Fire & Flood

by Victoria Scott

  “You okay?” Jaxon asks as we find a place to camp for the night. “You look a little crazy in the face.”

  “I’m so hungry,” I say.

  Jaxon holds his hands up and steps backward. “Easy, girl.”

  “I’ll send RX-13 out,” Harper says.

  Though I’m not looking forward to what the eagle finds in this hellhole, right now I’m too starved to care. “Want me to send Madox with her?” I ask, eyeing my waistline. I’m thinking I could’ve used the desert diet last swimsuit season. Maybe I could package it and make millions.

  The desert diet: Eat whatever you want, as long as it’s nondescript green fruit or beetles. If you’re hungry, spring for a rabbit. Plain.

  “No, the fox will just slow her down. Even if he does change shape.” Harper sends RX-13 off in search of food, while I think over the Madox insult she just tossed out. “God, I’m exhausted,” she says.

  I eye her with amazement. I thought she was like Guy, that maybe she wouldn’t know exhaustion if it shaved off her shiny, blond hair. Yawning, I realize I’m also beat. Walking through sand for hours on end has a way of sucking the life — and soul — out of you. For a moment, I imagine winning the Cure for Cody. On one hand, after he’s better, I could be all quiet-hero and never mention how difficult the race was. People will talk behind my back and say, She’s so brave. She never even brings it up, but we know it must have been terrible. That Tella, she’s amazing.

  On the other hand, I could go for martyr-who-will-never-let-it-go. I could shove it in Cody’s face every chance I got. I’d be like, Hey, Cody, enjoying that doughnut? You wouldn’t be if I hadn’t saved your ass. And, Hey, Cody, nice wedding you’re having here. You know what you’d be doing today if I hadn’t saved you? Not getting married.

  Lying back and driving my hands beneath my head, I smile at the possibilities. I feel Guy lie down beside me. I wonder if he’ll light a fire, now that I can hardly see a thing and the temperature is dropping. Or if he’ll get twigs for our beds — God forbid we sleep on something mildly soft. I decide if he does go twig hunting, I’ll go with. There’s no reason why I can’t help.

  I’m still puzzling over what Guy will do, and what his bedroom looks like, when sleep takes me.

  When I wake up in the middle of the night, the sheer darkness startles me. I’m so used to waking to find sunlight or a fire. I sit up and glance around. I can’t make anything out, but I can tell there are sleeping bodies nearby. I assume they’re my fellow Contenders and decide I must have missed dinner or that everyone passed out before RX-13 returned. I also determine Guy is human after all — otherwise, I know he would have lit a fire before crashing. I lie back down, scoot closer to where I think he is, and try to fall back asleep.

  But before I can, I spot something.

  In the distance is a glowing light. Madox is grunt-snoring at my feet, so I know it’s not coming from his eyes. I decide maybe it’s the cheetah but figure I better check it out. Pulling myself up, I debate whether to wake Guy. If this were a movie, this would be the part where I scream at the girl to not go alone. But this isn’t a movie. And if I wake up Guy and it turns out to be nothing, he’ll give me another one of those concerned looks.

  Running my fingers over my feather, I decide to take a quick gander and come right back. I listen for a moment to ensure Madox is still asleep — and still snoring — and head toward the light.

  As I get closer, I realize from the way the light dances that it’s a fire. Something is blocking my view of the flames, but I can’t determine what it is. In the colorless night and the flickering glow, my mind plays cruel tricks. I slow my stride and stoop closer to the ground, a nervous sensation blooming in my belly.

  I should go back.

  I should wake Guy. Or Harper. Or anyone.

  Though I think these things, I can’t help but take one more step. Then another. My heart throbs inside my chest. My skin tingles with energy. I can see the thing in front of the fire better now. It’s small. And it’s crouched. My face pulls together with confusion.

  One more step and I’ll be able to see it.

  I take the step.

  Understanding hits me as the thing turns in my direction. My entire body tightens and something screams inside my head.

  The thing is Dink.

  His pink mouth and small hands are covered in dark blood. I stagger backward and shake my head when Dink’s blood-coated lips part into a spine-chilling grin. Something is wrong with him. Something is very wrong with him. And I can’t help but notice how close he is. How he could reach me in a few seconds if he wanted. But that’s a ridiculous thought. Because this is Dink — the boy I decided is only about eight years old.

  Dink stands, and I notice the blood doesn’t just paint his hands but stretches toward his elbows. I take another small step back and stop when he holds out his palm. It’s like he’s asking me to come play. Behind him, there’s something lying on the ground.

  The blood. That’s where the blood is coming from.

  I glance around Dink and train my eyes on the thing he’s been toying with. The boy brings his outstretched hand to his mouth and licks his fingers. Then his smile stretches farther.

  Oh God.

  He hasn’t been playing with something. He’s been eating it.

  I move to the side, my sight fixed on the boy. Then I glance down.

  A scream catches in my throat when I see Jaxon’s cheetah lying behind Dink, his stomach ripped open.

  Dink makes a loud hissing noise and leaps forward.

  He’s on me before I can think.

  The boy opens his jaws and reveals his miniature teeth, laced with bits of flesh. He jerks his head toward me and tries to bite my neck. I fight to keep the child away from my face. There’s no way he weighs more than seventy pounds, but his strength is staggering when he knocks me down into the sand, as if his sickness has made him stronger. I cry out as I shove him away. But as hard as I push, he moves only a few inches back. He’s still dangerously close, but the extra space between us gives me the opportunity I need. I use my leg as a slingshot and kick him away. He flies off and lands hard in the sand.

  In a heartbeat, he springs onto his hands and feet like a monster and scurries toward me. His jaw hangs open and that same hissing sound emanates from his throat. I crawl backward as fast as I can, but he’s coming too quickly. His brown eyes have taken on an almost red hue, and I know if he gets to me again, that this time, he will actually bite me. No matter what, I have to stop that from happening. I can’t contract whatever he has. I can’t die in this desert. Because if I do —

  My brother dies with me.

  As Dink races closer, I spring to my feet, look for something to ward him off. Spotting the fire, I decide if I can grab a burning stick, maybe I can use it as a weapon. I dash toward the flames, the sound of Dink at my heels driving me forward. When I get to the blaze, I stop in astonishment. The fire — it’s burning without wood. Without leaves. Without anything.

  How?

  No sooner do I think this than Dink slams into my legs. My knees buckle and I fall to the ground again. He climbs up my back and wraps his hands around my throat. I open my mouth to scream, but he covers my lips. I cry out through his fingers anyway.

  Then he starts to push my head toward the fire.

  Every muscle in my body tenses as my face nears the flames. I manage to push away from the heat a few inches, but he shoves me back down. The smell of burning hair fills my nostrils. My mind spins when I realize the scent is my own.

  Deep in my throat, I scream. The sound is inhuman. I thrust myself away from the ground with every ounce of adrenaline I have. Dink soars from my back. Turning around, I ready myself to fight him. But when I see the boy, he’s lying on his back, staring up at Guy.

  Switchblade in hand, Guy crouches on one knee and jabs the other knee into Dink’s chest. The boy kicks and thrashes and flails his arms. But mostly, he makes that strange hissing noise. Guy raises the knife ab
ove his head.

  “No!” I scream.

  But it’s too late.

  Guy plunges the blade into Dink’s chest. The boy’s mouth falls open and his eyes widen. He pulls in four sharp breaths, and then his eyelids slide closed. They stop midway, so that I can still see the red brown of his irises. I cover my face and shake my head. This didn’t just happen. It didn’t. It didn’t.

  When I uncover my face, tears streaming down my cheeks, I see Guy pulling off Dink’s boots.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” I choke. “Leave him alone.”

  He doesn’t stop. Just keeps tugging off his right boot and then his left. He rips the boy’s stiff white socks off next and leans in. Glancing over his shoulder, he motions me to come closer.

  I shake my head.

  “Tella, come here,” he says gently. But I can’t listen to what he’s saying when his hands are covered in Dink’s blood. I know the boy was trying to hurt me, but he was sick. We could have saved him.

  Guy stands up and drags the boy toward me by the ankle.

  “Stop it,” I say quietly.

  But he doesn’t. And when he pulls the child close enough so that I can see what he’s trying to show me — I gasp.

  T-33 is stamped on his foot.

  Guy drops the boy’s ankle, and his leg falls to the ground with a thud.

  Like honey dripping from a bottle, realization trickles through my mind: Caroline saying her and Dink’s Pandoras had perished; Dink pretending to have lost his device; Dink saving Caroline from the river with ease; Dink building a fire without the use of anything flammable.

  Dink is a Pandora.

  Dink is Caroline’s Pandora.

  “No way,” I say, tears blinding my vision.

  “There’s nothing we could have done.” Guy says it like I’m feral, like I might bolt into the desert and never return if he speaks too loudly. He reaches toward me, and I curl into myself. I can’t look at him right now. He saved me. But he killed Dink. But he saved — “Tella, there was something wrong with it,” he continues. “The Creators went too far when they made this one.”

  “I don’t know how I missed it,” I whisper. I look up into his eyes. “I don’t know how I never —”

  I stop talking and a shiver races over my skin.

  Titus is standing behind Guy.

  “Guy!” I scream.

  Titus brings his arm around Guy’s throat before he can react. He snaps his head backward and Guy’s eyes bulge. I race toward him, but someone grabs the back of my shirt and yanks me against his chest.

  “Hey, beautiful,” a voice says against my neck. I cringe against the sound and land an elbow in his gut. He releases me, and I turn on the guy. He’s easily a foot taller than me, and is no doubt one of Titus’s friends, but right now I feel like a weapon. Like I could take down an army of Tituses.

  I stomp on the guy’s boot and then throw my palm into his nose. A cracking sound splits the air, and the guy crumbles to his knees. I feel another pair of arms clamp down on my shoulders and yet another pair grab my legs. The two guys lift me into the air and I erupt with anger. I kick and scream and bite and tear with my nails. But it’s no use.

  No use. Until Harper appears with Jaxon and Caroline — and our pissed-off Pandoras — at her heels.

  “Get. The hell. Away from her.” Harper catches up to us and lands a blow on the guy holding my arms. He releases me and turns to wrestle with her instead. I watch her for only a moment, but it’s enough to realize that — though I’ve always thought of Harper as indestructible — I’ve grossly underestimated her.

  She isn’t a Contender.

  She’s a warrior.

  Harper takes down a guy nearly twice her size as I wrestle with another who keeps going for my legs. Over my shoulder, I hear the screeches and cries of our Pandoras engaging the Triggers’ Pandoras. My gut twists as I think of Madox fighting. But right now I have to concentrate on the guy in front of me. The one sneering like I’m his next meal.

  When I hear Caroline wail, I realize she’s found Dink’s body. I want so badly to go to her. To tell her everything will be okay. But I can’t risk turning my back right now.

  From the corner of my eye, I spot Titus’s grizzly bear limping toward the fire. He opens his jaws and roars. The second time he roars, he also raises his paws, and a driving wind floods from his mouth and paws. I stop, startled, and watch as the fire blazes higher. As more wind pours from the bear’s mouth and claws, sand washes over the flames.

  The blaze drowns.

  I spot Caroline on the ground, Dink’s broken body lying over her lap.

  And then there is only darkness.

  A pair of hands encircles my stomach and hauls me away from the battle. I can hear Harper screaming in agony as I’m dragged away from my friends. Away from Guy.

  Away from Madox.

  It’s daylight when I come to. My hand flies to my head, and I groan. There’s a hard lump beneath my fingers that hurts when I touch it. For a moment, I can’t remember why. Then I see Titus squatting by his grizzly bear. He’s sharpening his knife against a stone. The steady slink-slink-slink it emits makes my head pound.

  He stops and looks over. A slow smile parts his mouth. “You’re awake,” he says, as if we’re old friends instead of a guy and the girl he knocked unconscious. “You’ve been moaning over there for a good hour. Thought you’d never come around.” He points the tip of his knife to his forehead. “Sorry ’bout the blow.”

  Glancing around, I notice six other guys sleeping. They’re spread out like skydivers along the sand. All except one, who’s curled into a tight ball. It’s an odd sight, given that he must weigh three hundred pounds.

  I pull myself up and wrap my arms around my waist.

  “I took your device and your knife,” he says. “And your canteen.” Titus stands up and walks toward me. I pull into myself as he crouches down. “Oh yeah. And your Pandora.”

  He points the knife over my shoulder at something.

  Spinning around, I spot at least a dozen Pandoras. My eyes scan each of them quickly. “Madox!”

  I scramble for my black fox, but Titus grabs on to my legs and drags me toward him. He wrenches me to my feet and presses our foreheads together. “I see you’re going to need some breaking,” he says.

  I jerk my head back and locate my Pandora. He has a rope around his neck that is tied to a tree. Many of the smaller Pandoras are secured in the same fashion. The Triggers must have used all their rope from the orange packs in order to imprison these creatures. A few Pandoras aren’t secured, and I wonder why they don’t flee. Among them are Titus’s grizzly, which I assume stays out of loyalty for his Contender. But the stolen Pandoras should have no such loyalties.

  Pandoras like Levi’s ram, G-6.

  Most of the animals have lash marks across their faces and torsos. Even the bear has a large wound across his midsection that appears infected. Seeing the laceration, I remember the creature had similar injuries when Titus was traveling with us. At the time, I assumed it was from the fight with our Pandoras. But now I’m certain it’s Titus’s doing, that he’s abusing his own Pandora. Though the bear makes me extremely nervous, I can’t help but feel a pang of sorrow.

  Madox, thank God, appears to be in perfect condition. Surprisingly, he isn’t fighting against the rope. It’s like he knows not to upset Titus. It seems all the Pandoras think the same thing.

  Don’t startle the psycho.

  I decide to take this as my own personal motto.

  “Isn’t my collection awesome?” Titus presses his nose to my cheek. “And now I’ve added one more to my display.” I think he’s implying Madox, but when he runs his hand over the back of my neck, I realize he actually means me. “Good thing my prized possession comes with the best Pandora on the market.”

  Letting me go, he points toward the top of the tree. “See what else I picked up?” I glance up and spot RX-13 among the branches, a rope wrapped around her leg. “That Harper bitc
h sure doesn’t need it anymore.”

  My head wants to snap around to look at him, see if he’s telling the truth, but I try not to move instead. He’s trying to get a rise out of me, but he won’t get it. I know they didn’t kill Harper. They couldn’t have.

  Right?

  Titus walks to his guys and kicks them each in the ribs until they wake. They don’t even complain. They just pull themselves out of the sand and look to Titus for direction. “These are the Triggers,” he says. “But I told you that already, didn’t I?” He nods to himself. “But did I tell you that we’ve been following you since the desert race started? I told my guys, I said, Stick with me, ’cause I know a girl and her fox who can win this thing for us. And when they do, we’ll all share the Cure.”

  “You can’t do that,” I say. “The Cure is to save one life.”

  “Who says? A voice from a little contraption?” He scratches his head with the tip of his knife, mussing his slicked-back blond hair. “When I win, I’ll make sure my guys are taken care of.”

  Though I know he’s dangerous, I can’t help but wonder if he’s right. Can the Cure be shared? Can the rules be changed? Looking into Titus’s dark brown eyes, I know that even if they can, he isn’t going to help these people.

  “Tella, listen. I know you may be pissed now, but you’ll come to realize I’m your best bet of winning part of the Cure. You’ll learn to like me. Hell, you might even learn to love me.”

  “If you think that’s true,” I snarl, “then you’re even dumber than I thought.”

  Titus nods toward Madox. “Dumb like a fox.”

  His guys — the Triggers — laugh like this is the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. Except the huge one, the one who sleeps like a terrified child. He smiles, but never quite laughs. I wonder if I could find sympathy with this guy. If he might help me escape. But I quickly dismiss the idea. Anyone who sides with Titus is someone I can never trust.

  “Thirsty?” Titus asks, holding up two canteens. I assume one is mine. For a moment, I consider refusing his offer. I don’t want to take anything from him. But I know if I want to survive this day, this heat, then I have to be smart. I nod. He hands me a bottle and says, “We didn’t know what the hell we were going to do about water. Good thing you guys had a Pandora who could create it, or whatever it is that elephant does.” His narrow nose wrinkles. “Though I’m not sure I enjoyed drinking after you. Pretty disgusting, actually.”