Fire & Flood (23 page)

But we both know it is.

“Just in case it is,” Guy continues, “we need to travel through the day.”

“But we’ve hardly slept.” Caroline eyes Dink with worry.

“And they probably haven’t, either.” Guy looks around the desert like he’s already searching for the next flag. “Which means they’ll be stopping soon to rest.”

“It’s the only way we can try and lose them,” Harper says, finishing his thought.

Guy nods to himself. “We agreed to go north after we headed east, but this flag was directly east. So what do we do? Continue east or head north?”

I glance up into the sky and locate the sun. It’s the morning, which means the sun is currently east. Which also means … I look in the northern direction. On the horizon, I see something. Squinting, I can just make out a different sort of landscape. It appears almost darker. “Look,” I say, pointing. “Do you guys see that?”

Everyone stares into the distance.

After a moment, Jaxon looks at me like I’m crazy. “Uh, yeah. It looks like sand.”

Caroline shakes her head. “I don’t see anything, either.”

“That’s because there’s nothing there.” Jaxon takes a drink of water from his canteen. “You people are dehydrated. Seeing visions and shit.”

“No, farther out,” I say. “There’s something there.”

“I see it, too.” Harper steps toward the blurry shape as if that’ll help.

Guy starts walking. “We head north.”

I look at Caroline. She shrugs and takes my place next to Dink. “I guess we’re going north,” she says.

Getting in line behind them, I pray what I’m seeing is something worth pursuing. Otherwise, I could be the reason we perish in this desert. But right now all I’m worried about is getting as far away from those footprints as possible.

After trudging through the sand for half a day, we find another flag. I gloat. I point fingers in people’s faces. I tell anyone who will listen that I know this desert like the back of my hand.

Harper almost slaps me.

I don’t blame her. I almost slap me.

I’m just so happy what I saw pointed us in a direction that didn’t lead to certain death. Then again, there’s still a ways to go before we reach the thing I discovered, which has more or less turned out to be rock formations.

“So we just keep on heading north, right?” I ask.

Guy nods. “We keep heading north.”

“And why is that?” I twist side to side, a huge grin splitting my face. “Because we found another flag?”

My dark-haired, blue-eyed, bronze-skinned muscle man rolls his peepers so hard, they nearly fall from his head.

“Okay, but we’re going to stop once the sun sets.” Caroline places a palm to Dink’s forehead. “I mean, we have to.”

“Yeah, we’ll stop,” Harper answers for Guy.

After walking for several more hours, we’re still a day or more away from the rocks. It doesn’t seem like base camp would be this close, but it still gives me hope. Maybe we found it really quick this time. It’s only been, what, five days? That means we have nine left. Piece of cake.

Oh my God.
Cake.

Once I start thinking about it, I can’t stop. I picture chocolate on chocolate and strawberry with pink frosting. Then I think of the more interesting kinds: carrot cake, pound cake … German chocolate. And cheesecake. Oh, holy mother.
Cheese. Cake.

“You okay?” Jaxon asks as we find a place to camp for the night. “You look a little crazy in the face.”

“I’m so hungry,” I say.

Jaxon holds his hands up and steps backward. “Easy, girl.”

“I’ll send RX-13 out,” Harper says.

Though I’m not looking forward to what the eagle finds in this hellhole, right now I’m too starved to care. “Want me to send Madox with her?” I ask, eyeing my waistline. I’m thinking I could’ve used the desert diet last swimsuit season. Maybe I could package it and make millions.

The desert diet:
Eat whatever you want, as long as it’s nondescript green fruit or beetles. If you’re hungry, spring for a rabbit. Plain.

“No, the fox will just slow her down. Even if he does change shape.” Harper sends RX-13 off in search of food, while I think over the Madox insult she just tossed out. “God, I’m exhausted,” she says.

I eye her with amazement. I thought she was like Guy, that maybe she wouldn’t know exhaustion if it shaved off her shiny, blond hair. Yawning, I realize I’m also beat. Walking through sand for hours on end has a way of sucking the life — and soul — out of you. For a moment, I imagine winning the Cure for Cody. On one hand, after he’s better, I could be all quiet-hero and never mention how difficult the race was. People will talk behind my back and say,
She’s so brave. She never even brings it up, but we know it must have been terrible. That Tella, she’s amazing.

On the other hand, I could go for martyr-who-will-never-let-it-go. I could shove it in Cody’s face every chance I got. I’d be like,
Hey, Cody, enjoying that doughnut? You wouldn’t be if I hadn’t saved your ass.
And,
Hey, Cody, nice wedding you’re having here. You know what you’d be doing today if I hadn’t saved you? Not getting married.

Lying back and driving my hands beneath my head, I smile at the possibilities. I feel Guy lie down beside me. I wonder if he’ll
light a fire, now that I can hardly see a thing and the temperature is dropping. Or if he’ll get twigs for our beds — God forbid we sleep on something mildly soft. I decide if he does go twig hunting, I’ll go with. There’s no reason why I can’t help.

I’m still puzzling over what Guy will do, and what his bedroom looks like, when sleep takes me.

When I wake up in the middle of the night, the sheer darkness startles me. I’m so used to waking to find sunlight or a fire. I sit up and glance around. I can’t make anything out, but I can tell there are sleeping bodies nearby. I assume they’re my fellow Contenders and decide I must have missed dinner or that everyone passed out before RX-13 returned. I also determine Guy is human after all — otherwise, I know he would have lit a fire before crashing. I lie back down, scoot closer to where I think he is, and try to fall back asleep.

But before I can, I spot something.

In the distance is a glowing light. Madox is grunt-snoring at my feet, so I know it’s not coming from his eyes. I decide maybe it’s the cheetah but figure I better check it out. Pulling myself up, I debate whether to wake Guy. If this were a movie, this would be the part where I scream at the girl to not go alone. But this isn’t a movie. And if I wake up Guy and it turns out to be nothing, he’ll give me another one of those concerned looks.

Running my fingers over my feather, I decide to take a quick gander and come right back. I listen for a moment to ensure Madox is still asleep — and still snoring — and head toward the light.

As I get closer, I realize from the way the light dances that it’s a fire. Something is blocking my view of the flames, but I can’t determine what it is. In the colorless night and the flickering glow, my mind plays cruel tricks. I slow my stride and stoop closer to the ground, a nervous sensation blooming in my belly.

I should go back.

I should wake Guy. Or Harper. Or anyone.

Though I think these things, I can’t help but take one more step. Then another. My heart throbs inside my chest. My skin tingles with energy. I can see the thing in front of the fire better now. It’s small. And it’s crouched. My face pulls together with confusion.

One more step and I’ll be able to see it.

I take the step.

Understanding hits me as the thing turns in my direction. My entire body tightens and something screams inside my head.

The thing is Dink.

His pink mouth and small hands are covered in dark blood. I stagger backward and shake my head when Dink’s blood-coated lips part into a spine-chilling grin. Something is wrong with him. Something is
very
wrong with him. And I can’t help but notice how close he is. How he could reach me in a few seconds if he wanted. But that’s a ridiculous thought. Because this is Dink — the boy I decided is only about eight years old.

Dink stands, and I notice the blood doesn’t just paint his hands but stretches toward his elbows. I take another small step back and stop when he holds out his palm. It’s like he’s asking me to come play. Behind him, there’s something lying on the ground.

The blood. That’s where the blood is coming from.

I glance around Dink and train my eyes on the thing he’s been toying with. The boy brings his outstretched hand to his mouth and licks his fingers. Then his smile stretches farther.

Oh God.

He hasn’t been playing with something. He’s been
eating
it.

I move to the side, my sight fixed on the boy. Then I glance down.

A scream catches in my throat when I see Jaxon’s cheetah lying behind Dink, his stomach ripped open.

Dink makes a loud hissing noise and leaps forward.

He’s on me before I can think.

The boy opens his jaws and reveals his miniature teeth, laced with bits of flesh. He jerks his head toward me and tries to bite my neck. I fight to keep the child away from my face. There’s no way he weighs more than seventy pounds, but his strength is staggering when he knocks me down into the sand, as if his sickness has made him stronger. I cry out as I shove him away. But as hard as I push, he moves only a few inches back. He’s still dangerously close, but the extra space between us gives me the opportunity I need. I use my leg as a slingshot and kick him away. He flies off and lands hard in the sand.

In a heartbeat, he springs onto his hands and feet like a monster and scurries toward me. His jaw hangs open and that same hissing sound emanates from his throat. I crawl backward as fast as I can, but he’s coming too quickly. His brown eyes have taken on an almost red hue, and I know if he gets to me again, that this time, he will actually bite me. No matter what, I have to stop that from happening. I can’t contract whatever he has. I can’t die in this desert. Because if I do —

My brother dies with me.

As Dink races closer, I spring to my feet, look for something to ward him off. Spotting the fire, I decide if I can grab a burning stick, maybe I can use it as a weapon. I dash toward the flames, the sound of Dink at my heels driving me forward. When I get to the blaze, I stop in astonishment. The fire — it’s burning without wood. Without leaves. Without anything.

How?

No sooner do I think this than Dink slams into my legs. My knees buckle and I fall to the ground again. He climbs up my back and wraps his hands around my throat. I open my mouth to scream, but he covers my lips. I cry out through his fingers anyway.

Then he starts to push my head toward the fire.

Every muscle in my body tenses as my face nears the flames. I manage to push away from the heat a few inches, but he shoves me back down. The smell of burning hair fills my nostrils. My mind spins when I realize the scent is my own.

Deep in my throat, I scream. The sound is inhuman. I thrust myself away from the ground with every ounce of adrenaline I have. Dink soars from my back. Turning around, I ready myself to fight him. But when I see the boy, he’s lying on his back, staring up at Guy.

Switchblade in hand, Guy crouches on one knee and jabs the other knee into Dink’s chest. The boy kicks and thrashes and flails his arms. But mostly, he makes that strange hissing noise. Guy raises the knife above his head.

“No!” I scream.

But it’s too late.

Guy plunges the blade into Dink’s chest. The boy’s mouth falls open and his eyes widen. He pulls in four sharp breaths, and then his eyelids slide closed. They stop midway, so that I can still see the red brown of his irises. I cover my face and shake my head. This didn’t just happen. It didn’t.
It didn’t.

When I uncover my face, tears streaming down my cheeks, I see Guy pulling off Dink’s boots.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I choke. “Leave him alone.”

He doesn’t stop. Just keeps tugging off his right boot and then his left. He rips the boy’s stiff white socks off next and leans in. Glancing over his shoulder, he motions me to come closer.

I shake my head.

“Tella, come here,” he says gently. But I can’t listen to what he’s saying when his hands are covered in Dink’s blood. I know the boy was trying to hurt me, but he was sick. We could have saved him.

Guy stands up and drags the boy toward me by the ankle.

“Stop it,” I say quietly.

But he doesn’t. And when he pulls the child close enough so that I can see what he’s trying to show me — I gasp.

T-33
is stamped on his foot.

Guy drops the boy’s ankle, and his leg falls to the ground with a thud.

Like honey dripping from a bottle, realization trickles through my mind: Caroline saying her and Dink’s Pandoras had perished; Dink pretending to have lost his device; Dink saving Caroline from the river with ease; Dink building a fire without the use of anything flammable.

Dink is a Pandora.

Dink is
Caroline’s
Pandora.

“No way,” I say, tears blinding my vision.

“There’s nothing we could have done.” Guy says it like I’m feral, like I might bolt into the desert and never return if he speaks too loudly. He reaches toward me, and I curl into myself. I can’t look at him right now. He saved me. But he killed Dink. But he saved — “Tella, there was something wrong with it,” he continues. “The Creators went too far when they made this one.”

“I don’t know how I missed it,” I whisper. I look up into his eyes. “I don’t know how I never —”

I stop talking and a shiver races over my skin.

Titus is standing behind Guy.

“Guy!” I scream.

Titus brings his arm around Guy’s throat before he can react. He snaps his head backward and Guy’s eyes bulge. I race toward him, but someone grabs the back of my shirt and yanks me against his chest.