Fire & Flood Page 8

  Using the stream, I bathe like a New World pioneer, splashing water over my skin and hair. Then I do my best to rub my teeth clean with a finger and some more water.

  When I finish, I inspect the cave, searching for other hidden secrets that’ll help me win the race. It’s dark down here, darker than the jungle itself. But I can still see the lichen growing along the bottom of the cave, and now that I’m paying attention, I can hear the slight gurgle of the stream. Mostly, though, there is mud and rocks. It seems this might be a good place to sleep and stay hidden from larger animals like the ones I escaped less than an hour ago. But surprisingly, I’m fairly well rested, and I know I need to keep moving if I want to find base camp.

  Hitching Madox inside my shirt again, I scale up the side of the cave. Going up is way harder than going down, but I manage it after several failed attempts. Before I crawl up onto the jungle floor, I peer over the lip of the cave to ensure the chimpanzees are gone. When I don’t spot them, I release a shaky breath. Then I pull myself over and stand up.

  Today, I need to find a flag. I spent my first day in the jungle panicking. After that, I spent two days and one night following the Green Beret. Now it’s just me and Madox. The fourth day. That means I have ten days left to reach base camp. I’m not sure if there’s a certain hour we have to arrive, so I cut it to nine days to play it safe. The flags will be hard to find. I know because I haven’t seen one yet. But then, I’m not sure I was ever looking that hard. Not until now.

  “Want to find a flag, Madox?”

  My Pandora barks in response, and I wonder if maybe he can understand me after all.

  I narrow my eyes and kneel down. “Madox, roll over.” He stares at me. I try something else. “KD-8, roll over.” He sits down on his haunches and glances away, like he’s bored with the nonsense spewing from my mouth.

  “All right, guess you don’t speak human,” I say. “We still need to find flags.” Briefly, I wonder why the crazy guy’s lion seems to understand English and Madox doesn’t. I guess it’s just not one of his capabilities. No biggie.

  As Madox and I make our way through the jungle, my stomach growling, I make a game out of my Pandora’s inability to understand me. “Madox, climb a tree,” I say. “Madox, fetch us lunch.” “Madox, give me a hot-stone massage and serve me green tea. Iced, not hot.”

  My Pandora barks every time I make a request, like he’s participating in the conversation. In reality, I wonder if it’s his polite way of telling me to shut the hell up. As the sun begins to set — and I still haven’t spotted a blue flag — my spirits plummet. I was certain if I focused on where I was going and used my gut as a guide, I’d find a flag. Now I have to decide whether to keep looking for one tomorrow, when the sun rises, or resume the perimeter plan and hope I find base camp without the flags.

  Glancing up, I wonder if I can make a bed in the trees like the guy did. My guess is no, but I have to try. I turn in circles, inspecting the trees, deciding which would make the best starting point. But as I spin, something catches my eye.

  In the distance, I see a soft, dancing glow. I recognize instantly what it is — a fire. And I know what maniac’s Pandora probably created it. Ensuring Madox stays nearby, I creep toward the surge of light. When I’m within a few yards, I begin hearing voices. Not the kind that worry psychologists, but the real kind. The ones that tell me this isn’t just the Green Beret and his lion, but people. I briefly wonder if I’ll see the guy I spotted my first afternoon in the jungle, the one whose face appeared painted. Then again, I’m not entirely certain that wasn’t just my imagination.

  I move closer, hoping to get a look at them while staying hidden. Madox seems to sense we’re prowling, so he mimics me, staying close to the ground and taking careful steps. The voices grow louder as I settle behind an enormous tree trunk. Pulling a deep breath, I peek around the side and take in the view.

  Three people squat around a small fire. There’s not a lot of light radiating from the flames, but inside the dark jungle, it’s more than enough. They’re all wearing brown scrubs with a single pocket — and a serpent embellishment — on the chest. Some of their pockets protrude, and I can only imagine they’re storing their devices in there as I am.

  The first person I notice is a woman maybe in her midthirties. She has prominent cheekbones and long black hair. There are small laugh lines around her mouth, and the way she keeps folding and refolding her hands tells me she isn’t any more comfortable with this jungle than I am.

  Beside the woman is a young boy. He has thick, curly hair, and I instantly like him. I know what it’s like to wake up to that nightmare every day. He smiles easily at what the woman is saying, and I notice he’s drawing something into the dirt with a long stick. I’m terrible at guessing kids’ ages, but I’d put him at probably about eight.

  The last girl I see, I want to strangle. Like the woman, she has long hair. But instead of dark, it’s blond — no, honey gold — and shines like that of a Broadway starlet. I can’t see her eyes from here, but I’m sure they’re some stunning shade of blue. She has cream-colored skin and a body that belongs in a magazine — the kind for guys, not girls. I hate her with everything I have as she laughs her perfect laugh and tosses her perfect hair and crosses her to-die-for legs. The girl seems to be about my age, or just a few years older. We could be friends, I realize, if I weren’t so overwhelmed with the urge to end her.

  My legs ache from bending down, and when I stand to relieve them, Goldilocks glances over. I freeze as she gets up and walks toward me and Madox. The woman starts to stand, too, but the blonde holds out a hand to stop her. Her eyes narrow as she searches the area. Then she glances directly at me.

  Green eyes, not blue.

  The girl motions for me to come out. “I see you, Contender. Identify yourself or I’ll send my Pandora after you.”

  Inspecting their campsite, I don’t see her Pandora. Or any Pandora, really. I contemplate coming out like she asked. From what I can tell, none of them carries weapons, and I’m sure I can flee if the need arises.

  Picking up Madox, I stroll out from behind the tree trunk. “Hey” is all I can think to say.

  Goldilocks tilts her head at me. “Who are you?”

  “My name’s Tella Holloway,” I answer. She seems to be waiting for something else, so I add, “I’m a Contender.”

  She nods like she assumed as much but is relieved to hear me say it. Pointing at the feather over my shoulder, she says, “Nice hair flair.” I smile cautiously as she motions toward the fire. “Want to join us?”

  I can’t help the spike of excitement in my chest. For four days, I’ve had no one to talk to except a mute fox — God love him. And now this girl — who I’m hating less — is offering her company. “Yeah,” I say, setting Madox down and moving toward the fire. “Thanks.”

  The girl sits down on a log and scrutinizes me. “Have you found any flags?” she asks, her brow lifting.

  I shake my head. “No. You?”

  She doesn’t answer, but the drop in her shoulders tells me she hasn’t. “My name’s Harper. This is Caroline,” she says, flicking her finger toward the woman. “And this is Dink,” she adds, referring to the kid.

  “Hey.” I sit on the ground and try to act as unawkward as possible. “It’s nice to meet you guys.”

  “Do you want something to eat?” Harper asks.

  My stomach growls when I think about food. I want to be self-sufficient, to show these people I can fend for myself. But I nod anyway, then watch wide-eyed as Harper reaches into a bag and pulls out a sliver of charred meat wrapped in a palm leaf. “Don’t eat the leaf, just the meat.”

  Though I know I should be offended she thinks I’d eat the leaf, I’m glad she clarified. I don’t ask what I’m eating. I don’t want to know. The meat is tasteless, but it still feels so good to chew, I can hardly contain myself. As I eat, I wonder why this girl is being so nice. There can only be one winner, so why is she helping me?

  I thi
nk I have the answer when I notice her eyeing my Pandora, who’s currently lying on his back, four legs kicking at the sky. She wants to know what he’s capable of, which immediately fills me with anxiety. My fox had yet to demonstrate any of his skills. Maybe hers hasn’t, either. “This is Madox.” I nudge my Pandora with my boot and he bites at it.

  Harper’s face opens. “You named it?”

  “Well, yeah.” So much for not feeling awkward. “His original name was KD-8, I guess.”

  “You shouldn’t do that,” Harper says.

  “Why not?” Caroline’s voice surprises me. It’s low and gentle, and I get the sensation she doesn’t ever raise it. “Why can’t she name her Pandora?”

  Harper bristles. “It’s not right. They’re here to help us survive. Not be our pets.”

  Caroline presses her lips together. It seems she disagrees, but doesn’t want to push the issue.

  “What’s up with its eyes?” Harper asks suddenly. “They’re trippy-looking.”

  I glance at Madox’s electric-green eyes. It’s something I’d assumed all Pandoras had — unnatural eye color.

  Instead of waiting for an answer, Harper asks another question. “When did it hatch?”

  “Last night,” I say. Then to emphasize I’m my own person, I add, “Madox hatched last night.”

  Harper looks confused. “Hasn’t grown much, huh?”

  I glance at the baby fox. Had he grown at all? I didn’t think so. Shaking my head, I ask, “Did yours grow?”

  She laughs. It’s a short burst of sound. “From the second it hatched, it wouldn’t stop growing. But I think it’s done now.” She looks at Madox. I can tell she thinks my Pandora’s a dud. It’s decent that she doesn’t voice the thought, but a knot of fear still twists my stomach.

  Is there something wrong with Madox?

  “Speaking of, where is my Pandora?” Harper says, interrupting my slide into hysteria. “It should be back already.” She stands and places her two pointer fingers into her mouth. Across from her, the young boy — Dink — plugs his ears. Seconds later, I learn why.

  A sharp whistle sounds from Harper’s mouth. Madox jumps up, startled. I pull him into my arms and wait for whatever Harper called to show. There are a few seconds of silence in which my ears ring. Then I hear a whooshing sound. Something flashes across my line of vision, and moments later, an enormous bird lands on Harper’s outstretched arm.

  Its beak is a brilliant shade of yellow, and its head is masked in white. The rest of its body is deep brown. “That’s a bald eagle,” I say, proud of myself for knowing.

  “So it is.” Harper lowers her arm and the eagle hops off onto the ground. It’s holding something in its right foot. Upon closer inspection, I realize it’s a large fish. Harper points to the catch. “Clean it so we can cook it over the fire.”

  The eagle drops the fish and slices it open with a razor-sharp talon. Then it proceeds to rip out pink, fleshy entrails with its beak. I might be disgusted if I weren’t so happy that Harper’s Pandora knows how to scavenge food. No wonder the others travel with her.

  “What is its name?” I ask.

  “RX-13.” She taps its head once. “Hatched less than an hour after the race started.” Harper holds out her hand to Dink, and he offers her the stick he’s been drawing with. She spears the cleaned fish and holds it over the fire, smiling. “You should see the things she can do.”

  So much for my theory that her Pandora hasn’t displayed any capabilities. I want to ask her exactly what RX-13’s skills are, but I’d rather not admit Madox hasn’t shown any himself.

  My Pandora is struggling against me. I’m not sure whether it’s to run from the eagle or to check her out. I decide to take a chance and put him down. I’ll have to at some point, I reason. As soon as he’s on the ground, he races toward the oversized bird and barks. I can’t help wondering why both M-4 and RX-13 understand their Contenders, but Madox doesn’t understand me. I refuse to believe anything is wrong with my Pandora. Even if there was, I wouldn’t care. He’s mine, and I’ll never be sorry that I’m the one who got him.

  I watch my Pandora try to make friends with the bird. He barks and pushes down on his front legs, asking her to play. In response, RX-13 sweeps a wing back and knocks him across the campsite. He squeals and runs toward me. The bird chases after him — half flying, half jumping — and snaps at his tail. An overwhelming need to protect my Pandora slams into me as I scoop Madox up and glare at the bird. Harper doesn’t seem to notice what’s happened. She’s too busy cooking the fish.

  Madox lays his head against my shoulder and I keep an eye on RX-13, who looks as if she’d like nothing better than to clean him, too. When I realize Dink is eyeing Madox, I say, “Want to hold him?”

  The boy looks at Caroline, and when she nods, he does, too. I walk around the fire, wondering how they got it started with all this damp wood, and place Madox in his arms. The black fox reaches up to lick the boy’s chin and the boy giggles.

  Thinking I should say something to Caroline, I ask, “Is he yours?”

  A strange expression shadows her face, but it quickly vanishes. She offers me a warm smile. “No, we’re just traveling together.”

  I rock back on my heels and smell the scent of fish cooking. “Is your Pandora hunting, too?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation rolling.

  Caroline looks at Dink, then shakes her head. “We lost our Pandoras early on. Mine died after a day, and his never hatched. Isn’t that right, Dink?”

  The boy nods and continues playing with Madox. I wonder if his name is really Dink. Maybe he gave himself a new identity at the start of the race. Seems like something an eight-year-old would do. The woman on the device never mentioned if we had to cross the finish line with our Pandoras alive, so I guess we don’t. But I can’t imagine doing this without Madox.

  “So all of you travel together?”

  Caroline shrugs. “Until we near the end.”

  I smile. “I thought about doing that. Finding others to partner with along the way.”

  “And so you did,” Harper says from behind me. Her voice is teasing, and she grins when I glance at her. Then she turns her attention back on the fish. Pulling it from the flames, she lays it along a flat rock and instructs RX-13 to slice it into six pieces. I’m wondering why we need six when two more people appear from the brush.

  The two boys look like copies of each other. They’re both on the short side — only a few inches above five feet — and have oversized ears and red hair. I glance at Dink for reference, then decide these boys must be about thirteen years old. One carries a spear in his hand, and the other is holding something above his head and waving it around. A collective gasp springs from the group when we realize what he has —

  A bright blue flag.

  “I found it,” the boy holding the flag cries.

  The twin next to him jabs an elbow into his side. “We found it.”

  “Whatever. Same difference.”

  Harper crosses the campsite in a flash and holds out her hand. The boy lays it in her palm and mock bows as if she is their queen. “Where did you find it?” she asks.

  “Not far from here,” he says. “We can show you.”

  Harper turns and inspects the flag in the fire’s light. I can see it clearer this way, and I notice the flag isn’t really shaped like a flag at all. It’s more of a long and narrow strip of cloth. Harper grins and wraps it around her hand. Then she unwraps it and hands it back to the boys. “Show me tomorrow,” she says. “Tonight, we sleep.”

  “We can wear it, right?” one of the boys asks Harper.

  “Split it,” she answers.

  I’m not sure what they’re talking about until I see them tearing the fabric lengthwise. They each take a piece of the blue flag and tie it around their upper arms. Then they dance around the fire. So that’s why people remove the flags? To wear them as trophies?

  “Have you seen anyone else wearing the flags?” I ask.

  The
boys stop dancing and look at me. “Who’s this?” they ask together.

  “Her name’s Tella,” Harper answers for me. “She’s a Contender. She wants to travel with us.”

  Though I never actually said that, she’s right. I’d rather be with a group than go this race alone anymore. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You haven’t met us,” one says.

  “Not yet,” the other finishes.

  “I’m Levi,” the boy with the spear announces. He elbows his twin. “And this is my brother, Dick.”

  “Yeah, my name’s not Dick. It’s Ransom.”

  I laugh and the boys seem pleased.

  “Want to meet our Pandoras?” Ransom asks.

  Though I’m not sure I can handle any more strange animals tonight, I say, “Sure, bring ’em on.”

  “Yep-yah!” Levi jabs his spear into the air while Ransom walks to the edge of the bush and calls out. It isn’t long before the vines rustle and two Pandoras stroll toward us, one after the other.

  The first is the largest raccoon I’ve ever seen. Its eyes are cloaked in black, and its tail is striped black and white. The rest of its fur is gray. Its whiskers twitch as it hurries toward Ransom. “This is DN-99,” Ransom says, bending down to run his hand over the raccoon’s back. “He’s hella cool.”

  Behind the raccoon is a much larger animal. It’s built like a huge deer but has great, curling horns above his eyes. A ram, I realize. Levi steps forward. “And this is G-6. And he’s cooler than DN-99.”

  “You wish,” Ransom says.

  “Where’s your Pandora?” Levi asks me.

  Almost as if the other Pandoras are responding to the question, they move toward Madox. The raccoon, DN-99, reaches up on Dink’s legs and sniffs Madox. The ram looms over all of them and presses his muzzle closer. I’m hoping these Pandoras are nicer than RX-13. In case they aren’t, I start to stand.