Fire & Flood (16 page)

Madox trots through the door Harper left open and locates me within seconds. He nudges my arm until I lift it and let him snuggle against my chest. I pet his thick black coat and raise my head to look at Harper. Her eyes are red-rimmed and glistening.

I bolt upright. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She hands me one of the envelopes. The other, the one she’s clutching in her left hand, has already been opened. “This is for you.”

Harper turns to leave. I want to ask her to stay, to tell me what’s wrong. But she’s moving too quickly. When she gets to the door, there are two Contenders trying to make their way inside.

“No,” Harper says, blocking their way. “Go away. Find another cabin.”

“This isn’t your —” one starts to say.

“Out,” Harper shouts. She looks back at me. My stomach clenches when I notice tears are now streaming down her face. “I’ll be right outside.” Her voice breaks. “No one is going to come in.”

“Harper,” I say. But she’s already closed the door.

I glance down at the envelope in my hand. It suddenly feels too heavy, too hot. Like it’s going to burn right through my palm. Grabbing the corner, I tear it open.

The letter is folded three times. So little stands in the way of my reading what’s inside, but my hands shake as if I’m hanging from the side of a cliff, seconds left until I free-fall to my death.

I don’t have to unfold the snow-white paper to know who it’s from. The blocky letters peeking through tell me everything. There’s only one person in my family who writes like this. Only one person who uses all caps like they’re screaming everything they inscribe. My mom tries to tell him to write like a gentleman.

But my brother never listens.

I unfold the letter and squeeze my eyes closed. A lump forms in my throat. I try to swallow it down, but it’s there to stay. When I manage to open my eyes again, the letters are blurred, swimming on the page like they’re playing a game. I rub the back of my hand across my face and begin reading.

The letter flutters to the floor as I curl into myself. The knot in my throat unties itself, and I choke on a sob. Madox is on his feet, licking my hands, telling me he’s here. But right now it isn’t enough. I need my brother. My mom. My dad.

I need my family.

I’ve deceived myself. Pretended I was okay here in this jungle without them. But it’s a lie I can’t escape. Tears race down my cheeks and tumble to the floor.

I know why the people working this race delivered these letters.

It’s to prepare us for the next leg of the race. To provide motivation.

Their plan so works.

Having Cody’s words in my head makes everything I’ve done worth it. He loves me. Of course he does, I know that. But he actually
said
it. My brother and I don’t do that. We tease each other, pull harsh pranks, and take every opportunity to make the other look bad. But deep down …

And he said it.

I despise the people running this race. But I need them, too. Because I have to win. I have to save him.

The door opens and I wonder if Harper is back. When I glance up, I see Guy silhouetted in the doorway, an envelope crumpled in his grasp. My sobs deepen, and I reach toward him. I’ll crumble if he refuses me. If he walks away.

He looks at me for a long time. Even in the dark, his eyes are the same as the first moment I saw him — cold as revenge. I reach toward him again and say his name. He glances away, and his face whispers of torment.

“Don’t —” I say, but it’s no use.

He turns and leaves.

My heart explodes. My bones break. Tears pour from my body until I’m sure there’s nothing left. I pull into myself and clutch the
letter to my stomach. My eyes slip closed, and I drown in despair. Madox nudges against my hand, but I don’t lift it. I can’t. He whimpers softly. It’s the last thing I hear as I crash into sleep.

When I wake in the middle of the night, I feel Guy behind me, holding me as if I’m his only path to salvation.

After five more days at the camp, I become restless. The woman from the device said the race would take three months. Harper and I decided this meant two weeks in each ecosystem, and one week of rest in between them. We couldn’t decide what the last week would entail. Then again, this was all guesswork.

The other Contenders seem ready for action, too. It’s like we’ve all spent adequate time sulking over our letters, and now we’re ready to tackle the next obstacle. But the men in collared shirts don’t respond when we ask what’s coming. They just wave us away and keep patrolling the area. I begin to wonder if this isn’t part of a bigger test. To see who breaks under the pressure of idleness.

As time passes, Guy continues to stay nearby. Rarely close — but nearby. Sometimes he’ll grace me with conversation. And on rare moments, a smile. My body aches for him in a way I’ve never known. I feel like an animal, all muscle and hormones and lust. We never mention the kiss, and it does nothing to quench the strange pull between us. It’s odd to feel this way in the heart of the jungle, but I think Guy could probably make me hot in the ninth circle of hell.

I watch as Titus picks on a kid half his age. I’m tired of seeing him bully his way into a position of authority among the Contenders. And I decide since I have nothing else to preoccupy myself with, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.

Dusting myself off, I head toward him. He’s holding the boy around the neck, and I mentally tell the kid to go for the crotch. That’d be my tactic. In fact, it
will
be my tactic. I’m only a few feet
away when Caroline steps in front of me. Dink is hanging on her waist, and she’s holding her device out so I can see.

It’s blinking.

My teeth snap together, and I immediately look for Guy. I don’t want to hear the message without him near my side. I’m aware that my feelings for him can’t end well, not with us both here as competitors. But those are long-term thoughts. And right now, staring at the blinking light with my heart pounding against my ribs, I’m only thinking in the now.

“Does everyone know?” I ask Caroline when I don’t spot Guy.

“Not yet.” She places the device into her ear but doesn’t press the button. “It won’t be long, though.”

She’s right. Within minutes, every Contender is putting their device into place. I don’t want to listen without our group together. It feels like if I do, then maybe we aren’t really a group at all. Already, Caroline and Dink stay by themselves, Ransom hides inside the cabins all day, and Guy and I move quietly through base camp side by side.

And Harper. She’s still being stalked by the gangly blond. He refuses to leave her alone, and for some reason, she doesn’t tell him off. Just continues to ignore him.

I give up hunting the Contenders I’ve become familiar with and put the device into my ear. Caroline wraps her hand around the side of Dink’s face, and nods.

We both push the buttons.

There are a few moments of silence while everyone tunes in, then the woman begins.

“Good afternoon. I’d like to wish everyone well as we close the first chapter of the Brimstone Bleed.”

I curl my hands into fists.

“As you know, Rachelle Gregory won the first leg of the race and chose to return home to be with her family. We, at headquarters, fully
support her decision. And now we’d like to offer the remaining Contenders a choice as well.”

The woman pauses, and I can almost feel the Contenders around me holding their breaths.

“In a few short moments, the two men who have graciously overseen base camp will leave. If you choose to follow one, you will be led to the next part of the race. If you choose to follow the other, you will be taken home. The decision is yours to make.”

Caroline finishes listening to the message and drops her head. When she looks back up, there are tears in her eyes.

I don’t know what to tell her. This decision is easy for me. I won’t give up. My brother loves me. And I love him right back. But her mother has never shown her enough affection to warrant this kind of personal risk. I’d understand her decision to leave. I grab her hand and squeeze. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “You don’t have to stay. We’d understand.”

“Would
she
, though?” Caroline says as Dink tugs on her side and looks up at her. “Would my
mother
understand?”

I shake my head, because I can’t find the words. And because,
no
, her mother doesn’t sound like the kind of person who would understand. Or the kind of person who’d have ever considered doing for her daughter what Caroline’s done for her.

“If I leave, I’m going to take him with me.” Caroline pulls Dink in front of her.

“I think that’s a good idea,” I say, though I’m fighting the urge to beg her to stay. To tell her I can’t continue this race without all of us there.

Something brushes my back, and I turn to find Guy. His eyes lock on my face. “Are you ready?” he says. “They’re already lining up.”

I glance over his shoulder and see that he’s right. The two men are positioned ten feet away from each other, and a line of
Contenders stands before each person. There are fewer Contenders in front of the man on the right, and I wonder if that’s the leave or stay line.

Guy places his hand on the small of my back and a torrential current rushes through me. I wonder whether Guy is confident I’m staying, or has come to ensure I don’t go.

I look back at Caroline as Guy leads me away. I want to tell her good-bye, that I’ll never forget her or Dink. But something tells me it’s better this way. That I have to learn to move forward without lingering on the past.

Guy moves toward the left. “Is this the stay line?” he asks the girl in the back.

She nods, looks us both over, and turns back around.

Harper comes up behind us. I smile in her direction. She doesn’t return the gesture, but maybe that’s because the blond guy is still chatting away in her ear. He follows her into line like she’s his lighthouse and gives me an excited wave when he catches me watching.

I wave back and laugh despite the situation.

Titus elbows his way past us all and heads toward the front, his pack trailing behind him. He turns once to verify we’re watching. When his eyes connect with Guy’s, he looks forward and continues on.

Near the front, I see the man in the collared shirt raise his hand to silence us. For the first time, I notice there’s a small chest near his feet. It’s made from carved wood, and the latch glitters emerald green. When a hush falls over the Contenders, he opens the chest and retrieves a monstrous-sized syringe. It’s filled with a green, swirling liquid.

“Right sleeves up.” The man indicates the syringe. “You’ll only need a little,” he adds, as if this is supposed to comfort me. As if
the thought of that needle going in my arm isn’t enough to make me switch lines. I glance over at the leave line. Yeah, no syringe.

The Contenders begin pulling up their right shirtsleeves. The man injects a small amount into the first Contender and moves down the line.

“Guy,” I whisper, sweat pricking my brow.

“It’s okay,” he says. “They wouldn’t kill us now.”

Kill us?
Kill
us? I wasn’t even thinking that. I was only worried about the syringe. And maybe that it’ll make us fall asleep again. But mostly, that the man and his mammoth needle are only four Contenders away now.

Three.

Two.

He gets to Guy, and Guy holds out his upper arm as if he’s actually excited about getting injected with a foreign substance. The needle punctures his skin and I see a bit of blood spiral amid the green.
They shouldn’t be using the same needle on all of us, should they?
My muscles clench tighter. Madox rears up against my leg and barks.

Yeah, no crap. That’s what I’m saying. Why is no one freaking out?

I glance at Harper, but she’s facing forward like a marine. I hate her so much right now, I could scream.

Something pricks my arm and I yelp. I turn and glare at the man. He gives me a look that says I’m pathetic and moves toward Harper.
It’s over,
I think.
It wasn’t so bad.
I glance at Caroline and Dink, and I can’t help myself. Raising my arm, I wave. I must tell them good-bye, if only in this small way. Caroline smiles warmly and waves back, her eyes still wet with tears. She raises Dink’s arm and waves for him, too. I bite my lip to keep from laughing … or crying.