ve eaten the berries.”
Sasha’s eyes widened, and then she gave Clarke a small smile. “They’re going to be okay, then. They tell you to stay away from wintershade, but unless you eat a whole bush, they’re not fatal.”
Clarke exhaled as relief washed over her. “Is there any sort of antidote?”
“Not that I know of,” Sasha said, thinking. “But when we were seven a friend of mine ate some on a dare. You should’ve seen the look on his parents’ faces when they found out, oh my god. But after a week or so he was totally back to normal—which for him meant causing all kinds of trouble. So I think you just have to wait it out.”
Clarke grinned and, before she thought better of it, pulled Sasha into a hug.
“So where are you taking me?” she asked, suddenly happy to be out in the woods. It felt like a long time since she’d been anywhere but the infirmary cabin.
“Keep walking. We’re almost there.”
They set off again, and after about ten minutes, Sasha stopped, looked over her shoulder to make sure no one besides Clarke was watching, then pulled aside a pile of brush, revealing the entrance to some sort of tunnel in the hillside. “This way,” Sasha said. “Come on. It’s perfectly safe.”
Again, Clarke felt a prickle of unease as she thought about how far they were from the camp. But as she caught sight of Sasha’s smiling, eager face, her suspicion slipped away. They were the ones who’d captured Sasha, who’d tied her up, denied her food, kept her away from her family. If she trusted Clarke, then Clarke owed it to her to return the favor.
She watched Sasha duck and disappear into the cave, then took a deep breath and followed her inside.
Clarke’s chest tightened as she was surrounded by darkness. She reached her hands to the side, trying to figure out how large the space was. But then her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she saw that the cave was larger than her bedroom back on the Colony. There was plenty of air, and enough room to stand up straight.
The dirt-packed ground was covered with piles of objects. Some she recognized, like broken seats from the dropship and an outdated tablet, like the ones they gave to little kids to play with at home. But there were lots of things she couldn’t identify, scraps of metal that looked similar to the ones Clarke had discovered in the woods, but not entirely the same.
“What is all this stuff?” Clarke asked, kneeling to examine a cracked water container.
“I found it after the first dropship crashed,” Sasha said quietly. “The Colonists left most of it behind, but I couldn’t just abandon it in the woods. I’d spent my whole life imagining what it was like on the Colony, and now that there was real stuff from space, right here… I needed to find out more.” She reached down and picked up the tablet with a wry smile. “I guess you don’t use these to summon your robot servants.”
Clarke was about to make a joke about sending a robot servant to make them something to eat, when a glint of burnished silver caught her eye.
Sasha followed her gaze. “That one’s my favorite,” she said, scooping it up. “I think it’s—”
“A watch,” Clarke said, suddenly numb.
Sasha gave her a funny look and handed it to her. “Are you okay?”
Clarke didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. She ran her finger along the face, then, trembling, over the silver band. “Clarke,” Sasha called, her voice sounding far away. “What’s wrong?”
She turned the watch over slowly, although there was no doubt in her mind what she would see. There they were. Three letters carved into the metal.
D.B.G.
It was her father’s watch, the one that had been handed down through her family since her ancestor David Bailey Griffin carried it onto Phoenix right before the Exodus.
Clarke blinked rapidly. This couldn’t be real. She had to be hallucinating. There was no possible way for the watch to have made it to Earth. Her father had been wearing it the last time she saw him, moments before he died. Before he was given a lethal injection and floated into space.
She ran her finger along the band, and shivered as a chill passed through her whole body. Like she’d just held hands with a ghost.
In the end, they let her say good-bye to her father. Since Clarke had been charged but not yet sentenced, the Chancellor permitted the guards to escort her from her cell to the medical center.
Unfortunately, the Chancellor’s decision came too late for Clarke to see her mother. She knew that her mom was gone before the guards even told her—she could see it on their faces.
The guards led Clarke to a part of the medical center she’d never been in before. Apprentice medics didn’t participate in executions.
Her father was sitting on a chair in what, at first glance, appeared to be a regular exam room, except that there were no cabinets full of drugs, no bandages, no scanning equipment—nothing that was needed to save a life. Only the tools to end it.
“Clarke,” her father said with a smile that didn’t reach his wide, haunted eyes. “It’s going to be okay.” His voice was shaking, but his smile never wavered.
She broke free of the guards and flung herself at him. She’d promised herself she’d try not to cry, but it was useless. The moment she felt his arms around her, a series of sobs tore through her body. Tears streamed down her face and onto her father’s shoulder.
“I need you to be brave,” he said, his voice finally cracking. “You’re going to be fine, you just need to stay strong. Your eighteenth birthday isn’t far off; they’ll retry you then, and you’ll be pardoned. You have to.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “I know you’ll be okay, my brave girl.”
“Dad,” Clarke sobbed. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I never meant—”
“Time’s up,” one of the guards said brusquely.
“No!” Clarke dug her nails into her father’s shoulder, refusing to let go. “Dad, you can’t, don’t let them, no!”
He kissed the top of her head. “This isn’t good-bye, sweetheart. Mom and I are going to see you in heaven.”
