Fire & Flood (13 page)

I know he won’t say anything else.

Our group hikes through the jungle for five days, our Pandoras trailing nearby. We face problem after problem: falling trees that nearly flatten us, unrelenting rain, chronic fatigue, insect stings … the list feels never ending. The
race
feels never ending. Mostly, we do what we can to survive each day. We eat and drink what the jungle provides. We share stories and memories from home as we hike to keep our spirits up. And we locate two more flags: each southeast of the one before it.

At night, we set up camp and take our usual shifts keeping watch. Guy continues to not wake me when it’s my turn, and I continue to wake up on my own through sheer determination.

We talk during this time. Me more so than Guy, but still, he has his moments. There’s never any divulgence about the race, not since that first time. But it feels good to have a moment that’s stolen. As if we carve it out of the jungle night and say,
This belongs to us.

I learn that Guy actually enjoys the wilderness, and if it weren’t for the race, he might be having the time of his life. He’s from Detroit, which I find insanely cool, and he has three younger brothers. Though he’ll never admit it, I know he also worships his father. Oh, and he likes newspapers: not to read, just the crinkling sound the pages make.

Five days. Ten stolen hours. And that’s all I know.

Every day now, Guy hikes behind me. It makes me super paranoid. Mostly, I think about the size of my butt and its general flatness versus roundness. At least it keeps my mind off more serious matters. Like the fact that my hands have started trembling, or that Dink hasn’t said a word in three days, or that Titus grows more agitated and aggressive by the day. I once asked Guy why
we let him stay. He said something about it being better to have him in sight.

Today is day ten. And behind me I can hear Guy’s steady steps. They are faint, but the sound still soothes me. Just like every other day, I puzzle over what Guy told me about the race. About why the Pharmies created the Cure, and the Pandoras, to begin with. Four days ago, I thought about telling the others what Guy told me but decided I’d better try and get the full story first. Because God knows if they all start asking questions, he’ll clam up for sure. But once I do find out, I’ll share what I know. It’s only fair.

“Everyone still good for another hour before we rest?” Harper asks, rupturing my thoughts. She cranes her head skyward as she speaks, searching for her eagle.

The other Contenders and I mumble an affirmative response.

“Okay, I’m going to ask it,” Ransom says. “How much friggin’ farther do you think base camp is from here?”

“Forever,” Levi answers, one hand on his ram’s curled horn. “It’s forever from here. That’s what it feels like anyway.”

“Ten days,” Caroline says quietly.

I know what she means. We’re starting to cut it close. We have only four days left.

“What if,” Ransom says. “What if there really isn’t a base camp?”

Harper stops suddenly, and Ransom slams into her back.

“God, Harper,” he groans. “Walk much?”

She spins to face him. “Don’t say crap like that. We don’t need it. Understand?”

He looks off to his right. I can’t see his expression from here, but I imagine it’s one of irritation. Our fuses have become shorter with each mile we hike. Ransom rolls his hand as if to say,
Whatever, let’s go.

We keep walking, and I fight the urge to look behind me. To see what Guy is doing. Maybe he’s building binoculars out of bark
or a cell phone out of vines. Madox trudges through the jungle near my right ankle. He’s been a trooper during this race, though I can tell even he is beginning to tire.

We walk in formation for another few minutes until I hear something. Everyone stops and listens. This is what this leg of the race can be summarized as: listening. There are sounds that tell us a foreign animal is near, and others that the rain makes. When it’s morning, there are sounds that entire armies of insects create, and different sounds for when we’re near a stream.

The sound I hear now is not an innocent one.

It’s heavy and slow, and my mind begins to fill in the blanks. It must be large, and it’s either hunting for something or already on the prowl. As the noise grows louder, I know it’s closing in, and because it doesn’t slow, I determine it’s not here to attack us. Titus’s grizzly takes a step forward and lifts his muzzle into the air, smelling. M-4 mimics him from a few feet away.

I startle when I feel something behind me. Craning my neck, I find Guy standing so close that his arm brushes my back. He’s looking over my shoulder, watching intently, like he’s waiting to take those last two steps so that he’s in front of me. I want to tell him I can take care of myself. That
Madox
can take care of me. But the truth is I like that he’s there, just in case. So I turn and face the sound.

Narrowing my eyes, I can spot two animals heading toward us. As they tread closer, I notice there is a
third smaller animal and three people following behind. I wonder if they are Pandoras or jungle creatures. But as I get a better look, I know it’s the former. The animal in front is a zebra. Its stripes change colors as it walks so that it blends almost seamlessly into the green and brown foliage. Behind it is a rhinoceros, a thick ivory horn growing from the tip of its nose. Hanging near the back, close to the three Contenders, is a kangaroo. Its long tail drags behind it as it hops along.

The Contenders don’t notice us, and I’m not sure if that’s for the best. I can’t help wondering who these people are, where they came from. The cluster of travelers is made up of an older man, maybe in his midforties, and two younger girls who appear dangerously thin.

Harper takes a few hesitating steps toward them, and then raises her arm. She’s going to let them know we’re here. But before she can, Titus grabs her wrist and yanks it back down.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hisses. “Trying to get us killed?”

Harper gives him a lethal stare before ripping away from him. “There’s no reason we can’t help each other until the end.” I still don’t know how I feel about Harper, but I can’t help agreeing with her on this point.

Though I know she’s fuming, she looks away from Titus and back at the strangers. No one else says anything as we watch them pass. When they’re out of earshot, Guy steps beside me and speaks to our group.

“Running into other Contenders may mean we’re getting close.” His brow lifts. “And it probably means we’re headed in the right direction.”

Levi points toward where we spotted the Contenders and their Pandoras. “Look, something else is coming.”

We watch and wait. The vines and plants rustle, but we never get a clear view of who’s there. I make out that they’re human — that there are maybe six of them — and that they aren’t Contenders. Their clothing is also brown, but it’s too dark in color. As they move, they stay close to the ground, their heads snapping this way and that. A sense of foreboding brews in my stomach, and even the birds overhead seem to hold their breaths. Though my brain demands my silence, every muscle screams for flight.

“They’re following the Contenders,” Guy says quietly.

Watching them, I know he’s right. There’s an odd, jerky manner to the way they move. These people, though I can’t fully see them, are like nothing I’ve ever known.

Except.

I think back to the man I saw the first day of the race. The one I thought I imagined. Maybe he’s one of these men. I wonder what they’re here for and whether they’ve been following us. Madox whines below me … and my legs begin to shake. I tell myself it’s because we’ve walked for too long this morning and that I’m exhausted. But I know it’s something more. That it’s fear.

Guy looks into my face. I wonder if he sees how this race is beginning to take its toll on me. I think for a moment that he’s going to suggest we stop here to rest.

“We should walk through the day,” he says. “We can rest tonight.”

I close my eyes against the disappointment. But I won’t be the one to suggest we stop. So I clench my fists, remember why I’m here, and hike to the front of the group with Madox at my heel. “I’ll lead,” I announce. “We’re all tired, but I expect you to keep up.”

For one single moment, I wait for Harper to protest. To stake her claim as leader of this troop. But when I glance at her, she has a look of relief in her green eyes. She doesn’t smile at me, or even nod. She just gets in line behind me and starts walking.

We’ve been heading east, but it’s nearing time for us to turn and trek south. I’m still at the front, hiking through thick jungle plants, a film of dirt and sweat across my brow. Every few minutes, I scan our perimeter, searching for more Contenders and their Pandoras. We’d seen more over the last three hours. There was a teenage boy with a tortoise, a man with long black hair and a yellow snake wrapped around his arm, and two women in their
forties with a pair of owls. Most Contenders traveled alone, but some, like us, hiked together. It’s reassuring to see them. A lot better than seeing the strange men, who we keep an eye out for but haven’t spotted again.

My boots begin to feel heavier as I walk, and I cringe from the blisters that have formed along my Achilles tendons. I look up to ensure the path ahead is free of logs or dense plants, and notice the ground seems darker. I realize then that my boots haven’t gotten heavier, but rather the earth has become softer, making it more difficult to walk.

“The ground,” I say. “It’s getting muddy.”

Guy walks up next to me, and his lion shadows him. He crouches down, digs his fingers into the wet dirt, and rubs them together. “We’re nearing a body of water.”

Over the last week or so, we’d crossed many streams that allowed us to quench our thirst. But at night, Guy tells me about great, rushing rivers that live inside most jungles. A tickle of excitement creeps through me, imagining his river.

“Let’s keep going,” he continues. “We have to stick to the plan.”

This is fine by me. I’m eager to see what’s ahead. So I plow onward, even though the dirt gets thicker and harder to trudge through the farther we go. Soon, the sound of rushing water is unmistakable. My tickle of excitement morphs into full-body exhilaration. Ever since that day in the clearing, where Madox shifted into different Pandoras, I haven’t seen anything but dense vegetation and tall trees. And right now the desire to see the sky or a river or something
different
is overwhelming.

I rush forward. After several more feet — and a few stumbles — I see it. The river. It’s wide and caramel brown and there are bright white clouds floating overhead. A grin sweeps across my face, and when I turn to see the other Contenders, I’m thrilled to see they are smiling, too.

Everyone except Guy, that is.

I’m suddenly furious that he can’t appreciate this, the whispering water and cool air. “What’s wrong with you?” The bitterness in my voice surprises me. “Why aren’t you happy?”

His eyes stay on the river, searching. “Because it’s time to go south.”

I turn back to the water and dig my nails into my palms. He’s right, of course. We’ve spent about six days traveling east, so it’s time to turn. Scanning the thick mud along the bank, I know it’ll be impossible to hike alongside the river and make enough progress.

We’ll have to use the current to carry us south.

We’ll have to go into the river.

The river seems so vast, a winding, curling snake in the heart of the jungle. I can’t imagine how we’ll ever use it to travel. Or what creatures live in its dark belly.

“Do you …” Caroline says slowly, eyeing Guy. “Do you think we should swim?”

“I’m not swimming in that shit-stain water.” Titus snorts. “Do I look like someone who wants Ebola?”

I have no idea whether you can get Ebola from swimming, but I sort of agree. This water doesn’t look like something I want to submerge myself in.

Guy walks away from us and comes back a few seconds later, holding various things. He moves closer to the water and throws the first item in. I’m not sure what it was, but it now lives at the bottom of the river. He throws the second thing, and it plays follow-the-leader, sinking fast. I watch as he throws in two more things. They all plunge into the river and drown.

His back rises and falls like he’s taking a deep, frustrated breath. Then he cracks his fingers — all but his thumbs. I picture racing over and cracking those blasted thumbs for him, but before I can, he says, “We need something that floats.”

“Okay,” I say quickly, turning to browse the vegetation around the riverbank. This feels good, like we have a plan.
We need something that floats,
he said. Fine. Everyone in our group searches the jungle floor for several minutes while our Pandoras watch. We look like a crew from one of those murder movies. Like we’re searching for a body. It’s a twisted thought, but it makes me laugh.

“What’s so funny, Looney Tunes?” Levi asks.

I shake my head. “This is the crap I used to watch on TV.
People searching through wooded areas, wearing horrendous clothing. I mean, how is this happening to me?”

Levi’s brows pull together like he’s thinking really hard. Then he looks at me and his face splits into a smile. “I have no idea.”

Ransom stands up like something huge has occurred to him. We all look in his direction.

“What is it?” Levi asks.

Ransom glances around. “I’m in a jungle. A. Freaking. Jungle.” he says. “With a magic raccoon.”

Dink giggles, and the sound surprises us so much that we all stare at him.

Ransom points at Dink. “I made the kid laugh.”

“People,” Guy says. “Floating objects.”

We all look at Guy, then make faces to one another like he’s our overbearing dad. Secretly, though, I love that he’s so focused and reliable. His steadfastness is what allows the rest of us to let loose. Even Harper, who days ago was the epitome of seriousness, now shakes her butt at him.

“That’s great,” Guy says, watching her. “Thanks for your help.”

“Okay, okay,” I say. “Let’s help Boy Scout find something that works.”

Minutes later, we’re standing along the bank, our arms overflowing with random jungle foliage.

“All right,” Guy says. “Throw them in.”

Everyone tosses their arms up, and down rains the most useless crap ever.

Except for what Caroline throws — which, thank the sweet heavens, actually floats.

“Yep-yah!” Ransom shouts, pointing at the long, thin tube surfing the river.

We all dance around like idiots at Caroline’s success. Levi and Ransom pick her up, and the three nearly tumble into the river.
We are delirious from exhaustion, but I’m relieved that something has worked and that we’re doing our best to stay optimistic.

Titus glares at Caroline.

Lost in the moment, I stick my tongue out at him. “Cheer up, Grinch.”

He crosses the distance between us in a matter of seconds. His hands wrap around my waist and he jerks me against him. “Stick that tongue out again,” he whispers against my neck, “and I’ll show you what I want to do with it.”

Titus flies away from me and lands hard. Guy stands over him, face twisted with rage. He points a densely muscled arm at him. “I need your help with this river, so I’m going to let you pick yourself up out of that mud.” Guy bends down and gets in his face. “But if you touch anyone else here, I’ll hold you underwater until the last breath leaves your body.” He stands up. “Do you understand? I will
end
you.”

Titus’s eyes are large with surprise, like he has no idea how he ended up on the ground. But then his eyes change. They fill with fury. And the smile that crawls over his face in no way resembles the wrath lacing his voice. “Sure, buddy,” Titus says, grinning. “I was just messing around.”

The look on Titus’s face says there’s no way he’ll let this slide. Afraid of what Guy will do, I eye him with alarm. But Guy does something that surprises us all. He offers Titus his hand.

Titus, still sticking to his innocent facade, takes Guy’s offer and pulls himself up. He looks at me and his grin widens. “You know I was just playing, right?”

I nod, because I don’t know what else to do. In my peripheral vision, I spot Titus’s grizzly bear. He never moved to protect Titus, which surprises me. Madox, on the other hand, is at my feet, hackles raised, a small growl in his throat as he eyes Titus.

No one speaks for the longest moment of my life, and then Caroline says, “So what do we do now, Guy?” It’s a reasonable question, but it still feels odd after what happened. Guy tears his gaze away from me and looks at Caroline. He seems equally confused by how to respond. Rubbing the back of his neck, he glances at the water, like he just remembered it’s there. “We have to build something so that we can ride the river.”

Everyone kind of looks around, eager to have something to do that isn’t standing here uncomfortably.

“Caroline, where did you find the thing that floated?” Guy asks. “That piece of bamboo?”

She points upriver. “It’s down that way. Along the bank.”

“Okay, good.” Guy knits his eyebrows together, and the scar over his right eye deepens. “Titus, Ransom, and Levi, you guys come with me and we’ll get as much bamboo as we can. The rest of you need to look for vines that don’t break when you tug on them. Does that sound good to everyone?”

Harper glances at me and says, “We got it on our end.” I nod to let her know I agree.

Titus salutes Guy. “Happy to help, General.”

Guy ignores the comment and starts walking, M-4 at his side. The rest of us head back into the jungle foliage. A half hour later, we’re on the riverbank again. We made out like bandits in the vine department. It was Harper who found the best kind. We tried everything to get it to break, but short of RX-13’s eagle talons, nothing worked. We have our winner.

The boys appear minutes later, carrying their last armfuls of long bamboo shoots. M-4 and AK-7 walk beside their Contenders, holding their heads high. I imagine it was them who cut the shoots down and then sliced them into equal lengths.

Ransom lines the bamboo stalks side by side as the guys lay
them down. Harper, understanding what is happening, goes to one side of the bamboo and begins tying the ends together so as to create a long and narrow raft. I take her lead and begin working on the other side.

As I’m winding the vines around the bamboo, I notice Madox is watching me. Thinking about riding the river creates a nervous rumbling in my belly. But I smile at my Pandora and pretend everything is as it should be. He climbs onto the raft and cocks his head to the side. I imagine he’s saying:
Let’s
do
this thing.

Guy tugs on the bamboo and tries to separate the stalks. They don’t budge. He looks at Harper and me, and gives us a thumbs-up. I light up like the sun, then feel like a chump for being so desperate for approval. “Are you all ready?” He doesn’t actually wait for an acknowledgment. Just starts positioning us on the raft. I suddenly realize there’s not enough room for our Pandoras. Not even close.

“What about our Pandoras?” I ask him.

“They can travel faster without us.” He motions farther up the bank. “We’ll have them follow our progress along the river.”

“No way,” I say. “I’m not leaving Madox behind.”

“Tella,” he says. Warmth fires across my skin when I hear him speak my name. I shake my head against the reaction, and he mistakes it as disagreement. “Yes. They have to stay here. If we try to put them aboard, the entire thing will capsize. We have a lion and a bear. Think about it.”

He’s right. I know he is. I want to insist there’s at least enough room for Madox and perhaps even RX-13 and DN-99. But I know it’d be unfair. I swallow down the fear of losing my baby fox and gently nudge him off the raft. “KD-8,” I say. “I want you to follow the raft from the bank. Understand?”

Madox looks at me with confusion, and Titus snickers. I fight the urge to yell at Titus.

Please do it
,
Madox,
I silently plead.
Just go with the others.

I sigh with relief as my fox chases after the other Pandoras, whose Contenders have given them similar orders.

“Okay, everyone off.” Guy waves his hand to hurry us along. “Titus and I will move the raft into the river, and then everyone needs to get on exactly as before.”

We all step off and watch as Titus and Guy maneuver the bamboo raft into the water and hold it into place. Then we carefully step back on. Surprisingly, the raft doesn’t rock too much, and we’re able to get on without too much trouble. Right before Levi steps on, he grabs a spare bamboo shoot. He holds it as Guy gets on behind Titus, who’s in the very front. Guy takes the bamboo shoot from Levi and pushes us away from the bank.

As we float toward the middle, I spot something moving in the brush.

“Look,” I say, pointing to where we just were.

A man dressed in strange brown clothing peers out from behind the trees. His head darts side to side as he inspects us. He acts just like the men we saw following those Contenders earlier today. And he looks like the guy I spotted my first day in the jungle. The one I thought I’d imagined.

There’s a long, spear-looking object in his left hand, and he raises it to point in our direction. Moments later, two more men come to crouch beside him. Their faces and lips are painted with vibrant red streaks and their heads are adorned with bright feathers. The effect is nothing if not creepy.

Inspecting the feathers closer, I notice they are green and blue like the one I wear in my hair. I touch it absently, running my fingers down the soft bristles. “Who are they?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Harper answers. “But I’m glad they’re there and we’re here.”

The men cock their heads like birds, then disappear into the jungle. I watch the spot for a few seconds longer until we’ve floated
so far down the river that I can’t remember where I’d seen them. An icy chill swirls inside my chest, and I wonder if the men will follow. I don’t like the way they watched us — like they’d missed a crucial opportunity.

Dink raises his arm and points. We all look up and see RX-13 flying overhead.

Harper — who is standing next to me — grins.

I look toward the bank. I pray Madox is keeping up with us and that the other Pandoras are, too. Though I remember these people are my competition, I don’t want them to lose their companions.

When I don’t see any sign of Madox, I stare down into the river. It’s dark, too dark to see much of anything beneath the surface. Gazing into it, I can’t help wondering what animals live in the current. Piranhas? Do they live in jungle rivers? What about crocodiles?

“Titus, I need you to steer me in the right direction.” Guy uses the bamboo paddle to keep us floating in the center of the river. I wonder why he chose Titus to take the lead.
Maybe to keep an eye on him,
I think.

Though we are all behind Titus and Guy, I can see the way Titus pulls himself up taller. “So far, so good, General.”

We float for about fifteen minutes before the sun begins to set, and it starts to rain.

“Rain. How original,” Levi mutters.

Harper presses in close to me. I look at her in surprise, but she won’t meet my eyes. I press back against her and try to hide my smile.

The rain isn’t anything new, but the fact that we’re on the river while it pours down is. I watch as the river slides farther up the banks and notice that the water under the raft is rushing much faster than before.

“Guy,” Caroline says from behind me. There’s a question in the way she says his name, and I realize I’m not the only one who’s growing more afraid of the rising river.

“Titus, guide me toward the bank.” The muscles in Guy’s back tighten as he works to get our raft stable. “We’ll continue after the rain stops.”

Titus yells over his shoulder, but because the rain is coming down harder, I can’t make out what he’s saying. Guy switches the bamboo paddle from his right side to his left, and back again. Then he looks back and motions for us to crouch down.

We don’t wait to be told again. Soon, everyone besides Guy and Titus are on their knees, holding on to the bamboo as best they can. The river rages beneath us, and I can’t fathom how this happened — how the river changed from frightening to lethal.

The sound is almost deafening. It’s like a white noise, and it is everywhere. The rain pours over our scalps and shoulders, and the river sprays across our bodies. I see white tips form along the river surface and though I’ve never floated on a river — not once — I remember they’re called rapids. It’s a strange word, I think. Rapids.
Rapids.