Kass Morgan - Homecoming

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.

Wells lost track of Bellamy in the chaos. He had no idea how many Earthborns he had fended off. His hands were blistered and raw from gripping and swinging the ax, and his muscles ached with fatigue. Wells found himself standing momentarily alone with no one charging or grabbing him—a respite in the sea of struggle. All around him, people fought for their lives, while others lay on the ground, wounded or dead. Wells couldn’t tell who had the upper hand, the Earthborns or his comrades, but he feared it was the enemy. The Colonists and the hundred looked like they were getting beaten, badly. He needed to get a better vantage point.

No one seemed to notice as he slipped away from the scrum, leaping over bodies and rubble, and headed for the edge of the clearing. He moved a few meters into the woods and circled toward the side of the camp, where he knew he could be less visible and get a higher sight line. He could still hear the cries and moans of injured people as he ran through the thick foliage.

Wells emerged from the forest near the prison cabin. He quickly scaled the side and perched atop the building, scanning the battleground. He was shocked by what he saw. From the middle of the fight, it felt like total mayhem, but the Earthborns had clearly been strategic about their attack. They had destroyed nearly every vital element of the camp: several of their food stores, all the extra ammunition. Yet the dormitories, dining hall, and prison were intact. There was no way they could have just guessed which buildings’ destruction would cripple the Colonists the most. They had to have known the purpose of each.

Wells struggled to figure out how. Spying, maybe, but the Colonists had routinely swept the woods around camp and hadn’t caught anyone yet. Just then, a small group of Earthborns stormed through the center of camp, their stolen guns raised high. Wells gasped in shock and horror when he saw who led them: Kendall .

She was no longer wearing the clothes of a Colonist, and in a sick flash, Wells had all his worst suspicions confirmed. Kendall was an Earthborn.

Everything made sense. Her forced Phoenician accent, the way her stories never quite added up, her insistence on following Wells around. She’d been spying on them all along.

Wells could have kicked himself for not acting on his hunch. He had known in his gut that something was wrong, but he hadn’t done anything about it. He had backed down when Rhodes told him to. And that’s what she had relied on. Kendall had known that the arrival of more dropships, more people—grown-ups—would weaken the Colonists’ community, not strengthen it. That’s what she had taken advantage of.

He was completely useless as a leader. What had he been thinking, pretending like he had what it took to inspire, to keep the others safe? No matter what he did or where he went, people suffered.

Wells heard a scrabbling sound in the cabin beneath him. The Earthborns had invaded the prison, and he was the only Colonist on this side of camp. He hefted his ax over his shoulder and prepared to face them. He might not be the leader his people deserved, but he could still kill a few Earthborns for them.

He would wait until they came outside, then attack from above. He squatted down and tried not to move, for fear of making any sound.

Two small figures scurried out of the cabin into the shadows below him, a small boy and girl. Wells recognized the boy—it was Leo, one of the kids Octavia had been caring for. What was he doing on his own? Why hadn’t Rhodes assigned anyone to look after the parentless children after dragging Octavia away to witness her brother’s execution?

They were both trembling, tears running down their cheeks. “Hey,” Wells whispered loudly. Their heads shot up to look at him, and the boy let out a scared squeal. “It’s okay—it’s just me. Watch out. I’m coming down.”

Wells hopped onto the ground next to them. “Are you over here alone?” Wells asked. The girl shook her head. Wells turned; six more older kids emerged from the cabin, including Molly and the other younger members of the hundred. Their faces were dirty and bloodied; their shoulders slumped with fear and exhaustion. They stood silently, expectantly, watching him. Another handful of them began to step quietly out of the trees behind the cabin, where they had been hiding, and then another followed, until almost all the members of the original hundred stood before him.

Wells looked at each of their faces, these teenagers who up until a few weeks ago had just been normal young people locked up for some trumped up infraction.

They had been taken from their families, thrown in a cell, and, for all they could tell, forgotten. Now they were on a planet far from anyone they once knew and loved—people who were all dead by now. All they had was each other.

Rhodes didn’t understand what it meant to be a community. He’d never be able to appreciate what the hundred had created during their short time on Earth, the foundations they’d laid for a better future. They weren’t perfect—Wells knew that better than anyone—but they had what it took to turn the planet into a real home. Maybe now wasn’t the time for him to stop trying. Maybe now was the time to accept the mistakes he made and move forward, learning from them. He’d never make up for what he did on the Colony, or the pain he’d caused Max and Sasha, but that didn’t mean he had to give up.

Slowly a plan formed in Wells’s mind. All the time spent talking through tactics with Max at Mount Weather had brought back everything he’d learned in his strategy classes. Their plan at Mount Weather had been a good one—to surprise the enemy from behind and take advantage of the attackers’ position. There had just been extenuating circumstances—Rhodes had had the upper hand, with hostages back at camp. Well, not this time. Wells knew what they had to do. He just couldn’t do it alone.

A renewed fire coursed through Wells. After all the hundred had faced, after all they had worked for, he wasn’t going to let Kendall and her vicious accomplices take them down. No way.

“Listen up!” he yelled. Dozens of eyes locked on him, filled with a desperate longing for direction. “I know you’re tired, and I know you’re scared,” he began. “I know there are more of them than there are of us. They have more weapons. But we have each other—and we aren’t going to let them win.”

Bellamy appeared at the back of the crowd. He looked wiped out, but Wells was glad to see that he was all right. They nodded at each other, and Wells continued. “They’re coming at us from the north, and they’re pushing us back against the tree line that way.” Wells gestured with his ax. “They’re busy with Rhodes’s guys right now. You”—he signaled to one of the older boys—“stay behind to guard these younger kids. The rest of us will spread out into the woods and circle around to the north. We can attack them from behind. Who’s with me?”

For a second, they all just stared at him. Wells wasn’t sure he had read them right. Then a hand shot up, then another, then a dozen more. They pushed their shoulders back, raised their chins, and planted their feet firmly on the ground. Bellamy stood at the back, smiling grimly.