Rebellion (The 100 #4)(10)

“Watch him,” came another, deeper voice, farther away.

“Where the hell are you taking us?” a familiar voice shouted. There was a loud thump, the wall rattling. A face rose up in Wells’s mind, a smug smirk, and then a name. Graham. The screaming boy was Graham.

“He’s not ready yet. Give him another shot,” came the deep voice again.

Startled, Wells shifted, but realized his arms were bound behind him, maybe his ankles too. It was hard to tell—his spine was coiled and cramped, his legs numb. He kicked, just a little, and his legs erupted in excruciating pinpricks.

“You’re all right,” came that same, affectless voice above him. Wells managed to turn his head just far enough to see a pale boy staring down at him. “The fight’s over. You’re one of the lucky ones.”

“The lucky ones?” Wells tried to say, but his mouth wouldn’t work.

I’ve been drugged. The pain in my back… they caught me in the woods and injected me with something.

“You’re one of us now,” the pale boy said, looking away. “If you don’t scream, we’ll let you wake up.”

But Wells hardly heard the end of that sentence. He was slipping again and then gone.

It was dark the next time he opened his eyes. Someone had propped him into a sitting position, his legs stretched out in front of him, still bound by thick twine. Holding his breath, he blinked until his vision adjusted. His earlier guess had been right. He was inside a covered wagon of some sort, with tall wooden walls and high, barred windows. There was a little bench on the other side of the narrow space. Three men in white uniforms sat on it, including the pale boy and the frightening man from the woods. Wells inhaled sharply, but they weren’t looking at him. They weren’t talking to one another either, just sitting there, rocking with the movement of the cart, their eyes completely blank.

The road lurched and Wells’s shoulder bumped against someone else’s. His body still wasn’t as responsive as he wished, but he managed to turn his head enough to get a view of four people beside him. They were all bound to the wall in seated positions, all asleep, probably drugged. Wells’s heart gave a lurch as his eyes passed over their faces. Next to Graham was Eric, a deep gash on one cheek, followed by an Arcadian kid. The fourth still figure was a little older, less familiar. It was one of Sasha’s people.

Another knot formed in his already clenched stomach. No matter what he did, he continued to let her down. He didn’t know who these murderers in white were, but they hadn’t shown up on the scene until the Colonists appeared.

Wells had suspected there must be other people alive on Earth, but Sasha’s people had never encountered any others. Had they found their site because of the dropships? Had the Colonists doomed them all?

The cart jolted and his head rolled back. He drew a breath and righted it, cricking his neck straight again.

The pale soldier was staring at him across the dark wagon. Wells stared back.

“Who are you?” Wells asked, and this time sound actually came out.

“We’re the Protectors,” the boy said in a strange, almost dreamy voice.

“Protectors,” Wells spat as he recalled the smoke from the explosions. The bodies on the ground. “You tried to kill us. Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“We raided your camp,” the boy said calmly. “We took what was useful and discarded what wasn’t. You’ll learn.”

Panic rose in Wells’s chest, but he wrestled it down. “If you just needed supplies, why did you take us with you?”

The boy’s icy blue eyes fixed Wells with an appraising glare. “You may be useful. Or you may not. We’ll know soon. It doesn’t take long to weed out the weak.”

Wells refused to look away, the feat of holding in his rage made that much easier by whatever drug they’d injected him with, still wending its way out of his system.

The older man who’d seized Wells nodded. “You’re young. Strong,” he said. “If Earth wills it, you’ll do just fine.”

The other two repeated dully, “If Earth wills it.”

Wells heard a gasp down the line. He swiveled his head to see Eric starting to wake up. Eric blinked a few times; then his eyes widened. His jaw twitched like he was about to start yelling, but Wells shook his head a tiny bit, praying Eric was lucid enough to pick up the signal.

He was. Eric swallowed, blinking once in reply, and lowered his eyes to the floor. Good, Wells thought. I need time to get more answers.

“Where are you taking us?” Wells asked, trying to stay calm.

“You’ll like it there,” the third man, reedy and tall, said. Wells hadn’t heard him speak before. His voice was strangely sweet, lyrical, almost like he was reciting a nursery rhyme. “It’s the safest place.”

“The safest place where?” Wells asked, unable to hold back a note of frustration.

“The safest place on Earth,” the man said, smiling. “One day it will all be safe, if Earth wills it.”

“If Earth wills it,” they all said again, sending shivers down Wells’s back.

“And if you’re chosen, you will help us spread peace,” the pale soldier said.

“So you’re peacekeepers?” Wells said.

“We’re raiders,” said the older man. “And so will you be if you learn to keep your mouth shut.”