Salt & Stone Read online

  Cotton follows her lead.

  I shrug and grab the same thing, then stride away. While I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little betrayed that Harper followed Guy’s lead, it’s canned food we’re talking about. Not a life-or-death situation. And as I stated, it’s more important that we’re all thinking on our own, regardless of what we ultimately choose. As a team, we should present options, and as a team, we should make a decision. And apparently, a decision was made that I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.

  So here we are, spooning roast onto tin plates and filling our ceramic mugs with lukewarm water. Willow finds two candles nestled into holders and lights them with matches from the single kitchen drawer.

  We’re in the crew’s cabin, which sits even with the main deck and directly beneath the quarterdeck. In the front of the crew’s cabin is a cramped dusty room with a round table, eight chairs. There’s a sink, but no running water, and a glass porthole that can be covered in bad weather. Right now it’s open, but each time the thunder barks, I eye the porthole.

  Is it time? No.

  As long as we don’t have to cover the porthole, then there isn’t any danger. This is what I tell myself.

  Cotton and Harper argue about the best way to lay the plates out. Or, more accurately, Cotton suggests a certain way to do things, and Harper does the opposite to spite him. She clearly infuriates him, but he doesn’t snap. He doesn’t even raise his voice. Jaxon ignores the twosome working side by side. He’s too enraptured with his new Pandora, who he’s named Rose.

  “FDR-1?” he’d said when he saw the tattoo. “Seriously? A Roosevelt fan?”

  The other Pandoras dislike Rose. They pick on her the same way they did Madox. My fox doesn’t partake in the abuse, and Monster is too lazy to care either way. But the others harass the helpless animal. I don’t know what the Pandora’s abilities are, but if she doesn’t show them soon, she’s going to have a difficult race.

  Mr. Larson yanks a chair away from the table and drops his weight into it. The chair protests. The boat does, too. “Finally,” the man says, reaching for his plate. “I’m starving.”

  “You’re on cleanup,” I tell Mr. Larson.

  “I’m not on anything,” he replies. “Right now I’m eating. Then I’m going to go through that there door to the bunks and lay my bones to sleep.”

  “You need to help,” I insist, my face burning.

  “Shush your mouth, girl. I’m trying to enjoy my supper.” He drives a fork of shredded roast into his mouth, wipes the gravy from his plump pink lips, and shoves in a second bite.

  “You’ll help clean up,” Guy says from the doorway.

  The man turns in his chair. He doesn’t stop chewing, but he doesn’t respond, either. Guy doesn’t threaten him. He doesn’t need to. The man grunts and turns back to his meal.

  Guess who’s doing dishes tonight? The Penguin!

  I’m happy Guy backed me up again, but it’s also infuriating. I need to learn how to do what it is he does. He chose this boat to sail upon. But what if he hadn’t? Who would lead? Harper? She’s too lost in her head except for the moments Willow calls her name.

  Braun strides into the room like a mountain that’s come to say hello. “Can I help with anything?”

  “Just sit,” Harper says.

  Soon, we’re all seated at the table, except for Jaxon, who is now manning the wheel. Willow dives into her food, and already Mr. Larson is grumbling about needing more to eat. We mostly ignore him. We also try to ignore the boat’s incessant rocking. It’s better when we’re seated, but when I stand up, I have to grab hold of something to keep from stumbling. The waves are growing choppier as the storm approaches, and inside my chest, my heart is pounding.

  Guy Chambers chews silently, one hand fisted on the table. His eyes raise and meet my own. My stomach flips, and I grit my teeth against my body’s reaction. The way he’s staring at me, it’s like he’s trying to figure me out.

  I can’t stand the silence any longer or the thunder growing closer outside the glass-covered porthole, so when Olivia speaks, I’m thankful.

  “This thunder is disturbing, but it was just as scary at the start of the jungle race, remember? We’ll adjust.” She seems to be trying to soothe herself as much as making conversation.

  Braun laughs deep in his belly. “They put us in those boxes in the jungle.”

  “Shiver me timbers,” Olivia says like a pirate. “What about the first time we got to base camp? It’s like, So this is the luxury retreat we get after trekking through the jungle for two weeks?”

  “At least they allowed us a letter from home,” Mr. Larson whispers.

  All heads turn in his direction. He doesn’t add anything else, and my contempt for the man falters. Mr. Larson is here to save someone he cares about, perhaps his child or his wife. He can’t be such an awful man if he’s willing to put his life on the line for their own.

  “I remember the first time I saw the device.” Braun leans back in his chair. “First day of school, in my locker.”

  “You know what I’ll never forget?” Willow asks. “The desert sun.”

  Everyone groans.

  My gaze lands on Cotton. He seems to be avoiding our conversation. “What about you, Cotton?”

  “Don’t want to talk about it,” he says. “Nothing worth reminiscing about.”

  Harper sits to his left, and when he says this, she glances at him like she’s seeing him for the first time. “You know what I want to know?” she says. “Why we don’t just attack the people running this race? Hold them hostage. Demand they make enough Cure for everyone.”

  Everyone stops talking. Even the thunder seems to hold its breath.

  “Do they expect us to really believe they can only make one dose?” she continues, her voice almost a growl.

  Cotton places his hand on her wrist. I don’t know why he does it. He should know not to touch her.

  “Take your hand off me,” she snarls.

  “You’re angry because you lost someone you loved,” he says. “But you can’t sacrifice other people’s chances by launching a revolt.”

  Harper jumps up from the table, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her green eyes rage in the candlelight, and outside, the rain starts to fall. “I have one last question.” She faces Guy. “How do you know so much about this ship?”

  Guy puts his fork down and straightens in his chair. He is silent a long time. “My father used to sail. Took me and my brothers —”

  She leans over the table. “Bull. Shit.”

  Then she’s gone, marching out and into the rain. The door slams behind her. I get up to go after Harper, but Braun tells me I should give her space. Guy and I exchange a look, and I know we’ll be talking later. Harper needs to know that our plan is to take down the race from the inside as employees, and maybe our other Contender friends should know, too. Guy says it will put them at risk, but we can’t make the decision for them any longer.

  I open my mouth to tell him we need to talk while I’m feeling decisive, but I don’t get the words out before Jaxon rushes into the crew’s quarters, dripping rainwater, the enormous iguana draped over his shoulders. “Follow me. Hurry!” he tells Guy. “I think something is happening to the sails.”

  We leap up at once. Before we trail out, I catch sight of Braun dropping the cover over the kitchen porthole.

  Outside, the rain is torrential, and Pandoras are screaming into the night as if they’re arguing with the sky. I immediately search for Madox and Monster to no avail, ashamed that I hadn’t checked on them before now.

  Waves crash against the boat with unbridled fury, and a massive black cloud hangs overhead like a coffin. It was harder to tell from inside the comfort of the crew’s quarters, but now I know for certain — the storm is upon us.

  Darkness swallows the sea. The only light we have is from the moon and the stars, and even those are drowning in the storm. Hours ago, we teetered inside a delicate glass snow globe,
the sun shining. But someone took our artificial world into their chubby hands and shook to watch the chaos unfold.

  I can hardly see where I’m going, but my voice rings out, calling for the Pandoras I pray are still aboard. Madox, find me. Please.

  A whining by my heel steals my attention, and when I spot my fox wet and shaking and looking up at me with scared canine eyes, I sweep him into my arms. Where’s Monster, Madox?

  Madox turns his muzzle toward the bow of the boat, and I race forward. I find Monster huddled in a ball near the railing. “Monster, this is the last place you should be.” I coax him to follow me, and he does. Contenders breeze past, calling out for their own Pandoras. Even Mr. Larson appears terrified that his alligator, who can’t swim, has somehow gone overboard.

  We should have had a plan. We knew the storm was coming, and we didn’t do anything to prepare. The boat moans with such magnitude that I’m certain it’s a living being, crying out for its mother, for a lost child, for liberation from the sea. The front mast, the foremast, makes a horrible cracking sound, and lightning licks the salted waves.

  “Guy!” I scream. “Guy, where are you?!” I run, Madox now by my side, Monster on the other. “We have to take down —”

  I crash into Cotton. His arm encircles my waist, and his hand cups the back of my head. He towers over me, his chest, shoulders, and neck a stretch of dominance that has no end. His eyes seem to flash in the darkness, and he looks at me with emptiness. There is nothing inside him, nothing that I can see. I try to pull away, but he has a firm grasp on my neck and around my body. I panic. I don’t know why. My heart races, and the rain curtains around our bodies, and I yank his black hair.

  He releases me.

  I break away from him and continue my mad search for Guy, unease over how Cotton looked at me swirling in my stomach, knowing I must forget it for now. Finally, I spot Guy at the helm. I stumble through the storm, past Harper shielding her eagle and Braun holding his pig.

  “We have to take the sails down,” I yell at Guy.

  Lightning tears across the sky, and waves slap over the side of the boat. Water catches a length of rope and drags it along the deck like a plaything. Guy’s lion chases the rope like this is the most fun the animal has had in his genetically engineered life. Remembering his Contender, the lion breathes a ball of fire to provide sight for Guy, but the flame is quickly smothered by the rain.

  Guy’s arms strain against the wheel as he tries to steer the boat out of the storm’s way. Oh, you wanted to stand here? Pardon me! I’ll move. No bother. His shoulders tense, and his knuckles whiten, and as lightning once again sets the world ablaze, Guy is silhouetted in the rain. He is beautifully masculine in the light, hard lines against a hard sky.

  “Get everyone below,” he hollers. “I’ll manage the rest.”

  “No, you can’t steer and tackle the sails. We need to work together.”

  “Just get them out of here, Tella.” He opens his full lips again as if he’ll gift me a spell to calm the winds. But then his jaw snaps shut, and he stares ahead.

  Anger fires through my veins, and thunder explodes overhead. The ocean is a great, churning beast, and we may all be eaten alive. And we’re supposed to huddle below deck and leave our fate to one person? No way.

  I race toward Braun, and this time I don’t ask what we should do. “Take all of the Pandoras into the hold. Then return here to help me take down the sails.”

  Braun scans the boat frantically as if he’s searching for someone. His pig squeals in his arms.

  “Braun, go!”

  He hears me at last. He runs.

  Willow notes where Braun is headed and follows him inside, her white rat clinging to the top of her head. I order Olivia to do the same but secretly hope she stays with her elephant instead of returning.

  I spot Mr. Larson next and start in his direction, moving as quickly as I can along the swaying boat. I know I need to take my own Pandoras below. But I also know they won’t go unless I am with them. When the mast cries out again, I look up, hardly able to see through the falling rain. The sails can’t be taken down, I realize. They must be rolled up. We can do that. And once the sails are rolled up, they won’t catch the wind, and the pressure on the masts will subside. We’ll get the Pandoras below; we’ll save the mast. Everything will be okay.

  Someone screams.

  A tidal wave arches over the boat, coming down like a swift hand on a bloated mosquito. I only have time for one thought.

  Cody.

  The water hits me with a force I have no words for. My back slams into the deck, and I’m sliding, sliding. I feel teeth clamp down on my shoulder, and I scream. It stops me from sliding farther, though, and so I’m thankful for Monster’s jaws buried into my flesh and his supersized nails digging into the deck, holding us in place. My throat tightens as I search for Madox. He’s a few feet away, running in our direction, already taking AK-7’s shape. He lies down on my other side, and the two form a barrier for my body, pinning me so that I’m not taken by the sea.

  A new voice rings out. It’s male. Older.

  “The girl is in the water!” Mr. Larson yells.

  My mind sifts through who it could be, and when I find the answer, I struggle to sit up. Monster’s jaws retract, but it takes much longer to convince the animals to let me stand. In the end, I must leap over Madox’s head and his glowing green eyes to run to Mr. Larson.

  “Where is she?” I yell.

  He points fifteen feet from the boat, and I spot her blond head. Where is RX-13? Harper’s Pandora can swim. It could save her. I scan the boat and don’t spot the eagle. Braun must have managed to get the animal into the hold. What was I thinking, telling him to do that?

  I’m about to call out reassurances that we’ll rescue her, when Jaxon shoves me out of the way. He has a white rescue tube in his hands, and he’s eyeing the sea. Confidence rolls through his thin body. He pushes his long blond hair from his eyes, grits his teeth, and throws.

  The tube lands twenty feet from where Harper swims. It’s like he never meant to throw it to Harper at all. Understanding crashes over me.

  Someone else is in the water.

  The sea lights up as if the sun itself just emerged from a watery grave. The illumination is coming from one particular place, and when my eyes adjust, I make out who it is. Or rather, what it is.

  Jaxon’s new Pandora, Rose, swims toward the rescue tube, her body glowing like she’s radioactive. She doesn’t have to swim far; Jaxon’s aim was impeccable. The iguana’s long tail navigates her through the waves like a swallow’s wings would the sky, and before long, she has hold of the tube.

  “What are you doing?” I scream. “Save Harper.”

  Jaxon shakes his head and tugs the life preserver toward the boat with the attached rope, moving efficiently, hand over hand.

  I try to pull the rope away from Jaxon’s grasp and when that doesn’t work, I glance back out at the ocean, heart pounding. I don’t see Harper. I don’t see Harper! My body demands I go in after her. And so I do. I climb the boat’s short lip and over the rope railing. Madox and Monster go nuts, each trying to pull me toward them, but also afraid to push me overboard.

  I am yanked backward by a Contender. My left side, the one Monster bit, slams into the deck. Pain explodes inside my wounded shoulder like the freaking Fourth of July.

  The person who pulled me away dives into the ocean. I run to the railing, but I don’t see Harper or the person who went in after her. And then they appear, Harper sputtering water and Cotton with his arm around her chest. Harper’s head lies on his shoulder, her face tilted toward the sky. I rush to find the ladder Guy used earlier today, and with Jaxon’s Pandora lit up like a glow stick, I’m successful. I toss it overboard and yell for Cotton to grab hold of it.

  He does so, and slowly, as he holds tight to the bottom, Harper begins to crawl up. The waves reach black fingers toward her slim body, intent on keeping their flesh offering. Twice, she slips in the p
ouring rain, but Cotton is right behind her. He touches a hand to her upper thigh when he needs to, reassuring her that he’s there.

  Finally, she reaches the top, and I’m there when she does. “I’ve got you,” I say. She takes my hands, and I guide her over the rope railing and onto the main deck. Cotton crests the boat a minute later.

  I hear Guy hollering. He’s barely hanging on to the wheel, but he’s yelling my name. It doesn’t matter. We have to get the sails rolled up. I grab Harper and order her to get below deck. She doesn’t argue. I go to tell Mr. Larson the same thing, but he’s already gone.

  I grab Cotton’s arm as he coughs up water. “Are you okay? Can you help me with the sails?”

  He coughs once more and staggers toward the masts. I jog after him, and Madox and Monster stay close by. Braun appears and tells me he’s gotten most of the Pandoras below, and that, no, it wasn’t easy. That Cotton’s bull and Harper’s eagle in particular have been going nuts.

  The three of us tug on the lines until we figure out what we’re doing. Eventually, the black sails roll upward toward the yards. Almost immediately, the mast stops creaking. We race to the other mast and do the same thing with the sails there. The boat seems to breathe a sigh of relief, and though the storm still rages, a sense of collectiveness settles over me.

  “Braun, take my Pandoras to the hold,” I instruct. Braun hesitates, eyeing the two grizzly bears. “Don’t worry. They won’t hurt you.”

  As I expected, Madox and Monster refuse to budge, but after everything that has happened, I’m insistent. If the other Pandoras must be separated from their Contenders, then they do, too.

  “Go!” I yell.

  Go! I think.

  The two grizzlies waddle after Braun, and I think for a moment how the hardest part of being their Contender is making them do things for their own good that they don’t understand.

  I find Jaxon sitting outside the captain’s quarters. He’s huddled against the door, and Rose is in his lap, though she hardly fits. I grab him by the upper arm and pull until he gets to his feet.