Homecoming

CHAPTER 26: Bellamy

There was no way to know if Rhodes had waited until dawn to send for them. With the blindfold on, Bellamy couldn’t tell if the sun had risen, though by the scent of dew clinging to the grass, his guess was that it was still dark out. Apparently, Bellamy had already seen his last sunrise. By the time the sky turned pink, he would be dead. All three of them would.

Bellamy had spent a hellish, agonizing night straining his ears for any sign of Clarke, who’d been locked away somewhere else. He wasn’t sure what would be worse: listening to her scream in pain or cry out in despair, or hearing nothing but silence and wondering whether she was already gone.

The quiet had turned out to be unbearable, as Bellamy’s brain filled it with horrific sounds of its own: Clarke sobbing as she felt her last hours slip away, knowing that she’d never set eyes on her parents again. The sound of a gunshot ripping through the silence, tearing apart Bellamy’s heart.

With a guard on either side of him, Bellamy was marched to what he assumed was the center of the clearing and pushed up with his back against a tree. A tiny, twisted part of him almost had to laugh. After all the near misses he’d had in his life, all the rules he’d broken, this was how it was going to end. He should have guessed it’d be something dramatic, like a public execution on a dangerous planet. Nothing boring for him. His only regret was that Octavia would have to see this. It was hard enough to think she’d have to go on without him, but she had proven her grit in the last few weeks. He knew deep down she could take care of herself now. No, mostly it was that she would have to watch. Bellamy could hear the guards moving through the camp, dragging everyone—adults and kids—out of their cabins to witness what Rhodes probably viewed as the most momentous event on Earth in three hundred years. The moment order would be restored to the wild, untamed planet.

It was monstrous. No one should have to see this, his sister least of all. He only hoped that his unbowed head would make his sister proud of him. He wanted to show her how to live, even after he was gone.

Bellamy wished he could reach out and grab Clarke’s hand. Why hadn’t they brought her out yet? Had something happened? Or was she silent, her heart in her throat as she struggled against the ropes? He couldn’t believe this beautiful, brilliant girl was about to be executed. It was inconceivable to think that someone so full of life, whose green eyes lit up in wonder every time she spotted a new plant, who went days without sleeping in order to care for her patients, was about to be shut off like a piece of machinery.

“Clarke!” he shouted, unable to contain himself any longer. “Where are you?” All he could hear was the anxious whispering of the crowd. “Clarke!” he screamed again, his voice echoing throughout the clearing, but not loud enough to reach her if she’d already…

“Calm down, Mr. Blake,” Rhodes commanded, as if Bellamy were an overexcited child instead of a condemned prisoner moments away from death. “I’ve decided to show your friends mercy. Neither Officer Jaha nor Ms. Griffin is going to die today.”

A sliver of hope pierced the dread that had been building in his chest, allowing him to take his first real breath since leaving the cabin. “Prove it to me,” he said hoarsely. “Let me see them.”

Rhodes must’ve nodded, because a moment later, someone was fumbling with Bellamy’s blindfold.

He blinked as the world came back into focus. A line of guards stood about ten meters in front of him. The entire camp was gathered behind them, with Wells, Octavia, and Clarke in the front. They’re still alive. Relief poured through him. That was all that mattered. He didn’t care what happened to him anymore as long as they were safe.

Wells and Clarke still had their hands bound, but Octavia was struggling against the guards holding her. “Bellamy!” she shrieked.

He met her eyes and shook his head. No, he communicated silently with a sad smile. There was nothing she could do now. She stared at him, her big blue eyes filled with panic and tears.

I love you, he mouthed. It’s going to be okay.

Through her sobs, Octavia managed to force a smile. “I love you. I love you…” But then her face crumpled, and she turned away. Graham said something to the guard, and he released Octavia’s arms, letting Graham hold on to her instead. But even from a distance, it was clear he was being gentle. He even wrapped his arm around her, shielding her from the horror that was about to take place before her eyes.

“Guards, at the ready!” Rhodes shouted.

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.

Suddenly what felt like a thousand-pound weight landed on Bellamy’s shoulders, almost knocking him to the ground. He stumbled and righted himself as forceful hands closed around his neck. Frantic, he gasped for air but got none. Bellamy reached behind him to pull off his new attacker. He got a handful of hair, and he pulled it with all his strength, ripping some of it out at the roots. The man’s grip loosened just enough. His heart pounding and his chest hurting from lack of oxygen, Bellamy seized his chance: He bent forward, doubling over and flipping the Earthborn over his head and onto the ground. The man slammed into the dirt with a thud. Bellamy took a step backward, reached for his bow, and lined up an arrow, all in one smooth motion. Just as the man staggered to his feet, a nasty gleam in his eye, Bellamy let the arrow fly into his chest.

Bellamy didn’t stick around to watch the outcome. He turned back to see if Clarke and Wells were okay. In the heat of the moment, they had somehow all gotten separated. As he turned to look, someone slammed into his shoulder, and he lurched sideways. Struggling to regain his balance, Bellamy stepped backward, and his foot landed on something solid but soft. It was a person. He spun around and pointed a tightly strung arrow at the ground.

It was Vice Chancellor Rhodes.

Rhodes was alive and conscious but badly injured; there was blood coming from somewhere on his head, and his face and shirt were drenched in red. He was doubled over in pain, gagging and coughing. He couldn’t speak, but he looked up and locked eyes with Bellamy. There was a pathetic, pleading look in them. The man led like a coward, and he lost like a coward too.

Bellamy’s whole body relaxed. With the toe of one boot, he pushed the Vice Chancellor’s shoulder back so he was lying flat on the ground. Bellamy placed his foot firmly in the center of Rhodes’s chest, pinning him down. It felt good to see him trapped like the rodent he was.

Bellamy had a choice to make: He could either finish him off with one swift arrow to the heart, or he could let the bastard rot right here on the battlefield. His injuries looked bad enough to kill him. No one would argue that Rhodes deserved a better end. A powerful, satisfied feeling coursed through Bellamy, but something else awoke in him too. It wasn’t an emotion he was used to, but he recognized it right away: It was pity. Bellamy studied Rhodes’s dirty and bloodied face. His hands were clasped together, begging. Conflicting emotions surged through Bellamy—his desire for vengeance, and the deep-seated knowledge that he didn’t want to watch anyone die again. His brain was already full of memories he’d never be able to shake. Rhodes didn’t deserve a place among them.

Bellamy sighed and dropped his arms to his sides, letting the arrow fall away from the bow. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t fire the shot, and he couldn’t turn his back on a broken man, leaving him to die here. He sure as hell hoped he wasn’t going to regret this later. Bellamy bent down and extended one hand. Rhodes just stared at it, unsure if Bellamy was toying with him.

“Let’s go before I change my mind,” Bellamy growled.

Rhodes reached up with a shaky hand, and Bellamy bent down and hauled him up, half carrying him back down into camp.