Salt & Stone

by Victoria Scott

  It’s enough.

  He extracts the device from his pocket and places it into his ear, and all around us, Contenders do the same. Madox and Monster sense a change in the air, and they make their way toward me.

  Don’t leave FDR-1 behind, I think to my fox.

  Madox cocks his head like, Seriously, the damn iguana?

  When I shove a hand on my hip like a strict mama, Madox glances at Monster, and their eyes meet in understanding, though that can’t be right. A moment later, the grizzly bear groans and lowers his muzzle to the iguana. He takes the lizard’s middle between his jaws and tosses the smaller Pandora into the air.

  “AK-7!” I shout.

  The iguana lands shy of the grizzly’s back but manages to grab hold with her claws and crawl up. With the iguana on his back, AK-7 shuffles toward me.

  I stand frozen at what I witnessed.

  Did Madox speak directly to the bear with his mind? No way. No freaking way.

  Braun clears his throat, and I realize he and several other Contenders are studying me as if I’m crazy. They must not have seen what happened. If they had, they’d be gawking at my Pandoras instead.

  Guy is watching me, too, an impatient tilt to his head, the hint of a smile on his mouth. Even remembering his lack of faith in me, I still smile back. After all, maybe I haven’t earned his faith. He’s not intentionally trying to hurt my feelings when he tells me what to do. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s enabling my reliance on him. It’s also not enough to make me hate him. I can’t imagine a world in which I’d hate him.

  Though I can certainly imagine one in which I tell him to bite me.

  When my three Pandoras reach my side, I put my own device into my ear and scratch behind AK-7’s ear. Madox yips, so I bend down and scratch him, too, never letting go of my hold on Olivia’s hand.

  As soon as the device is in place, I hear static, followed by the incessant clicking. Everyone now has their device in, and I wait while the woman delivers her speech. She always does this: makes us wait, forcing our minds to run rampant with fear.

  She begins.

  “Contenders, if you are hearing this message, then you have advanced to the third leg of the race — the sea. We, at headquarters, are extremely proud of your individual efforts, and we are proud of your Pandoras’, too. Those of you who have lost your devices have been issued replacements, but it’s extremely important from this point on that you keep track of them. Also, by now you’ve all been sorted into teams so we can better ensure you are safe and accounted for. You can take comfort in that.”

  I glance down at the red plastic band around my wrist. When I flip my hand over, I see the faint outline of a serpent I hadn’t noticed before.

  “Six weeks ago, one hundred and twenty-two Contenders entered the jungle to compete in the Brimstone Bleed. Three weeks ago, seventy-six Contenders entered the desert to do the same. And today, sixty-four remain to tackle the final two legs of the race.”

  These people infected Cody and Guy’s cousin and Harper’s daughter. They brought us here to a race only one person could win. They sent hunters to kill us and made us kill one another’s Pandoras, and yet they pretend to be the good guys. They are not the good guys. They are the monster under the bed, a slippery shadow in the corner at midnight. They are the thing you didn’t think to fear until it was too late.

  “The prize for the jungle portion was monetary, enough to afford the best doctors for your loved one. The prize for the desert portion was a small supply of the Cure, enough to ensure your loved one lived a minimum of five years. For the sea portion of the race … there will be no prize.”

  My heart sinks. I despise this robotic woman and her self-assuredness. I despise that I was hoping for a ten-year Cure. Something that could help Cody see his twenty-ninth birthday. The Contenders grumble their disapproval, but they don’t do much more than that. Neither do I. We’re too afraid to lose the chance to save someone back home.

  For me, though, it’s more than that. My mission remains the same: Finish the Brimstone Bleed in first place; save Cody; earn an invitation to work at headquarters; take down the race. This plan is based on Guy’s information, which I’m hoping holds up.

  “In a moment, you will each break into groups of eight, and each group will board a vessel that you’ll navigate through this leg of the race. Anyone not on a boat will be sent home. Only the Contenders in the first six boats to arrive at base camp will be allowed to continue in the race, and the first person from each group to reach base camp will count as the whole of the group. The rest of the Contenders in the remaining two boats will return home.”

  Contenders’ heads turn, murmuring to one another, already scouting the strongest, the smartest to partner with. Olivia drops my hand. I glance down at her, my mouth gaping. She twists her palms like Caroline, our old Contender comrade, used to do. At first, I believe she’s stating that I’m too weak to team with. But then I notice the way her head droops. I grab her hand forcefully and squeeze. She lights up with relief before turning her attention to her baby elephant in embarrassment. I look from Braun to Jaxon to Guy, but their attention is diverted.

  “Remember, you only have to follow the flags to arrive at base camp. And you will have two weeks. As always, we, at headquarters, wish you the best of luck. At the end of all this, one Contender will win the Cure to save the life of their loved one. We wish we had enough to give everyone this gift, but we take comfort in knowing we will at least save one.”

  The Contenders silently calculate their odds.

  Six boats out of eight will make it.

  Forty-eight people.

  “And now, Contenders, it is time to race.”

  As soon as she speaks those words, commotion splits the ship like an earthquake.

  The two men working the race wave us over to their side of the boat, and we rush forward to see what they’re referencing. Contenders are still calling to one another, working out teams, strategizing. Even the Pandoras seem to size one another up.

  Olivia has let go of my hand and is tugging on Jaxon’s sleeve, her mouth moving without cease. Jaxon is agreeing, scrunching his nose, agreeing some more. I don’t see Guy anywhere, not that I’m looking for him.

  A hush falls over us as we gaze out across the ocean. In the distance, bobbing like sprung jack-in-the-box heads, are eight enormous boats. They’re smaller than the one we’re on now, but still large enough to hold eight Contenders and their Pandoras. Each of the boats is different. There’s one built like an expensive yacht and another that resembles an old red-and-white steamboat. On the far right side, there’s a vessel that appears in every way like the party boats I’ve seen on TV, all Christmas-light decking with little cover, and across from that there’s an ancient sailboat that reminds me of a pirate ship. Next to each boat is a flat platform that slopes toward the water on one end.

  Something catches my eye, and I realize a Contender has hurled himself off the side of the ship. The dude has dark hair, an incredible body, and a quiet confidence I’d kill for. A moment later, a lion tumbles end over end after him.

  As soon as Guy and his lion hit the water, others begin to jump in. Guy didn’t wait for me. He didn’t tell me which boat to go to or when to leap. Why?

  Because he assumes I, and the others, will follow him anywhere.

  I hesitate long enough to send Madox a message to follow me and to tell AK-7 to bring the iguana. Then I run to the edge and climb to the top of the railing. I tell myself to jump. Jump! But my body won’t listen. The height is incredible, and maybe it reminds me of the way Titus fell to his death. Maybe it reminds me that I helped kill a human being.

  Other Contenders cling to the railing also, too afraid to let go. When I look back at the sea, though, and glimpse Guy’s athletic body shredding through the water, my fear vanishes. In its place is resolve born from frustration.

  … still be back in that jungle if it weren’t for me.

  I jump.

&n
bsp; My arms pinwheel, and my stomach lurches into my throat. The world rushes by, and for an awful moment I believe I will hit the water too hard and die. I’ve heard it’s possible. That when you’re falling this fast, hitting the water can be like belly flopping onto a parking lot. I instinctually suck in a breath, and then I crash into the ocean.

  Dark.

  Cold.

  Wet.

  Rational thought slips away, and I become a machine. Get to the top. Keep swimming up. Keep going. Kick, kick, kick. I can’t believe how far down I plunged, how long it’s taking to get to the surface. Don’t look around. Don’t panic. Swim. Swim.

  When my head breaks the surface, I gasp for air. It feels so good filling my lungs, I could sing. I want to get out of the water. I don’t want to be where something can get me. Every shark movie I’ve ever seen rushes back to me in an instant. I’ve never been particularly afraid of them, but that was before I was swimming in the middle of the sea, wondering if that’s a fin I’m seeing. I think of all the creatures that could be in the water with me and in the water near me, and if I wasn’t already icy cold, I’d have goose bumps.

  When I look up, I see two twin grizzly bears climbing down the side of the ship with their extendable claws. AK-7 can extend and retract his claws so he’s able to climb or descend almost any surface, and Madox can change himself into any other Pandora. One of the grizzlies has the iguana in his mouth. The lizard lets this happen without struggle, like she’s already lost all sense of dignity, so why not ride in a bear’s jaws into the ocean?

  As soon as I see my Pandoras are okay, I swim fast and hard toward the eight boats. Even from here, I spot Contenders climbing aboard one vessel or another; though other Contenders still haven’t found the courage to leap off the main ship. It makes me feel proud that it didn’t take me as long to dive in as it did for others, but I can’t help wondering if I jumped only because Guy did.

  Doesn’t matter. I’m front-crawling my way toward the closest ship, and I’m thinking about tossing in a butterfly or a breaststroke to show everyone that I know what I’m doing. I once got a green ribbon (third place, but still) at a swim meet when I was Olivia’s age. That’s something right there.

  I raise my head from the water and inspect the boats. Madox and Monster dog-paddle next to me, and the iguana clings to Monster’s back, amused at their efforts. Madox is back in fox form, and he yaps like I should make a decision already.

  Most of the Contenders are clamoring over one another to get to the yacht with the vast front deck. If you’re going to race for base camp, why not do it in luxury? I grit my teeth, seeing Guy standing aboard the yacht, a hand to his brow, gazing across the water. When he glimpses me and my three amigo Pandoras, he waves me forward eagerly. Now it’s obvious what he was doing by jumping into the ocean without talking to me beforehand. He was going first. Scouting the boat out and deciding whether it was the best one to travel aboard. Now the decision is made, and he wants me to follow that decision.

  If Guy is on the yacht, then the yacht is the best place to be. He knows it. I know it. The iguana probably knows it. But I find myself hesitating. Why am I hesitating?

  Contenders are now physically fighting one another for the yacht, pulling one another off the boarding platform. The yacht must be the fastest. It’s certainly the sleekest. Other Contenders abandon hope and swim toward the steamship or the party boat or the fishing boat.

  The point here is speed. We have two weeks, and I can’t waste time fighting Contenders for a vessel when I could be racing across the ocean. More than anything, more than the best vessel, I want the right teammates. And I don’t see Braun or Olivia or Jaxon aboard any of the boats, which means they’re still in the water. That means we still have a chance to work together.

  Guy waves his arms frantically, but I count at least seven people — all who are not my people — already aboard the yacht. I’d have to give up the others to join Guy on the yacht. It may be the best decision. It probably is the best decision.

  But it’s not my decision.

  I turn and swim toward the boat no one wants, my pulse pounding, and when I arrive at the boarding platform, I tread up the slope that meets the waterline. My Pandoras follow me, and together we board the ship we’ll call home for the next several days.

  I shake the water from my cropped hair and ensure my feather is still firmly attached. Then I walk to the edge of the rickety pirate boat and search for Olivia, Jaxon, and Braun. My legs feel weak beneath me, and my head spins. What am I doing? I just abandoned my best chance at tackling the Brimstone Bleed. My feet pace the wood decking, and I’m wondering if any of the others will follow me, and hoping beyond reason that they — and even Guy — will choose to continue together.

  But why would they? I certainly chose the least glamorous boat. I mean, it has sails, for crying out loud, and tattered red flags hanging limply from their masts. I remember squeezing Olivia’s hand in reassurance, but maybe she’ll evaluate my decision and find me seriously lacking in the sanity department.

  But no.

  There she is now.

  Grinning like heaven is here with me.

  Her baby elephant plods up the boarding platform, and once the twosome are even with the boat, they step on.

  “Where’s …?” I begin to ask.

  “Here,” Braun says. “I’m here.” He huffs and puffs, and, my God, I think he’s going to blow someone’s house down. His pig oinks with every step it takes, clearly displeased.

  The smile on my face is so wide, it hurts. But I can’t help it. Braun is here, too! Though if I’m honest, I was actually inquiring about Jaxon, not Braun. I’m surprised Jaxon wasn’t by Olivia’s side when it came to jumping off the mother ship. Ever since I met the twosome at the start of the desert race, they have been inseparable, like siblings, or maybe even like father and daughter.

  I hear a splashing sound and spot a girl, younger than Olivia, at the foot of the platform. She gazes up at our boat, at me, and her bottom lip quivers. Her blond hair is plastered to her thin face, and her green eyes hold a question in them. The girl can’t be any older than eight, and I can’t believe I never noticed her before this. She’s a beautiful child: smooth skin; red cheeks; long, dark eyelashes. The girl tucks hair behind her ears, and I notice how much they stick out. Even that imperfect feature grants her an endearing quality.

  “Did you want to come up?” I ask.

  The girl doesn’t hesitate. She strides up the platform and steps onto the boat. Then she sits down a short distance away and crosses her legs. I note her orange wristband.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “Willow,” she answers, her gaze lowered. “And I want to stay.”

  “No one is going to make you leave,” Braun tells her, and I agree.

  “Where’s your Pandora?” Olivia asks Willow.

  The youngest girl raises the hair from her neck, and out crawls a white rat with red eyes. The rat raises its nose in the air and sniffs. Then it hunches over on Willow’s shoulder and starts cleaning itself by running its pink-clawed paws over its face.

  “This is C-90,” Willow explains. “It’s a girl.”

  The rat’s gender does nothing to disguise the revulsion on Olivia’s face.

  “Damn ocean,” a man’s voice mutters. Braun and I lean over the edge to inspect who else has arrived. The first things I notice are his bald spot and potbelly. The second thing I notice is his blue wristband. The guy tries in vain to sweep salt water off his wet suit, which does nothing to flatter his figure. “I’m coming up,” he yells.

  As the man gets closer, I notice he has an extraordinarily wide mouth and doughy lips, giving him a fishlike appearance. He must be in his early fifties, and I’m not saying he walks like a penguin, but I’m not saying he doesn’t, either.

  Behind the man is an alligator, toothy grin and all. When the man steps onto the boat, he references his alligator and says, “This here is V-5. Blasted Pandora can’t swim. Had
to shove him off the side of the ship when he wasn’t paying attention. Then I had to hold the thing’s head above water the whole way over.”

  Madox races over to the alligator and flicks on his green eyes. He’s about to record the Pandora’s abilities so he can use them in the future. I brush my fox back and tell him to mind his manners, though I know he’ll just do it later while everyone sleeps. Fine by me. This is a race, after all, and we need to win. But there’s no reason not to be polite about it.

  “When are we going to move out?” the man booms. “Let’s go already.”

  “We only have five people,” I respond. “We need three more.”

  “We don’t need anything. The woman on the device didn’t say we have to arrive with eight people, did she?”

  Sixty seconds. That’s how long it took for me to dislike this guy.

  “We’re waiting,” Olivia says.

  Braun and I tell him that’s right.

  The man gruffs and waddles over to Willow. His alligator stays put. “Name’s Mac,” he all but screams at her. “Mr. Larson to you.”

  “Who’s the new guy?” a familiar voice says. I spin around and find Jaxon with his arms open like he’s waiting for a hug. “Hey-o! The party’s here.”

  I go to embrace Jaxon, my heart bursting with happiness, but Olivia beats me to the punch. She throws herself into his embrace and then punches him square in the gut. “Don’t lose me like that again.”

  “Room for one more?” a different voice asks.

  The hair on the back of my neck prickles when I see who it is.

  The guy on the boarding platform stands over six feet tall and is built like a Roman gladiator. His hair is so black, it’s almost blue, and his eyes are light brown. He reminds me of Guy in a way, but he isn’t Guy. This dude is more unnerving. I mean, Guy Chambers is as unnerving as they come, but not in the way that makes you think he might kill you in your sleep.

  A black bull stomps up behind the new Contender, the heavy ring in his nose dragging against the metal platform. The bull is massive, built of brute strength and agility. Madox goes absolutely crazy with excitement when he spots the new Pandora. My fox leaps from side to side, and as soon as he’s able to, he races over to the bull as he would a new friend.