When Songbirds Fly | Bellamy Blake

Chapter Seventy-Seven: Eden

Six years and seven days.

That's how long we have been stuck on the Ring. Six years and seven days.

I grew sick of it long before that. Devotion to my work hasn't helped, nor has the addition to the shrine. It looks brighter than it did in the early years. Monty had found some grey-blue paint and Harper made flowers from old office notes to — rather ironically — add a little more "life" to it. The carvings of initials still pattern the coloured surface and file pictures show those that had first come down with us. Even with all of this, it feels wrong. Too many people have been lost.

Kneeling in front of it, I start to wipe away the scarce amount of dust that has gathered round the edges of the table. It has become somewhat of a ritual for me, something I do each week. Murphy once joked that it's the first thing I've willingly cleaned in my life, which is certainly not a lie. My gaze lingers over a boy's warm smile. His parents have been placed on either side, along with the image of my own mother, Clarke and Abby. Something feels right about having them all together, like one big family.

I find myself looking to my wrist, to the new marking that Emori had given me not long after we reached the fifth year: the words "Be brave" inked untidily across the skin. It's certainly better than the first tattoo I ever got.

'Soup's on,' Monty calls from the entrance to the Mess Area.

I can still hear Raven and Echo struggling against each other on the mats that pad the gym floor. The latter grunts in frustration and pats her opponent's arm, signalling a stop to their sparring session. 'Ha ha! Yes! Finally.'

'Oh, come on,' Echo mutters. 'I let you win so we could eat.'

'This isn't eating, it's surviving.'

Getting to my feet with a little difficulty, I head over to the table. Monty catches my eye as he enters with the latest pot of algae soup, rolling his eyes at the mechanic's comment and prompting my own grin. 'Hey,' he protests, 'the new and improved Triple-G tastes better, and you know it.'

Raven is the next to catch my eye, scoffing, 'Triple-G?'

'Don't ask me. All I know is it's not Green Balls.'

'He calls this one Green's Green Goop,' Harper chuckles.

'And it's better, too.'

Still, Raven doesn't seem convinced. 'And if by "better", you mean "doesn't want to make you violently hurl" then, yeah, it's an improvement.'

Noticing the emptiness of the chair beside me, I glance over my shoulder to the window behind. Bellamy hasn't moved in an hour. He still stands there, arms crossed and brows furrowed as he stares out at the planet below us. Like my cleaning ritual, he has taken to watching Earth each day, specifically the single spot of vegetation left on the surface.

Monty must have followed my gaze, as he clears his throat and says, 'Speaking of "green", how's Eden?'

His concentration broken with a slight start, Bellamy turns back to us. 'Still just a dot. Emori, take a break.'

'Hey,' I murmur, kicking the chair out for him. He echoes the greeting and gives me a quick kiss.

Finally, all of the seats are occupied. All except one. 'I told you,' Raven says with an edge of boredom, 'atmospheric radiation blocks radio signals. They're down there. We just can't hear them.'

'We waste our time so they know there's a place they can live,' he reminds her.

'Ground radiation has been survivable for a year. They can live everywhere.'