Guy swims aside, and I continue using the water to pull the mammoth creature to safety. As soon as the Pandora’s legs touch the stairs, he scrambles up. Monster roars at him as he passes by, as if he’s not happy this creature threatened his Contender’s life. I grab hold of a stair and climb up, the extra cans of food forgotten.
“Into the sea,” Guy yells when he steps onto the deck.
“Set up the lifeboats,” I yell at the same time. We exchange a glance, but I quickly recover. “It’ll be harder to figure them out with the waves knocking us around.”
Olivia’s brow furrows as if she’s uncertain, but Harper doesn’t hesitate for a moment. “I’m with Tella. Let’s inflate the rafts now.” She gives me a silent nod, and I recall our conversation from the night before. How surprised she seemed that Guy wanted to send her into the hold during the storm.
“We need to worry about getting off this boat first.” Guy spots the water gurgling from the hold, and doesn’t wait for further resistance. He grabs the first yellow bag and tosses it off the side of the boat. Braun and Mr. Larson glance back and forth between us, and in the end, they help Guy move the other two rafts off the boat as well.
Guess the conversation is over.
My blood boils under my wet suit.
Olivia looks to me for direction, God love her. I sigh and wave her toward the ladder. Mr. Larson steps in front of Olivia and grabs hold of the rope. Then he swings his girth over the side of the boat and climbs down. I ask Harper to go next because I want her in the water in case one of the girls needs her. She obliges, but not without ensuring her Pandora is well enough to take flight.
Within minutes, we’re all in the sea. Mr. Larson holds his alligator’s head above water, and I remind myself to make time to berate the man later. The rest of our Pandoras can swim, even the iguana, as we found out.
Guy tugs on cords inside each of the life raft bags, but he’s not having any luck since he can’t get traction bobbing in the waves. The water is freezing, and my heart is thumping rapidly in my chest. I can spot the worry on Guy’s face. His eyes flick toward me for only an instant, but it’s enough. He’s admitting he miscalculated.
Braun looks back at the boat and then reaches over to help Guy. “We should have done it on board, I guess. We had time.”
“I’m so cold,” Willow says as her teeth chatter.
“What the hell, Guy?” Harper snaps. “If you’re going to underestimate everyone else, you better be sure of your decisions.”
Guy growls and makes several more attempts. Willow’s head vanishes below the surface, and Harper has to dive after her. She wraps her arms around the shaking, sputtering girl and glares at Guy.
Finally, mercifully, the first life raft bursts from its bag like a mushroom cloud. There’s a small rope ladder over the side like there is on the ship, and the Contenders use that to pull themselves aboard the inflated raft. It isn’t easy, and it takes Mr. Larson about a hundred and one tries before he manages.
We decide to put the Pandoras in the second and third life rafts after Guy gets them working, and many of the creatures we have to help pull on board. There’s also the issue of sharp nails, but the creatures seem to instinctually know to lie on their sides, or in Monster’s case, to retract his claws. When Cotton opens one of the two red bags and finds a length of rope, we use it to tie the three rafts together. After that’s settled, Willow curls up against Harper’s side, and RX-13 comes to land on our raft, holding her talons a centimeter above the rubberlike material.
Each raft has a side that’s covered by a tarp, which I’m guessing is for protection from the sun. Braun pushes the tarp back to make room for the nine of us to spread out, and in doing so, finds three pieces of a paddle. Guy screws them together, plunges them into the water, and begins thrusting our three boats away from the sinking ship. Cotton finds a second set in the third life raft, and mimics Guy’s broad strokes.
As we move slowly but efficiently through the water, our heads turn back toward the ship. Only the bow of the boat is visible, along with the long, pointed bowsprit at the front. It’s hard to believe the thing lasted only a day — twenty-four hours above the sea, one twisting in a storm. Now we’re here, our pride wrecked. I thought when they equipped us with supplies that they wanted to make us feel invincible before the storm. But that wasn’t the twist. The twist was they equipped us with everything we’d need to survive the ocean, and then they blew it all to kingdom come.
“It was some sort of explosive, huh?” Braun’s face is so flushed, I wonder if he’s going to be sick.
When Guy doesn’t respond, I tell Braun, yes, that’s exactly what it was.
A silence settles over us as we grasp what this means. We’re going to be stuck in rafts for days, maybe weeks. The ship provided distance from the ocean, but not anymore. Even though there’s a massive boat sinking in the distance, it doesn’t make a sound. That is, until the last of it disappears on the horizon, then there’s a long, deep belching sound.
Jaxon sits up straighter. “Did the ocean just burp?”
Olivia giggles, and he tickles her mercilessly. Harper sees their exchange, and she punches him in the shoulder.
“Ow!” Jaxon flinches.
“You’re an idiot,” Harper says.
“You love it.”
I hold my breath as the smallest of smiles crosses Harper’s face. But it’s gone the moment Jaxon says, “I’m sorry, Harper.”
“Shut it, freak show,” she says. “I’m working on my tan.”
My gaze finds Guy, and though he’d never admit it, there’s relief etched into the tiny crinkles around his eyes. Hit us with a storm, fine. Blow up our ship, great. But strife between Contenders? Nightmare.
I consider telling him something that will help his bruised ego. No one besides you could have steered the ship through that storm. Or I’m only able to think clearly knowing you’re here if I fail.
But I decide to let it rest. After all, it’s not a big deal. He made a call, and I did, too. The problem is he didn’t consider my option for a moment. But maybe I didn’t consider his, either.
“I think I see something,” Willow says.
All eyes swivel to the small girl, who looks more like a cherub than anyone should.
“You brought the binoculars?” Olivia asks, admiration in her voice.
Willow nods until Braun steals them away. “They were around my neck when everything happened. It was sheer luck.”
He stares through the binoculars, and when he pulls back, his jaw is hanging open. “It’s a flag.”
Cotton holds his hand out, and Braun gives him the binoculars. Cotton looks through them. “Yep, flag,” he says. “It’s on a buoy.”
Mr. Larson wants to remove the blue flag from the buoy. Apparently, he’s reclaimed his youth and wants to tie it around his enormous bicep like all the cool kids do. I’m adamant, though. This race is hard enough, and I hate the thought that removing the flag could deter other Contenders from finding base camp.
“You think they’d do us the same courtesy?” Mr. Larson has a finger up his snub nose, digging. He doesn’t care that we’re all watching him.
I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. In the jungle and the desert, it was easier to survive.”
Olivia barks with laughter.
“Easier than this,” I modify.
Mr. Larson gives up after Cotton threatens to hit him overboard with his paddle. I smile in his direction, and Cotton returns the gesture, but it feels forced on his part. Maybe it is on mine, too. Cotton saw Guy and me struggling to rescue our supplies from the hold and did nothing to help. That will be difficult to forget.
For some reason, I recheck his wrist for the colored band and the other Contenders’ wrists, too. I don’t want any more unexpected people Pandoras springing up on me. And Cotton … he feels off, even if he did supply a reason as to why.
My mind slips back to that night with Dink. It was I who found the young boy in the desert crouch
ed over Jaxon’s cheetah Pandora, blood on his mouth, Pandora guts lacing his teeth. That was mere seconds before he lunged at me. Minutes before Guy drove a blade into the child Pandora’s heart. The difference between Dink and Cotton is that Dink never had a device, and Cotton does. So I don’t believe he’s a Pandora. He’s simply strange.
Madox barks from the next raft over, and I give him a reassuring look that all is well. Then Braun brings out the rest of the supplies and announces that we have six bottles of water, three protein bars, clear wire, a bobby pin, and a knife. Mr. Larson reaches for a protein bar and unwraps it.
“Fat bastard,” Harper says. “You can’t help yourself when there are limited supplies.”
“Let him,” Guy says.
“Screw that.” Harper lunges for Mr. Larson, and in the scuffle, Willow slips a bottle of water under her wet suit.
“I’m the oldest. It’s my right!” Mr. Larson grunts between Harper’s grabs for the protein bar.
“My daughter died, prick, and I’m still playing fair.”
Guy shakes his head. “This is what they want us to do.”
“Stop!” Jaxon yells suddenly. He points into the distance. “I see another flag.”
“Already?” Cotton asks.
Jaxon hands him the binoculars, and Cotton mutters, “Already.”
“Let’s not get our hopes up,” I say. “It doesn’t mean we’re close. It only means we’re headed in the right direction.”
Guy and Cotton exchange a look and start rowing faster. When the sun has begun to fade, we reach the second buoy. This one is smaller than the first, but no matter, there’s our blue flag. This time, Mr. Larson doesn’t fight us to keep it.
Braun takes over Cotton’s rowing, and when Guy refuses to relinquish his spot to me, I see Harper whispering to her eagle. There’s a flutter of wings as the eagle takes to the sky. A second later, the bird dives into the ocean, but something is amiss, and the bird returns soon after, shaken.
“What’s wrong?” Harper asks her Pandora. “Go and fetch us something to eat.”
It’s Olivia who figures it out first. “Maybe Jaxon’s iguana messed her up.”
Harper’s face contorts with confusion. “I don’t understand.”
But I do, and so does Jaxon. He jumps to his feet, leaps into the raft holding his iguana, and pulls Rose into his arms as if anticipating Harper’s attack.
“Harper …” Braun begins.
“No,” she says, holding her finger up. “No, my Pandora is fine. It’ll wear off. She’ll be able to swim again. I bet she can still become invisible.” Harper laughs once, as if it isn’t a big deal, but she doesn’t test her eagle’s abilities further, and it’s a long time before any of us says anything. Harper’s Pandora was the best chance we had at finding food, and we all know it. Madox tries once to replicate the eagle’s abilities while no one is paying attention, but he can’t pull on her invisibility, and so I know he can’t swim deep underwater, either.
It’s much later, when the sun has set and FDR-1 is glowing softly to grant us light, that we learn a second hard truth — Olivia’s elephant Pandora cannot pull clean water from the sea like she did from the sand in the desert. Theories fly, the most popular being that EV-0 can only pull existing water from the earth, and since the earth is so far below the ocean, that’s now impossible. So we are without adequate food. We are without adequate water. But chin up, because we’ve found two flags in one day.
Madox is resting near Cotton’s bull when I check on him. The bull looks none too happy about it, but I also note that for the first time, the bull isn’t shooing him away. “Maybe we should tell each other what our Pandoras can do,” I say quietly. I don’t know why I’m being quiet. Maybe because it’s unfathomably still, and I’m afraid if I speak too loudly, the storm will return, and this time there will be no hope of surviving.
Willow goes first, but instead of telling us, she shows us. “C-90, come here. Quick!”
One second, the white rat is on the other raft, and the next she’s in her hands. Willow’s Pandora, C-90, just teleported across space like a ninja. I’m seriously impressed.
We all clap like we’re at a magic show and wasn’t that something?
When it’s Cotton’s turn, he asks Braun to be a volunteer. After he positions himself in front of Y-21, looking like a human parade float, Cotton tells his bull that Braun is a threat. In response, red smoke appears from the bull’s nostrils and encompasses Braun’s body. About ten seconds later, Braun hits the raft. “Don’t worry,” Cotton explains. “He’ll wake up in an hour or so.”
“That was wicked cool,” Jaxon says. “And kind of mean.”
Cotton laughs.
All eyes land on Mr. Larson. “I don’t like this. We’re competitors, right? So why should we share our Pandora’s abilities?”
“For the love of all that is holy,” Olivia mumbles, and Harper looks dangerously close to putting our single knife to good use.
“Maybe your Pandora can’t do anything at all,” Jaxon ventures, laughing.
“If you only knew what he could do!” Mr. Larson says this too loudly, and with too much force. That’s what gives him away. It makes me understand why he was so quick to abandon his Pandora in the hold, not that I would have done the same thing.
“I’m sure he’ll prove more than capable in the end,” I say gently.
The large man doesn’t respond.
With the waves rocking us like a babe in the cradle, we settle down to try and sleep. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to find peace, not while being so close to the ocean. There are still moments in time when I think back to my life before the race and wonder how any of this is possible. Mostly, I remember the way I was before I became a Contender. Competing in this race is like becoming a drug addict. One small slip leads to another, and before you know it, you find yourself in an impossible situation and can’t fathom how your life has spiraled so far from what it was.
When I open my eyes, the stars hang lazy in the sky. Something has startled me awake, and when I see what it is, I jerk backward against the raft. Mr. Larson’s alligator is beside me. Well, he’s partly beside me. His tail is in his own raft, his belly is draped over the two raft humps that press against each other, and his head and front legs are nuzzled firmly against my side.
I stay completely still, afraid I’m about to be the creature’s latest meal. But V-5 is fast asleep, so I clench my teeth to still my racing pulse, and I touch a hand to the top of his head. When I rub the flat expanse between his eyes, the alligator snuggles closer. I smile at this great and powerful reptile, and decide that if I were this Pandora’s owner, I would call him Oz.
For several minutes, I continue petting the alligator’s thick skin. Then I settle back down. My eyes are already slipping closed when I notice that Guy is awake and that he’s been watching me. His full lips are parted, and he’s tracing circles on his thigh with his thumb. He seems to be deep in contemplation, and his face is aglow with reverence. I hold his gaze for as long as I can, trying to keep my lids open. But my body betrays me, and I fall back asleep with Guy’s expression burned into my mind. It’s an expression that asks something of me, though I don’t know what. Maybe forgiveness. Maybe understanding.
Screw both.
Over the next three days, we survive the sea inside a life raft. Bonus points for finding more flags on increasingly smaller buoys. We’re definitely headed in the right direction, and to be honest, it wasn’t that difficult of a trail to find or follow, which means we know that’s not the real threat. The threat is the ocean itself.
We take turns paddling, though Guy never requests a break. Unlike every other time he’s been a martyr for our sakes, his sacrifice takes a worrisome toll. Dark circles form under his eyes, and over the last seventy-two hours his face has slimmed. His skin blisters, and he grows white around the jowls. We haven’t had anything to drink for two days, since we finished the last bottles of water, and I don’t remember if Guy h
ad any of the bottles we started with. For someone who is only here to save his cousin, he sure seems to make a lot of sacrifices for the rest of us.
I’ve never been so thirsty in my life or as hungry. In the jungle, and even in the desert, we were rarely without food and water for more than a day. Here it’s been almost three. My body cramps like it did when I had the flu. My throat feels like it’s on fire, and my head spins, and my heart is going for the gold in the Boston Marathon.
We stink, the lot of us, and urinating in the ocean has leached any sense of pride we had left. Though we can’t think of a single way to get water, we did try fishing for food. It was an epic failure without proper bait. Our Pandoras can’t help, either. The alligator can’t swim, the eagle still hasn’t regained her Pandora abilities, and the iguana and grizzly bear can’t dive low or fast enough to catch anything.
But last night, I formed a plan.
My stomach turns thinking about it, and I gag on the cold ocean air. What choice do I have, though?
When no one is looking, I reach into a red bag, grab the single blade, and slide it next to my thigh so that it’s hidden. Cotton says it won’t be long before we begin hallucinating, and maybe I already am. Maybe I’ve lost my damn mind, and this is what happens when you rob a human being of the things that make them human.
I look at the Contenders, hoping they’ll understand.
Then I look at the Pandoras, hoping they will, too.
This must be done.
I raise the blade high, and it catches Olivia’s eye. She must note the frantic look in my eye. She must.
“What are you doing?” she shrieks.
Harper lunges for me. Of course she does. She came here to ensure I finish this race, but what the hell for? I’m going to die anyway. Unless …
I bring the knife down, and before Harper can rip it away, I gouge a chunk of flesh from my calf. I’m not quite successful; the chunk hangs on by a stubborn thread. The pain is immediate and intense, and more blood gushes from the wound than I’d expected.
Salt & Stone Page 10
