Fire & Flood

by Victoria Scott

  I tip the bottle back and guzzle until my head swims.

  When I lower it and wipe a hand across my mouth, I note Guy eyeing me.

  “Great,” he says, shaking his head.

  “Great what?” I pass the bottle to the woman next to me, who is all too eager to accept it. “What’s so great?” I ask this question about a hundred times over the next half hour. Guy just shakes his head, which makes me laugh hysterically and hang on his arm. “What’s great, Guy? Me? Am I great? I am, right? Do you want to know why?”

  I stare into the fire, transfixed by the flames.

  “Why?” Guy says suddenly.

  “What?” I turn and look at him.

  “You asked if I wanted to know why you’re great.”

  I shake my head and look for the green bottle of magic and awesome. “You’re crazy.”

  He sighs.

  I glance back at the fire. All around it, Contenders dance. Most of the men in white have left, but a few children and women stay behind, singing and beating the drums. The smoke from the fire wraps around the arms and legs of the people dancing and eggs them on. Everything seems to go in slow motion: the thwump-thwumping of the drums, the Contenders’ easy laughter, the Pandoras howling at the moon.

  When I glance at Guy to see if he sees what I do, I realize he’s staring at me. “Why are you always watching me?”

  His face opens with surprise at my question. I’m a little surprised myself, but mostly, I’m wondering where the damn green bottle is.

  “Did you hear me?” I ask.

  He presses his lips together and nods his head.

  “Then why don’t you answer?”

  “Maybe I don’t have the answer.” He leans back onto his hands and looks up at the sky. “Why do you ask so many questions?”

  “Because I’m curious,” I say.

  “About everything, apparently.”

  “No, just about you.” Though I feel relaxed and carefree, this last admission feels like one I may later regret. My eyes find his, but he’s not looking at my eyes. He’s looking at my mouth. Before I can protest, he raises a hand and runs his thumb over my lips. I close my eyes and shiver beneath his touch. I feel him shift beside me, and then his warm palms wrap around my face. I pull in a breath.

  And his lips touch mine.

  It’s so sudden that I almost don’t know how to react. But that’s okay, because my body understands exactly what to do with him. My back arches and I wrap my arms around him. His mouth is warm and soft against mine. And when his tongue touches the inside of my lips, a clap of thunder sounds through my body. I realize now that neither the jungle, the leeches, the raft, nor the river posed any real threat. The real fear is here.

  That I will surely drown in his embrace.

  All the things I question about Guy vanish. I don’t care what he’s hiding. I don’t mind that his hands are calloused and his skin is pricked with sweat. I only care that he’s pressed against me. That he’s here.

  Our kiss has just started — seconds of bliss, maybe only a single moment — when it’s interrupted by the men in collared shirts.

  “May we have your attention?” one man says. The drums stop. The dancing stops. Guy and I pull away and look at each other, breathing deep. I have a sudden impulse to kiss the scar over his eye, or run my fingers over the mangled part of his left ear. Every last imperfection seems to beg for my immediate attention. “It’s time to announce the first victor.”

  This gets our attention. Guy and I turn and gaze at the man with the comb-over. He holds something in his closed fist, but I can’t make out what it is. “One hundred and twenty-two people competed in the first leg of the race,” he says. Some Contenders clap and the sound appalls me. “But only one could win the initial prize.”

  The man holds up his fist. I notice then how large his ears are, how they redden with his excitement. “Rachelle Gregory, please come forward.”

  A short, robust woman on the other side of the fire stands up. Contenders nearby give her congratulatory pats as she moves toward the man. She appears to be Caroline’s age and has feathery red hair … and freckles. I wonder if she hates them as much as I do mine. Maybe she doesn’t think about them. Maybe I shouldn’t think about them.

  The woman — Rachelle — stands near the fire and beams. Her smile is so wide, I’m afraid her face will break. But her rigid posture speaks the truth. She hates it here, and I decide then that I like this lady.

  Opening his fist, the man stretches a long green ribbon taut. Then he ties it around her upper arm. A hush falls over the crowd. We’ve been trained so that flags mean everything. They were life preservers in the jungle, something that said: You’re on the right track; everything’s going to be okay. And now, at base camp, they’re a status symbol. I spot them here and there tied around the arms of Contenders, young and old. They wear them proudly, their heads held high and their chests full.

  But no one has a green flag.

  The woman’s smile falls as she fingers the ribbon around her bicep. I wonder how it feels. A few days before we found base camp, our group agreed not to wear the flags. Except Titus, who may very well have solidified the trend.

  “You worked hard to win this leg,” the man tells the woman. “And though our resources are limited, those of us working behind the Brimstone Bleed are doing everything we can to help save lives.”

  I wait for people to scoff, to mumble smart responses. No one does. I think about what Guy told me, about the Pharmies. Glancing at him, I vow to learn more of the story soon.

  “So tonight, we’d like to award you a monetary prize: enough to secure the best doctors in the world. While only the Cure can guarantee health for your loved one, this money will help ensure they get the best care in the meantime.”

  The man hands her a slip of paper.

  She gasps.

  Nobody says anything for a few seconds. Finally, a young boy calls out, “What does it say?”

  Rachelle looks up. Tears threaten to spill down her cheeks. “It’s a check for two million dollars,” she says. Contenders who just got done patting her on the back are now looking at her with envy. And hatred.

  The man places a hand upon her shoulder. “And now it’s time to ask you a question, Rachelle.” He touches a hand to his thinning hair, then glances out at the crowd. “Are you going to continue the race? Or will you return home?”

  Rachelle looks at him with shock. Before this, I’d often wondered if we’d be allowed to leave if we wanted to. Surely, she must have wondered the same thing. And now here it is — a ticket out of this place. I try to decide what I would choose: to return home with the money and hope better doctors can help save Cody, or to stay and fight for a guarantee. The woman’s face tightens, and I can tell she’s asking herself the same thing.

  “I want to leave,” she announces.

  The Contenders clap at this, happy to have her out of here. To be rid of a fierce competitor.

  A woman in white takes her by the arm and the two disappear outside the base camp. Where are they taking her? To a village? A small airport outside the jungle? I have a reckless longing to race after them, screaming to wait up, Madox bobbing in my arms.

  A small voice inside my head whispers: Are you sure you’re strong enough? Are you sure there’s really a cure? Worse still: Is your brother’s life really worth risking your own?

  I jump to my feet and storm toward the cabin Guy and I have slept in for the last four nights. Behind me, I hear the man saying something else, and the Contenders grow excited. But I block it out and keep moving. I have to get away from here. I need time to think.

  Finding my usual cot, I nearly collapse onto it. But I stop myself. What makes me deserve this bed more than someone else does? After questioning the value of my brother’s life, perhaps I don’t warrant anything more than the floor.

  I grab a plaid blanket and a pillow and lie down beside the bed. Curling into a ball, I pray for the sound of Guy’s approaching footste
ps. I want him to chase after me. I need him to find me and hold me like he did the first night. My face burns as I think about our kiss. I squeeze my eyes shut and think about the feel of his lips, the fleeting touch of his tongue. But what does it matter amid the Brimstone Bleed?

  It matters more than anything.

  I hear footsteps approaching and watch the door. Please let it be him. Please let it be him.

  The door creaks open, and Harper steps inside. Somehow, her being here is even better. I watch her search the floor until she finds me. In her hands are two envelopes. “Tella,” she says gently. “You left before they made their final announcement.”

  Madox trots through the door Harper left open and locates me within seconds. He nudges my arm until I lift it and let him snuggle against my chest. I pet his thick black coat and raise my head to look at Harper. Her eyes are red-rimmed and glistening.

  I bolt upright. “What is it? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She hands me one of the envelopes. The other, the one she’s clutching in her left hand, has already been opened. “This is for you.”

  Harper turns to leave. I want to ask her to stay, to tell me what’s wrong. But she’s moving too quickly. When she gets to the door, there are two Contenders trying to make their way inside.

  “No,” Harper says, blocking their way. “Go away. Find another cabin.”

  “This isn’t your —” one starts to say.

  “Out,” Harper shouts. She looks back at me. My stomach clenches when I notice tears are now streaming down her face. “I’ll be right outside.” Her voice breaks. “No one is going to come in.”

  “Harper,” I say. But she’s already closed the door.

  I glance down at the envelope in my hand. It suddenly feels too heavy, too hot. Like it’s going to burn right through my palm. Grabbing the corner, I tear it open.

  The letter is folded three times. So little stands in the way of my reading what’s inside, but my hands shake as if I’m hanging from the side of a cliff, seconds left until I free-fall to my death.

  I don’t have to unfold the snow-white paper to know who it’s from. The blocky letters peeking through tell me everything. There’s only one person in my family who writes like this. Only one person who uses all caps like they’re screaming everything they inscribe. My mom tries to tell him to write like a gentleman.

  But my brother never listens.

  I unfold the letter and squeeze my eyes closed. A lump forms in my throat. I try to swallow it down, but it’s there to stay. When I manage to open my eyes again, the letters are blurred, swimming on the page like they’re playing a game. I rub the back of my hand across my face and begin reading.

  TELLA,

  YOU LEFT BECAUSE OF ME. I KNOW YOU DID. MOM AND DAD TRY TO PROTECT ME FROM WHAT’S HAPPENED, BUT I WISH THEY’D STOP. SOMETHING’S GOING ON, AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT. I ONLY KNOW THAT DAD SAID SOMEONE SENT YOU SOMETHING MEAN. THAT IT WAS A PRACTICAL JOKE, AND I SHOULD PRETEND IT WAS ME TO PROTECT YOU. AND NOW YOU’RE GONE.

  THE POLICE OFFICER HERE, HE ASKED ME TO WRITE YOU A LETTER. HE SAID YOU RAN AWAY TO TRY AND FIND SOMETHING TO MAKE ME BETTER. BUT THAT’S CRAZY, TELLA. THE DOCTORS SAID THEY COULDN’T HELP. SO JUST COME HOME. OKAY? JUST COME HOME. I KNOW I ALWAYS GIVE YOU A HARD TIME, BUT I’M JUST PLAYING. YOU KNOW THAT, RIGHT? I’VE NEVER ACTUALLY TOLD YOU, BUT I THINK YOU’RE PRETTY COOL. I’VE NEVER ACTUALLY TOLD YOU THAT I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, IT HURTS. THAT I’D DIE TOMORROW IF IT’D BRING YOU HOME.

  WE’RE ALL WORRIED, TELLY. DAD STAYS UP ALL NIGHT PACING, AND MOM KEEPS REPEATING SOMETHING ABOUT YOU HAVING HER EYES. COME HOME. PLEASE.

  — CODY

  The letter flutters to the floor as I curl into myself. The knot in my throat unties itself, and I choke on a sob. Madox is on his feet, licking my hands, telling me he’s here. But right now it isn’t enough. I need my brother. My mom. My dad.

  I need my family.

  I’ve deceived myself. Pretended I was okay here in this jungle without them. But it’s a lie I can’t escape. Tears race down my cheeks and tumble to the floor.

  I know why the people working this race delivered these letters.

  It’s to prepare us for the next leg of the race. To provide motivation.

  Their plan so works.

  Having Cody’s words in my head makes everything I’ve done worth it. He loves me. Of course he does, I know that. But he actually said it. My brother and I don’t do that. We tease each other, pull harsh pranks, and take every opportunity to make the other look bad. But deep down …

  And he said it.

  I despise the people running this race. But I need them, too. Because I have to win. I have to save him.

  The door opens and I wonder if Harper is back. When I glance up, I see Guy silhouetted in the doorway, an envelope crumpled in his grasp. My sobs deepen, and I reach toward him. I’ll crumble if he refuses me. If he walks away.

  He looks at me for a long time. Even in the dark, his eyes are the same as the first moment I saw him — cold as revenge. I reach toward him again and say his name. He glances away, and his face whispers of torment.

  “Don’t —” I say, but it’s no use.

  He turns and leaves.

  My heart explodes. My bones break. Tears pour from my body until I’m sure there’s nothing left. I pull into myself and clutch the letter to my stomach. My eyes slip closed, and I drown in despair. Madox nudges against my hand, but I don’t lift it. I can’t. He whimpers softly. It’s the last thing I hear as I crash into sleep.

  When I wake in the middle of the night, I feel Guy behind me, holding me as if I’m his only path to salvation.

  After five more days at the camp, I become restless. The woman from the device said the race would take three months. Harper and I decided this meant two weeks in each ecosystem, and one week of rest in between them. We couldn’t decide what the last week would entail. Then again, this was all guesswork.

  The other Contenders seem ready for action, too. It’s like we’ve all spent adequate time sulking over our letters, and now we’re ready to tackle the next obstacle. But the men in collared shirts don’t respond when we ask what’s coming. They just wave us away and keep patrolling the area. I begin to wonder if this isn’t part of a bigger test. To see who breaks under the pressure of idleness.

  As time passes, Guy continues to stay nearby. Rarely close — but nearby. Sometimes he’ll grace me with conversation. And on rare moments, a smile. My body aches for him in a way I’ve never known. I feel like an animal, all muscle and hormones and lust. We never mention the kiss, and it does nothing to quench the strange pull between us. It’s odd to feel this way in the heart of the jungle, but I think Guy could probably make me hot in the ninth circle of hell.

  I watch as Titus picks on a kid half his age. I’m tired of seeing him bully his way into a position of authority among the Contenders. And I decide since I have nothing else to preoccupy myself with, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.

  Dusting myself off, I head toward him. He’s holding the boy around the neck, and I mentally tell the kid to go for the crotch. That’d be my tactic. In fact, it will be my tactic. I’m only a few feet away when Caroline steps in front of me. Dink is hanging on her waist, and she’s holding her device out so I can see.

  It’s blinking.

  My teeth snap together, and I immediately look for Guy. I don’t want to hear the message without him near my side. I’m aware that my feelings for him can’t end well, not with us both here as competitors. But those are long-term thoughts. And right now, staring at the blinking light with my heart pounding against my ribs, I’m only thinking in the now.

  “Does everyone know?” I ask Caroline when I don’t spot Guy.

  “Not yet.” She places the device into her ear but doesn’t press the button. “It won’t be long, though.”

  She’s right. Within minutes, every Contender is putting their device into place. I don’t want to listen without our group together. It feel
s like if I do, then maybe we aren’t really a group at all. Already, Caroline and Dink stay by themselves, Ransom hides inside the cabins all day, and Guy and I move quietly through base camp side by side.

  And Harper. She’s still being stalked by the gangly blond. He refuses to leave her alone, and for some reason, she doesn’t tell him off. Just continues to ignore him.

  I give up hunting the Contenders I’ve become familiar with and put the device into my ear. Caroline wraps her hand around the side of Dink’s face, and nods.

  We both push the buttons.

  There are a few moments of silence while everyone tunes in, then the woman begins.

  “Good afternoon. I’d like to wish everyone well as we close the first chapter of the Brimstone Bleed.”

  I curl my hands into fists.

  “As you know, Rachelle Gregory won the first leg of the race and chose to return home to be with her family. We, at headquarters, fully support her decision. And now we’d like to offer the remaining Contenders a choice as well.”

  The woman pauses, and I can almost feel the Contenders around me holding their breaths.

  “In a few short moments, the two men who have graciously overseen base camp will leave. If you choose to follow one, you will be led to the next part of the race. If you choose to follow the other, you will be taken home. The decision is yours to make.”

  Caroline finishes listening to the message and drops her head. When she looks back up, there are tears in her eyes.

  I don’t know what to tell her. This decision is easy for me. I won’t give up. My brother loves me. And I love him right back. But her mother has never shown her enough affection to warrant this kind of personal risk. I’d understand her decision to leave. I grab her hand and squeeze. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “You don’t have to stay. We’d understand.”