Fire & Flood (25 page)

Titus keeps hold of my arm and creeps toward the quicksand. Madox goes crazy, barking and whining when he notices Titus dragging me behind him. I silently plead with my Pandora to cool it, and miraculously, he does. “Nick,” Titus calls. “You sinking?”

“Yeah,” Acne Face — Nick — answers. “Get me out of here!”

The guys make way as we get closer. Titus slinks to the very edge of the wet sand and stares down. “How did you not see this? It’s clearly darker here.”

Nick shakes his head, eyes bulging with fear. “I — I don’t know. But I gotta get out.” His legs and hips are buried, so all I can see are his chest, arms, and head. The more he squirms, the farther down he sinks. My stomach tightens and I suddenly feel like it’s hard to breathe. Like it’s not Nick down in that sand, but me. This morning, he beat that Pandora like it was nothing, but I can’t watch another person die.

“Help him,” I beg Titus. “Please.”

He glances at me from the corner of his eye, his face pinched with disgust. It’s like he hates that I care.

“We need all the hands we can get if we’re going to win.” I pull myself up like I’m strategizing. I can’t say I’m joining the Triggers — Titus wouldn’t believe it — but I can let him read into my statement and form his own conclusion.

A slow smile splits his mouth. He waves a hand toward the guy with long legs. “Get him out.”

Long Legs reaches his long arm toward Nick. Clearly relieved, Nick takes hold of his hand and pulls. Long Legs wobbles and nearly falls in until another guy grabs the back of his shirt. “You’re going to have to help me,” Long Legs tells the guy behind him. The guy nods and reaches out an arm, too. But even together, the
two guys can’t seem to free Nick from the sand. As time wears on, and Nick sinks deeper, a hysterical sensation washes over me.

What if they can’t get him out?

They
have
to get him out!

“Let’s try the Pandoras,” I tell Titus, worried his patience is wearing thin. I’m afraid of drawing attention to Madox, of involving him in anything that could put him in harm’s way. But I know I can’t let this person die. Not like this. Not when he’s screaming in a way that makes my skin crawl.

Titus glances over his shoulder at the Pandoras and back at Nick, who’s now immersed up to the bottom of his chest. Nick cocks his head like he knows what’s coming. “No,” Titus says. “He let your little friend with the bird kill his Pandora. Why should I risk the rest to save him?”

Even half buried, Nick looks furious. And when I think of Madox behind me, I know why. Losing my Pandora would crush me. I rip my arm away from Titus and lean over to help Nick. Maybe he’s the way he is because of Titus. Maybe there’s still good I can dig out of him. But whether there is or isn’t, I’m going to help him.

Before I can offer Nick my hand, the large guy — the one who sleeps curled in a ball — stops me.

“Let me,” he says. I look in his soft brown eyes and some of my fear dissipates. He’s built like an SUV, and his head is shaved to the scalp. When I glance at the hand covering my arm, I find it’s as wide as a toaster, and that his nails are manicured to perfection, like maybe this Godzilla hit a salon before entering the race.

Stepping back, I allow him to edge closer. He reaches his salami of an arm toward Nick, and Nick grabs hold.

“On three,” Godzilla says.

Nick nods.

“One …”

“You ask me, he deserves being stuck in that sand,” someone pipes in.

“Two …”

“Touching Titus’s girl that way.”

“Three.”

Godzilla starts to pull at the exact moment that Titus barrels forward. I move to stop him, but it’s like standing in front of a cannon. Titus shoves me to the ground and slams into the guy who has great nails. The big guy hardly moves, but it’s enough to cause him to lose his grip of Nick’s hand. Titus jabs his boot out and places it on top of Nick’s scalp. Without a word, he pushes the guy’s head downward.

Nick’s chest plunges under the sloshing sand, then his arms. His shoulders. Nick shouts, and I scurry along the ground toward Titus’s legs, trying to tackle him. To push him into the quicksand. Something. But the big guy grabs me and tugs me to his chest.

“Stop it,” he says quietly. “Stop making a scene.” Then he wraps his enormous hand around my face so that I can’t see.

I don’t have to see, though. Because I can hear. I can hear the way Nick begs. The way he explains his allegiance and that he never meant to touch me. But his pleas must not douse Titus’s anger. Because the next thing I hear is the gurgling sound Nick makes when his leader pushes him the rest of the way under.

And then I hear nothing.

The guy covering my eyes pulls his hand away. Titus stands near the edge of the quicksand, staring at the ground like he can’t believe what he just did. He glances up at the six of us and tries to offer an explanation. “He touched Tella,” he says, focusing his attention on me. “He grabbed you or something.”

He’s waiting for me to agree. But I don’t. I can’t even see him through the tears.

“He would have hurt you.” He points a limp finger at me. “Probably would’ve forced himself on you. You saw how he treated the Pandoras.”

Titus nods to himself and takes a deep breath, his chest expanding. He tilts his head up and gazes at the sky. Then he peers off to his right. “Would you look at that,” he says, flicking his wrist at something in the distance and grinning wide. “A flag!”

After we leave the quicksand, I lose touch with reality. Thoughts of Levi and Dink and Nick swirl in my head like a demonic merry-go-round. Titus leads us to the flag so he can remove it and tie it around his bicep. It’s everything I can do to keep walking. To will my body forward.

Godzilla walks behind me. Every few minutes, he touches my lower back. I’m not sure why because I’m not thinking clearly. I just know it’s the only thing that reminds me of where I am, and that this is real. And that Titus actually killed one of his own.

Madox keeps close by. He glances up at me, and his ears perk when he thinks I’m going to acknowledge him. But I never do. I can’t even feel the ever-present ache in my muscles anymore. It’s like my entire body has gone numb.

When the night falls and Titus finally stops, all I can think of is one person — Guy. Where he is now. What he’s doing.

If he’s coming for me.

He’s here to save his cousin. So I’m not sure where that leaves us, especially now. Still, I have to believe that what I felt between us is not just circumstantial. That even though he’s here for family, he wouldn’t leave me out here with Titus.

I have to believe.

Titus sends his bear to gather food for dinner, and the guys work on building a fire. Turns out Godzilla used to be a Boy Scout and knows how to do such things. It takes him about eighty-seven
tries, but he finally gets a small spark to ignite between his blade, a dark rock, and a handful of mossy foliage.

“Fire!” Titus roars, laughing from deep in his gut.

I have no idea what’s so funny, and I have no idea why these idiots follow him so blindly.

“You know, Tella,” Titus says. “I was never a big fan of fire before Brimstone. I was terrified of it, actually. So wild and unpredictable. But I tell you what, I’ve learned to respect it. Now, water? That’s something I’ve loved all my life. My old man said I was born with fins. Said even when I was a kid, I took to the sea like a shark. Hammerhead, that’s what he called me. ’Cause hammerhead is a type of shark, and he said I wasn’t keen on listening.” He knocks on his head with a closed fist. “Hardheaded, I guess.”

I try to pretend I’m listening. That I care. But it’s hard to keep up a facade when all I want to do is wrap my hands around his throat.

Titus unscrews his canteen and drinks for several seconds. The guys around him take the cue to drink as well. My throat burns thinking about water, but I refuse to ask for my own bottle back.

“Here,” he says, handing me his canteen. “Have a drink. We can save yours for tomorrow.”

I snatch it away like a wild animal and drink until it’s gone. Titus doesn’t stop me.

“See, everyone loves water best. You just have to be reminded why.” A smile plays on his lips, and my insides churn. “Let’s hit the hay, shall we?”

It takes everything I have to nod.

Titus moves closer and sits next to me. The guys stay on the other side of the crackling fire, far away from us. I steal a glance at Godzilla — who I’ve learned is named Braun — and the overgrown pink pig at his side. I’d assumed the Pandora was one they stole from another Contender, but I was mistaken. Because Braun
keeps an eye on that pig like I do Madox. It’s a funny sight, seeing a guy as large as Braun worried about a pig. Though it feels unnatural, I smile with one side of my mouth — and Braun smiles back.

“What are you smiling about?” Titus asks. I turn my head, and my smile drowns. He’s watching me the way Guy does. With questions lingering on his lips. But unlike Guy, he isn’t afraid to ask them. “Do you like the fire?”

I nod and run my hands over Madox, who’s curled in my lap. Now that he’s near me, I feel better. Though most of that security is canceled out with Titus so close. Looking at my small fox, I wonder why he hasn’t done anything to get me away from Titus. I reason it’s probably because the guy doesn’t intend to harm me, that he only wants me to join them.

“Why do you want me to join your group?” I ask suddenly.

Titus tilts his head back, like he’s surprised I asked. “It’s hardly a group after today,” he says, laughing. “We’re down to seven, counting you.”

My face must show my revulsion, because he coughs into his hand and says, “Bad joke.”

I’m surprised that Titus is aware that what he did was wrong. It’s like he’s two different people: one who’s rational and intelligent, and another who reacts on raw emotion without thinking.

Looking at him now, I wonder if he knows about the Brimstone Bleed the way Guy does. I consider asking him. But, no, I decide. I don’t think he does, and I won’t risk revealing what I do know, which is really just bits and pieces of a story I don’t understand.

I breathe in and the smoke rolling off the fire fills my nose. For a moment, it brings me home to my parents’ house.

“You remember that night after our Pandoras got into a skirmish?”

I’d hardly call it a skirmish, but I decide to play along and nod.

“You didn’t like the way my Pandora ate or something.” He smiles at me like we’ve been married for ten years and he’s recalling our first kiss. “You really went off about it. You got in my face and just went
crazy
. And as I was watching you get so upset about everything, I said to myself,
There’s a girl that’s got fire. With that Pandora of hers, she just might win this thing
.” Titus licks his thumb and rubs a blotch of dried quicksand off his boot.

“When I saw your fox fight and change like he does, I thought he might be the best Pandora out there. But I figured you wouldn’t be strong enough to survive the race even with a creature like that. Then I saw you that night, though, rage and fear in your eyes and this little feather in your hair.” He pauses and touches my feather. I try not to cringe. “I knew I had to partner with you. That I had to —” Titus glances at my lips and I realize he’s too close. Way too close. “That I had to be with you.”

He leans in and a million thoughts flood my mind. Things like:

Do I let him kiss me so he believes I’m not a threat?

Do I slap his face and drag my nails across his cheek?

Would his lips feel like Guy’s?

Guy.

“Hey, Titus.” I hear someone say. Titus swears loudly and shoots a death stare at the speaker — Braun. “Just wanted to let you know AK-7 is back with dinner.”

Titus sighs heavily and rolls his wrist. “Well, then, bring that fat bear over here.”

I breathe out and curl into myself with relief.

I almost kissed someone I’d like to kill.

Inside my head, I scream.

I’m still reeling from my near kiss with a murderer when Braun returns. The enormous guy has Titus’s Pandora at his heel. Between the grizzly’s jaws is something that looks like a spotted dog. Titus claps his hands and says we’ll eat like kings, that this doesn’t look half bad. I flinch and look away. No matter how long this race wears on, I’ll never get used to seeing my food whole. When I get home, I may never eat meat again. Vegetarian or bust.

After the guys have cleaned and cooked the animal, they offer Titus and me a generous portion. I take it, close my eyes, and chew as quickly as I can. The meal tastes bland and tough, and has the distinct flavor only burned meat does. When I’m done eating as much as I can force down, I offer a large piece to Madox. My fox looks me over like he’s making sure I’m satisfied, then takes the food from my hand and chows down.

“I can’t believe you do that,” Titus sneers. “Feed that thing.”

“They get hungry, just like us,” I answer, keeping my eyes on Madox.

“But they’re built to survive without it.”

“How do you know?”

“Look at my bear,” he says. “It’s the same size it was weeks ago. It hasn’t lost an ounce. Me, on the other hand, I’m fading in the wind.”

Glancing at Titus’s swollen muscles and large frame, I find it hard to believe he’s lost weight. But his face does appear thinner than it did in the jungle. And my waist and hips have never been this narrow. Inspecting Madox closer, I notice he does seem to be the same size. But when I watch him eating the meat, I know he’s happy.

“They enjoy eating, otherwise your bear wouldn’t have eaten that rabbit in the jungle.”

Titus laughs and points a finger at me. “See, you even know what kind of animal it was. You remember that moment.”

Rolling my eyes, I stand up. I’m not sure if what I’m about to do is just to piss Titus off, but once I’ve decided I’m doing it, I can’t stop. Grabbing a hunk of meat off the cooked dog — and nearly gagging — I move toward the Pandoras and provide them each a piece. Most turn away and refuse to eat it. But that’s fine, because what I’m doing is more of a statement. These creatures help us, and we need to treat them with respect. I give Braun a piece and he passes it to his pig, all while keeping an eye on Titus.

Finally, I get to AK-7. The bear sits on the ground with his paws in the sand. I step closer to him, and my heart pounds. Out of all the Pandoras, he’s the one I’m most afraid of. This is Titus’s animal, and there’s no telling what it’s been trained to do. I bring my hand up and the bear recoils like I’m going to hit him. When I see him pull back, my chest aches. I kneel down in front of the bear and Madox whines behind me.

“Here,” I say, holding the meat out.

“Get away from my Pandora, Tella,” Titus says slowly, evenly. “You can play nice with the other ones, but that there’s mine.”

The bear watches Titus speaking over my shoulder, his eyes shifting back and forth between the two of us. I drop the meat between his legs and back away. The creature glances down at the food, then up at me with something that looks like disbelief. But that can’t be.

Can it?

“Don’t you eat that, AK-7. You hunt for yourself if you’re hungry,” Titus says.

I spin around and square my shoulders. “Let him eat if he wants
to. God, Titus. For once, just be a human being and have some compassion.”

Titus’s eyes widen like he’s surprised I just said that. But then his face changes, darkens. He jumps to his feet and races forward. I cower, expecting him to strike me. But he flies past and slaps the piece of meat from the bear’s paw.

“I told you,
no
,” Titus yells in the Pandora’s face.

All my anger toward him boils over. Before I can think, I shove Titus as hard as I can. He stumbles, trips over the bear’s leg, and hits the ground. From across the fire, I see Braun stand up. The other guys stay put, waiting to see what happens.

“Don’t scream at him,” I yell. “Scream at me if you’re so pissed.” I hit my chest. “Scream at
me
.”

Titus pulls himself up and kicks his bear’s leg out of the way. The bear scoots backward and lowers his head.

I ready myself for a fight, but Titus only smiles. “See what I mean?” he roars. “That’s the fire I’ve been talking about!” In a heartbeat, he crosses the distance between us and slams his mouth over mine. I place my palms against his chest and push like I did before, back in the jungle. But this time, he doesn’t budge. His tongue slides across my lips, and my scream comes out muffled. Grabbing at my back and waist, he tugs me closer until I feel him press against my pelvis. Because I can’t shove him away, I come up with another plan. I’m going to bite his tongue off. I feel the wet slick of it against my mouth, and this time, I open my lips to grant it access.

Titus groans.

“The device,” someone calls out. “The device is blinking.”

Titus pulls away from me, breathing hard. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, completely unaware of how close he just came to losing his tongue. A smile crawls across his face, and I try
with everything I have to pretend it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. To not show my horror.

To not give away that I will flee. Tonight.

The guy strides to our side of the campsite, holding his device up as evidence. When I look away from Titus, I’m surprised to find Braun nearby, shades of fury stretched across his face. His pig is at his side, grunting and raising its nose into the air.

Was he about to help me again?
I wonder.

There’s something in Braun’s eyes that tells me he isn’t like the rest. Already, he’s done two things to aid me: He held me as Titus killed Nick, and he interrupted Titus’s kiss. I wonder what else he’s willing to do.

I startle when I see a second pig nearby. It’s identical to Braun’s, but this one’s eyes are emerald green. If Braun wasn’t about to help me, Madox sure as hell was. I almost laugh seeing my fox as a pig. Almost.

Titus digs his device out of his pocket and places it into his ear. The rest of the guys follow suit.

“Give me mine,” I say.

Titus pushes the red button and listens.

“Give me my device,” I repeat, louder.

He holds his hand up and makes a face like I’m annoying. But he has no idea how annoying I’ll become if I don’t get that device. I stop bugging him when I notice the way Titus’s face changes. The way his eyes widen and his mouth goes slack.

“What is it?” I ask. “What’s she saying?”

The other four guys come to join Titus, Braun, and me. They eye the stolen Pandoras. And they eye Madox. A clap of fear strikes through me, and I move to stand in front of my fox/pig.

The guy with long legs and big shoulders pulls out his switchblade and thumbs the knife into place.

“Now hold on,” Titus says. “We’re going to do this real calm like.”

But there’s nothing calm about the way Long Legs creeps toward the Pandoras. And now the guys behind him are pulling out their own knives.

“What’s happening, Titus?” I reach for my knife, which of course isn’t there. “What are they doing?”

“I said,
wait
,” Titus barks.

The guys still don’t listen. Long Legs lets out this strangled cry and races toward the Pandoras. He moves quickly, so quickly, madness dancing on his face in the fire’s glow. In two calculated movements, he pulls his knife into the air, then drives it into the belly of a Pandora.

The Pandora — a llama — cries in pain and trots in circles, blood painting the sand.

Behind Long Legs, the other guys spring into action. They dart toward the creatures, their knives flashing. But this time, the Pandoras know what’s coming. They bolt into the cold night — wings beating, hooves thumping. I almost whoop with joy when Harper’s eagle flies into the air and vanishes. The guys pursue the Pandoras as Titus screams.

“I told you to tie them up,” he yells. “Every damn night! Tie the Pandoras up before you eat! How hard is that?” Titus paces, hands in his hair. “Now what are we going to do? What are we going to
do
?”

Moments later, the guys return. They pant and bend over to catch their breaths as I try to figure out why they’re killing the Pandoras. But they’re not trying to hurt all the Pandoras. Just the stolen ones. All that’s left now are our own. Slowly, Long Legs raises his head. His eyes fall on something lying on the ground. My muscles clench when I realize what it is.

I thought all the stolen Pandoras had flown. But I was wrong.

There’s one left.

Levi’s ram.

Instinctually, I race toward it, silently begging Madox to follow. My Pandora stays right by my side as I throw myself in front of G-6.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” I snarl. “But you won’t touch this creature.” Braun moves toward me, and I jab a finger in his direction. “I’ll ask my Pandora to change. He can mimic anything your Pandoras can do. And he will kill you. To hurt this ram, you’ll have to hurt me. And then my fox will kill you.” I hold both my hands up in front of me, hoping that what I’m saying is true.

“Tella.” Titus says my name like I’ve lost my mind. “Don’t be unreasonable. There are six of us, and we each have Pandoras. We can get past you. And we can get past
it
.” He nods toward Madox.

I nearly scream when a ball of gray rolls next to my boot and into the firelight. Everyone stops and looks down. Titus cocks his head. “What the hell is that?” he says.

The ball of gray unravels and spikes shoot out from its fur.

“It’s my Pandora, asshole,” Ransom says, stepping into view. “And the girl’s right. You’re not killing that ram. Over my dead body.”

When I see Ransom so close by, the knife in his hand and the resolve on his face — my heart leaps. My plan was to flee tonight as the guys slept. But now is even better. I step closer to Ransom and we exchange looks. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to know we’re on the same page. That we’re going to get Levi’s ram and get the hell out of here.

“You’re crazy if you think you’re leaving with that Pandora,” Long Legs says.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m not,” Ransom answers.

“For crying out loud, can we stop making empty threats?” Titus grins like this is the most fun he’s had all year. “Get this joker out of here.”

The guys charge us. I think their goal is to hurt Ransom, but they seem much more interested in DN-99, the little raccoon who could. One guy chases the Pandora around the blaze, and in the blink of an eye, DN-99 burrows beneath the sand and is gone. The creature reappears seconds later beneath the guy’s feet. Spikes spring out from the Pandora’s coat and jab into his boots. The guy hollers in pain and falls to the ground. He tugs his boots off and inspects the damage.

Upon seeing this, the other Triggers become more agitated. They watch as the raccoon disappears once again. And then they wait.

DN-99 bursts from the ground beneath another guy’s feet, and down he falls.

“He’s like a land mine,” I tell Ransom.

“That he is.” Ransom smiles in my direction, and I’m so happy, I almost don’t see a third guy storming toward me. Luckily, Madox does.

Stop him!
I think, though I have no idea how Madox could do that.

My fox — dressed as a pig — races in front of me and oinks insistently. Surprisingly, the guy stops, knife-wielding arm suspended in the air. He meets the pig’s eyes dead on, and when he does, an empty expression crosses his face. Then he brings the knife down and points the tip beneath his own chin. Even though the guy doesn’t seem to understand what’s happening, his whole body shakes with fear. The knife digs into his neck and a trickle of blood escapes the wound.

Understanding crashes over me. “Madox, stop.”

My Pandora backs away, and I back away with him. When Madox breaks eye contact, the guy shakes his head like he’s confused. It’s like he doesn’t remember that a pig just mind freaked his ass.

Hearing a loud squealing sound, I spin around. The guy without boots is trying to plunge his blade into Madox. But my Pandora is too quick for him. And now he’s got a pissed-off Contender joining the fight.

I leap on the guy’s back and dig my fingers into his eyes. The guy howls with pain. My attack ends early when a pair of hands wraps around my waist and throws me to the ground. The guy who assaulted me hurdles over my body and chases after Madox. Everywhere I look, the same thing is happening. Titus is trying to slaughter Braun’s Pandora, and Braun is trying to fight him off. Two more guys are crawling after Madox — one on his hands and knees with bloodied feet, and another on two legs. A fifth guy is scurrying after the raccoon, and the last person is wrestling with Ransom over G-6.

With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I grab on to a guy’s arm and wrestle him for the knife. There is a moment, as I’m fighting for the blade, when I remember that I own a green, rhinestone-encrusted hoodie that says
GIRLS DON
’
T FIGHT. THEY FLAUNT
.
I’m wondering if it’s still in my closet when the guy pops me in the side of the head.

The world goes blurry.

When I clear my eyes, I notice Ransom has beaten back his attacker. He has one hand around the rope attached to G-6 and his raccoon by his side. All three look ready to retreat. But there’s a problem.