Fire & Flood (24 page)

“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 bitch 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.”

“How will you find water now?” I ask, after I drink from my nearly empty canteen.

Titus smiles. His teeth seem too big for his mouth, but they’re alarmingly straight and bright white and not altogether unpleasant to look at. “I guess we’ll have to find base camp quickly.” He reaches for my canteen, and I shove it in his hand. Behind us, the guys start untying the Pandoras. I hear an animal grunt, and I whip around. One of the guys — who has a severe case of acne — is kicking a stag in the legs.

“Stop it,” I yell, but the guy continues his abuse. Turning to Titus, I say, “Stop him or I’ll kill you. I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”

“Oh, I’m shaking.” Titus mimics being afraid as I imagine stabbing him in the pectoral. He looks at the guy hurting the Pandora and says, “All right, stop beating on that thing already. We have company. Manners, people.”

When Acne Face cuts Madox lose, I run toward him and lift the fox into my arms. Madox presses against me and I whisper in his ear, “I won’t let them hurt you.”

“How touching.” Titus pulls two canteen straps over his head. “Now let’s keep moving. We head toward those rocks. That’s where you guys were going, right?”

I want to mislead him, but another part of me wants only to rejoin my Contenders. To be with Guy again. Knowing Titus will probably head north anyway, I decide to pretend I’m easily breakable and tell him the truth. “Yeah, we thought maybe base camp was beyond those formations.”

“Splendid,” he says. “Let’s skedaddle.”

The guys form a line behind their leader, but Titus insists I walk next to him. As if we are equals. As if we are friends. As if. I squeeze Madox so tight, he yelps and I have to let him down. Several times as we walk, I glance at Levi’s Pandora. The ram has cuts along his muzzle and one of his kneecaps seems to be breaking through the skin. Even worse than the sight of him is the groaning sound the animal makes as he walks. Tears burn my eyes when I realize the creature won’t make it much farther. It makes me hate Titus so much, it’s almost scary. He may not have laid a hand on any creature besides his own, but these guys listen to him, and he obviously allowed this to happen.

As we continue through the worst hours of the day, I question why Titus is chancing traveling while the sun is up. Guy assumed most Contenders would move during the night, but Titus seems determined to get to base camp. Watching him unscrew his canteen and take a pull, I suddenly understand there’s a reason beyond winning the five-year cure: We’re running out of water.

The stolen Pandoras surrounding us look beaten into submission, but I’m still curious as to why they don’t try and escape. It almost seems like once their Contenders were out of sight, they lost track of what their purpose was. Like they’ve turned into zombie animals or something. Watching Madox trudge through the sand, tongue hanging from his mouth as he pants, I pledge to never let that happen to him.

“Enjoying the weather?” Titus asks. Even covered in sweat and filth, he’s not unattractive. His wrestler build, deep-set eyes, and wheat-colored hair make him my best friend Hannah’s exact type. But it doesn’t take X-ray vision to see that his insides brim with wickedness.

“It’s great,” I say evenly. If I can play nice and make it to tonight, then perhaps I can escape while they sleep. Even if they take shifts like we do, I’ll have a better chance of fleeing when it’s one-on-one.
“What exactly is your plan when we get to base camp?” I ask, trying to appear social. “You know my friends will make it there. And there’s no way they’ll let you hold on to me.”

“I don’t need a plan. By the time we get to base camp, you’ll have realized you belong with us.”

Fat chance.

“We’ll see.”

Titus flashes me another thousand-watt smile. He thinks I’m open to the idea. I can see it written all over his pompous face. The question that nags me is why he cares if I willingly join them. He already has me and my Pandora in his possession.

I feel a hand squeeze my butt.

“What the hell?” I yell, spinning around. The guys keep straight faces and stare forward. Titus stops, and the tin soldiers stop, too.

“What happened?” Titus asks.

I inspect the guys, searching for something that tells me who it was. Then I look at Titus. His face is pulled together in confusion, and he’s too far away for it to have been him. I want to spill, but I’m afraid it’ll A) cause a commotion I don’t need, and B) screw with Mission Escape in the Dead of Night. For now I’ve got to pretend I’m considering joining his ranks. And part of that is acting like this kind of stuff doesn’t bother me. So I feign passiveness.

“Nothing,” I say, trying to hide the venom in my voice. “The guys were just messing around.” I don’t smile. I don’t laugh. Doing either might send a red flag. Titus may be nuts, but he’s not stupid. I just shrug like it isn’t a big deal and keep walking.

Surprisingly, Titus doesn’t press. But I see the way he eyes his guys before I turn away.

After we’ve hiked for another hour — Titus chatting away like we’re on a first date — Madox begins to whine. Titus holds a hand out and everyone stops. “What’s he doing?” he asks.

I approach my Pandora, but it does nothing to calm his nerves. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

“The wittle fox is all tuckered out,” Acne Face mocks from the back. The guys laugh, but the gesture sounds forced.

Titus waves a hand forward and keeps walking. When I go to follow, Madox barks. Once. Twice. Three times. Every step I take, he becomes more and more upset, circling my ankles, rearing up and placing his front paws on my shins. I feel like I’m watching an old black-and-white
Lassie
show.

What is it, girl?

Titus stops us again. Nothing looks strange ahead, but Madox certainly doesn’t want me going any farther. Titus looks at Acne Face and says, “Go check things out.”

The Trigger seems proud that Titus asked him out of the other five guys. He nods and jogs past us. He searches the ground, looking for whatever it is that’s caused my fox to panic. Then he turns and faces us. “I don’t see anything,” he calls back.

Titus’s brow furrows. “Keep looking.”

The guy spins around and takes a few more steps. Then he stumbles and falls.

At first, it appears he’s just tripped over a rock or something. But as he flails, I start to realize it isn’t that at all. It almost looks like he’s … sinking. Titus waves an arm at the guys behind him, and they race past us to help Acne Face. The Pandoras stay behind, heads hanging. I take a step to follow the guys, but Titus grabs my arm.

He tips his chin up and asks them, “Well, what is it?”

A guy with enormous shoulders and long legs turns around. “Quicksand.”