He never makes a full transition.
The lead wolf slams into my fox, and the two roll to the side. Three different wolves stalk toward me, teeth snapping, warm air billowing from their jaws. That’s not what has me worried, though; it’s Madox beneath the largest wolf. It’s Madox with his throat exposed. Just days before, he gave us a lead in this race by taking the form of a wolf to kill the panther Pandora. Now here we are in the mountains, being attacked by real wolves.
Maybe they’re offended. Maybe they don’t like being imitated.
The wolf growls as Madox kicks at its face. I try to move toward my Pandora, but the other wolves step between me and my fox, uncertain as to whether I’m a threat. The largest wolf falls back, only to regain its balance. It rears back as if it’s going to lunge again, but when I see the blood dripping from Madox’s body and into the virgin snow, I lose my mind with rage.
I run forward, screaming.
The wolf flies through the air toward Madox.
And at the exact same time, a new Pandora storms into view.
The wolf halts its advance and takes in the thick black neck, the fifteen hundred pounds of hostility, the deadly horns steadily aimed. Y-21 is poised before my small, injured Pandora like an assassin. His dark eyes flash as if the wolf is a blanket of red he’s itching to tear through.
As the bull backs up, creating a shield with his crushing body, he sends a message as lethal as lightning splitting the sky.
If you want the fox, you’ll have to go through me first.
Growling, the wolf takes one step back, but it keeps its legs bent in aggression, deciding whether to attack or retreat. I’m not sure what it’s protecting, a den of pups somewhere or maybe its pride, but it doesn’t seem to be backing down. My head snaps back and forth between the bull and wolf, hardly believing Y-21 is here. Wondering if his Contender is nearby, too.
Y-21 lifts his left hoof and kicks at the ground once, twice. The other wolves abandon their interest in me and instead focus on the bull. They yip and jump and growl, antsy to see what their leader will do.
The largest wolf eyes my fox behind the bull. It seems to decide that if the bull is protecting him, he must be a worthy prey. The wolf growls deep in its throat, and Y-21 lowers his head. In all fairness, the Pandora provided a warning, a chance for the wolves to flee unscathed, and now he’ll show them what it means to piss off a Spanish bull.
Y-21 kicks the dirt once more — and when the wolf dashes to the bull’s side, eager to steal Madox away — he charges. The ground thunders, and the stars shudder, and the wolf realizes its mistake too late. Y-21 drives his right horn into the wolf’s sternum, and the animal is hoisted into the air. A howl of pain rips through the night, and the remaining gray wolves scatter around the bull like spiders along a web.
Y-21 slams his horns against the ground until the wolf is dislodged in a gray, bloodied heap. It’s then that I realize I haven’t moved an inch. I’m frozen solid, from fear and the cold combined. I race for my fox, who is pulling himself up on wobbly legs.
I grab him and pull his snow-laden body against my chest.
Are you okay? Madox, tell me you’re okay!
I turn in time to see the other wolves spring toward Y-21 at once. They have to fight as a pack, and now that their leader is dead, they’re wild with fear and hunger and adrenaline. The wolves are still in the air, poised to fall upon the bull, when Y-21 tightens within himself. His eyes close, his body locks, he takes a deep, concentrated breath.
I’m not sure what he’s doing when —
A red blast detonates from the bull’s body like a bomb.
The wolves are thrown back.
I am thrown, too.
When I uncover my face, the wolves are scattering into the night. The leader lies dead against a giant tree, but Madox and I are okay. My Pandora licks my face, and the gesture brings tears to my eyes. I hold him with one arm and use my free arm to push myself up off the ground. Then I wrap myself around Y-21.
“Thank you,” I breathe. “That was incredible.” But already the bull is peeling away from me and trotting toward the shadows cast by the woods. I’m torn as to what to do, when Guy rushes into view.
“What’s going on?” he asks. And then, seeing Y-21 flee, he says, “Is Cotton here? Did he do something?”
Olivia and Harper are right behind him.
“Is he okay?” Harper asks, nodding toward Madox.
I fight the guilt metastasizing in my gut. “He’ll be all right, I think. And, no, Cotton wasn’t here. Only his Pandora.”
Guy sees the dead wolf and races to my side. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Why are you out here?” he asks.
I won’t lie. I already put us into jeopardy by falling asleep, and I won’t add insult to injury. “I nodded off during my watch. When I woke up, Madox was gone. I came to look for him, and he was surrounded by wolves. Y-21 came to our rescue.” I curl my thumbs into my palms and squeeze. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. This is my fault.”
“Don’t worry about it, Tella,” Braun says, appearing with the other Pandoras. “It happens to the best of us.”
Guy glances again at the perimeter, where Y-21 has already disappeared. “You think he’s following us?”
He means Cotton. We all know he means Cotton.
Harper takes two steps forward and peers into the darkness. “It could be that his Pandora is alone and followed because he didn’t know what else to do.”
We read into what Harper is saying. That Cotton has gone the way of Willow, in some fashion or another. It doesn’t seem likely, but strength and agility can only get you so far in the Brimstone Bleed. Sometimes, luck is just as important.
“Should we follow his Pandora?” Olivia poses.
No one responds because we don’t know what the right answer is. When Guy turns and heads back to where we were sleeping, one hand on my back, we follow his lead, silent in our retreat.
Madox lets me hold him the entire way.
We locate the seventh flag early the next morning and an eighth one that night. The following day, we find the ninth. But that’s not all we find. A light dances in the distance, and when I see it for the first time, my stomach threatens to turn my breakfast out on its rear.
Guy, Harper, Braun, Olivia, and I stand shoulder to shoulder. Behind us are our Pandoras: a lion, an eagle, an elephant, a fox, a bear, an iguana, and an alligator. This is what remains of our crew. We’ve battled through jungle, desert, ocean, and mountain to arrive at this destination. We’ve survived raging rivers, men with spears, dehydration, the Triggers, oceanic storms, jellyfish stings, Pandora Wars, hypothermia, avalanches. We’ve come out the other side alive and bitter.
We want the Cure.
And we want revenge.
Now that we are so close to both, we’re rendered speechless. Finally, after a long moment of reflection, Olivia breaks our silence. “It’s base camp, huh? The final one?”
“It could be another Contender lighting a fire,” Braun offers.
Harper shakes her head. “No, it’s base camp. There isn’t much more of the mountain to climb.”
“There are five of us,” Guy says. “We just have to hope we’re the first to make it there.”
I pick Madox up off the ground to give my hands something to do. Staring at the light, I feel my pulse pound. I can hardly stand still, and if we don’t start running soon, I’ll explode from anticipation. “Is everyone sure they want to do this? We’ve seen what they did to us in the race. Who’s to say it won’t be worse on the inside?”
“I’m in.” Braun gazes at his blue wristband. “I have too many questions.”
“I’m with you all the way,” Harper says.
Olivia stands tall. “Me, too.”
Guy pats the backpack, which now holds a knife and a second pickax, and the hint of a smile haunts the corner of his mouth.
I put Madox down. “That’s that, then. We race to the finis
h line, overcome whatever obstacles may lie ahead. First one who reaches the finish line wins the Cure, but we all accept their invitation to work should they offer it.” I say this last part almost in a question, because we never really discussed who would win the Cure if we reached base camp at the same time.
The Contenders nod their assent, and we’re off, no longer able to hold ourselves back. We stride through the snow, practically running, and as the sun falls on our backs, my anxiety slips away. I realize that as soon as I reach base camp, there will be food and warmth and maybe showers. It will be over. The Brimstone Bleed will be over. Regardless of the outcome, there will be no more jungle or desert or ocean or mountain.
My legs power up and up and up, my lungs fighting for the limited oxygen supply. We travel a half mile beside a large crevasse before spotting a big white tent like you’d see at a circus. It’s situated precariously on the edge of the mountain and is surrounded by lit torches. Rows of jagged rocks sit below it like broken teeth, and I suddenly understand exactly what obstacle the climbing equipment was intended for. I don’t see how anyone could ever make it up those cliff faces without tools, but when my eye catches movement along the rocks, I realize it must be possible.
“There are other Contenders on the cliff,” I exclaim.
Olivia starts running, her short legs carrying her faster than I thought possible. “Let’s go, let’s go!”
We don’t need any more prompting. We run. All five of us and our Pandoras, too — we race toward the rocks. My hands splice the air, and my legs burn beneath me, and I step inside my body. It’s easy in life — especially in the Brimstone Bleed — to live detached. To always have one foot inside your head and another elsewhere, in a memory or in a dream of what’s to come. But right now I’m so incredibly present. My only thought is Cody. My only ambition to hold that Cure in my hands.
For the last three months, the Contenders and I have grown to be a family. Not anymore. Now we run forward as if we can somehow glimpse our real families standing in the distance.
I’m coming, Cody!
I’m going to win for you!
As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I can’t dismiss it. I must win. I must save my brother. All this time, I’ve tried to envision the end, but it felt slippery in my mind, like a ghostly fog the morning after a heavy rain. The same thing happens when I picture what the afterlife might entail.
But this is real. I’m here, and I’m running and counting how many Contenders I spot on the rocks — four. But they have an unfathomable distance to climb without equipment. Will they fight us for the things we’ve found? How did they even pass us?
They didn’t worry about the flags, I think. They decided at the start of the race that speed was the only way they’d win, and they bet on base camp’s being at the top of the mountain. But now those same flags will save us. They’ve provided the tools we need to bypass the other Contenders and make it to the top.
A thought slows my steps. There aren’t enough tools to get us all to the top. And what about our Pandoras? My eyes scan the expanse at the base of the vertical cliffs, and I spot animals pacing. Some cry out to their Contenders, who are already several feet above their heads, while others huddle quietly against the driving snow.
“Wait,” I yell to the others, but they don’t stop.
Madox jumps in place before me, and Monster shoves me from behind. They’re operating on instinct now, and those instincts are telling them to keep me moving. But there’s no room for mistakes anymore. This is it. So I yell for my Contenders again, and this time Guy turns and looks back. When he sees I’m standing still, he yells for the others. They don’t stop until he hollers that he has the climbing equipment.
“What are you doing?” Harper looks as if I’ve launched a personal attack by not running. “Tella, let’s go! I can help you climb when we get —”
“What is it?” Guy asks, breathing heavily.
“It’s just …” It’s just what? I’ve wasted crucial seconds, and I have no idea why. But that’s not entirely true. My gut is speaking again, whispering uncertainty to the rest of my body. I look at Guy. “Do you remember in the desert, at the start of the race? All the other Contenders plunged forward, but you rooted us in place. We strategized. We explored our supplies and decided how we would proceed.”
“I remember.” He’s listening so intently, his features so entirely focused, that I want to kiss him. Not like I did when we stood before that icy bridge. I want to kiss him as if time has loosened its dictatorial control, as if we’re lying in the grass outside our college dorms and it’s the first real day of spring. I want to kiss him so that he understands my feelings for him run to the center of the earth.
My eyes slide over the landscape, searching for the quickest way to the cliff, perhaps hoping there are more supplies we’re overlooking.
“There’s a light,” Harper observes.
Braun is bent over, catching his breath. “We established that.”
“No,” Harper says. “Not the ones around base camp. It’s coming from the crevasse.”
We turn toward the jagged break in the land that we’ve been traveling beside. I see the light, too. It’s faint, but something is definitely flickering. Braun starts marching toward the glimmer, and Olivia calls out to him.
“Where’re you going?”
“To check it out. Evaluate our options. Like in the desert, right?”
We jog after him, and when we get to the edge and glance down, a clap of thunder sounds through my body. Along the lip of the fault — a few feet down and running in both directions — are lit torches. If I look below them, even farther down the wall, I can see more torches. There’s something else, too. Flags. A half dozen of them, at least.
“Holy crap,” I hear myself say. “They’re leading down.”
We crane our heads back up, and I watch the Contenders climbing up the cliff face in the distance. If we linger much longer, we may not reach the tent at the top of the mountain even with our equipment. But …
“What if it’s a distraction?” Harper asks.
“No way,” Olivia responds. “That tent is the distraction.”
I think back to the beginning of the mountain race, to what the woman said.
The flags will be your most loyal friends during this leg of the race, pointing you toward safety and success. All you have to do is follow them quickly, and the prize is yours.
“They wanted us to collect the equipment. They wanted us to stay on their path.” I reach for Guy’s pack. He gives it to me. “We were never meant to use it for climbing. We were meant to use it for descent.
“The way to the final base camp is down.”
Braun picks me up and spins me in a circle. It feels a bit like being hugged by Monster. “You figured it out, Tinker Bell.”
“Let’s hope,” I mumble when he sets me down.
Olivia’s Pandora senses we’re excited about something and blows through her nose. In response, RX-13 flies onto her back.
Guy pulls the rope, the blade, the harness, and the two pickaxes that protrude from the top of the pack. He hands one end of the rope to RX-13 and asks the eagle to fly to the bottom to see if we have enough slack. The Pandora doesn’t move a muscle until Harper gives the same command. Guy holds on to one end as RX-13 disappears, and when she reappears moments later, Guy seems satisfied.
“How are you sure it reaches the bottom?” Braun asks.
“Because I would have felt the rope tighten otherwise,” Guy answers. “Let’s send V-5 down first.” His words rush over one another. “We’ll secure the rope around his middle and lower him down. Then we’ll lower the elephant and M-4. We can go down last, and if KD-8 mimics the bear, we’ll have well over a thousand pounds to manage our weight.”
“And then the two bears will descend on their own,” I finish for Guy.
“That’s right.”
“Can we really lower my elephant down?” Olivia asks. “What if she falls?”<
br />
“It’s a risk we’ll all take.” Harper brushes Olivia’s shoulder. The aggression she once showed the girl has vanished, but the emptiness Harper carries for her own daughter, and for Willow and Jaxon, too, is still real enough to touch.
Guy secures the rope around the alligator’s middle, and I murmur in the Pandora’s ear, imploring him to stay still. As I watch Guy work, I see it’s obvious the training his father gave him and his three brothers included tying knots. I’ve never seen such things — works of art, really. Maybe I should still be afraid of Guy. Throw in some duct tape, and you’ve got yourself a prizewinning kidnapper.
“That’ll do him.” Guy yanks once on the rope. “He’s about six hundred pounds at best guess. But we’ve got five people and six Pandoras to help lower him down.”
I ask Madox to change shape, and we all secure the rope in some fashion. After stepping away from my place, I bend down and hug the alligator, and after much coaxing, the Pandora steps off the side of the ledge. We jolt with the sudden weight. But we’ve got him. We do. And so, foot by foot, we lower him.
When the rope goes slack, Harper asks RX-13 to fly down and undo the knots. I doubt it’s possible that anyone can untie those things, much less a bird, but I’ve seen RX-13 cut incisions on Harper’s stomach to mark our progress in the jungle with expert precision, so maybe I should give the eagle more credit.
Several seconds pass, and the eagle appears with the other end of the rope. We laugh and slap one another on the backs that our plan has worked.
Guy glances behind us, anxious that we’re not moving fast enough. I’m anxious, too. My legs itch to continue running toward a visible destination. “Let’s do the elephant next,” Guy says. “She and M-4 are both about four hundred pounds, I’d say.” He looks at Olivia pointedly. “We’re lucky your Pandora isn’t a full-grown elephant.”
Olivia grins as if she had a hand in this.
The baby elephant descends easily enough, but the lion takes more effort with only the Contenders and the bears to help. Finally, we send the iguana and then descend ourselves. I go second to last, right before Guy, and it isn’t nearly as terrifying as I thought it would be. The trip takes about two minutes. The worst part is the way my body sits inside the rope and harness. When my feet touch the stone bottom, Harper helps me remove my bindings.
Salt & Stone Page 24