I decide to treat the water I’d reserved for him as an unexpected gift and rub it over my face. The sensation is amazing, and I feel like maybe I could walk through the desert for another two hours if need be. No sooner do I think this than I feel myself lying back and my eyes closing. Harper is rattling off the keep-watch shifts, but I can barely make out what she’s saying. It’s like the words are coming from behind a wall.
I have to wake up when it’s Guy’s turn, I tell myself. I need to ask him what else he knows about the race. And about Dink. And if he’s being generous with the convo, maybe about that sexalicious tattoo on his back.
Someone takes my hand in theirs, and though I want so badly to open my eyes and find out who it is, I tumble into sleep.
The next morning, I wake to Madox licking my face. I have to admit, with my skin feeling like crispified meat loaf, it isn’t the worst sensation in the world. Without opening my eyes, I turn my cheek and allow him access to the other side. My mind is still hazy with sleep, so I don’t think to check if someone is watching — until now.
My eyes snap open.
I find Olivia looking at me with sheer disgust dripping from her face.
I push Madox away gently and pull myself up. She’s the only one awake. I’m thankful for that, at least.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I say.
“That makes it sound so much worse,” she responds, shaking her head. Her elephant is sleeping next to her, its legs folded beneath it. It sounds like it’s snoring.
I glance down at Madox, whose body is writhing with excitement. He’s thrilled that I’m awake, and I love him so much for that, it nearly hurts. Looking back at Olivia, I try again.
“I was half asleep,” I say. “I would never make him —”
Olivia smiles, and I realize she’s messing with me. “Sorry, I got bored keeping watch all alone. Humiliating you is the most fun I’ve had all morning.”
I breathe out and kind of half laugh. “I thought you were serious.”
“Nope.”
I survey our campsite and spot Jaxon spread out on his twig bed. His left hand twitches. “I would’ve thought Harper would assign you two to keep watch together.”
“She did.”
“Oh.” I fight the urge to smile, but lose the battle. The corner of my mouth tugs upward and Olivia matches the gesture.
“You’re all right, Tella.” Olivia stands up and walks over to Jaxon. As she nears him, I think about what a grown-up thing that is to say. You’re all right. The chubby girl squats down and gets close to Jaxon’s ear. She fills her lungs, opens her mouth, and yells, “Heeeeeey, Jaxon.”
He doesn’t move.
Olivia looks at me. “I think he’s dead.”
“I assure you, I’m not,” Jaxon mumbles.
The girl smiles and slaps him on the back. “Up and at ’em.”
Jaxon lies still, but the rest of the Contenders begin dusting themselves off and putting their clothes back on. When Guy glances at me, I silently kick myself for sleeping through my shift. I know Harper must have assigned us to keep watch together, and I know he didn’t wake me — as usual. I had so many questions to ask. Questions that’ll have to wait another day.
When Guy takes a pull on his canteen, we all do the same. There’s hardly any water left in my chrome bottle, and I assume from the concerned looks on the other Contenders’ faces that I’m not alone in this predicament.
“We should keep heading east,” Guy says. His voice is rough from sleep, and I have a strange urge to lay a kiss on his throat. “Harper, you want to continue leading?”
Harper avoids his gaze and instead stares at her Pandora, who’s flapping the dust from her wings. She couldn’t send a clearer sign; she’s too tired from yesterday to lead today.
“No, I want to lead,” I say. “It’s my turn.” As soon as I speak the words, I regret them. My skin is raw and blistering, and my legs are sore from trudging through the sand. I’d actually rather pour the remaining water from my canteen into the wind than lead this group. But I don’t want Harper to be embarrassed.
Harper shrugs. “Fine. Whatever.”
Before we head out, RX-13 and Jaxon’s Pandora, Z-54, hunt for food. They return with bitter green fruit and we force it down. Guy says it’s good they found this, that the fruit is mostly water and will help quench our thirst. I seriously doubt that.
Just as it did yesterday, the sun beats down with a vengeance. It’s like it has a personal vendetta against human beings and wants nothing more than to fry our asses like bacon. Which I could totally go for about now. And pancakes. Powdered sugar, blueberries, syrup — the works. Ugh. My skin feels like it’s on fire, and every breath I take burns my throat. The Pandoras hike alongside us, and I can tell that even though they were designed for this race, they’re struggling in these conditions.
Z-54, the sleek-bodied cheetah, strides along in front of me. The design of his body allows him an ease of movement the rest of us don’t have. Every so often, it’s like the animal catches himself and slows to match our pace. And each time he turns his head, I see his mouth hanging open, panting in the sweltering sun. I follow his paw marks in the sand, leading our group across the desert dunes, thankful for the guide.
After three hours of hiking, I hear something drop behind me. Turning around, I notice Dink slumped into the sand. All of our faces are coated in sweat and grit. But his looks different, almost swollen. “He needs water,” Caroline says, flustered. She pulls the canteen from across his shoulders and opens it. Holding the bottle to his lips, she tips it upward. He doesn’t react, and I soon learn why.
There’s nothing left inside.
“Oh my God. I knew this would happen.” Caroline looks at me — brow furrowed — as if I have the answers. “How are we supposed to survive out here?”
Olivia drops down and covers her face, like she’s been fighting the urge all morning. I glance at Guy, who looks every bit as concerned as Caroline does. I give him a look that says, What are we going to do?
He bites the inside of his cheek, thinking. “We need to find a body of water.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Jaxon says, kneeling to rub Olivia’s back. “But that doesn’t exist in the desert.”
“Actually, in many deserts, it does.” Guy massages the back of his neck. “Some deserts have streams running through them, and others lie adjacent to oceans or snow-capped mountains.”
“But an ocean won’t help us,” Harper says.
“No.” Guy looks at me. “But a stream or snow will.”
I can’t fathom being anywhere near snow. It doesn’t seem possible. Jaxon stands and squints up at the sky. “Maybe we should travel at night,” he says. “It wouldn’t be as hot.”
It seems like a brilliant plan, but Guy shakes his head. “That’s what’s easiest, so it’s what other Contenders will do. We need to travel during the day if we want to circumvent … conflict. Also, too many predators come out at night. We won’t be able to avoid them if we can’t see.”
Jaxon’s face drops with defeat. “Then what are we going to do? We’ll die in this heat, or we’ll die from predators. How do these pricks expect us to live?”
“Guys,” Caroline says, her voice cracking. “We have to give Dink our water or he’s not going to —” She stops and weeps into her hands. Her back convulses, but when she pulls her palms away, they’re dry. We can’t even cry anymore, we’re so dehydrated.
Olivia flops onto her back and squeezes her eyes shut. “I finished my water, too,” she says in almost a whisper. “And I don’t think I can survive this day without more.”
Olivia’s Pandora — which she told me this morning is named EV-0 — startles like it heard and understood her. In a flash, the elephant stomps away from Olivia and rears its head back. The Pandora raises its trunk into the air and then drives it into the sand. Madox barks and jumps in circles as the elephant blows through its trunk and sand showers the air. The Pandora blows again and again,
and more and more sand sprays up, creating a cloud of yellow.
“What’s it doing?” Harper yells, waving her arms in front of her face.
“I — I don’t know.” Olivia stands. She goes to move toward EV-0, but Jaxon grabs the back of her shirt and pulls her against him. Harper watches the way Jaxon shields Olivia with a strange look on her face. One I can’t quite read with the airborne sand blurring my vision.
The elephant stops blowing through its trunk, and when the cloud settles along the ground, I see that a small pit has been created in the earth. Other than that, nothing spectacular has happened. Olivia breaks away from Jaxon and throws her arms around her Pandora, which still has its trunk buried in the sand.
Bending down on its front legs, the elephant blows one last time into the earth — and the shallow pit fills with water.
“Get the heck outta here,” Jaxon says.
The water gurgles from beneath the pit, and soon there’s a miniature pond of clear water reflecting the burning sun. Caroline doesn’t hesitate. She drags Dink to the side of the water and splashes it across his face and over the sweat-soaked curls on his head. His eyes stay closed, but a low groan escapes his throat. Keeping an arm around his shoulders, Caroline fills the boy’s canteen and brings it to his lips. He drinks greedily.
After that, it’s a mad dash to the water.
Guy and I fill our canteens as Olivia drinks straight from the pool of water. I’d find it a bit gross that she’s drinking straight from the source we’re filling our bottles, but she’s beat out on the grossness scale by the lion, eagle, cheetah, and fox tongues lapping up the liquid.
So Madox was thirsty, I realize. And he was reserving what water I had for me.
I know my Pandora’s been programmed to help me win, but I can’t help feeling like he did it for more than just that reason. My heart aches watching him drink with insatiable thirst, and I pledge to force him to share my water going forward. ’Course, I guess that won’t be an issue since this baby elephant can apparently find water from inside the earth via its magical trunk.
Caroline and Jaxon fill their canteens last, and we all lounge in the sun, drinking water until our bellies are full. Olivia scratches her Pandora behind its ear; it has withdrawn its trunk from the ground and is drinking the water itself now.
“So …” Jaxon says. “Did that elephant just spit up water and we all drank it?”
“Don’t think about it,” Harper says.
Immediately, Jaxon nods. Of course, I can see him thinking, staring at her. What an idiot I am to have thought that. You are so wise and beautiful and perfect. Harper doesn’t seem to realize he’s studying her. That he seems awfully close to eating her face to see if it tastes like happiness. Knowing Harper, it probably does.
Before we leave the pit, we each take a turn washing the stank off our bodies — something we’re all thankful for. And then, with thin limbs and protruding guts, we continue walking through the desert. Olivia leads, with the elephant by her side. Guy suggested the idea to have her at the front, and ever since, the portly, frizzy-haired girl has trekked at the top of our group with her chin tilted toward the sky. I have to admit, I’m quickly becoming a devout Olivia fan. And her elephant? Any Pandora that can produce water in this hellhole is A-OK by me.
Madox circles my ankles and looks up at me so intently that he trips over his own feet. He seems to be saying, It wasn’t that cool, Mom. I can do anything it can do. I want badly to pick him up, but even though I’ve had my fill of water, I’m exhausted after walking so far today.
When the sun begins to set, we do exactly as we did the night before. Caroline fusses over Dink. Jaxon ogles Harper. The boys gather desert carnage for our beds. Guy watches me undress. I imagine our wedding.
We gather around the fire M-4 lights and talk for a few minutes. Everyone is fatigued and it isn’t long before I hear Jaxon snoring.
“Guess Jaxon can take the late shift,” Harper says, rolling her eyes. She assigns our shifts, and Caroline, Guy, and Olivia speak over her, echoing her words.
“We know our shifts,” Caroline says, grinning. She fingers Dink’s curls as he closes his eyes. It’s obvious he’s not quite asleep, but he seems to be fading fast. Though he drank as much water as we did, he still seems … off. Usually, he’d be the last to lie down, and only after he’d drawn pictures in the dirt or sand for a half hour or so.
I lie down, keeping my eyes on Guy. He’s stretched out on his back, his hands folded beneath his head. I realize I’ve hardly ever seen him sleep. There was this morning, and also when I followed him in the jungle and he slept in the trees. Maybe he doesn’t need sleep like the rest of us do. Maybe he really is a machine. I’d like to cut him. Just a little bit. Just to see if he bleeds. Then I’d like to kiss the spot and take the hurt away.
What is wrong with me?
Guy turns his head and looks in my direction. Just as I suspected, he isn’t asleep. Instead, he’s studying my face, like he couldn’t fathom succumbing to slumber before I do. I smile at him. It isn’t something I do much anymore, but right now, feeling his undivided attention — I give in to temptation.
He doesn’t smile back, and an unreadable expression shadows his face. I can’t quite interpret what it says, but I know it’s mixed with worry. For some reason, it makes me furious. I don’t need his concern. I can take care of myself, and I think I’ve proven that.
Turning away from him, I shut my eyes. I think of my brother and realize with stinging guilt that it’s the first time I’ve thought of him since arriving in the desert. I’ve been too occupied with the man who’s here now. And for the first time, I wonder — if that’s exactly what Guy wants.
I wake to someone rubbing my upper arm. When my eyelids lift open, the first thing I notice is the dark stubble along Guy’s jaw. He shaved at base camp, but it’s already grown back, casting a shadow on his wind-worn face.
His steady blue eyes watch me as I pull myself up.
“You woke me,” I say quietly. “I can’t believe it.”
He shrugs one shoulder and turns toward the fire. It’s roaring and crackling in the cold desert night, and I imagine he must have had M-4 relight it moments before. Scooting close to him, I feel the heat rolling off the flames.
“I’m glad,” I finish.
“You didn’t seem as tired tonight.” Guy rubs his hands together, then places them on his knees. He seems nervous, but I don’t think it’s because he has something to say. It’s more like he seems embarrassed to have woken me up. Like he’s afraid I’ll realize he wanted company.
That he was actually lonely.
I know he’s not going to initiate a conversation, so I decide to ask him the questions I’ve been harboring. I start with the easy stuff. “Guy?”
He looks at me.
“What did you mean when you told Caroline, ‘you know,’ after you said Dink should go with you guys?”
Guy stares into my eyes for a long time, searching. Then he says, “I just meant that he’s got to start doing things for himself. Caroline is stronger than she appears, but no one’s survival is guaranteed out here. If something were to happen to her —”
“There’d be no one to baby Dink anymore,” I finish.
Guy nods.
I’m not sure I believe what he’s telling me is the truth, but I have no reason to think he’s lying. Running my hand over Madox’s sleeping body, I ask my next question. It’s not the one I’m most curious about, but I’m going for easier banter before I pull out the big guns. “When did you get that tattoo?”
He swallows and glances toward his lion. “A few months before I left.”
This surprises me. I thought maybe it’d been something he did right after he received his invitation. As a let’s-get-ready-to-rumble symbol. But then, I guess it’d be all scabbed over like the miniature one my BFF from Boston, Hannah, got on her ankle. Of her own name.
“It’s a bird, right?” It’s the second time I’ve asked this, but
I feel like maybe he’ll answer now that we’re sort of alone.
Guy runs a hand over his fresh stubble, and I’m suddenly envious of that hand. “Yes, it’s a bird.”
“Any particular kind?”
Guy looks right into my eyes, and my heart stops. I imagine I’m dead, and this is what heaven feels like. The way he’s staring at me makes me think I’m missing something important. “It’s a hawk,” he says slowly, so quietly I almost don’t hear him.
“Oh” is all I can think to say.
He looks at me for another full minute, then glances back at the fire. Guy is a mystery. From the way he speaks to the scars and disfigurements across his body. And I’m ready to get answers. Real ones. I swallow the lump in my throat. Last question. “You know more about the race than what you’ve already told me.” I squeeze Madox’s short tail in my palm. “I want you to tell me the rest. Everything.”
“That’s not going to happen,” he says.
Anger boils inside my chest. He’s harboring information that could help the rest of us. We’ve all agreed to aid one another until the end, yet he’s not doing that. Not really. What upsets me most is that I know I’d tell him. “You act like you’re a part of this group. But as long as you’re withholding information, you’re not.” I lie back and roll onto my side. “I can’t trust you if you won’t trust me.”
He stares straight ahead, but even from here, I can see his face soften. “The only things I know …” He pulls in a breath. “The only things I know are what my parents told me.” Guy glances at me. There’s fire burning in his eyes. “I won’t tell you anything that could bring you harm.”
I sit up, hands on my knees. And I wait. I know to wait.
“It started with a man named Gabriel Santiago. The Pharmies worked for him.” Guy fills his lungs like he’s preparing to fill in the holes in the info. “Some of the Pharmies were scientists who worked in genetic engineering. Others worked in medicine. But they were all creators of sorts. And Santiago, he had the kind of money that could make things happen.
Fire & Flood Page 19
