Salt & Stone

by Victoria Scott

  I don’t know why I’m panicking about Olivia’s being out alone on that ledge, which, now that I think about it, is probably more like seven feet wide. My gut just supplies the anxiety, and I go with the reaction, because that’s what I’ve learned to do in the Brimstone Bleed. Trust your instincts. If they say something bad is about to happen, then ready the cavalry.

  “What if she falls?” I ask Guy.

  “She’s not going to fall. If she does, we’ll haul her up.”

  “Which one is it? She’s going to fall, or she isn’t?”

  He tightens his hold on the rope. “The second one.”

  It’s at that exact moment, as if the mountain has a sense of humor and isn’t this a hoot, that Olivia slips. She got too cocky, wanted to be swift and light on her feet like little Willow.

  And now she’s sliding toward the edge.

  Olivia’s legs V in a perfect split, and she glides to the right like an ice skater who’s missed a crucial jump. Her nine fingers seek purchase along the ice, and her elephant trumpets loudly.

  “Don’t let go of the rope!” I scream. “Steady.”

  Braun’s giant hand on my shoulder pulls me back down to earth, and I gulp in a breath, willing myself calm so that Olivia can be calm.

  Olivia’s body stops short of the edge, and I almost lose control again. She’s a hair from recovering and a hair from falling. The harness could snap. The rope could be too weak to hold her weight.

  “Pull yourself up,” I yell to Olivia as if I’m bored and we need to keep this moving. Does she hear the emotion camouflaged by my words? Does she know how I’ve grown to love her?

  When Olivia doesn’t move, Guy steps forward. “Olivia, you know how Rose moves side to side like a snake? That’s what I want you to do, okay? Be a snake.”

  I expect Olivia to start crying, but she doesn’t. She takes Guy’s advice, and carefully, very carefully, she slithers back and forth, one millimeter at a time. At first, it doesn’t seem that she’s getting any farther from the edge, but when I see that she is, my eyes burn with emotion. “You’re doing well, Olivia,” I holler. “A little more and you can stand up.”

  Olivia scoots a few more inches and then pulls her knees beneath her. From there, she stands tall and grabs on to the rope again. “Piece of cake,” she says, panting.

  I laugh too hard. So does everyone else.

  It’s only when she’s on the other side do I calm down and admit I overreacted. We had her, of course we did. EV-0 would never have let go of that rope. Not if it took the elephant over the side of the cliff. Behind me, the elephant stamps the ground with frustration. She wants to coddle her Contender and wrap her trunk around the girl’s waist.

  When RX-13 drops the harness in my hands, Guy opens his mouth to complain.

  “Bite me,” I say. Then I kiss him hard on the mouth and run toward the bridge like a schoolgirl.

  I’m almost to the bridge, a smile swept across my chapped lips, when I see Harper standing over the pickax. She sees that I’m coming, and she doesn’t want to take any chances. Her right boot lifts into the air, and she stomps down onto the axe to drive it farther into the ground. Satisfied it’s in deep, she gives me a thumbs-up.

  That’s what I’ll remember about this moment years from now. Her thumb held into the air, just a smidge above her head.

  You’re good!

  What a preposterous thing to see before the ground splits open.

  Olivia and Willow stand near the ledge, waiting for me to cross. Olivia has a smile on her face that destroys me, the curls around her face a brunette halo of innocence. She’s so happy in this moment. Happier than maybe I’ve ever seen her. Her chest is still swollen with pride when the ground beneath her feet gives way.

  I choke with horror.

  Olivia and Willow fall like baby sparrows on uncertain wings.

  The screams that rip from their throats create a perfect harmony, and in that moment they are the same, twins who could have been the best of friends.

  Harper lunges toward them, but she only has time to save one.

  A thousand memories of Harper interacting with the girls flash before my mind, and a sob escapes my throat.

  She slides toward the falling ice like a batter going for a home run, bases loaded.

  She doesn’t even flinch. Not for a moment. Her aim is true, and I know then there was never a decision to be made.

  Her hand locks on Olivia’s wrist.

  And Willow tumbles to her death.

  Her scream tears a hole through the world.

  That night, we huddle around Oz as the alligator warms our hands. No one speaks. Trees tower over our heads like bars of a jail cell, and a full moon dangles in the sky. RX-13 nudges Harper’s arm with her beak, but Harper doesn’t even flinch. Ever since Willow fell, she’s been comatose. Olivia hasn’t tried to approach her, and I think it’s for the best. Even I haven’t been able to break through her barrier of guilt, and so we remain silent.

  M-4 lies on his side near Guy, moaning as his Contender pets his golden coat. The lion has been tiring quicker each day that we travel, though I suppose that goes for the rest of us, too. Madox sleeps near the elephant tonight, snuggled in a ball near the animal’s side, so I give Monster most of my attention, and even ensure that I pat the alligator on occasion.

  Harper gets to her feet suddenly. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “I’ll go with you,” I say, pushing myself up.

  She shoots me a glare cold enough to stop my heart. Slowly, I sit back down. Harper glances around before striding directly ahead. I hear her feet crunching in the snow, and then I don’t.

  “We have to do something to help her,” Braun mumbles.

  Guy leans back on his hands but doesn’t speak.

  Braun is right; we need to figure out a way to lessen the war waging in Harper’s head, the one that tells her she shouldn’t have stomped that pickax into the ground a second time. The one that says maybe she could have saved them both. She has to understand it was an accident, and that it’s a wonder she was able to pull Olivia up at all.

  We need to console Harper somehow, but it’s impossible when I can’t get the sound of Willow’s screaming out of my head.

  Olivia erupts into tears, and not for the first time tonight.

  “Come here,” I tell her.

  She shoots to her feet instead. “I have to go and talk to her.”

  “No!” we yell at once.

  Her brown eyes sweep across us, and we fall silent. EV-0 rises and marches to where her Contender stands, implying she’d like to come along. Olivia tugs on her elephant’s ear lightly. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

  Olivia trails away from the group, and for the next few minutes, Braun and Guy talk in hushed tones while I fidget. When I can’t stand it any longer, I get up and brush the snow from my bottom.

  “Not you, too,” Braun says.

  “Me, too.”

  I turn and follow Harper’s and Olivia’s tracks in the snow. I tell myself I want only to ensure they’re not killing each other, but I know it’s more than that. I’m afraid of what Harper may say to Olivia out of frustration. The last thing that little girl needs is to feel as if Harper regrets her decision.

  When I spot two shadows seated along the ground, I stop. The two are shoulder to shoulder on an incline, tall trees bowing toward them. Their backs are to me, and when I notice that Olivia doesn’t seem to be upset, I turn to head back. Olivia’s laughter catches me off guard, and I freeze.

  The young girl’s voice chimes up the mountainside like bells on Christmas morning. “So it was you?” Olivia asks Harper.

  “Yeah, though I never told anyone that before now.”

  Olivia’s head bobs.

  “How about you? I told you a secret.”

  “I’m too young to have secrets.”

  Harper turns to her. “Nonsense. You make the best secrets when you’re young.”

  “Um, okay. I got one,” Olivia says. �
��About a year ago, my sister bought these boy-short underwear that had some kind of bunny on them. Mom hated them, said they were too racy, but my sister was superexcited to wear them for her first day of high school. I can’t remember why, but I took those panties and soaked them in water the night before, then I stuck them in the freezer. To this day, my sister thinks it was my mom who did it.”

  “Nice,” Harper says with a laugh.

  There’s a long silence before either of them speaks again. Finally, Olivia looks down. “Harper, can I ask you something?” Her voice is softer, more cautious, and I know she’s about to bring up what happened today. I ready myself to intervene if need be.

  “Shoot.”

  “Did Willow … did she remind you of your daughter?”

  Harper sighs as if everyone’s burdens just became her own. “My daughter’s name was Lillian, and she took after my grandmother in every way. My mom used to joke that Lil was Cleopatra reincarnated, or maybe Madonna. She had this prima donna attitude that was just …” Harper shakes her head. “She had the kind of confidence that could fill an entire room. If you were on the opposite side of the house, she’d scream your name as if it were outrageous that you’d left her side for a moment, because, really, what could be more interesting than her?”

  Harper leans over her knees, and her shoulders slump. “Willow didn’t remind me of my daughter,” she says. “But you do.”

  Olivia raises her face to look at Harper, and when Harper wraps her arm around the girl, my throat tightens with emotion.

  “Her father …” Olivia says, pressed to Harper’s side. “Do you still love him?”

  “Who says I loved him?” Harper lowers her voice. “Who says I ever wanted to be with him at all?”

  I turn away at her last words, knowing I’m intruding. Part of me wishes I could forget what she may have just admitted, but it explains so much about her tough facade and her reluctance to bond with Olivia. My boots create their own tracks as I make my way back to camp. As I walk, I hold Harper’s story in my heart, praying to whoever might be listening for my friend to get a happy ending.

  The next morning, we feel separated. Willow is gone, and though we’ve experienced three deaths in our tribe, each person we lose is fresh and torturous in a unique fashion. Then I remember losing Levi in the jungle and how terrible it was to see his twin brother covered in his blood, and I tick off another mark.

  Four.

  Today, all I can think of is Willow’s grandfather. I’m sure, though I’ve never met the man, that he’d rather have his granddaughter on his lap for his last few months, happy and healthy in her youth, than to live for another two decades.

  We travel for hours on end, stopping only to eat what RX-13 catches and to drink the water EV-0 pulls from the ground. When purples seep into the sky, I begin to worry. We should have found the flag by now. The farther we ascend up on the mountain, the less zigzagging there is to be done. If we don’t find our next target soon, we’ll have to spend another night in the snow before trying again tomorrow.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Braun asks.

  A cabin sits like a weary boulder in the snow, and my entire body weakens at the sight. For the last two nights, I’ve slept with my head on Monster, leaves crushed beneath my limbs, though they do little to block the seeping chill from the snow. This cabin could be the last luxury we experience before reaching base camp, and I’m almost afraid it’s a mirage.

  Guy’s face flushes when I glance in his direction. He pretends my kiss means nothing to him, that he’s impervious to such things, but I’ve seen him looking at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. So I know he thinks about it.

  “Let’s go, then,” I say, glancing at Harper, unable to stop the smile that blossoms on my face.

  She offers a half grin that never reaches her eyes, and motions toward the cabin.

  We’ve only made it a few yards when I stop. Braun bumps into me, and I almost go flying, but Monster is quick to balance me with his girth. As I watch, the cabin door swings open and a man in his midforties steps outside. He wears the same thing we do, matching navy jacket and pants, but when he lifts his leg and scratches at his ankle, my eyes zero in on his boots. Even from this distance, I can see that they’re different from the pairs we wear. They’re brown, whereas ours are black, and there are silver spikes along the soles.

  The man calls out, and as I motion for the others to crouch down, I spot a Bengal tiger trot into sight, a red stripe of paint on its back. The man moves to the side, and the tiger goes inside. A woman steps into view and speaks to him, her mouth moving quickly. She has loud blond hair to his dark, and her fingers twitch at her sides as if playing an invisible instrument. She’s younger than him, maybe early thirties, and together they look like a blissfully married couple, and tiger makes three.

  Meeting Guy’s gaze, I point farther up the mountain. We stoop low and skirt upward and out of sight.

  All this time, we arrogantly believed we were in first place. No way could someone have passed us. I saw the boots he wore, and when I think that maybe he got them at a flagstaff, nervous energy courses through my veins. How many items have others picked up that we missed? What advantages do they have?

  “Faster,” I growl.

  The Contenders need no further encouragement. They pick up their heels, they lower their heads to tramp through the snow, and they plunge forward like a closed fist.

  Harper wakes me in the dead of night. It’s my turn to keep watch. We covered more ground after nightfall than we ever have, and we’ve paid the price. In the jungle and desert, we knew night meant rest. In the ocean, we could take shifts rowing through the evening hours. Now, after spotting other Contenders, we’re reminded of how much we have to lose by allowing anyone, anyone, to beat our time.

  Dark circles frame Harper’s eyes, her bright green irises floating in a sea of black. “Can you stay awake?” she asks.

  I’m not sure.

  “Of course,” I respond. Madox stirs at the sound of my voice.

  Once Harper is asleep, I stretch my legs out and pretend I’m alone in my room in Montana. Usually, when I play this game, I’m in Boston. Tonight, I don’t go so far back. I pretend Cody is in the next room over, and though I can hear the rattle in his chest, I’m consoled by it all the same. He’s here, he’s alive, and I am, too. Tomorrow, Mom will make scrambled eggs with a tablespoon of cottage cheese mixed in, and Dad will complain that cottage cheese shouldn’t exist. I’ll take my place at the breakfast table and casually mention it’s been a while since I got new jeans to see if either takes the bait. Maybe I even call for Cody to get out of bed and stop being so lazy in order to hear him laugh. For now, though, I’m tucked under my blanket, bedside lamp on, Vogue across my lap, September edition.

  When Madox climbs over my legs and interrupts my daydream, I don’t fault him. It’s dangerous losing sight of the present. Basking in Oz’s heat, I pet my small black fox and hum a song he knows well. It’s the sicky song, the same song Mom hums to me when I don’t feel well and the one I sang to Madox when he was still inside his egg.

  He pushes his nose under my thigh and closes his eyes. After he’s asleep, I allow my mind to drift back to my brother.

  I’m so close, Cody. You’d be amazed at how far I’ve come.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and imagine his face. Not the ashen, pained one I’ve grown to know, but the one I remember from before he was sick. I see his lopsided smile, the shaggy chestnut hair hanging over his eyes, the slight acne on his cheeks he tried so hard to hide. I see the droop over his eyelids that turns girls into idiots because he has puppy dog eyes. I see his happiness. I see his joy.

  My eyes stay closed for too long. That’s all it takes before I’m asleep.

  When I wake again, Madox is gone from my lap. I glance around, searching for him and cursing myself for falling asleep. Every other Contender and Pandora is accounted for, so I’m not sure where he could have gone. I brush myself off
, guilt weighing my limbs. It doesn’t feel as if I’ve been asleep very long, maybe only a few minutes. Since it’s not time for Guy to keep watch, I decide to go and find Madox before waking him.

  I wipe the snow from my pants and rub my aching neck, wondering how I ever learned to sleep upright. Add it to the list of useful things I’ve learned from this race.

  Madox, I call out with my mind. Madox, where are you?

  When he doesn’t appear immediately, I decide he must be relieving himself. But after I’ve called for him several more times, I start to worry. An animal could have taken him, or even another Contender. Everyone knows what he’s capable of by now, and maybe they want him for themselves. Not that he’d ever help another Contender. Or at least, I don’t think he would.

  When I silently speak his name for the tenth time, I hear a faint whine. My heart clenches. Racing through the snow, I barrel toward where I heard the sound. The trees press together, and I dodge between them as if I’m running an obstacle course. A green glow stops me in my tracks, and a chill shoots through my limbs when I see what’s before me.

  A pack of wolves surrounds Madox, hackles raised, noses sniffing the ground. Madox’s tail curls between his legs, and the whimper he releases causes my entire body to charge with electric fear. His eyes are glowing green.

  A wolf at the front of the pack, the largest, raises its head. It takes a quick step toward Madox, and when my fox stumbles backward, the pack leader takes it as a safe sign to attack. I cry out and rush forward, my arms flailing. I have just one chance to frighten the wolves away, but I make it only three steps before Madox begins to change. I hesitate, watching him. The brown fur abounding from his back tells me he’s taking Monster’s image.