Fire & Flood (18 page)

Beyond the Pandoras, my eyes connect with Titus’s. He raises a thick arm and points in my direction. Ice courses through my veins at the sight.

The woman’s voice continues.

“The best of luck to you, Contenders,”
she says.
“Now run!”

I can almost imagine her arm punching the air. In the same moment as the woman tells us to run, the ground shudders.
Seventy-eight Contenders and their Pandoras rush forward. Guy grabs my arm and holds me in place. I’m not sure what he’s doing, but I take his lead and do the same to Harper. One by one, we pull ourselves together to avoid being trampled.

We don’t run. We don’t panic.

We just watch.

The Contenders race in all different directions, and Pandoras fly, crawl, and slither behind them.

There are so many different creatures that the sight is astounding. It wasn’t as startling at base camp, seeing them all lounging along the ground, cleaning themselves, and snoozing in the wet heat. But this, watching them plow through the sand, grunting from the strain, their bodies rigid — it’s spectacular.

After the sound dies down, and the Contenders and animals become a blur in the distance, Guy speaks. “We need a plan.”

“Right-o,” Jaxon says.

Guy looks at him for a long minute before continuing. “Last time, there was a pattern to the flags. I think we can assume as much here, too. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a game of skill.” He pulls his pack off and drops it into the sand with a thud. “We also need to dump these. They’re too bright, and they’ll alert our presence to other Contenders.” Guy crouches on the ground and unzips the pack. As he works to pull the contents out, I wonder how he got this way. How an eighteen- or nineteen-year-old could prepare himself for conditions this extreme.

Guy separates the things in his pack into piles. On one side are what looks like a rolled-up tent, a sleeping bag, and a thick length of rope. On the other are a large switchblade and a canteen, which I imagine is full of water. The chrome side of the circular bottle gleams in the sunlight, and I wonder if the race peeps didn’t answer my prayer for a mirror after all.

“Hey, this canteen could be used as a signal to each other,” Olivia says, turning hers so it flashes. “Wouldn’t that be cool?”

As I stare at my own bottle, my tongue swells. I’ve been conscious for ten minutes in this blasted desert, and already I could
drink my body weight in water. Or Lake Michigan. I think I could drink that, too. Or maybe the water from that jungle cave, complete with slimy leeches.

“Are you sure we should leave everything? What if we need it later?” Caroline asks. “Surely, they wouldn’t give it to us if we didn’t need it.”

“No.” Guy wipes his brow. “We leave it.”

“Could we carry the stuff in our arms?” Jaxon glances at his cheetah. “Or could our Pandoras carry it?”

“We’ll be too tired to carry anything,” he answers. “So will they.”

Normally, we follow Guy blindly. But right now the group seems to hesitate. Maybe it’s the heat or the fact that the desert looks so barren. I imagine these people are wondering how they’ll replace the things they need if they leave them behind. In the jungle, there was stuff to use. If you could find the right stuff. But here, it’s a blank sheet of paper.

I understand Guy wants to remain invisible to the other Contenders, but I’m not sure why it’s so important. Is he afraid they’ll follow us to the flags? Maybe he’s concerned others will want to join our group. If so, what’s the harm in that? I’m beginning to wonder if this is a good idea. Until I remember Titus. The way he said he’d be collecting Pandoras. And the way he looked at me right before the desert race began.

I remove my pack, pull out the canteen and knife, and toss the bag away.

Harper’s eyes widen slightly, but she quickly follows suit. As soon as she acts, so does Jaxon. Olivia goes next, followed by Caroline and Dink.

“Okay.” Guy points to the sky with his canteen, and the lion at his side glances upward. “We can use the sun as a compass. It rises in the east and sets in the west. I suggest we head east.”

“But that was the pattern last time,” Harper argues. “Won’t they change it?”

“That’s what they’ll expect us to think,” Caroline reasons. We all look at her, but she doesn’t notice because she’s messing with Dink’s hair. When she looks up, surprise crosses her face. “What?”

Guy grins.

My heart bursts.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking, Caroline,” he says. “I believe we should start east, then try going north from there.”

“Right on,” Jaxon says with a nod. “When do we get to drink the water?”

I wait for Guy to scold him, to patronize his need for hydration so early on. At the least, I expect Guy to ignore him completely. Instead, he screws the cap off the canteen and tips it up. We watch as his throat works up and down. He must have drained half the water as the rest of us licked our lips. Pulling it away, he sighs with pleasure. “Now. Drink it now.”

“Won’t we need it later?” Olivia asks, one hand pressed against her elephant.

“It’s more important to prevent dehydration.” Guy loops the canteen’s strap across his chest. “So drink as much as you need to feel content. Not satisfied, just content.”

I want to ask about three hundred questions on exactly what
content
entails. But when Harper raises the canteen and starts drinking, human nature wins out. I open my canteen and nearly die with euphoria as the cool water rushes down my throat. For a moment, I imagine pouring it over my head and then stealing everyone else’s for the same luxury. But I don’t. I just drink until I’m
content
.

Then decide I loathe the word.

After pouring a little in my hand, I bend down to let Madox drink some. He pulls away like he detests the stuff, and the rest of
the Contenders watch me like I’ve lost my mind. I drink the water in my palm, and wonder why my Pandora wouldn’t take it. Does he not need it, or is he sacrificing himself in order for me to have more?

When we’re each done drinking, we strap the canteens over our shoulders like Guy does. We all want to be like Guy. Go, Team Guy.

“Everyone ready?” he asks.

Harper steps forward. “Tella said I could lead.”

My jaw struggles to fall open, but I somehow manage to keep it closed. Since when did what I say become law? I try to maintain a face that says:
Yes, that is what I said. Let it be known to all who travel this desert dune. Hear, ye.
I mentally stab a staff into the ground and realize Guy is staring at me.

“All right, that’s cool,” he says, still watching me like maybe I’m the serial killer now.

Harper tells RX-13 to take to the sky, and the eagle opens her wings in flight. The sun is already skydiving toward the earth, so we head in the opposite direction — which I guess is east. Walking is like a nightmare all its own. When I first saw the sand, I thought it was beautiful. Like maybe it’d be fun to just roll around in and make sand angels. Now I know the truth, that sand is actually the love child of proud parents Marie Antoinette and Joseph Stalin.

I march behind Harper and am surprised by the bitter wind. I wonder if it’s always this way, or just a today thing. Regardless, it’s wildly annoying. Every few seconds, I wipe sandy sweat from my face, to have it replaced moments later.

I eye Harper’s canteen.
Could I drink her water before she takes me down?
I wonder.

I’m not proud of this thought.

In the jungle, it felt as if the rain was never ending. I grew to hate it with a wild passion. And now … now I ache for it.

We walk for what feels like years and stop only when the sun vanishes over the dunes. Our clothes are soaked through with sweat and cling to our bodies like a second skin. Harper stops walking, and we all follow suit. I crumple to my knees, and Caroline drops down beside me. Guy was right. There’s no way I could’ve carried anything besides the knife and canteen.

I glance at him to see what Man o’ the Wild is doing now. Just rubbing a random leaf along his arm and inspecting the results. Right. Nothing too strange.

“What are you doing?” My throat aches asking the question. I decide then that if Guy says we shouldn’t drink the rest of our water tonight, I will kill him in his sleep, lion or no lion.

He continues rubbing the leaf along his arm and watching his skin like a maniac. A hot maniac, mind you. But a maniac nonetheless. “We can’t sleep on the sand.”

Caroline looks at the sand, and I can almost see the fear fill her eyes. She folds and unfolds her hands. “Why not? What’s wrong with the sand?”

Guy stops rubbing and glances around. “It’s going to get cold. And the sand will rob our bodies of warmth,” he says. “We have to find something to sleep on.”

The promise of colder weather is almost as wonderful as what’s left in my canteen. And now that he’s mentioned it, I realize it’s not nearly as hot. In fact, it almost feels a little cool already. My white shirt and khaki cargo pants, still soaked with sweat, nearly make me shiver. In a weird way, because it feels so good compared to the heat, the sensation is almost erotic.

Guy gathers branches from the small bushes spread across the desert and asks M-4 to light them. He does, and Jaxon and Olivia provide the appropriate amount of verbal awe at the lion’s skill. Then we all huddle close to the flame, though what I’d like to do is douse the fire and relax in the dropping temperature.

“Take off your clothes,” Guy says quietly.

Five heads whip in his direction. Well, four. Harper’s already peeling her clothes off and drying them by the fire. Jaxon watches her, eyes as big as Saturn.

I quickly understand Guy’s reasoning. The clothes have to dry out so we don’t freeze in our own sweat. That’s it.
Chillax, Tella,
I lecture myself. It’s not like Guy was talking just to me.

“Seriously?” Caroline asks.

Guy doesn’t answer; he just tugs his shirt off and turns his back to remove his pants. That’s when I see his scars. They’re pink and raised and hug his rib cage. Partially covering them is a tattoo of a large bird facing forward, its wings stretched open.

“You have a tattoo.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I cringe. The scars seem too personal, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking about the ink. Now he knows I’ve been watching him undress. And everyone else does, too. Great, I’m the official creeper in the group.

Guy glances over his shoulder at me. Then he looks off in the distance and kind of nods to himself.

Since I’m already a creeper, I decide to go full-fledged and dig deeper. “It’s a bird, right?”

He pulls his cargo pants off, and before I turn my head, I notice he’s wearing black boxer briefs with a red waistband. Even though I’m light-headed with thirst, right now I can think of nothing else besides the way he’s built: the hard muscles across his back, the bronzed glow of his skin. When he turns around, I can’t help but peek from the corner of my eye. The flames throw shadows across his broad chest and tight stomach. My own stomach fills with butterflies. I decide as long as his clothes are off, I won’t kill him in his sleep … regardless of what he says.

“Tella?” He speaks my name as if in a question, but all I can do is watch his full, pink lips move around my name. The
way his tongue quickly touches the top of his mouth when he says it. He sits down next to his lion. “You need to take your clothes off.”

And I die. Right there in the sand.

I glance around and notice even Caroline is removing her shirt. She’s avoiding anyone’s gaze, and I don’t blame her. Slowly, I stand up. My fingers find the hem of my shirt and I start to pull it skyward. I can’t help looking up, and when I do, I find Guy watching me.

I stop cold.

His eyes travel to the band of skin I’ve exposed above my hips, then they move up to my face. I take a deep breath, hold his eyes — heart pounding inside my chest — and gently lift the shirt over my head.

Guy sucks on his bottom lip and it’s nearly my undoing.

He’s only watching
me
, I realize. Not Harper and her perfect body, or Caroline and her beautiful complexion and dark hair. Only me. Confidence builds in my belly. I have not a spot of makeup on my face. My thick, chestnut curls are gone. And my skin is bright red from the desert sun.

But he thinks I’m beautiful.

I pull in a ragged breath and undo the button on my pants. Moving my hips, I allow them to slide down the length of my legs and drop into the sand. I step out of them, wearing nothing but my mismatched bra and underwear, and my brown combat boots. The flame feels delicious against my skin. Even better is the way his eyes take in every part of my body.

My hands rub along my hips, and my lungs cease to work.

Guy stands up.

He moves so very slowly toward me.

When he’s only inches away, he raises his hands and wraps them around my face.

He’s going to kiss me. Oh God, he’s going to kiss me in front of everyone.

Guy’s eyes dart over my face, and the look on his own is filled with confusion, like he’s not sure how this is happening. He presses his lips together. He closes his eyes. And he pulls me against him.

I fold into his warm chest as he cloaks his arms around me, pulls me tight. His hand strokes the back of my neck, and he lays a small kiss on the crown of my head. I know I lust for Guy. That my body yearns for his touch. But I’ve always attributed it at least partially to circumstances.

Now I’m afraid it isn’t so simple. That this thing —

May not be mere lust after all.

“So …” Harper says slowly. “Are you guys, like, doing it?”

“Seriously.” Jaxon laughs. “Awk-ward.”

I glance away from Guy and realize they’re all staring. Of course they are. There’s nowhere else to look. A blush brightens my face, but Guy tips my chin up to look at him. He’s a full foot taller than I am, and I feel incredibly small in his arms. I wait for him to say something, anything. But he only pulls me back against him.