Fire & Flood (12 page)

The Contenders around me remove their devices, but I stay still. I keep waiting for an explanation. Why are there fewer Contenders now than there were six days ago?

You know the answer,
my mind whispers.

The device suddenly feels too large. It’s going to grow until it splits my ear wide open. I snatch it out and throw it to the ground. “What happened to them?” I yell to no one in particular. “Where are the other Contenders?”

Titus chuckles. “Seriously?”

My head turns in his direction. “Yeah, seriously. Spell it out for me.”

“Okay, they’re dead.” He slides his hand across his throat. “Jungle meat.”

“Real nice,” Harper says, looking disgusted.

“Yeah, you know what, why don’t you take a walk?” Levi adds.

“You going to make me?” Titus asks, laughing.

“Yes,
we
might,” Ransom says, next to his brother.

“Please.” Titus snorts. “I’ll whip you both and wipe my ass while I’m at it.”

Guy stands up.

Titus sizes him up for a long moment, then opens his arms out wide. “I don’t know why everyone’s jumping on me anyway. The girl asked a question.”

“And you answered it,” Guy says. He nods his head toward the jungle. “Go blow off some steam.”

Titus’s mouth quirks on one side like everything’s a big joke. “I’ll go. But I’ll be back.” Before he leaves, his eyes land on me. He searches my face and then looks down into my lap where Madox is sleeping. Titus narrows his eyes.

I clutch Madox closer, and Titus laughs.

“See you later, compadres.”

After Titus disappears, Guy turns around. He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he eyes the same thing Titus did — Madox.
They want him,
I suddenly realize.
It’s why they’re both traveling with us
.

The thought makes my stomach turn. For a minute there, I figured they wanted the same thing I did during this race — the comfort of companionship. But they only want what will help them win.

Is that so terrible?
I wonder.
That they want to save the life of someone they love?

The things I’m thinking feel too big for my head to hold, like they need somewhere to go.

“I’m here for my brother,” I blurt out.

Guy’s eyes flick from Madox to me. His face stays hard and unreadable, but he sits down. I imagine it’s the best invitation I’ll get from him.

“He’s nineteen years old. Only three years older than me.” When I glance around, I notice Harper is looking at me with a strange expression. Envy, maybe. “He likes these glossy comic books about aliens?” I say it like a question, because I’m not sure how everyone is taking my verbal vomit. But no one stops me from continuing. “And he still has these action figures that my grandma gave him. They’re from a fast-food joint by our old house. Which means they’re worthless, you know? But he keeps them anyway.” I pull in a long breath. “He likes vanilla pudding, but only if it’s really cold, and he has about thirty different colognes that are half used.”

I have no idea where I’m going with this, but once I’ve started talking about him, I can’t stop. A million fun facts about Cody Holloway fill my brain, itching to be released into the jungle. I open my mouth to continue, but Ransom jumps in.

“We’re here for our sister,” he says, and Levi nods. “She’s a year younger than us. Mom says she got so lucky with Levi and me that she had to keep going while her luck was hot.”

Levi laughs, like he remembers his mother saying this.

I’m so happy Ransom is sharing his own story that I can hardly breathe.

“Josie, our sister,” Ransom continues, “has this boyfriend we give such a hard time. But I guess he’s all right, really. She texts him so much that we joke and say she has an addiction. So now my dad has been researching texting rehabilitation clinics. Seriously. They have those.” Ransom gives us all a look so we know just how serious he is. “Anyway, she’s obsessed with her boyfriend. And mood rings. And these dumb mint cases that you can only buy online.” Levi nudges Ransom, like he’s forgetting something. Ransom shakes his head like he doesn’t understand, but when Levi rolls his eyes, Ransom laughs. “Oh, I guess she likes us all right, too.”

For some reason, we all look at Caroline. She seems like the next-most receptive person to this little share-and-tell thing we have going on.

“Oh, my turn?” she asks, placing a hand to her chest.

“Spill it,” Levi says.

“Okay, well.” Caroline adjusts herself on the ground, crossing her legs tighter. “I guess I’m here for my mom. I mean, I
am
here for my mom. She just turned fifty-five. We had a birthday party for her before we left. My son and I made this cake … but she refused to eat any.” Caroline shakes her head. “My mother used to be in the movies. Not like those big-budget films, just some of the ones that go straight to DVD. But that doesn’t stop her from acting like a big-budget actress, right down to the no-carb, no-sugar diet.” She laughs to herself and rubs the back of her neck. “My mom carries around these markers in her purse, just in case
someone asks for her autograph. And then if no one does, she’ll just sign something anyway — a napkin or ticket stub or whatever — and hand it to them with this smile … this smile that says she’s
somebody
.”

Dink tugs on Caroline’s sleeve and she wraps her arm around him.

“I never really knew my mom that well. But she says if I win, she’ll spend the rest of her life being friends with her daughter.”

The first thing I think is that her mother is lying. That she’s saying whatever she needs to motivate Caroline to win. The second thing I think is … “How does your mom know about the race?”

Caroline glances at me. “Because her uncle was a Contender.”

I feel like someone has kidney punched me. “So she
knew
? She knew about the Brimstone Bleed? Did she know you’d be invited to become a Contender? Does she know about the Cure?” I know I’m grilling her with questions too quickly, but I can’t help myself. I’m dying for more information on how this happened to us.

“No.” She shakes her head. “She just knew the stories about her uncle. She only told me about them after the blue box — er, the device — appeared on my windowsill. Mom says she would’ve told me sooner if she thought there was any truth to his stories. But I’m not sure she would have. It seemed like she was nervous telling me what little she did know.”

“So what did she tell you exactly?”

“Only that he competed in something called the Brimstone Bleed to save his wife’s life.” She looks at Dink before adding, “He left after the second leg of the race.”

I want to ask why her uncle gave up, but I don’t want to pry in case it’s a reason she doesn’t want to share. Instead, I ask, “Did she say anything else? Like what to expect or how this all started?”

Caroline thinks for a moment, and then shrugs with one slender shoulder. “That’s all she really told me. That her uncle entered and that he didn’t win.” Her eyelids flutter. “Maybe she didn’t want to scare me.”

Glancing around, I notice that Harper and the twins are just as eager for information. Guy, however, looks like he knows something. “Guy, do you know anything else?”

He looks slowly from Caroline to me. Then he shakes his head.

But I can see it all over his face.

He’s lying.

Harper interrupts my train of thought and speaks to Caroline. “Are you sure that’s all your mom told you?”

Caroline nods. “I’m sure.”

“So this race has happened before,” Harper states.

Ransom crosses his arms. “This crap is so messed up.”

I wholeheartedly agree. Somewhere out there is a person, or a group of people, running this thing. How can they do this to us? How can they play with our emotions — and our lives — this way? I look up at the people sitting here with me. We’re not so different. We’re all here out of selflessness. Here to save someone else’s life.

Glancing at Dink, I wonder who
he’s
here for. Titus is a prick, but he’s right. This race isn’t for children. “Dink,” I say softly. “Who are you trying to save?”

The boy’s head snaps up. He looks at me with big brown eyes. Somehow, though I hate my own curly hair, on him, I find it adorable. It makes him appear even more innocent. So I can’t bring myself to push when he just shakes his head.

“That’s okay,” Harper says. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.” When I look at Harper, she makes eye contact with me for a second, then glances down. It’s obvious she won’t be sharing a story tonight, either.

Everyone looks at Guy.

He pulls in a long breath. “No.”

We all stare at him, thinking he may say something else. He doesn’t.

The silence among our small campsite is ruptured when the raccoon and ram return. Behind them are Titus and AK-7. I cringe, thinking Titus is going to pick right back up where he left off. That he’s going to confront Guy. But he just sits down and leans back, like he couldn’t care less that we’re here. His grizzly bear shakes like a wet dog, then lies down beside him, muzzle still coated in blood.

DN-99 runs circles around Ransom, and again I wonder what’s going on with this supersized raccoon. Finally, Ransom pays attention to him. “What?” he says. “What on God’s green earth are you so wound up about?”

When Ransom reaches out to stop his Pandora from racing in circles, the raccoon leaps onto his left hand and pins it down. “What the hell?” Ransom says. He tries to jerk his hand back, but before he can, the raccoon begins licking his puncture wounds. Ransom’s eyes slip closed and he groans with pleasure. Then his eyes snap open. “Wow, that was embarrassing.” He laughs. “It just — it feels really good.”

Levi leans forward and looks at his brother with disgust. “All right, man. Can you stop with the animal porn? Get him off your hand.”

“No,” Ransom says, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“Dude,” Levi yells. He grabs his brother’s left hand and yanks it away from the raccoon. Then he narrows his eyes. “Holy crap.”

Ransom pulls his hand away from his brother and inspects his palm. “The wounds,” he says quietly. “They’re healing.”

We all rush over to see it happening — the small, round holes squeezing closed. I feel like I’m imagining it and wonder if maybe
that snake was venomous after all. When the wounds have completely healed, we all take turns pressing on his palm to make sure it’s real.

Then we stare at the raccoon.

So
that’s
why it’d been acting strange all afternoon. Then again, what is strange for a Pandora?

Glancing up, I notice Titus licking his lips. Harper notices him ogling, too. She makes a face like she’s uncertain of what to do next. Finally, she says, “So the Pandoras haven’t shown us their full capabilities yet.”

“Maybe they aren’t even aware of them themselves,” Caroline muses.

Ransom turns his hand over several times in front of his face, while the rest of us pull away and try to relax on the ground. Even though it feels like something truly mind-bending has just taken place, we settle down to sleep. It’s the only thing we can do for now. Dink yawns, and Harper stretches out onto her back, gazing up into the canopy.

“Ransom, how about you and your brother take the first shift?” Harper says, her eyes still locked on the trees. “Caroline and Dink can go next, then I’ll go, then Guy and Titus, and finally, Tella.” Harper tears her eyes away from the jungle and looks back and forth between Guy and Titus. “We take shifts when we sleep, looking out for predators and insect hordes.” She glares at Titus. “And stray Pandoras.”

Titus doesn’t acknowledge her remark. He just lies back and folds his thick arms beneath his head. Even though he looks about eighteen, his enormous frame makes him appear much older. But right now — lying in the dirt like the rest of us — he doesn’t seem very menacing.

I watch as Guy stands up, dusts himself off, and searches for a place to sleep. I’m not sure why. There’s no magical spot that feels
better than the rest. My heart picks up when he moves closer to where I’m sitting. He inspects the area only three feet away, kicking at rocks and pulling up stray vines. Then he sits back down. His eyes flick in my direction and a chill races over my arms. He nods his head, lies down, and closes his eyes.

Did he move next to me on purpose? Is he offering his protection?

Or am I his first target?

My God. I am in the epicenter of hell, and I’m trying to psychoanalyze some guy. Pathetic. Shaking my head, I lean back and try to find a comfortable position to sleep. Right as I’m about to drift off, I hear Caroline’s voice.

“I just don’t like that there aren’t any rules,” she says. “There should be rules.”

No one responds. I know she’s talking about the race. I’m sure everyone does.

We just don’t know what to say.

I wake up and am surprised to find I slept deeply, despite the small portion of delicious snake I ate. As I’m stretching, I glance up, thinking it might be morning. But that would mean I missed my shift for keeping watch.

Surveying our campsite, I note Guy sitting straight up, staring into the fire. I look around. Everyone else is asleep. I’m not sure why he’s ignoring me. It’s obvious he knows I’m up.

“Hey,” I whisper. He turns and looks at me. “Why isn’t Titus awake?”

Guy looks back at the fire. I’m not sure he’s going to answer. It certainly wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t. But then he says, “Harper only woke me. Maybe she thought I would wake him up myself.”

He doesn’t finish his thought. That he
didn’t
wake Titus up.

“How long have you been keeping watch?” I ask.

Guy scratches his cheek. “A while.”

“It’s my turn, isn’t it?” I say. “You didn’t wake me up, either.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Okay, well. We need to get something straight.” I straighten and look directly at the side of his head. “You may think I’m weak, but I’m actually pretty damned determined to win this race. And I am going to do my part as long as I’m traveling with these people.” I gesture toward the sleeping Contenders. “It’s only fair.”

Guy cranes his neck. Not enough so that he’s fully looking at me, but enough to let me know he’s listening.

I reach down and pet my Pandora, who’s lost in dreams. Guy and I don’t say anything for several minutes. I’m trying to prove that I’m a contributing team member, and Guy is trying to prove … what? That he doesn’t trust me?

“You needed sleep,” he says suddenly. His voice, normally so deep, is almost jarring when he’s making an effort to keep it low.

I attempt to process what he’s saying. “So, you didn’t wake me up because you thought I needed more rest?’

Guy doesn’t move for a moment, but then he nods slowly.

“Because you think I can’t handle this race like the others can?” There’s a defensive edge to my words as I recall my dad trying to burn the earpiece. He didn’t believe I could handle this race, either.

He looks me dead in the face. “Because you looked tired.”

I hold his gaze for a moment, and as I do, a shiver shimmies down my spine. His eyes are the most phenomenal shade of blue I’ve ever seen. They’re not beautiful, exactly. More … startling. And the way he looks at me now — as if he sees through to the other side — makes him seem wildly unpredictable. I wonder about the deep white scar cutting through his right eyebrow. For some reason, it seems to say more than even his eyes do.

“Oh,” I manage to say. “Thanks, then. I guess.”

Guy looks up at the canopy and puts one hand on his lion. “Your Pandora is extraordinary.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say Guy just initiated a conversation. It stings that it’s only to dig for information. “Yeah,” I mumble. “The other Pandoras were picking on him a couple of days ago. I’m kind of happy he was able to prove his worth. Not just for my sake, but for his own.”

“You care about it,” Guy says. It’s not a question. He’s seen the way I cling to Madox.

I nod and wrap my arms around my waist.

Guy rubs his jawline. “The other Pandoras were intimidated.”

I glance at him, curious as to where he’s going with this. Shadows cast by the fire dance across his face. “What do you mean?”

“They must have” — Guy flicks his fingers near his nose and breathes in, like he’s sniffing something — “smelled it on him. They must have sensed his ability to replicate them. That has to be intimidating, knowing their only job is to help their Contender win and running into another Pandora that can do what they can just as easily.”

I watch Guy saying this, the sureness with which he speaks. “Maybe you’re right,” I say. He seems to be intuitive about a lot in this race. He found a flag within the first twenty-four hours. He knows how to handle himself in the jungle. And I’m certain he knows much more than he’s letting on. “Guy,” I say gently, “how much do you know about the Brimstone Bleed?”

The muscles in his arm tighten, and I’m sure I’ve heard the last I’ll hear from him today. But he surprises me again.

“I know some things,” he says. Then he looks at me. “But it isn’t anything that will help me or you win.” He clenches his fists. “Our families, even if they knew, weren’t allowed to tell us anything before we received our devices. If they had, there would have been consequences.”

I search his face and feel sure he’s telling the truth. There are so many questions I want to ask him, but I think he’s told me everything he’s willing to share for now. So instead, I try something different. “Do you think we’ll make it to the other side of the jungle in time?”

He tilts his head and studies me with what, strangely enough, looks like sympathy. “Tella, they’re not leading us to the other side of the jungle. They’re leading us to the center.”

I let my gaze fall to the ground. Of course they are. The jungle must get much worse the farther you get inside. “I don’t understand what the people running the Brimstone Bleed get out of this,” I mumble, shaking my head. “They seem so
cruel
.”

“It’s complicated,” he says quickly.

Everything in me wants to shoot questions at him like rapid-fire, but I can’t speak. Because Guy is staring at me in a way that makes my cheeks flush. He puts his palms against the ground and moves closer. When he’s only a breath away, he lifts a hand and runs it over my side. Every rational thought in my mind vanishes.

“What happened here?” he asks.

Glancing down, I notice he’s thumbing the quarter-sized stain of blood on my shirt. To my surprise, there’s a fainter, larger stain circling the center one, as if the blood has seeped outward. Guy pulls the side of my shirt up and I gasp when I notice the small wound the leech left. It’s pink and puffy, but the most alarming part is that it’s
still
bleeding.

Guy presses near the wound and blood oozes out.

I fight the urge to faint.

“This is from a leech.” He looks at me for confirmation, and I nod. “When they bite, they inject you with venom that prevents your blood from clotting.”

I am going to bleed out from a leech. And die.

That is how I take this news.

“You’ll be fine.” Guy lets my shirt fall back into place and stands up. “I need to go find something to stop the bleeding, though. I’ll be right back.” He taps the lion’s head. M-4 springs to his feet. “Come on, boy.”

For fifteen minutes, I plan my funeral. My pastor will give my life eulogy. He’ll say I wore way too much makeup and that I had a borderline obsession with sticky notes. They’ll serve Greek food at the wake, because Mom will insist it was my favorite, and Cody will ask why he has to eat this crap even after I’m gone.

But that’s not right. Because if I’m gone, then Cody …

I hear a rustling nearby and am so relieved to see Guy, I almost hug his legs. He’s holding a fistful of leaves in one hand and two
stones in the other. Sitting next to me, he grinds the leaves between the rocks.

“Is that going to save me?” I ask.

Guy stops grinding. “Save you?”

I realize in this moment that my life is not dangling by a thread. I laugh. “I’m kidding.”

He goes back to grinding. Seconds later, he lifts my shirt back up. Despite what we are treating here, I can’t help but get goose bumps. Because he’s, you know,
lifting my
shirt up
. I watch as he gets some of the leaf pulp between his fingers and spreads it over the wound. As he works, I don’t even think about what he’s touching. Instead, I concentrate on the way he chews his bottom lip in concentration. Guy is so distant and cold, but right now he’s something different.

“Why are you traveling with us?” I ask suddenly.

He stops applying the makeshift medication and looks up. And, my God, he is so damn close. Guy’s eyes travel from my eyes to my lips. He presses his own together, and then pulls away. “Your Pandora is very powerful,” he says. “I can’t imagine there was a better one created than him. I know if I stay close by, your Pandora will remove most roadblocks from here to the Cure.”

I swallow. He told the truth. I had expected him to lie. Then I’d expected to wrestle the rest of the day with whether to believe him. But he told the truth. I run a hand over my head. “Thanks for telling me, I guess.”

“You already knew,” he says.

I look at him. “I suppose I did.”

Guy returns to medicating my side. When he’s finished, he moves away, but only a little. “You look different,” he says.

My face scrunches with confusion. “How so?”

He touches a calloused hand to his head and tugs on a spiked clump of his own dark hair.

Oh.

“Yeah, I probably do, huh?” I say. “I forgot you saw me at the Pandora Selection Process.” I lean back on my hands. “There was a girl that dragged me down that day by my hair. I decided it had to go.” What I want to also say, for some asinine reason, is:
Don’t worry, it’ll grow back. I won’t always look this hideous.

Guy studies the feather lying over my shoulder, then nods to himself. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I just got an official nod of approval. Not sure of what to say next, I ask, “Do you think the raccoon would have done this? Healed my wound?”

He shakes his head. “Not for you, no.”

It’s what I figured, that each Pandora looks out only for its own Contender. Still, I wonder how he knows for sure.

Guy cracks his knuckles like he wants to say something, but doesn’t know how. When after several seconds he still hasn’t spoken, I decide to take a gamble. “Guy? Will you tell me about this race?” I swallow hard and add quietly, “Please.”

“I told you it wouldn’t help.”

“Tell me anyway,” I say, hoping my voice is steady.

Looking toward the sky, he seems to think. He pulls in a breath and lets it out. He does it again. And again. His broad chest swelling like a bird’s, then flattening. Then to my astonishment, he speaks. “There are different people running it. Different … names for them.” He stops suddenly, like he can’t believe he’s said anything. I stay quiet. So quiet, I can hear my heart pulsing in my ears. Guy wets his lips. “There are the Creators, the ones that made your Pandora. They’re more commonly referred to as Pharmies.”

My mind spins. I know that word. The girl in the train car with me said it.

“They work in pharmaceuticals, of sorts, and ensure the Cure is available to the winner.” He taps his temple lightly. “These guys
are brilliant. They were experts in genetic engineering by the early 1950s, two full decades before the public started reading about it.”

Guy looks at me, but I avoid his eyes. I don’t want him to see how enraptured I am by what he’s saying. Instead of asking him to clarify, and before I can really think, I ask, “Who are you here for, Guy?”

He turns away from me. I’ve asked the wrong question, and now he’s shutting down. To my surprise, he looks back at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You owe me a favor for treating your wound.” He says it so even keel that I wonder if he practices speaking without emotion.

“A favor?” I ignore the fact that he’s avoiding my question, or that he’s just told me half a story. “What kind of favor?”

He looks at Madox, and my stomach plummets. No. I won’t give him my fox.

“I want you to sing that song,” he answers.

“What song?” But as soon as I ask, I know. He heard me singing to Madox when I was following him. Which means he
knew
I was following him. “Oh God.” I cover my face with my hands. “You mean the sicky song.”

When he doesn’t say anything, I realize he really, truly means for me to sing it. Like, now. “You can’t be serious,” I say.

Nothing.

I roll my eyes. This will be the most embarrassing moment of my life. But he touched my leech wound, for crying out loud. And I have so many more questions I need him to answer. So if he wants the sicky song, he gets the sicky song.

I clear my throat like a professional might do. Then I open my mouth and sing. It lasts for ninety humiliating seconds. I can’t even look at him when I’m done. But when he doesn’t say anything, I can’t
not
look at him.

Glancing over, I notice he’s just staring forward.

“You are a horrible singer,” he says.

My jaw falls open. The friggin’ nerve. I’m about to tell him where he can shove it, but then I see it — the smallest of smiles tugging the corner of his mouth up. And I can’t help myself. I point at his face. “You’re smiling,” I say while laughing. “You’re totally smiling.”

The grin slides from his face, and he shakes his head as if he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. But I totally busted him and he knows it. Mr. Stone Cold just
broke
.

He lies down and closes his eyes. “I think you’re well rested enough to watch on your own now.”

“I was to begin with,” I retort.

He’s quiet for a full minute before I hear him speak again. “My cousin,” he says. “I’m here for my cousin. Because he’d have done it for me.”

I smile to myself.