Salt & Stone

by Victoria Scott

  I’ve got spirit and fire in spades. Though, right now, as he carries me to the single back bedroom, I have neither. I’m somebody else now. I’m Tella Holloway, Boston girl turned Montana transplant, sitting on the edge of her queen-size bed, awaiting her very first date with the boy who makes her parents uneasy. A boy who doesn’t speak nearly enough, but when he does, this girl stops and listens. In my mind’s eye, I’m wearing the silver-sequined dress that’s hibernated in my closet far too long. I feel beautiful and confident, and who cares if he said we’re going to the lake at night? I want to glimpse the look on his face when he sees me. I envision how his entire face will light up as if it’s lit from within. How his full lips will part slightly and his cold blue eyes will soften.

  Guy sets me on my feet, and I gaze up at him.

  Oh yes. Right there. That’s the look I imagined.

  There’s no door to this room. No bed, no nightstand, no sequined dress. But he’s here. Guy raises his hand to my feather. His fingers brush over the blue and green bristles with tenderness. He inspects it closely, eyeing the muddied, stiff ornament that was once lovely. Now the string it hangs from is in tatters, and the feather itself appears almost blackened with rain and sand, salt and snow. It’s horribly ugly, and quite frankly, it smells.

  But somehow, it’s even better than it was before.

  He drops the feather to my shoulder, and his arms come to rest by his sides. When he doesn’t say anything, I ask, “Why did you bring me back here?”

  He shrugs one shoulder.

  I turn away from him, hurt by this sudden detachment.

  “You always had it in you to win,” he says quietly. “I just forgot.”

  “You believe that?”

  He circles around me and takes my chin in his hand. It takes him a long time to vocalize what he has on his mind. It’s always hard for him to put into words what he’s thinking. But finally, he says, “I thought you would win this race the moment I first saw you. I watched, you know? When you fought that girl on the ground for the last Pandora egg? When you cut your hair off in the front seat of that car? I watched you.” He raises his face to the ceiling, and his throat works. “I saw this blinding life in you, Tella. I knew then that you’d battle fiercely to win. But I also knew that you were kind and that you’d care too much about the other Contenders.” Guy shakes his head. “You shouldn’t open yourself up so much.”

  “It’s okay to care about other people,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “Not here.”

  “Anywhere.”

  “The Pandoras were prepared to fight for you at base camp.” He shakes his head, befuddled. “You’ve changed everything. You’re not the only one who’s divided. Many enter the race conflicted. One side of them says to remember their humanity, the other side says to become an animal, to live and breathe only to win the Cure. I thought you’d go one way or the other, just like the rest.” Guy looks down at me. “But you’re still fighting like a soldier and trying to protect everyone along the way, too. Don’t you understand that you can’t do both? You can’t keep worrying about other Contenders. And you certainly can’t keep worrying about the Pandoras.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  He grabs his mangled left earlobe, and his brow furrows.

  “You know, it’s okay to do things differently than the way you first set out to do them,” I say. “And it is okay to care about people during this race, Guy. It’s okay to be afraid of losing those people, too.” I take a small step toward him. “It’s even okay to stay up at night, watching over them, just to ensure they’re safe.”

  His jaw tightens. “I only care about getting inside this race. That’s all I can do.”

  I place a hand on his chest, and he stares down at the place where I touch him. “You don’t have to be the thing your father taught you to be.”

  His eyes snap to mine.

  “It’s okay to admit you’ve fallen from the narrow, vengeful path you started down.” I wet my lips and bring my voice to just above a whisper. “It’s okay to admit you’ve fallen.”

  His hands grasp my face.

  His lips crash over mine.

  He lifts me up, and now I’m the one falling, falling.

  My feet touch the ground softly. His hands grasp my back hard. He bends over me, and I bend with him. My concerns slip away every time he whispers my name against his lips, every time I feel the urgency of his embrace pulling me closer. Too close, maybe. Close enough so that he can lose himself in this moment.

  I don’t care.

  I’m losing myself, too.

  I don’t want to be me anymore. I want to be me with him. I want to hand my heart to the guy who showed me the last Pandora egg, who didn’t walk too quickly in the jungle so that the girl with the feather could follow him. The guy who kissed me at the jungle base camp, who held me when I got a letter from Cody and told me his cousin loved the smell of lemon. The person who saved me from Titus, who put salve on my skin where a leech had bitten me, who appeared from the ocean like a ghost and fell to his knees, who told me his secrets and believed I was strong, and who is too afraid to say the words you can’t take back because his father tried to make him into a machine.

  Our lips break apart, and we gasp for breath. My mind spins, and my body aches to be closer to him still.

  “Tell me,” I whisper. “Say it.”

  He turns his face to the side. I turn it back.

  “You don’t have to go this race alone, Guy Chambers. You opened up to me before. Do it again. Admit you care. Say how you feel. Say it outright.”

  He clenches his eyes shut, and his entire face pulls together as if pained.

  “Tell me,” I say again, even softer.

  He releases me, and the hurt I feel is unique in its own right. It could stand against any obstacle I’ve withstood inside the Brimstone Bleed.

  “If you don’t tell me how you feel,” I say, my voice shaking, “then I won’t know. It’s that simple.” I consider telling him what’s in my heart, but I pull the words back down my throat. He doesn’t want to hear it.

  I turn and walk away.

  “Tella,” he says, but he’s not saying my name to stop me, only to will me to understand.

  I keep walking.

  When I get into the main room, I find something that causes my steps to falter. Cotton is sleeping behind Harper, one hand beneath her head, the other stroking her blond hair. He glances up at me, and his skin flushes.

  “Get away from her.”

  “I’m only trying to keep her warm. She was shivering and —”

  “I said, get away from her.”

  He slowly pulls his arm out from beneath her and backs away along the floor. Harper’s eagle watches the exchange between us with interest. After Cotton is a safe distance away, I sit on the ground and pull my knees to my chest, trying to regain some of the warmth I lost in the other room.

  M-4 raises his head from his paws and glances toward the back, searching for his Contender. I scoot toward the lion and pet his mane as best I can through gloves. The Pandora moans and closes his eyes as if he was battling to keep them open. He feels hot like Oz, but that can’t be right.

  Harper begins to shiver, and I chew the inside of my cheek, wondering if I made a mistake scolding Cotton. When one of her hands reaches back, feeling for something, or rather, for someone, I know I have.

  I grind my teeth. “Well, go back over there, then.”

  Cotton is by her side in a flash, curling himself around her. She relaxes and allows herself to be swallowed by his sculpted body. Harper is half asleep, but I know she realizes who it is who’s holding her so tightly.

  “I was only trying to keep her warm,” Cotton repeats in a hushed tone.

  “What is it with you guys and your lies? Why can’t you say what’s on your mind?”

  A shadow passes over Cotton’s face, and his demeanor darkens. “Maybe we have to be asked the right questions.”

  I’m about to ask what h
e means when Guy appears in the short hallway. Our eyes meet for a moment. Then I get up and return to my place next to V-5. We don’t speak to each other again that night, but my lips burn from the memory of his mouth on mine.

  For the next two days, we travel with an even greater sense of urgency. In order to keep from sinking into the deep snow, we create crisscrossed grids made of twigs and branches, and attach them to the bottoms of our boots with our laces. This has made walking more than a little complicated, but it seems we’ve remembered how close we are to the finish line, and so it doesn’t slow us down much.

  Before we left the first cabin, we made a pact: We’d travel together until we found five flags. Then we’d make a choice to either travel the rest of the way on our own or to stick with the group. I don’t know how we’d ever elect who would be first to enter base camp and receive the Cure, but maybe when it comes down to it, we won’t have to. Not if each Contender decides to travel on their own anyway.

  A part of me hopes we stay together until the end. That each of us decides to do our part to help take this race down, whether that’s to support the others or to be chosen to go inside headquarters. Then again, staying together will make it even harder to say good-bye.

  The sun shines bright. It softens the snow, and somewhere in the distance, I hear the sound of rushing water. We’ve located three flags so far, which means we have two more until it’s decision time. We’ve deduced that the flags are farther up the mountain each time, that they are hidden by a thick cluster of trees, and that they stand in a zigzag pattern.

  Since the first and third flags were on the right side of the mountain, and the second one was farther on the left, that’s the direction we head now. Madox is in fox shape today because his lighter body makes it easier for him to travel atop the packed snow. RX-13 is in flight overhead, keeping her eagle eyes trained on the ground in search of a flag. She hasn’t found one since the first day when the wind blew, keeping the flag in motion and triggering her hunting instincts, but we hold out hope that she will again.

  Guy’s lion trails toward the back, panting. It’s obvious he’s not a fan of this weather. The rest of the Pandoras march beside their Contenders, and I do my best to lead the group and shout encouragements. Every once in a while, though, because he’s more resilient, I lean on Guy to take charge.

  Today, I have no problem walking up front. At each flag location, we’ve discovered a small cabin in the direction the flag is pointing, and we’re hoping for the same today. It’s never easy finding the flags, regardless of the ecosystem, and this mountain is no exception. We’ve walked in circles, squares, and octagons, searching for flags. But somehow, we end up finding them. Of course, I suppose that means other Contenders do as well.

  “When are we going to take a break?” Willow whines.

  Harper rubs the girl’s back. “Not much longer, I’m sure.”

  “My legs hurt.”

  “Mine do, too,” Harper admits.

  Olivia jogs over to Harper, her stout body swaying as she moves. “I could carry your pack for you.”

  “I shouldn’t even be carrying a pack.” Harper shoots a pointed look at Guy. “Not like we’re going to find anything out here we need.”

  “They wouldn’t have given them to us if they were useless,” he argues.

  Cotton chokes on a laugh. “Yeah, they’d never supply empty packs just to screw with us.”

  “Exactly,” Harper says. “At least we have one intelligent person in this group.”

  Braun holds out his arms. “What the hell?”

  But Harper and Cotton are having a moment in which Cotton is smiling at her and she’s not exactly looking away.

  “Really, I don’t mind carrying the pack. It’s empty anyway, right?” Olivia reaches for the pack, but Harper turns to the side so she can’t reach it. The young girl tries again. “It’s okay. I want to help. You said your legs hurt, so I can —”

  “Olivia, just shut your fat mouth. Jesus!”

  We all stop.

  Olivia’s face reddens, and tears fill her eyes.

  “Harper,” I say, barely containing my anger. “I can’t believe you —”

  “No,” Olivia says, wiping her eyes and breathing through flared nostrils. “It’s fine. I don’t care. We’re tired, that’s all.”

  I want to continue scolding Harper, but I’m worried it will embarrass the girl further. And I certainly don’t want Willow piping in and making matters worse with that smug smile she’s wearing. So I don’t say anything else. For now.

  “Olivia,” Guy says. “Why don’t you walk with me?”

  “Go to hell,” she snaps.

  Guy laughs.

  I don’t think it’s funny, though, because Olivia is obviously hurt. But, lo and behold, the girl smiles, too.

  “You going to flip me off?” Guy asks her, his voice devoid of emotion. “With your gimpy hand? Because that hand doesn’t really have a middle finger now, does it?”

  Olivia’s bites her lip to keep from laughing, and when Guy waves for me to keep walking, I do. When I glance back later, Olivia is walking next to Guy, staring up at him with affection.

  I keep driving forward, pushing the conversation between Harper and Olivia from my mind so I can concentrate on finding shelter. Usually, we travel through thick crops of skinny trees that kiss the sky, but we’ve tried those areas without luck, so now we walk out in the open. We’re on a slight incline, snow blanketing every last molecule on the mountain, and beside us Oz keeps his internal heater blazing. With each step he takes, he melts the snow beneath him. It’s rather amusing to watch.

  When we get thirsty, M-4 melts a spot of snow with his fire and EV-0 forces her elephant trunk into the frozen earth and produces clean, cold water. It’s more refreshing than eating snow. The eagle and Madox catch us meals when we get hungry, and M-4 cooks them. The bull helps cut a path with his strength, and manages not to smoke us out with his red nose funk no matter how many times Braun says he will.

  And today — for the first time since that day in the ocean when the iguana tail-whipped her — RX-13 pulls on her invisibility. Harper whoops, and the iguana almost seems relieved when she gets dive-bombed by an invisible eagle. After that one retribution, though, RX-13 keeps her distance.

  Today isn’t a bad day. We have warmth. We have one another. Our Pandoras are healthy. And we agree we’ve made great time finding flags. So when I spot a lone tree in the distance that stands like an orphan child among the white, I begin to think our luck has come to a head.

  “Is that what I think it is?” I ask.

  Braun comes to stand by my side. “No way. We’ve never found one this early.”

  Willow’s stomach rumbles. “We could actually find the cabin before nightfall. Relax for a few hours.”

  Even though we’re in the final stretch of the Brimstone Bleed and my mind is screaming at me to keep moving, to keep my eye on the prize, I find myself nodding. “It’d give us a chance to strategize. Maybe if we have longer to rest today, we can find two flags tomorrow.”

  Because the flags are in a zigzag pattern, I’d been wondering whether to just drive a straight line up the mountain using one side. It’d allow us to skip this back-and-forth we’ve been doing and save time. I’d wanted to ensure there was a clear zigzag pattern before saying anything, but with the introduction of this fourth flag, I’m gaining confidence, maybe enough to discuss cutting a new path tomorrow morning.

  I call out to Y-21 to push onward, and the bull lowers his head and does just that. Before long, I’m certain it’s a flag. What’s more, I can make out the direction the upper flag is facing, and when I turn in that direction, I nearly weep when I spot the faint blur of what must be the cabin.

  I show everyone what I see, and we practically run through the snow, elated by the possibility of true warmth sooner than we’d expected. While Oz does his best to keep us insulated while we walk, it’s nothing compared to the heat he can radiate when we’re cramm
ed between four walls.

  “We should go straight to the cabin,” Harper says. “Why waste time taking the flag?”

  “Because we don’t take shortcuts,” Guy responds.

  “Why would we not take shortcuts? That’s the whole point. Get there as quickly as possible.”

  Guy glances at me as if I should weigh in.

  “It’s a long ways to what we think is the cabin,” I say. “Let’s get to the flag and ensure we’re headed in the right direction.”

  Harper sighs, but I don’t care. Not after what she said to Olivia.

  It is only about a thirty-minute walk before we reach the pole, and as expected, there are two flags. The lower one is reachable, the higher one pointing stiffly toward what we now know is a cabin. In fact, I can make out the sloping tin roof and doorway.

  Braun reaches up to take the lower flag, but I stop him. “No, we should be leaving them.”

  “We took the others,” Cotton points out.

  “We shouldn’t have.” Now that I voice the thought, I feel like an idiot for not thinking of this sooner. “I think we’ve made it before the other Contenders, or the second flag would be missing. If we keep taking the lower one, they’ll always know we’re ahead.”

  “Fine, so we leave it,” Harper agrees. “Make them think they’re winning so they don’t push themselves too hard.”

  Guy poses a question that makes my pulse quicken. “What if someone else has been doing the same thing? Passing them by without taking anything?”

  “Ugh,” Olivia groans. “Why do you have to be all negative?”

  I run my hand over the smooth pole, my fingers itching to snatch the limp blue cloth to satisfy some competitive instinct. “He’s right. If the snow covers our footprints, it’s covering theirs, too. This flag doesn’t necessarily mean we’re in the lead, but we should still leave it.”

  “What about the other one?” Willow asks.