Shades of Earth by Beth Revis Page B

says.
    â€œDo what?” I ask, still rubbing my elbow.
    â€œDon’t put yourself in a position where you sacrifice yourself for
those
people. If a few got stuck inside, that would have been their fault. If you’d gotten stuck inside . . . ”
    â€œWe all got out in the end,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.
    â€œTake this.” Dad presses something cold and hard in my hand. A gun—a double-action .38 in a canvas holster. “Remember what I taught you,” he says. “Just pull the trigger. Don’t cock it. Use both hands when you aim.”
    â€œI know,” I say, thinking about when I fired a gun at Doc. The bullet blew through his knee. This gun is cold and dormant, but the memory of that time tricks my nose into smelling gunpowder and blood, making my stomach churn.
    â€œStay near Chris,” he adds in an undertone. “I trust him more than any of those shipborns.”
    â€œThey’re not bad,” I say. “They’re just people.”
    â€œThey’re not
our
people.”

14: ELDER
    Colonel Martin stands on top of the exposed bridge as we regroup. Everyone wears a glazed, shocked expression. My people spent their first day here crashing into the planet and the second day being thrust outside by an alarm.
    I glare at Kit, at the green patches that are stuck to the arms and necks and hands of the last people to leave the shuttle. In my mind, I know this was the only way to get the stragglers out into the open, that if they had not been forced out, some of these people might
never
have left. Just because they had the courage to get on the shuttle doesn’t mean they had the courage to leave it.
    I swallow back the bitter taste in my mouth. The patches are temporary, I tell myself. They’re just for now, just because they were truly needed. I turn, looking for Amy, painfully aware of how much I want her to confirm my resolution. But she’s standing on top of the bridge, between her mother and Chris. She leans over and says something in a low voice to Chris, something that makes him smile.
    I jerk my head away from them.
    â€œThank you all for helping us by leaving the shuttle quickly and smoothly,” Colonel Martin shouts over the crowd, his earlier frustration with my people masked by his public military face. “For now, the best thing we can do is find a permanent home for the entire colony. We do not know how long the shuttle will remain sealed off and thus cannot rely on it for long-term shelter. As such, we need to find an area that has natural defenses and easy access to fresh water.”
    Nervous excitement fills the area. There are so many of us out here that we’re pressed against the trees of the forest we landed in. I never thought I could feel claustrophobic off the ship, but the sheer number of people crowded together in one spot makes me uncomfortable.
    â€œThere is safety in numbers,” Colonel Martin calls. “We are a large group, and it is my hope that any creature that might attack one of us individually will be scared off by our sheer size.”
    Around me, my people start to grumble. They’ve noticed Colonel Martin’s choice of words—his
hope
for safety—and they are not comforted by it. Several of them turn to me, and I, like a coward, don’t take my eyes off Colonel Martin. Eventually, the others follow suit.
    â€œWe’re going to head in this direction”—he points ahead, slightly to the right—“as the probe indicated fresh water could be found nearby. Military: rank one in the lead with me, rank two at the tail, rank three circling remaining perimeter, rank four scout ahead.”
    The military immediately divides itself while the scientists stay clustered with my people in the middle of the sandy clearing near the ship. A small group of soldiers disappear into the trees, ostensibly to scout out the danger ahead. Colonel Martin starts leading