Fire & Flood

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Fire & Flood Page 17

by Victoria Scott


  “Would she, though?” Caroline says as Dink tugs on her side and looks up at her. “Would my mother understand?”

  I shake my head, because I can’t find the words. And because, no, her mother doesn’t sound like the kind of person who would understand. Or the kind of person who’d have ever considered doing for her daughter what Caroline’s done for her.

  “If I leave, I’m going to take him with me.” Caroline pulls Dink in front of her.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” I say, though I’m fighting the urge to beg her to stay. To tell her I can’t continue this race without all of us there.

  Something brushes my back, and I turn to find Guy. His eyes lock on my face. “Are you ready?” he says. “They’re already lining up.”

  I glance over his shoulder and see that he’s right. The two men are positioned ten feet away from each other, and a line of Contenders stands before each person. There are fewer Contenders in front of the man on the right, and I wonder if that’s the leave or stay line.

  Guy places his hand on the small of my back and a torrential current rushes through me. I wonder whether Guy is confident I’m staying, or has come to ensure I don’t go.

  I look back at Caroline as Guy leads me away. I want to tell her good-bye, that I’ll never forget her or Dink. But something tells me it’s better this way. That I have to learn to move forward without lingering on the past.

  Guy moves toward the left. “Is this the stay line?” he asks the girl in the back.

  She nods, looks us both over, and turns back around.

  Harper comes up behind us. I smile in her direction. She doesn’t return the gesture, but maybe that’s because the blond guy is still chatting away in her ear. He follows her into line like she’s his lighthouse and gives me an excited wave when he catches me watching.

  I wave back and laugh despite the situation.

  Titus elbows his way past us all and heads toward the front, his pack trailing behind him. He turns once to verify we’re watching. When his eyes connect with Guy’s, he looks forward and continues on.

  Near the front, I see the man in the collared shirt raise his hand to silence us. For the first time, I notice there’s a small chest near his feet. It’s made from carved wood, and the latch glitters emerald green. When a hush falls over the Contenders, he opens the chest and retrieves a monstrous-sized syringe. It’s filled with a green, swirling liquid.

  “Right sleeves up.” The man indicates the syringe. “You’ll only need a little,” he adds, as if this is supposed to comfort me. As if the thought of that needle going in my arm isn’t enough to make me switch lines. I glance over at the leave line. Yeah, no syringe.

  The Contenders begin pulling up their right shirtsleeves. The man injects a small amount into the first Contender and moves down the line.

  “Guy,” I whisper, sweat pricking my brow.

  “It’s okay,” he says. “They wouldn’t kill us now.”

  Kill us? Kill us? I wasn’t even thinking that. I was only worried about the syringe. And maybe that it’ll make us fall asleep again. But mostly, that the man and his mammoth needle are only four Contenders away now.

  Three.

  Two.

  He gets to Guy, and Guy holds out his upper arm as if he’s actually excited about getting injected with a foreign substance. The needle punctures his skin and I see a bit of blood spiral amid the green. They shouldn’t be using the same needle on all of us, should they? My muscles clench tighter. Madox rears up against my leg and barks.

  Yeah, no crap. That’s what I’m saying. Why is no one freaking out?

  I glance at Harper, but she’s facing forward like a marine. I hate her so much right now, I could scream.

  Something pricks my arm and I yelp. I turn and glare at the man. He gives me a look that says I’m pathetic and moves toward Harper. It’s over, I think. It wasn’t so bad. I glance at Caroline and Dink, and I can’t help myself. Raising my arm, I wave. I must tell them good-bye, if only in this small way. Caroline smiles warmly and waves back, her eyes still wet with tears. She raises Dink’s arm and waves for him, too. I bite my lip to keep from laughing … or crying.

  And then Caroline’s face begins to blur.

  When I open my eyes, the sun blinds me. I jerk my face away from the light and gag on a mouthful of grit. Glancing down, I realize what I’m swallowing is sand.

  I push myself up as adrenaline courses through me.

  The desert.

  We’re in the desert.

  I shade my eyes and glance around. Other Contenders are pulling themselves up and rubbing their faces. The memory of leaving the jungle is hazy. I can only recall the syringe.

  Panic strikes through me as I search for Madox. I find him close by, jumping in a circle and biting at the sand swirling around his feet. I scoop him into my arms and glance around, looking for Guy. He’s already pulled himself upright and is striding toward me.

  As he walks, I notice he’s no longer wearing brown scrubs. And neither am I. We’re now dressed in white shirts, tan cargo pants with a serpent on one of the many pockets, and brown boots that creep toward our shins. Guy’s white shirt hugs every muscle in his chest and arms as he moves. I blush against the desert sun and hope he thinks it’s from the heat. My embarrassment serves to distract me from the knowledge that once again, someone has changed my clothing without my remembering. If that’s not the epitome of creepiness, I don’t know what is. I’m discouraged to see my new threads aren’t a wardrobe improvement. I briefly consider making Madox my Toto and clicking my heels together.

  There’s no place like Nordstrom, there’s no place like Nordstrom.

  Already, sweat forms along my hairline. It must be a hundred degrees here. Maybe more. The heat isn’t wet like it was in the jungle. Instead, it’s so dry that each breath I take parches my throat. Realization hits me that I left for the race in August, which means it’s probably September by now. September. In the desert.

  Great.

  Better than August, I guess.

  Hills of sand roll across the landscape like waves in an ocean. The sun is enormous, and I imagine if I stretched tall enough, I’d burn my fingertips. With the presence of a never-ending sun and the absence of heavy foliage, it’s like I can see forever. My eyes ache from taking in the vast emptiness. In the jungle, I was always seeing, always exploring something new. But here, my mind is clear. There’s a kind of beauty in the stillness. In the quiet.

  Guy and his lion circle around the Contenders and move away. I’m not sure where they’re going until I see a mess of bright orange packs along the ground. The people working the race obviously dropped us here with supplies. Maybe that’s good. Maybe that means this leg will be easier.

  After taking three steps toward the bags, I stop. The tanned muscles along Guy’s arms work as he pulls not one but two packs over his back, and then he heads over.

  He hands me one of the backpacks and I put Madox down to slip it on.

  “Thanks,” I mutter. I’ve accepted that I’ll never figure Guy out — the way he helps and protects me, then leaves when I need him most. I know he’s here to save someone, and that I’m probably confusing him. But I wish he’d open his mouth and say so.

  Reaching into the pockets of my cargo pants, I feel the white device and relax slightly. “Do you have your device?” I ask Guy.

  He nods and turns toward the desert. “I’m sure it’ll go off soon enough.”

  I watch him watching the sand, then I turn and look for Harper. She’s heading in our direction, the blond boy at her heel.

  “Hey,” she says. “You guys getting ready?” She seems unsure for some reason, and I wonder if she’s questioning whether we’ll continue to travel together. I know it’s what I’ve been thinking.

  I decide to rip the Band-Aid off.

  “Ready, now that you’re here. Took your time sauntering your tush over, didn’t you?” I bump her shoulder and smile, all while holding my breath. “Want to lead
for a while when we kick off?”

  She turns away and peers into the sun, but I don’t miss the relief dripping from her face. “Sure, whatever.”

  “Hey-o, I’m Jaxon. With an x, not a cks. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Harper’s told me so much about you.” I look at Harper. She shrugs. Jaxon throws a long, thin arm around her shoulder and she brushes it off. “I’ll be traveling with you guys, but don’t fret, I’m good company. Whoa, rewind. Let’s go with outstanding. Don’t want to shortchange myself.”

  “Traveling with us, huh?” I can’t stop smiling at a fuming Harper. It’s obvious she’s found some redeeming quality in the guy, or she wouldn’t have ever agreed to this. Which I’m actually only guessing she has. “Well.” I glance at Guy, then back at Jaxon. “Welcome, I guess.”

  A young girl with red cheeks steps out from behind his legs. She looks to be about ten years old and is every bit as round as she is tall. Her brunette hair is pulled back into a ponytail and small wisps of hair curl around her face. The overall effect is beyond endearing.

  The girl straightens. “I’m Olivia. I’d like to come, too. If it’s all right.”

  Jaxon musses Olivia’s hair and more wisps spring out from her ponytail. “’Course it’s all right. I can’t go anywhere without my sidekick.” The girl grins up at him.

  “You’re more than welcome to join us.” No one contests what I’ve said, so I assume the matter is settled. We’ll have two new Contenders to add to our group.

  “Are we being replaced already?” a soft voice asks from behind me. I freeze, but a slow smile crawls across my face. As I spin around, my heart leaps.

  Caroline and Dink are trekking through the sand toward us.

  “Knew you couldn’t stay away,” Harper says.

  I throw my arms around the woman I hardly know, almost giddy with relief. “You came,” I say. “You changed your mind.” I try hard not to do my happy dance, to keep my arms at my sides and my feet on the ground, but my body wins out. I jump in a circle, pump my arms, and shake my butt. I’m so obnoxious.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Guy asks.

  “My happy dance,” I respond, as if it’s obvious.

  He shakes his head, but I can tell he’s pleased we’re all together. But we aren’t, really. Our group falls quiet and it’s like we’ve suddenly remembered who we’re missing. One brother is gone forever. But the other …

  Our heads turn as we seek him out. At first, we don’t see him, but then Dink raises his arm and points.

  “I’ll talk to him,” Guy says. No one fights him for the job. He walks away and approaches Ransom. We watch without speaking as Ransom shakes his head. His mouth never moves. Guy returns and when we look at him for confirmation, he shakes his head once. We don’t ask for details, but I can’t help feeling like I should try. I swallow my apprehension and move toward Ransom.

  Guy grabs my arm. “Let him be, Tella,” he says. “He’s not ready for anyone’s companionship.”

  I hear Guy speaking, but I can only study Ransom’s slim body. He looks like he’s lost a lot of weight, and his Pandora watches him carefully, as if he knows something is off with his Contender. So young, I think. But then I remember that he’s only two or three years younger than I am.

  “I’ll give him space today,” I say, mostly to myself. “But I won’t stop trying to reach out.” I know by saying this, I’m letting go of the fantasy that our old group will travel together. And I suppose I’m praying now for another chance to see him at the next base camp. Maybe after some time alone to mourn his brother, he’ll be more willing to let us in.

  “What’s inside the packs?” Caroline asks. “I haven’t looked yet.”

  Instead of answering, I look more closely at Dink. His face appears flushed, and I wonder if he’s okay. “Dink, are you feeling all right?”

  “Oh, he’s fine,” Caroline says, pulling him against her. “I think the serum they gave us just affected him more than most.” She looks down at him. “He’s so small.”

  “And inconsequential, which is exactly why he shouldn’t be here,” a new voice says. His words grate my nerves, and before I even turn my head, I know it’s Titus. His blond hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing a painted-on smile. “Tella,” he says, cocking his head up.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  “To make you a proposition.” He looks at the pack of guys behind him, then back at me. “I’ve chosen the best Contenders to travel with. And I assure you, one of us will win this race.” Titus glances at the fox at my feet. “I’d like to offer you a position with us … with the Triggers. And with it, a chance to win.”

  “Pass,” I say.

  “Reconsider,” he growls, stepping toward me.

  Guy shoves him backward. “She said pass. Now get the hell out of her face.”

  Titus looks alarmed, like he never expected Guy to challenge him in front of his followers. But once again, he fakes a smile and opens his arms, as if everything is one big joke. “Have it your way. Die in the desert, assholes.”

  When he swivels on his heels to move away, I gasp. I notice for the first time that he’s holding the end of a rope in his left hand. Attached to the opposite end is G-6, Levi’s ram. I go to snatch it from Titus, but he jerks his arm away like he has eyes in the back of his head.

  “See you noticed I went Dumpster diving,” he says over his shoulder. “He’s not the most impressive Pandora, but then again, I’m not done collecting yet.”

  At this, Guy attempts to grab Titus, but AK-7 barrels forward and growls. In response, M-4 leaps in front of Guy and swipes his paw just shy of the bear’s face.

  Titus roars with laughter and leads the clan of guys — the Triggers — and their Pandoras away. I catch Ransom staring Titus down and wonder if he has a plan to get his brother’s Pandora back. If he does, I certainly wouldn’t mind being included.

  I glance at Guy. “He’s after Madox. That’s what Titus was saying, right?”

  Guy rubs his jawline, considering. “Yeah, but I think he’ll be looking to pick up any Pandora he can along the way.”

  “We’ve got to take that jerkoff down.”

  We all turn and look at Jaxon.

  “What?” he says. “That guy’s a grade-A douche.”

  The corner of Harper’s mouth hitches up, and Guy offers his hand to Jaxon. “Welcome to our group.”

  Jaxon laughs and pumps Guy’s hand. Then he says, “The Triggers. How friggin’ pompous is it to give yourselves a name?” He sighs. “What’s ours?”

  “No,” Harper says. “We’re not naming our group.”

  “I know. The Bombs.” Jaxon makes a falling motion with his fist, then explodes it against the palm of his other hand.

  “Dumb,” Harper says.

  Jaxon thinks. “The Machines?”

  “Nope,” I tell him.

  “The Brimstone Bosses!”

  “Guys,” Caroline says softly. “The light is blinking.”

  My shoulders tighten, and I dig into my pant pocket, searching for the device. When I find it, I fit it into my ear. My eyes never leave Guy’s face. He puts his own device into place and holds my gaze. After three weeks in the jungle, his hair still springs toward the sky in dark spikes. It’s like it’s determined to hold its style regardless of what happens. As opposed to my own hair, which curls closely against my scalp in chaotic patterns. For a fleeting moment, before the woman speaks, I pray that the orange pack I’m wearing holds Chanel makeup. And a brush. And a mirror.

  Clicking.

  Static.

  “Welcome to the second leg of the Brimstone Bleed. As you’re probably aware, this portion of the race will take place across the desert. Just as before, you will need to find the flags in order to locate base camp. And once again, you will be allocated two weeks for completion.”

  The sun beats down on the sand dunes, and I can see the air vibrating. It’s almost like I’m underwater. There are sporadic bushes and sparse trees sprouti
ng from the sand, and I wonder how it’s possible they grow in this heat. How anything can survive it. How I will survive it.

  “One hundred and twenty-two people entered the race,” the woman says proudly. “And seventy-eight Contenders remain.”

  I’m surprised so many Contenders have dropped off. I didn’t see that many in the leave line at base camp, which means some Contenders are still in the jungle. Or worse, they’re like Levi. Gone.

  “That means your odds of winning this leg of the race are that much better. And this round, we have a very special prize.” The woman pauses, and I imagine how strangling her might feel. “The winner will receive a small dose of the Cure. Enough to ensure your loved one lives for a minimum of five years.”

  All around me, people gasp. As for myself, I’m too shocked to move. My insides roil with conflicting emotions. One is hope, that I can win Cody a guarantee of five healthy years. Another is anger, that the people working this race can do this to us. Surely, if they wanted to, they could create enough of this cure for everyone. The last emotion is the hardest to face — doubt. Doubt that any of this is real. That there’s really a cure that can save Cody. Or anyone else, for that matter.

  Still, I have to try. I have to fight for the chance to help him. Besides, Guy did say the Pharmies existed. And I trust him.

  Right?

  I notice Jaxon waving down two animals, which I assume are Pandoras. The closest one, a cheetah, sprints over to Jaxon and rubs against his leg. Behind the cat, taking slow, heavy steps, is what looks like a baby elephant. The creature moves toward Olivia and wraps its long gray trunk around her waist. The girl scratches beneath the elephant’s chin and stares forward.

  Beyond the Pandoras, my eyes connect with Titus’s. He raises a thick arm and points in my direction. Ice courses through my veins at the sight.

  The woman’s voice continues.

  “The best of luck to you, Contenders,” she says. “Now run!”

  I can almost imagine her arm punching the air. In the same moment as the woman tells us to run, the ground shudders. Seventy-eight Contenders and their Pandoras rush forward. Guy grabs my arm and holds me in place. I’m not sure what he’s doing, but I take his lead and do the same to Harper. One by one, we pull ourselves together to avoid being trampled.

 

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