Fire & Flood

CHAPTER EIGHT

It sounds like a stampede.

The Contenders run fast and hard, and the sound makes me feel drunk with energy. If I don’t start running, I’ll be trampled. Someone shoves me from behind and I almost fall. I don’t need another push.

I run.

I forget every fear I’ve held on to, and I run.

Breath rushes in and out of my lungs and my legs burn beneath me. I have no idea where I’m headed, and I’m sure no one else does, either. Somewhere out here is a blue flag, and I need to find it. The woman said the flags would lead to base camp and that we have two weeks to get there. Base camp sounds good, like it might have hot food and soft beds. So I run toward what I imagine could be the direction — straight ahead.

It seems many others have the same idea. Some race beside me, but most race before me. I don’t worry about catching up. Not yet. I just keep a hand on my satchel, ensuring the egg isn’t hurt by slapping against my thigh. It helps if I imagine I’m running for us both. If I imagine that right now I am my Pandora’s protector and maybe if I do well, someday soon the tables will turn.

After several minutes, Contenders start to slow. I begin to feel my first shock of confidence as I pass one person after another. No one would ever accuse me of being an athlete. I was always the girl who’d rather cheer from the sidelines than participate in something that’d make her sweat. I’m not a softball star or a volleyball champion or someone who knows her way around a basketball court.

But I can run like the wind.

I use every bit of speed I have to gain the only edge I may ever get. It isn’t long before there are only a few people left in front of me. I push myself harder, flattening my hands and slicing the air.

I pass a few more people, leaping over dead logs and the widest array of plants I’ve ever seen. Large leaves brush against my ankles and smaller ones kiss my cheeks. I wonder what creatures call this jungle home and how many of them rest beneath the same plants I’m stepping on. There are so many things to be afraid of in this jungle, but as I run, my blood pumping hard in my veins — I feel no fear.

I run for what feels like two hours before slowing, even though I know it can only have been minutes. Sweat pours down my face and drips onto my brown scrubs, leaving dark starbursts in their wake. Gross. I hope there’s laundry at whatever base camp we’re supposed to find. I throw my hands behind my head and try to walk off the stitch in my side. I’m not sure whether this actually helps, but I’ve seen runners do it, so what the hey.

When I glance around, I see only two Contenders. They’re fairly far away from where I’ve paused. For a moment, I’m thrilled. I left most of them behind, and for the first time, I feel like I may actually have a chance. I may be small, but I’m fast. And this is a race, after all. But when they both disappear into the foliage, a bolt of panic shoots up my legs.

I’m alone.

I think about chasing after the last person I saw. There’s no reason we can’t travel together for two weeks, then run for the finish line at the last minute, right? I run my hands over my freshly shorn hair and drop down onto my knees. Even if one of the other Contenders agrees to search for base camp with me, could I even find a fellow Contender at this point? Best bet is I’ll race after them and end up getting myself lost. I decide to stay put but reason that if I see another Contender soon, I’ll run my tag team idea across them. Deal? Deal.

Oh Jesus. I’m already talking to myself. Or thinking to myself as if there are two of me. Is that the same thing? I’m not sure. But I do know I’ve been alone for two minutes and I’m already losing my shit.

I slide from my knees onto my butt and nestle the egg into my lap. I’ve got to think. If I were a base camp, where would I be? I can only imagine that we’re on one side of this jungle, and it’s on the other. So we’d have to cross through the jungle in order to get there. That’s exactly what’d they want. To drag the Contenders through the worst of the jungle — the middle.

I don’t know who “they” are, but I feel like I’m onto something. If the camp is on the other side of the jungle, then I can just as easily get there by going around the jungle as I can by going through it. The trek may be longer, but I won’t encounter as many obstacles staying on the perimeter. At least, I think. No, that sounds right. It does.

Hot damn! I have a plan!

Wiping the sweat from my brow, I stand up. Holy mother of God, it’s hot up in here. It’s not a sweltering heat. In fact, it’s probably less than ninety degrees. But it feels like a wet heat, the kind that makes you perspire just by breathing. None of that matters, though, because I have an idea on how to get to base camp that doesn’t involve getting killed. Every few minutes, I have to laugh at what I’m planning. Because I used to sit on our blue-and-yellow, floral couch eating cheese and crackers and laughing at those I Survived shows in which people would take vacations to the jungle and end up fighting off wild animals.

“Idiots,” I’d say, crunching another cracker. “Who tafes vaca to the friggin’ hungle?”

And now here I am. Some people say life has no sense of humor. Please.

Something snaps and I freeze. A few yards ahead, I swear I see a man. It looks like he’s wearing face paint and trying hard to remain hidden. A second bolt of fear blasts up my spine. I glance around to see if there are others, and when I look back, he’s gone. Or he was never there to begin with. Which is probably more likely. A half hour into this race and I’m already hallucinating things.

I rehook my bag over my chest, repeat that there’s no strange man, and walk toward my right. Before, I ran straight ahead. But now that I have the plan, I need to cut across the jungle and find the perimeter. I’m not sure how I’ll know when I’ve reached this so-called perimeter, but I’m guessing the foliage will be thinner. Yeah. I’m going with that.

As I march across the jungle, lifting my knees high to keep from stumbling, I begin to list just how many things can end my life. If I eat the wrong thing … death. If I don’t find water … death. If a saber-toothed tiger stumbles upon me on an empty stomach … death. Granted, I don’t think saber-toothed tigers actually exist anymore. But if they do, they live here.

Sound is everywhere. Some I recognize: birds calling and bugs buzzing. Others, I’m uncertain of. Like the rustle the ground makes when something is slithering beneath it, and the high-pitched scream of an animal I can’t name. Even the trees seem to whisper as creatures dive into their leaves. The smell of earth fills my nose, and everywhere I look, pops of color rest against green. There are flowers the color of ripe oranges growing along a thin, spiraling vine. Other flowers are purple and yellow, and there’s a robust spray of something blue that’s shaped like avocados. I want to touch everything and nothing at once.

I make it about a half mile before the sky splits open. There’s no lightning, no thunder. Just rain. I run for cover, certain I can find something to use for shelter. But everything I think can work looks terrifying to crawl beneath. There’s a wide plant that can do the trick if it weren’t decked with black needles. And another that shoots up and over like an umbrella that I’m certain shelters killer somethings or others. I imagine all sorts of insects and animals have the same idea I do — seek shelter — and I suddenly realize rain’s not so bad. Not in comparison anyway.

It seems there is less green growth near the base of some trees. I suspect that has to do with lack of sunlight. Whatever the reason, I crouch down and lean against a tree trunk, the wet bag heavy in my arms. Rain still pelts me, but it’s not as harsh here. I think about continuing to walk while it pours, but something tells me staying dry is important. Reaching my arms out, I gather some rain in my cupped palms and quench my thirst.

I sit for what feels like hours. The rain doesn’t cease. As best I can, I try to cover my bag with my body, shielding it from getting too wet. Already, it feels like the egg and device are my ticket to winning, and I can’t risk either getting damaged. When I can no longer handle the shaking in my arms — or the anxiety that threatens to overwhelm me — I close my eyes. And despite all odds, I fall asleep.

When I wake, everything is blanketed in dark. It’s a dark like I’ve never experienced. I can’t see what’s five feet in front of me, but I can hear the rush of rain and smell thick, musty scents I don’t recognize. My head starts to pound. I didn’t think about this part of the race — the night.

I’ve never liked the dark. Not as a child, not now. And this … this is almost unbearable. Blood pulses in my ears, and I push my hands over them to stifle the sound of my own heart thumping. Within seconds, I’ve imagined every worst-case scenario. Most of which involves being eaten by something.

Once, when we still lived in Boston, my mom took me to hot yoga. It’s normal yoga, but for masochists. In it, they teach you to retain control of your mind and body in uncomfortable situations. This is as uncomfortable as I’ve ever been, so I swing my legs beneath me to sit cross-legged. Then I place my hands on my knees and breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

Something tells me this doesn’t work when you’re in the middle of a jungle at midnight.

An ear-piercing shriek penetrates the night. Though it sounds like it’s a mile away from where I sit, I imagine it’s only inches. Moments later, another shriek emanates from the opposite side of the jungle. The two animals call to each other. Back and forth, back and forth. If I were watching this on TV, I would find it awe inspiring. But here — sitting in my damp clothes on the forest floor, blind to what’s around me — it’s so overwhelming, it makes me cry.

I brush tears from my face and think of Mom. When Cody and I were little, she would sing to us. It was a special occasion, her singing. She’d only do it when we were sick. Not for a sore throat or a bruised knee, but for the bedridden times when even soup and hot tea and warm blankets didn’t help. I can’t count the number of times Cody or I feigned an illness to rope my mom into singing.

There’s nothing else I can think to do.

I pull my egg out of my bag and nestle it in my lap. There’s no telling what this thing holds, and part of me is afraid to find out. But for now I try to forget that and just imagine it’s something normal, like a chicken.

I draw in a big breath.

I’m not the world’s best singer, but I’m not the worst, either. And so I sing for my Pandora, blocking out the sounds of the jungle, forgetting why this may be a bad idea. I just run my hand gently over the dull shell — and I sing.

Because I can’t see anyway, I close my eyes and picture my family as I’m singing. I remember the time my parents brought home a blue parakeet, and Cody and I released it six days later. I almost laugh when I think about the face my Boston best friend, Hannah, made when I told her I loved the goth kid from biology class.

I lift up my Pandora so that my lips brush its shell. I sing every song I can remember the words to. And when I can’t sing any longer, I lie on my side, keeping my arms wrapped tightly around my egg. When I feel myself drifting off once again, I nuzzle my head against my egg and imagine how wonderful it will be when my Pandora hatches. How I won’t be alone anymore.

I don’t care what it will look like.

Or what it will do.

I just want it to be here, now.

“Good night, little Pandora,” I say. Then opening my eyes and looking straight at the smooth, fragile egg, I add, “Good night, Madox.”

I don’t so much sleep as drift in and out of consciousness. And when the sun finally creeps through the canopy of leaves overhead, I chalk it up as a job well done. I managed to live through a night in the jungle. How many people can say that?

My Pandora is in my arms when I wake. I rub my hands over him and stretch my legs.

“Ready to get moving, Madox?” I say.

I don’t feel ridiculous in the least speaking to my egg. I’ve gotten it in my head that if I’m nice to him, then maybe he’ll come out quicker. Or she. Or it. I wouldn’t judge. I place Madox into my bag, thinking I really like his name. Madox. I’m not sure where I got it from. Some movie or TV show, no doubt. Either way, I like the idea of him having an actual name. I mean, KD-8 is cool and all, but Madox sounds less like an alien species.

Running my tongue over my teeth, I cringe. What I wouldn’t give for a toothbrush and a shower … and a turn-of-the-century toilet. Turns out I never properly appreciated the awesomeness that is toilet paper. Next time my mom asks me to pick up a jumbo pack at the store, I will hold my head high.

“I think if we only stop once to rest,” I continue, “we might make it to the jungle’s perimeter by nightfall.” I have no idea if this is accurate, but I’m trying to make Madox feel better. As if he understands. “Want me to sing to you again?” I pause and imagine him/her/it skipping around and nodding. “All right, already. Calm yourself.”

As I walk, I begin to repeat all the songs from last night. My clothes are still drenched from yesterday’s shower, but I’m certain they’ll dry as I move. It’s amazing how optimistic I feel this morning. This race lasts only three months, I reason. If I can make it one night, I can make it two. Et cetera, et cetera.

When my stomach growls, I’m not surprised. The last thing I ate was a PB&J yesterday morning. The more I think about it, the hungrier I get, until at some point, my brain is pounding against my temples.

As I’m walking from plant to plant — wondering which will kill me fastest if I consume it — I hear a muffled, snapping sound. For the last eighteen hours, I’ve heard more coinciding sounds than I could have thought possible. They never stop.

But this one is close.

I wrap my arm around Madox, mentally telling him that everything is going to be okay. It’s amazing how fast I’ve become attached to my Pandora. One night alone, and I’m more afraid of losing him than I am of starving. But I guess whoever created this race knew this is exactly what would happen.

When the sound comes again, closer, I pull Madox onto my chest and protect him with both arms.

The noise is behind me now. I whip around to face it, shaking so hard, my teeth chatter. A sharp caw rips right above my head and I glance up. When I look back down — an enormous beast is staring right at me, hunger storming in its yellow eyes.

It lowers its head, touching a pink nose to the ground. A low growl builds in its throat. The animal stalks closer, eyes locked on my face. I try to stand perfectly still, but I’m hyperventilating and it makes holding myself together extremely difficult.

As the animal moves in, its shoulder blades rise and fall like waves in an ocean. I allow myself to believe for one fraction of a second that it’s only curious. It’ll see that I’m not a threat, that I’ll give it no chase, and will tire of me and leave.

But then the beast lifts its enormous head and releases a bloodcurdling roar only the king of a jungle can.

CHAPTER NINE

The lion rushes toward me in an instant, and all I can think about is how I once heard that lions don’t actually live in jungles. Today, I will die at the hands of a misconception.

My legs shake as the animal closes in, his muscles rippling as he moves. There’s too little time to dream of fleeing. No chance to react, to run for my life. I close my eyes and wait for the impact. But at the last minute, I can’t help but peek. It’s the wrong move. My eyes fall on the lion’s open mouth, on the dark shadows cast by his ivory teeth.

I choke on a scream as the lion leaps.

“M-4,” I hear a deep voice bark.

The lion touches down an inch away from me and stops cold. Then he glances over his shoulder.

From out of the brush, the serial-killer guy strides toward me. He slaps his thigh once. “Now.” The lion pads toward him and stops near the guy’s leg, turning to keep both bright yellow eyes trained on me. When the guy steps closer, I notice he has a scar cut through his right eyebrow and that the bottom of his left earlobe is mangled.

He’s wearing the same brown scrubs I am, but he also has two straps across his chest that attach to bags at his hips. When I see what’s in the bags, my stomach rumbles. They are both overflowing with some kind of fruit, and I even catch the scent of raw meat. I have no idea where he found food or how he knew what was safe to eat, but I consider taking on him and the lion for just a taste.

“What are you doing here?” The guy’s voice is as sharp as it is rough, and he steps toward me when he speaks. An intimidation factor, no doubt. His shirt pulls tight against his chest, and I realize just how easily this guy could kill me. Muscles bulge beneath the fabric, and thick veins run along his tanned, sculpted arms. I yank my eyes away from his shoulders to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean?” I clip. “I’m in the race, same as you.” The lion at his side stirs, licks his chops. “What is that thing?” I should be more afraid, but I’m still too weak from exhaustion and hunger to run, and it seems this guy has a handle on the animal. The answer hits me when I realize he’s not carrying his massive egg. His Pandora hatched. My brain stutters trying to comprehend this, that a lion was inside an egg. I glance at the animal and wonder at the possibility. He’s bigger than I ever imagined a lion would be in real life. For one small moment, I feel envy.

The guy’s got a good Pandora.

Shame fills my chest, and I absently stroke Madox’s egg inside my bag.

His eyes travel down the length of my body, and I recall that my wet scrubs still cling to my skin. His gaze finally lands on the feather in my hair, and his eyes narrow. Looking up, he jabs a finger at me. “Stay away from me.”

I plan to do just that, but when the guy turns to leave, I spot something in one of his bags. It’s electric blue cloth, and I know instantly what it is.

He’s found a flag.

“Wait.” I remember the deal I made with myself, that if I found another Contender, I’d suggest we search for base camp together. This isn’t exactly the kind of person I’d hoped to partner with, but it’s better than traveling alone.

“Wait,” I repeat, stumbling after him. “Maybe we can, you know, help each other.” The guy walks quicker, but I keep talking to his broad back. “I mean, when we get close, it’s every person for themselves, but in the meantime, why not have company?” I pause, trying to think of what skills I possess. “I can be funny. I mean, I used to make my best friend, Hannah, laugh so hard, she’d pee. I can entertain you while we walk.”

The guy flicks his hand and the lion at his side turns on me. He throws his head back and roars so loudly, I can feel it in my bones. I see every thick tooth in his mouth, and a bolt of fear twists my stomach.

I raise my hands slowly. “Okay.”

The guy moves away and the lion trots to catch up with his owner.

I’d like to yell how sorry he’ll be, how when my Pandora hatches, he’ll beat up his Pandora. I look into my bag and smell the sour odor. It’s getting stronger, and I wonder if Madox is already gone. If he never hatches, I’ll be alone. And as much as I hate to admit it, I fear isolation worse than the jungle itself.

The guy has food, but more important, he has a flag. Maybe he already knows the way to base camp. He certainly looks like the kind of guy who treks through jungles for fun. I remember once, in my Business Basics class at Ridgeline High, my teacher got on this rant about research and development. I don’t remember the details of his spiel — I was more concerned with the text Hannah had sent me about a jewelry sale at Forever 21 — but it was something about how McDonald’s puts all this time and resources into finding the absolute perfect location for a new store. They believe if they buy the right real estate, the burgers will sell themselves. The kicker was that other burger joints just watch to see where McDonald’s puts a store, then they plop a store nearby and save themselves a boatload of cash on all that blasted research.

At the time, this story seemed pretty shady; I mean, those other stores seemed like copycats, and that’s just lame.

But now I’m standing here in a jungle in the middle of God knows where, watching a convict and his lion tramp through creepy-looking plants and all I’m thinking is: Homeboy’s got a flag. He’s got the right real estate. So maybe all I need to do is follow his ass.

And so I do.

For two days, I follow this guy … and I learn that I have no business competing in this race. Not when Green Beret is here, sniffing out berries that I assume are safe to eat, or listening for strange sounds I don’t recognize, or finding safe places to sleep I never would have seen.

To give myself credit, I don’t think the guy knows I’m following him. I’ve stayed far enough behind that the jungle masks the sound of my footsteps. I eat what he eats (which is Disgusting with a capital D), I drink from the streams he stops at, and I sleep when he sleeps. Each morning, I wake up to the sound of him moving about. Though he’s quiet most of the day, in the morning, he’s louder than any alarm clock I’ve ever owned.

For the most part, following him is working out all right. The problem is the guy hasn’t found any more flags, and I’m starting to wonder if maybe finding the first one was a fluke.

Night falls quickly in the jungle, which isn’t good. I hate the night, the time when I feel utterly alone, even though Green Beret is only a few yards away. Plus, it gets cooler at night, and for some reason, my skin is doing something funky that worsens in the evening. It feels and looks thinner where the brown scrubs touch my body, and a pink rash covers my chest and back. It freaks me out to no end, but I can’t tell what the issue is. I think maybe I’m allergic to walking this much.

I watch the guy find a place to rest. Last night, he slept in the trees, which I find wildly disturbing. But tonight, he pulls up plants by the fistful and lays bark and twigs onto the ground he cleared. Then he covers that with dead leaves. Finally, after he’s been working and inspecting the site for several minutes, he sits down. The lion pads toward him and leans back on his haunches. The guy rubs the lion under his chin, and a warm, rich purr erupts from the animal’s throat. A small ache twists through my chest. I’d do almost anything for that kind of companionship right now.

It fascinates me, watching this guy and his Pandora. I still haven’t gotten over the fact that we’re in this race and that we have these animals to help us through. Thinking about the other Contenders, I wonder if their Pandoras have hatched, too.

Am I the only one left with an egg?

I try not to think about it as I watch the guy move around, finding a comfortable position to sleep. He’s extremely tall — well over six feet — and it seems every inch of his frame is covered in muscle. I knew guys like him in school. The ones who spent every waking hour pumping iron so they could stare at their sweaty masses in the mirror. I do wonder about his disfigured ear, though, and the scar over his eye. And I wonder about other things, too: the way he circles his makeshift beds like the lion beside him, or the way he rubs his left elbow when he’s thinking. And, good Lord, how many times does one person need to crack his knuckles in a day? Only the knuckles over four fingers, though, never the thumb.

Crack your damn thumb, I think every time he does it. You’re forgetting your thumb!

Watching him has been my entertainment for over thirty-six hours, a distraction from a cruel realization — my Pandora may never hatch. At times, I imagine him seeing me in the distance and welcoming my company, but I know that won’t happen — not with this one.

The dark, shadowed jungle of the day has morphed into the black hue of night, so I don’t see any harm in inching closer. Last night, I slept as far away as I could while still keeping him in my line of sight. Tonight, I can’t bear to be more than a few feet away. He may hear me, but with this cloak of darkness, he’ll never see me.

Folding my arms around my knees, I close my eyes. Inside my head, I’m back home in Boston, sitting in front of the TV with a bowl of kettle corn. My dad is talking football with Cody, and my mom is harping on us to come to the table … and for me to lay off the popcorn before dinner. I picture us sitting down to my dad’s meat loaf, the kind with the red gravy. Cody will make a remark about Brad Carter sucking face with a new girl, and I’ll sock him in the arm. Mom will get mad. Dad will laugh.

Before I can stop myself, I start to hum to Madox. It’s the tune to my mom’s bedside song — our sicky song. I hum for several seconds until I hear a cracking sound. When I open my eyes, I spot Green Beret staring in my direction.

Crap!

Oh well. It’s not like he can see me. It’s too dark. But then he stands up and steps closer. I hold my breath, willing him to look away. He lifts his chin and leans toward where I’m sitting. Shaking his head, he runs his hands through his dark hair. Then he lets out a long sigh that says in no uncertain terms that he’s wildly irritated.

I’m not sure whether it’s his bed made of sticks that has him pissed, or if he’s spotted me. I lock my muscles in place and pretend I’m a lifeless stump. Nothing to see here, folks. He looks in my direction for a long time, then turns to his Pandora.

“M-4,” he says. His voice startles me. He hasn’t said a single word in the two days I’ve followed him. It’s amazing really, because I’ve got a novel’s worth of backlogged dialogue waiting in my head. My ears strain to figure out what’s going on, but I think I hear him tap the ground twice. It’s so dark, I lean forward to try to see what’s happening.

Then light springs forward from the lion’s mouth.

What the —? I gasp when I realize. The lion breathed fire. My skin buzzes from what I just witnessed. Maybe I’m hallucinating? But even from here, I can feel the warmth of the flames. Before I can comprehend how this guy’s Pandora — M-4 — created fire, the guy packs up his two bags, hooks them across his chest, and motions for M-4 to follow him. He’s leaving his campsite, I realize. He’s almost out of sight when I see him turn and look in my direction. His face is stone, his eyes hard as iron. He steals a glance toward the fire, then turns to go.

For several minutes, I wait, watching the fire. I’m afraid the fire will consume everything, but it doesn’t spread. The surrounding wood is too damp to catch, I guess. Everything here is always damp, including me. My clothes never dried from the rain two days ago. I slowly realize why the rash is spreading across my skin.

I haven’t been completely dry in days.

The air is too muggy here, and there’s hardly any sunlight below the canopy overhead. Once it rains, the moisture stays. I’m afraid if I don’t dry my clothes now, I may never get another chance. I wait a bit longer, then creep toward the fire. When I don’t see the guy or his Pandora, I sit down on the twig pallet and pull off my boots. My feet are wrinkled and swollen and covered in red patches. The rash has spread. I tug off my shirt and pants, and dry everything by the dancing flame. Then I curl into a ball, my Pandora pulled closed to my stomach, and I sleep.

When a small noise wakes me hours later, I try to block it out. I need sleep if I am to survive out here. But a strange cracking sound comes again, which I can’t ignore. Even stranger is the crawling sensation along my bare stomach.

My eyes snap open and I glance down.

My Pandora — it’s hatching.

CHAPTER TEN

I bolt upright and the egg rolls away from me. I reach for it, and freeze when a small black paw strikes out of the shell like it’s grasping for something.

I can’t help the tears that sting my eyes.

Covering my mouth, I watch as my Pandora pushes his way out of his egg, piece by piece. He’s alive. All this time, I feared he was never going to hatch, that the smell wafting from the egg was from decay. But it’s happening. He’s here.

My Pandora, my Madox, kicks the last piece of shell away. He’s covered in a thick, greenish slime, but he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. He stumbles onto his back, his four legs kicking the air like an overturned turtle’s. When he rights himself, he circles twice, his small pink tongue dangling from his mouth.

I study my Pandora: his black fur; his four, pawed feet; his pointy, alert ears. When his eyes find mine, I draw in a quick breath. Madox’s eyes are brilliant green, so bright, they seem to glow radioactive in the night. My Pandora looks, in every way, like a baby fox.

When Madox sees me, he takes two quick steps back.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. His ears perk at the sound of my voice, but he seems unsure. “You are KD-8. You’re … my Pandora.”

I keep waiting for some supernatural crap to happen, like for him to grow wings or speak. But I don’t hear a thing. I pull myself up, and the fox backs away farther. It’s enough to make me want to sob. I’ve waited so long for him to arrive, and now he’s afraid. Not that I blame him. I wonder if he knows what’s happening or why he’s here.

Racking my brain, I try to think of something to let him know it’s safe. That I want so badly for us to be allies. The only thing I can think of is my mother, so instead of speaking to Madox, I try humming. I start low and hum louder when he cocks his head and listens.

I laugh, seeing him with his head turned, but then I gather myself and keep humming. I decide to try singing. A few notes in, Madox rights his head and his green eyes widen. His mouth falls open and, I swear to God, he seems to smile.

Opening my arms, I pray for a miracle. That Madox and I can skip the days of awkward companionship and sail right to friendship. The black fox takes a tentative step toward me. I hold still.

Wishing he could understand me, I think, I’m not going to hurt you.

He takes two more steps, then he trots toward me until I run my hand over his wet, sticky fur.

It’s a scene right out of a friggin’ Disney movie. Minus the green slime.

I manage to get most of the goop off him by using large palm leaves. He helps the process by offering me places he’s still coated. When he rolls onto his back, I spot something on his right back paw. With one hand, I scratch behind his ears, with the other, I lift his leg. The other paws are black like the rest of his fur, but this one’s pink. I notice there’s a tattoo on the soft pad. It reads KD-8.

They mark their Pandoras. It’s not surprising; I imagine they want to keep track of their inventory. Madox wiggles his leg free and takes a cautious step into my lap.

“Come on.” I open my arms, leaving my lap wide open. “It’s okay.” He crawls all the way in, circles four times, and lies down. My heart swells as I look at him. He’s my Pandora, and I am his Contender. I can’t help wondering about all the cool things he might be able to do. But mostly, I’m just happy he seems to trust me.

I glance around and notice I’m not sure where the guy and M-4 went. I know I should venture into the brush to look, but I’m still so exhausted. Also, I don’t want to move. Madox looks so serene, asleep in my lap. For a long time, I pet him and sing. He seems to like the sound of my voice. When he starts kicking in his sleep, I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“We’ve had a long day,” I whisper to Madox. Then I lean back, careful to keep my legs crossed, and I fall into a deep slumber.

I dream I am running from a monster. The creature has yellow eyes and a bow slung over his right shoulder. Every few minutes, he strings an arrow into his bow and aims it in my direction. I run faster, weaving between gnarled trees and boulders the size of elephants. Everything is so dark; I can’t imagine how he can see me. But he does. I feel an arrow strike my skin and I cry out. I run faster, but it isn’t fast enough. Over and over, the arrows pierce me until it feels like there are thousands hitting me at once. I drop to my knees and roll from side to side, trying to escape the pain, but nothing helps.

When I finally wake up, Madox is yelping. I shoot up to see what’s wrong with my Pandora, but agony blinds me. My skin stings so badly, I believe I must be burning alive. When I look down, I see hundreds of red ants crawling over every inch of my skin. They aren’t built like the ants in Boston. These suckers are the length of a quarter, and each sting is enough to make me nauseated with pain. I jump to my feet, screaming, swiping at the insects. They crawl over my arms and legs and hands, and even across my scalp.

I brush them off hurriedly, then lean over to rescue Madox. There are still dozens of ants trailing across my bare skin, but I’ve got to help my Pandora. Madox darts into the ashes from last night’s fire and rolls around. I flick off the ones he doesn’t get, then brush off the remaining ants still left on my legs. When we’ve rid ourselves of the insects, we move away from the campsite.

My bag, the one I carried Madox in, is covered in ants. I grab the device from the inside of it, then drop the bag onto the ground and leave it there. My Pandora licks himself, whining. I place my device into my pocket, pick Madox up, and stumble farther from the site. This is why the guy sleeps in the trees, I suddenly understand. Thinking back on the three nights I’ve spent on the jungle’s floor, I can’t believe this hasn’t happened before. How could I be so stupid? The ants probably felt like they hit the jackpot when they stumbled across an almost naked girl and her fox.

Though the stinging sensation along my skin is almost unbearable, I know I have to grab my clothes and boots. Ants crawl across them in organized rows. I put Madox down and take four more stings in order to shake everything off and get dressed. With all the insects gone, I can finally inspect the damage they’ve done. Glancing at my arms, I decide I look like I have chicken pox. It’s disgusting, and I’m certain I’ll have nightmares about this long after the race is over. In a strange way, it makes me mad, too. These tiny little creatures just treated me and Madox like an early-morning snack.

I see a flash of red. Before I can stop myself, I start stomping across the site, the ants squishing beneath my thick boot heels. A wild scream escapes my throat, and I sound more animal than I do human. Madox trots behind me, licking up two or three ants at a time and gnashing them between his teeth.

Laughing, I point at Madox’s mouth. “Hell yeah. Eat those effers.” Then I stop. “Wait, Madox. No. I don’t know if that’ll hurt you.” I scoop him up as he swallows down another mouthful of ants, smacking his jaws together.

“Let’s just go,” I tell my fox. “We need to find the guy I’ve been following. You may not like his Pandora, but I think he might know where we’re headed.”

After walking for several minutes, Madox trotting by my feet, I still can’t find any trace of either man or lion. At first, I’m devastated, but then I remember that I followed him for two days and he never found another flag. Plus, now I have Madox, so I don’t feel the desperate need to be near another person.

As Madox and I trek through the jungle, I notice the plants are taller. Three days ago, they reached my ankles. But now, now they brush my knees, my hips, and in really dense areas, they even graze my shoulders. I feel like I’m being swallowed alive and realize that by following the guy, I’ve been heading deeper into the jungle. He obviously wasn’t following the perimeter plan.

At some point, I stop and listen. I hear a screeching sound. It’s not a sharp caw like some of the birds make. This one is lower and carries farther. Madox cocks his head. He hears it, too.

“What is that?” Madox circles my ankles, and I crouch down to stroke the fuzz behind his ears. “It’s okay,” I tell him. But the sound grows closer, and it’s clear now the noise isn’t coming from a singular animal, but many of the same kind.

I stand up, rubbing the searing pink bumps along my skin. My lungs pull in quick darts of jungle air, and a cold sensation blooms in my belly. The calls are so loud now, they feel like they’re coming from inside my head. Madox barks and backs up. Before I can rejoice in the fact that my Pandora just barked for the first time, the brush opens like a velvet curtain.

A dozen chimpanzees move toward us, swaying side to side as they walk. One near the front, the biggest one, stops suddenly. He didn’t expect to see me here. I pray I’ve startled him enough so that he’ll turn and flee. My heart skips a beat, then another, as he studies me.

Another chimpanzee moves forward. She has a baby chimp in her arms. The sight is eerily human. The large chimp near the front holds out an arm to stop her from going any farther. The gesture pushes me over the edge; it’s too much like something my father would do to me or Cody. I don’t know much about apes, but I know I’m outnumbered.

I take a small backward step.

Moving is the wrong thing to do, I realize too late. The large chimp pulls himself up to standing and beats a single fist against his chest. My land, he seems to say. Maybe I’ve shown submission when I should have been aggressive, but it’s too late now. He screeches loudly, and the chimps behind him follow suit.

“Run, Madox!” I turn and race away, glancing down to ensure my Pandora is by my side. He’s little, but he’s good at finding small spaces in the foliage to dart through, and so he keeps pace. My blood is ice in my veins. I pray that the chimpanzees will be content that I’ve fled, but soon I hear the unmistakable sound of being pursued.

They scream over one another, and creatures in the canopy overhead cry in return, anxious at what is happening below them. The chimps are gaining on me. Of course they are. They’ve lived in this jungle all their lives.

Thorns tear into my clothing as I race. I have no idea what they’ll do if they overtake me, and I cry thinking about it. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I run faster. Madox is still at my feet when the foliage begins to clear. The plants that were thigh-high thin and shorten, but I’m not sure this will help. I need to move quicker, but I also need the jungle’s natural cover. Balling my hands into fists, I push even harder, and for a few seconds, I am filled with triumph as I gain a solid lead on the chimps.

The black hole comes out of nowhere.

One moment, I’m whipping past trees and overgrown vines, and the next, I’m throwing myself back to keep from tumbling to my death. Madox stops just in time and comes to rest nearby. The chimps are growing louder again. I know it won’t be long before they find me. I can’t run forever. I can hardly catch my breath as it is, and fear is making it hard to think.

I glance down into the enormous pit, maybe forty feet down, noting the thick vines along the sides. If I’m careful, and if the vines can hold my weight, I can scale down into the cave and wait until the chimps pass. I’ll have to be quick, though. If they see me, they’ll follow. I’m certain of it.

“Come on,” I whisper, scooping Madox into my arms. Stuffing the bottom of my shirt into my pants, I tuck Madox in between my shirt and chest. Then I grab on to the thickest vine I see, tug it twice to ensure it’ll hold, and step over the side. My brain screams that this is not the alternative I want, that there’s no telling what lurks inside this cave. But I have no choice, so I push those thoughts aside and descend into darkness.

For having never climbed anything before, I think I’m doing pretty well. I use my legs to balance my weight against the rock wall, and test my footing before I step. I’m halfway down when I hear the chimps closing in. I have to hurry. Glancing beneath me, I note there are still ten feet left before I reach the cavern floor. In a panic, I try sliding down the vine. My feet slip out from under me and before I can regain my balance — I’m free-falling.

The breath is knocked from my lungs when I hit the ground. Instantly, I check Madox. He pulls himself out from my shirt, and when I realize he’s okay, I lie back and cringe against the shooting pain in my lower body. I know I have to check for broken bones, but right now I’m still more afraid of the chimpanzees. Grabbing Madox, I pull him onto my chest and press my head into his damp fur.

Please don’t let them find us.

I pray for several seconds before I’m brave enough to glance up. The chimps’ cries are directly above the cave, and I know they’re standing dangerously close to the edge. Sucking my bottom lip, I lift my head from Madox’s warm body and peer upward.

A chimpanzee stares down at me.

I start to scream, but cover my mouth to stop myself. My body shakes with fear, and I forget all about the pain in my back and legs. The chimp raises its hands and intertwines its fingers over its forehead like it’s worried. A sharp call nearby steals its attention, and it looks away. It glances back at me once more, then turns and flees.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

For a long time, I don’t move. I can’t. Each time I consider sitting up, I imagine hearing the chimps’ calls. But when Madox starts licking my face, I know I have to keep going. This is a race, and I can’t stay down here forever.

As I pull myself up, I feel wetness on my back. For a fleeting moment, I’m terrified it’s blood. But when I search further, I realize it’s only water. Madox scurries beneath me and drinks from the narrow stream. I suddenly realize I’m incredibly thirsty, and before I can wonder what kinds of terrible things call this stream home, I get down on my hands and knees and drink. The water is cool and tastes like nothing I’ve experienced before. I’ve never had water this pure, untouched by humans. It’s almost too much, and I close my eyes against the euphoric feeling of meeting such a basic human need.

There are moments in the jungle where I can’t help but laugh at how my life has changed in these last four days. Drinking from a stream, in the belly of a cave, is one of those moments. Yesterday, if this had happened, I would have daydreamed about my leopard-print house slippers and my grandmother’s crocheted blanket that I’ve kept at the end of my bed since forever. But today, I just glance at Madox drinking beside me (downstream, thank God), and I’m thankful for his presence. I was afraid that after he hatched — if he hatched — he would leave me. But so far, Madox has been faithful, and I feel another stab of affection for my little Pandora.

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 think 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.

CHAPTER TWELVE

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.

“Is it still a baby?” Levi asks.

“We’ve been over that already.” Harper’s tone says not to bring it up again, and I’m thankful she’s ended the subject.

“Can I set him down?” Dink asks me. It’s the first time he’s spoken. His voice is rougher than I’d imagined.

“I’m not sure. I don’t know if —”

Before I can finish speaking, the raccoon nips Madox. The fox struggles, then falls from Dink’s arms. As soon as my Pandora hits the ground, he rushes toward me. But before he can get there, the raccoon bites him hard on the rear. Not wanting to miss out on the bullying, G-6 attempts to slam the fox with his horn. I hear Dink screaming as I reach my fox and hoist him up.

I dare these animals to get through me.

“It’s okay,” I tell Dink, who’s crying now. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Caroline pulls the boy close but stops when the ram rears up on his back legs.

“Oh crap,” Levi yells. “Hold on.”

The ram slams his horns into the ground and the earth trembles beneath us. It’s like a small earthquake ruptures the jungle. Trees shake, leaves fall in a shower, and the place where he hit splits open and groans. I try to hold on to Madox, but the ground won’t stop rocking. My Pandora tumbles from my arms and hits the dirt hard. On one side of the fire is the ram; on the other is the raccoon. Madox chooses to run toward the raccoon.

The ram races after him, and when Madox gets within a few inches of the raccoon, sharp spikes burst from his gray fur and pierce my Pandora.

“No!” I scream as Madox yelps.

Ransom and Levi bark orders for their Pandoras to stop. Immediately, they do. But now the eagle, RX-13, is swooping in from the trees, talons stretched toward Madox. I get there first, pulling Madox up with my left arm — and when the eagle gets close enough — I swing a right hook and collide with the bird. She slams into the ground and slides for several feet.

I’m waiting for Harper to jump me. But she doesn’t. Her eyes are big with approval. “Nice hit.”

I’m having trouble catching my breath, but I still find a way to yell. “Nice hit? That’s what you have to say? Why are your Pandoras intent on killing mine off? What’s wrong with them?”

Harper shrugs. “Never seen it happen.”

I look at the twins, and they shrug, too. Ransom tugs on his enormous earlobe. “Maybe they smell something on him.”

“What could they smell?” I ask.

His forehead scrunches. “I don’t know. What did you do today?”

What did I do today? I got eaten by ants and attacked by King Kong.

I don’t answer. Instead, I watch as the eagle flies back up into the trees, and the ram and raccoon settle down. Inspecting Madox, I don’t see any permanent damage, but he still whimpers in my arms. I don’t know what’s normal with Pandoras, but I can’t travel with these people if I’m constantly worried about his safety.

As if Harper can read my mind, she walks over and offers me a piece of fish. “It’s okay; we’ll watch them from now on.” She turns to the twins. “Right?”

They mumble a response, drop down, and sit cross-legged.

I’m not sure I believe them, but I’m happy Harper addressed what happened. Trying to move past the fear I felt for my little fox — and once again deal with the knowledge that these animals have powers — I study the fish in my palm. For one glittering second, I think about swallowing it whole. But then I see Madox and know he probably needs it more than me right now. I hold the fish up to his nose and laugh when he eats it straight from my hand.

When I glance up, the twins and Harper are staring at me incredulously.

“What?” I say. “You saw what just happened.”

“You’re a strange one, Tella,” Levi says.

I tilt my head, stick my tongue into my bottom lip, and roll my eyes inward. It’s the most horrendous face I can make. I know, because I once spent an hour practicing in the mirror.

Montana. Not much to do there.

Ransom points to my face. “That is terrible.”

I laugh and so does everyone else. My ugly face is pretty awesome, but not enough to warrant this kind of reaction. It’s the jungle, I decide. We’re desperate for normalcy. For the next hour, we swap stories and laugh until our sides ache. We talk about the jungle, and the flag the twins found, and how terrifying being in the box was.

We don’t discuss the reason we’re here. I guess it feels personal.

When the fire gets too small to see well, Harper speaks up. “Levi, Ransom, feed the fire and then we’ll sleep.” The twins leave and return moments later with twigs and dried leaves. They toss them into the fire and the flames kick higher, sputtering sparks as they climb. I breathe in and relish the smell of ash. It reminds me of when I was home, of when I found my device in the dying fire my dad built. It seems like an eternity ago.

“We take turns keeping watch,” Harper tells me. “For animals and insects and such. I’ll go first, then the twins, then you, and finally, Caroline and Dink take the last shift. Thanks to you, we’ll all get to sleep a bit longer tonight.” Harper brushes clear a spot on the ground and motions for me to lie there.

“Thanks,” I mumble. Harper is the obvious leader of this group. I wonder if she likes the position or resents it. I can’t get a solid read on her. Pulling Madox close, I lie down in the dirt and watch Caroline fold and unfold her hands. I listen as Dink’s breathing becomes deep and steady. And I close my eyes and sleep.

When Ransom wakes me hours later, the first thing I do is look for Madox. He’s there, sleeping along my arm, his head lying across my wrist.

“It’s your turn,” Ransom whispers. Behind him, Levi is already settling along the ground. “Can you stay awake?”

“Yes,” I say quickly. I want these people to know I’m more than willing to do my part. Pulling myself up, I breathe in the smell of wet soil and smooth my hair. It still shocks me to feel so little of it there. Ransom lies down close to his brother, and only a few moments later, I hear the twins snoring.

I feel alone again. I know I could wake any of them if I need to, but somehow, it isn’t enough. When I was by myself in the jungle, I thought constantly of staying alive. But now that I’m among others, it’s like the weight of survival has been lifted and loneliness for my family fills its place. I run my fingers along my feather and think of Mom. Of what she’s doing now. And if she wonders where I am … or if she knows.

I look at the Contenders and notice their Pandoras sleeping close by. The ram and raccoon rest a few feet from the twins, and the eagle stands near Harper, eyes closed. I narrow my own eyes and notice Harper’s hand is resting over RX-13’s feet. A smile finds its way to my lips. I suddenly wonder if Harper exaggerated her indifference toward her Pandora. She may never admit it, but there’s often more truth found when we sleep than when we wake. Dad used to always say that.

Pulling my knees forward, I allow my mind to drift. I think of Mom and Dad and Cody. Somehow, staring into the fire, I enter a sort of trance. I don’t know how long I stay that way, lost in my thoughts. But at some point, I snap out of it. When I look up, I notice Madox is inches from the raccoon.

“Madox,” I whisper, alarm lacing my voice. “Get away from it.”

That’s when I notice my Pandora’s face. His normally brilliant-green eyes are … glowing.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Madox is staring at the raccoon so intently, I think he’s having a seizure. His little legs are locked in place, and he’s leaning forward. From across the fire, I can see his eyes burning green like he’s some sort of alien.

“Madox,” I whisper again. “What are you doing?”

My Pandora is actually starting to freak me out. I move to stand but stop suddenly when Madox relaxes out of his crazy stare. His eyes return to their normal, nonglowing green and he trots over to where the ram sleeps. Then his muscles tighten, his eyes flick back on, and he studies G-6 like the ram holds the answers to the world.

I can’t speak anymore. I’m too terrified of what will happen if the others wake up and see this. But I’m also afraid of what Madox might be doing to these creatures. I need to do something. Pulling myself up, I head toward my Pandora. I’ve almost got him when he breaks his trance, slips between my legs, and heads toward Harper.

The eagle. He’s doing something to the eagle this time.

His eyes are still glowing when I scoop him up. Turning him around, I watch as they dim to their normal green hue. I’m breathing hard, and I feel a little unsteady on my feet, but I pull him to my chest and squeeze him tight.

What were you doing?

I glance at the other Pandoras. They seem to be fine, so I try to calm down. It feels like a few hours have passed since I’ve been keeping watch, so I decide to wake Caroline and Dink. Also, I want to know if they feel like anything is off. Starting with Caroline, I gently shake her shoulder until her eyes open. Then I move to wake Dink.

“No,” she says quickly. “I’ll wake him.”

I nod, wondering about their relationship. Dink may not be Caroline’s son, but she treats him as such, and I’m sure there’s a story there. As the two pull themselves up and dust off their brown scrubs, I study their faces. They don’t seem to sense anything strange, and Madox’s eyes haven’t flicked back on.

Caroline glances at me. “It’s okay,” she says, seeing the worry in my face. “We’ll keep watch.”

I force a smile and lie down on the hard ground. Madox circles three times and then plops down, his side pressed against my belly.

What did you do? I think again. For some reason, I feel as though I’m failing as a Contender because I don’t know. With my left hand, I stroke his soft black fur. My Pandora closes his eyes, and his body relaxes. For a long time, I study Madox, the way his chest rises in quick bursts. I don’t know how I’ll ever sleep, but I know I need rest. So I close my eyes and try.

I wake to something splashing over my face. Dink giggles as we all sit up and realize we’re being rained on. Leaning my head back, I open my mouth and drink in the cool liquid. It’s not as hot in the jungle early in the morning, and with the rain pouring down my back and over my cropped hair, I feel invigorated.

“Why you smiling, loony?” Ransom asks.

“Because she’s thirsty and it’s raining,” Levi answers for me. He opens his own mouth, and Ransom copies him.

Soon, we’re all standing there, drinking the rain. We look like idiots. Every last one of us.

Madox jumps around and splashes in the quickly forming puddles, and the other Pandoras chase and snap at him. He dodges them and continues playing. I restrain myself from picking him up. I want so badly to rescue him from the bullying, but I have to start letting my little fox fend for himself. And I’m honestly kind of relieved the other Pandoras are okay after Madox’s glowing-eyes attack.

Ransom plucks his device from his pocket and stares at it. I know what he’s wondering — whether an electronic anything could still function after this downpour. It’s the same thing I wondered the first day of the race, when the rain had lulled me to sleep. Ransom sees me watching him. He gives a halfhearted smile and drops it back into his pocket.

The rain continues as we stretch and yawn and listen to Levi tell us where we’re headed. “Toward where they found the flag,” Harper explains to me, as if I hadn’t heard him. We walk for what feels like two miles, and the rain never stops. At one point, I do pick up Madox. I can’t help myself. He looks so small in the mud and rising water.

“There,” Ransom yells, running forward.

We run after him, Dink ahead of us all. When I see the pole the flag was attached to, I grimace. There’s no way I’ve accidentally missed flags. The pole itself stands seven feet tall, six inches wide, and is painted bright blue to match the flag.

“How did you reach it?” Caroline asks. I was wondering the same thing.

Ransom looks offended. “Uh, what are you implying?”

Caroline blushes, but Harper just says, “You’re short. The pole is tall.”

Ransom crosses his arms. “We’re not that short. In fact, we’re —”

“It was tied to the middle,” Levi interrupts. “Right there.”

We all stare at the middle of the pole and nod our heads. Dink reaches out to touch the pole, and right as he’s about to brush his fingers along it, Levi grabs his arm and yells. Dink jumps, and Levi laughs.

Caroline pulls the boy to her, but maybe she shouldn’t, because Dink is laughing, too.

Harper glances around. “We need to keep track of them.” I think she means for Levi and Ransom to not lose the flags on their arms. “RX-13,” she calls. The bird swoops down and lands on her arm. She lets her onto the ground and kneels in front of the eagle. Then she pulls the front of her shirt up, enough so that I can see her bra is a perfect shade of pink. Of course it is. I’m relieved to see that she has the slightest hint of stretch marks on her belly. Though they’re hardly visible, I’d like to imagine she was once enormous.

“Make a mark in the center of my stomach. Deep enough to scar, but not so deep that I won’t heal,” she tells her Pandora.

“Harper, what are you —” I start to say.

The bird raises a talon and makes a tiny slice three inches above her naval. Blood drips from the wound when the eagle removes her claw.

“Jesus, Harper,” Levi says. “Couldn’t we have used something besides your body?”

“My stomach is a map, see?” she explains, ignoring Levi. “When we find another flag, we make a new mark in relation to this one.” Harper points to the bleeding cut. “It needs to always be with us,” she says. But what she means is: me. It needs to always be with me.

Levi rolls his eyes. “You’re frackin’ bananas.”

I stare at Harper as she bunches her shirt up and presses it against the wound. What I want to know is how her Pandora knew how deep to cut. Is the bird suddenly a doctor now? Maybe Harper’s lost her mind, I think, but at least she’s making decisions. “Let’s keep moving,” she says.

“Which way?” Ransom asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” I answer. “As long as we keep track of the direction.”

Harper glances at me and nods. “Exactly.”

“South?” I want for it to sound like a statement, but it’s clearly a question. One directed at Harper.

She looks in front of us and nods again. “South.”

We push forward through the morning. At about midday, the rain turns torrential. The twins pull off their shirts and pants, then rinse them out in the rain. They wipe their arms and legs and anywhere else there’s caked-on dirt. Ransom and Levi are only thirteen or so, but it still feels odd seeing them in only boxers; their thin, pale bodies so … exposed.

I startle when Harper pulls off her own shirt and pants and tries to get the dirt out. She continues walking in her heavy boots and matching pink bra and undies. When she sees me watching, she laughs. “We’ll never see these people again.”

She may be right, but I’m pretty sure from the way Levi and Ransom are staring that they’ll remember this forever. I decide to remove my shirt, but leave on my pants. Caroline still has her clothes on, and it makes me wonder what she’s thinking. What my mom would think about me showing my goods in the middle of a jungle.

I think she’d tell me to stew in my own filth. That’s what I think.

As I hike between towering plants, trying to pull my shirt back on, I notice something on my side. It’s thin and black and slimy-looking. Because it’s pouring, I can’t quite tell what it is. But when I touch it — I know.

There is a leech on my body.

Oh my God. Oh my friggin’ God.

Strangely, my first concern is to not let anyone else see. I just want to handle it and then have mild panic attacks for the rest of the day. Then chase it with a thousand nightmares while I sleep.

I pull my shirt the rest of the way on. Then I reach my hand up my side until I feel it. When I realize how plump it is, I almost lose the charbroiled meat-in-a-leaf Harper gave me last night. Biting down, I dig my nails beneath it and rip outward. The leech comes away in my hand and I throw it to the ground without looking. Making sure no one is watching, I tug the side of my shirt up and glance down. There’s still a piece attached to my skin. The head, perhaps.

I vomit.

Ransom hurries over to me and rubs my back while I retch water. He’s so distracted with my being sick, he doesn’t notice when I reach up my side and pluck the last of the leech away. Thinking back, I know it must have attached when I was lying in the cave’s stream yesterday. I mentally add caves to my Terrible Jungle Things List.

“I’m fine,” I tell him.

“I shouldn’t have given you that meat,” Harper says, appearing sincere. “It may have been too old. It’s my fault.”

“It’s not that,” I say. “I just drank too much rainwater.” I feel like we’re yelling through the heavy downpour when I’d like nothing better than to not talk about this.

Harper seems to understand because she asks, “You okay to keep moving?”

“Harper.” Ransom says her name like she’s being cruel.

“No, I am,” I say. “Let’s keep going.” Ransom stares at me, so I raise my voice. “Please.”

He grins and punches my shoulder. “You so crazy, girl.”

“Yeah, thanks for helping me puke. You lead, I’ll follow.”

Ransom kicks his leg into the air for whatever reason, then jogs toward the front of the group. Once everyone’s past the spectacle of me barfing, I slide my hand up my shirt and feel stickiness.

It’s not blood, I chant over and over. It’s just rain.

Madox watches me carefully for the next few minutes, like he’s afraid I’m going to eat it any second. I kick rainwater on him every once in a while, and he bites at the air. But he still watches me.

When we reach the only clearing I’ve seen in four days, everyone’s spirits lift. It appears that a few trees died and fell to the earth recently. Now there’s a big open space in the canopy above. Though the rain still comes in violent sheets, it’s wonderful to see the sky.

“Let’s break here and send RX-13 hunting,” Harper says.

“How will we light a fire to cook?” Caroline asks, folding her hands extra hard.

Harper shrugs. “Let’s just see if she can find something. Then we’ll figure out how to eat it.”

Levi and Ransom are already settling down on one of the fallen trees when I hear it — a low, rumbling sound. I’m about to check if anyone else heard anything when Caroline asks, “What was that?”

“Excuse me,” Levi says, holding his stomach.

Ransom shoves him. “Shut up, idiot. That wasn’t you.” He glances around. “I heard it, too.”

The sound comes again from the nearby foliage. It’s louder now, loud enough so that I know it’s not thunder or branches rubbing together or Levi’s stomach. It’s an animal. Though there are six of us and four Pandoras — standing in this clearing, blinded by the rain — it suddenly feels like we’re prey.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The ram, raccoon, and eagle Pandoras seem to sense danger is near. They circle around us and back up, pushing us closer together so that we — the Contenders — form a close knot in the middle.

The eagle stands on the ground but snaps her wings open wide. The ram huffs sharply through his wet nostrils, and even the raccoon pulls up on his hind legs like he’s readying himself for battle.

“Look at them,” Levi says. He’s talking about the Pandoras — their stances, their fearlessness of what’s prowling the dark perimeter of this jungle clearing.

My heart throbs against my ribs, and I glance down to ensure Madox is still close to my ankle. He is. The other Pandoras may have bullied him last night, but they may very well help save him today.

“It’s probably just a jungle animal,” Harper says, though she sounds unsure. “We have it outnumbered. It’s going to leave once it gets a good smell.”

I don’t like what she just said. That it’s smelling us.

I can hear our collective breathing; Dink’s sounds almost labored. Taking his hand from behind me, I squeeze, trying to reassure him it’ll be okay.

The growl comes again. Deep. Close.

And then the animal erupts from the foliage and launches forward. Caroline screams, and as the sound pierces my ears, I make out what’s charging toward us — a grizzly bear.

It runs on four legs, jaws open, black eyes set on the ram. Inside its ear, I can see a tattoo. It reads: AK-7. Seeing the bear coming, the ram rears up on his back legs. I know what to expect this time, so I grip Dink’s hand tighter and feel other hands grab on to my arms. We brace ourselves for the ground to shake.

But the hit never comes.

The bear plows into the ram and the two roll in a heap. Somehow, the bear manages to land on top of the ram and opens its jaws wider. As it brings its head down, I realize the bear is going for the ram’s throat.

“No,” Levi cries. He starts to run toward his Pandora, but Ransom holds his brother in place. Like Levi, I want to help. To do something. But we have no weapons, nothing to defend ourselves with.

The raccoon races toward the bear — and seconds before the bear’s jaws hit their mark, the raccoon jumps onto the creature’s back. Spikes shoot out from the raccoon’s fur and embed into the bear’s brown hide, piercing the flesh below.

Pulling up onto two legs, rain washing over its massive body, the grizzly bear releases a bloodcurdling roar. Then the bear reaches around and bats the raccoon away with its massive paw. DN-99 flies across the clearing and its spikes retract into its fur.

The bear falls onto its four legs and turns its attention on us. I brace myself for the worst — but as it moves closer, nose raised, RX-13 takes to the sky and sets her target on the bear. The eagle flies faster and faster, her talons stretched in front of her.

And then she is gone.

Seconds later, she reappears, her talons mere inches from the bear. They plunge into the bear’s flesh, just missing its eye. The bear howls.

“Holy crap,” I say.

“Yeah,” Harper says, and though I can’t see her, I can hear the enthusiasm in her voice. “Invisibility.”

Just like with the raccoon, the bear tries to slam the eagle away. But the eagle vanishes before that can happen, only to reappear behind the bear for another attack. Rearing back, the bear swats at the eagle. Blood drips from the animal’s back as it moves. The eagle tears at the bear’s flesh, but eventually, she gets too close, and the bear catches the bird between its claws.

Now the ram is back, and behind him, the raccoon.

They fight the bear like this, in rotations, for what feels like an eternity. In actuality, it’s probably only a few minutes. When Dink squeezes my hand, I know what he’s saying. The bear is winning.

Watching the fight, I know we don’t have much time to make a plan. We must escape while the Pandoras attack one another, but each time someone in our group moves, the bear charges toward us. We’re the ultimate target, I realize.

“What are we going to do?” Caroline asks through her tears.

Harper shakes her head, like she can’t believe our three Pandoras are being taken down by this one.

Next to my ankle, Madox barks. It’s just a small sound, but it pains me inside. If the bear gets to us, he may be the first to go. I have to do something.

Before I can make a decision, my Pandora rushes forward.

“Madox,” I scream. I go to chase after him, but Harper grabs both my arms.

“You can’t, Tella,” she says, struggling against me. “We have to get out of here.”

Madox races toward the bear and stops a few feet away. He barks again. The bear stops fighting the ram and looks at the small fox. My head pounds inside my skull as Madox’s eyes flick on, burning bright green.

“What’s he doing to it?” Ransom asks, astonished.

I shake my head and bite my lip. Get away from it, Madox. Just get away from it.

The bear moves toward my Pandora, transfixed by the glowing light.

And then Madox begins to change.

His head falls back and his spine ripples. Beneath him, his legs and arms stretch longer and wider, and his black coat begins to thicken. My Pandora grows massive muscles and new body parts — morphing into something I don’t immediately recognize. His ears pull in to form neat half-moons, and his muzzle lengthens. And then understanding shakes me to my core.

The baby fox has transformed into a carbon copy of the grizzly bear before him.

And my Pandora — my sweet Madox — rears up, opens his great jaws, and roars.

In that moment, my heart swells with so much pride, I fear it will burst.

Madox doesn’t wait for an invitation to fight; he just storms toward AK-7 and attacks. Rising up at the last minute, he bites down on the bear and takes it to the ground. They fight in the lashing rain for several seconds. It’s hard for me to tell at one point which is my Pandora. One bear gains the advantage and readies itself to go for the other’s throat. But before it can, the bear beneath it ripples and changes until all I see is a flutter of feathers and wings. The top bear fumbles backward when it realizes it’s no longer fighting a bear — but an eagle.

Madox has changed again, taking the form of RX-13.

As if the other Pandoras suddenly understand what is happening, they leap into action. RX-13 dives toward the bear beside Madox and together they sink their talons into its flesh. Before, when the three Pandoras fought, they had to take turns attacking and recovering. But with Madox’s help, they can now fight alongside one another.

The ram and raccoon rush forward to assist the two eagles’ assault. Somehow, though the eagles are quick, the bear manages to pin one to the ground. The eagle between its claws changes yet again to take DN-99’s form. The raccoon replica shoots his spikes out and the bear howls and drops him to the ground.

Amazingly, the bear still charges forward. It’s like it can’t stop until we’re dead. I almost break away from Harper when I see my Pandora, back in his fox shape, race toward the perimeter of the clearing.

“Let me go,” I scream. “I’ve got to see if he’s hurt.”

But Harper won’t release me, and now Ransom and Levi are helping her hold me in place.

When Madox reaches the perimeter, his eyes flick on. He’s staring at something in the bush, but I can’t tell what he’s copying now. Until he starts changing.

His body widens and grows taller, and his black fur pulls in and lightens in color. His tail lengthens, and a shock of hair fluffs out from around his head. Madox swishes his tail, turns back toward the bear, and locks his lion eyes on him.

As he prowls toward the bear, keeping close to the ground, I notice something appearing from behind him. A shiver works its way up my spine. It’s M-4, and from the look in his yellow eyes, he’s come to help.

The grizzly bear spins in a circle. It can’t win. There are too many surrounding it. But there’s determination in its rigid stature, and I know it won’t stop until it’s dead. As the Pandoras close in on it, Harper whispers, “Let’s go. There’s no use in watching.”

“What are you talking about?” I hiss, spinning to face her. “The bear can still hurt one of them. We can’t leave until we know they’re okay.”

“Damn it!” Levi yells.

I turn back around and hear the bear release a roar that confirms my earlier suspicions: It’ll fight to the death. It drops onto its paws and races toward the ram.

“Say it!” A new voice crashes through our clearing. “Stop him.”

When I see who’s appeared, I can’t help but smile.

He’s got psycho written all over him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Green Beret is holding another guy in front of him. Or rather, he’s holding his head. And he’s holding it in a way that makes me think he could seriously hurt him with a simple movement.

The grizzly bear has stopped attacking and is staring at the guy in front of Green Beret.

“Say it,” Green Beret repeats, and his voice raises goose bumps on my arms. There’s no way in hell I’d think about going against that order.

The guy in the headlock apparently agrees, because he opens his mouth and says, “AK-7, stand down.”

The bear sits on its haunches as if that was exactly what it wanted to do this entire time. It begins licking its wounds as Green Beret shoves the guy in front of him. Scurrying over to the bear, the guy inspects it closely.

“I had no idea,” the guy says. “He got away from me somehow.”

The guy has blond, chin-length hair and sun-kissed skin. He looks older than me but younger than Green Beret. Like my own, his brown scrubs are battered and torn. But that’s not what has my attention — it’s the blue flag wrapped around his bicep. Even as Madox resumes his fox form and allows me to baby him, I can’t stop staring at it.

“He’s yours?” Harper asks the guy with the flag. She raises her chin, and I envy the way she can immediately regain control. I, on the other hand, feel like I’m going to pass out.

“Yeah, he is.” The guy straightens and moves toward Harper, his hand outstretched.

“Pass,” she says, eyeing his muddied palm. As he stands near Harper, I notice he’s almost as wide as he is tall. Built like a wrestler. “Did you sic your Pandora on us?”

“Why would I do that?” the Contender asks, a hint of a smile on his lips. He brushes off his hands and looks at each of us, waiting for someone to come to his defense. No one does.

“You’d do that so there’s less Contenders to compete against,” Green Beret growls. I glance at him and notice he’s staring at me, even though he’s speaking to the new guy.

“That’s insane,” the guy says, shaking his head like we’re idiots. “Who would do that?”

Harper grabs his beefed-up arm and eyes the flag. “Where did you get this?”

The guy beams at her, and the sight makes me squirm. There’s something not quite right about him. “My name’s Titus. Thanks for asking.”

“Duly noted. Flag?” Harper pushes.

Titus seems to calculate his options, as I try to fathom why Green Beret is staring at me. His dark hair is still spiked, and I wonder where he’s getting his gel. I try not to notice the way his cold blue eyes study my face, but it’s hard to ignore. Swallowing my fear, I turn and meet his eyes. I smile. He doesn’t.

“I can show you,” I hear Titus telling Harper.

“Then do it.” Harper nods to us like the matter is settled. We’ll follow Titus, who may or may not have tried to kill us, to locate where he found the flag.

“Are you coming with us?” I ask Green Beret. My voice is barely a whisper. I have this strange half fear, half fascination going on with this guy. Like I’m not sure whether I want to watch the sun set together, or sleep with one eye open.

Green Beret’s face pulls together. I realize it then — he hates me. And not in the way in which I find out later that he actually liked me the whole time.

“O-kay.” I think it’s clear he wants no part of this travel entourage. But then as I’m turning toward Harper, I hear him speak.

“Yes.”

I spin around. “Yes? Yes, you’re coming with us?”

He yanks on his left earlobe — the mangled one — and walks by me, nearly bumping my shoulder as he passes.

“My name’s Tella,” I say to his back. He stops for one second, then keeps walking.

Harper turns to face him. “Who are you?”

“Guy Chambers,” he answers.

What the hell? Why doesn’t he hate Harper? I look her up and down. Oh, right.

Harper glances at his lion, then back at him — at his broad shoulders and towering height. I imagine she’s noticing the way his eyes don’t dart, but lock on their subject. “Okay,” she says. “Welcome. We’re following Titus here to see where he found his flag.”

Guy reveals his own flag and balls it in his fist.

“Where?” Harper asks. She seems to know better than to grab him.

“At the start of the race. About two miles northwest of here.” His voice is deep and steady, like he’s never been unsure of anything in his whole entire life.

“RX-13,” Harper yells. Oh God. I wince as the eagle makes a new mark on Harper’s stomach northwest of the one the twins found. Guy nods his approval. They’re a good match. The two nutcases.

Harper presses her palm to the wound. “Let’s move.”

And just like that, we forget about nearly getting killed. About how minutes before, our Pandoras were fighting for our safety.

The grizzly bear is near the front by Titus’s side. The other Pandoras eye the bear as they move, but for the most part, they stay near their Contenders and remain calm. Madox bounces around near my ankle, biting at my bootlaces.

Shaking my head at him, I try to hide my glowing admiration. You could have told me you were a total badass. I imagine him shrugging. Yeah, I know. You’re not the talkative type. Clenching my hands together is the only way I can keep myself from trying to pick him up every five seconds. I’m just so damn happy to call him mine.

I walk near the back and watch Guy move through the jungle. He’s in front of me, and Caroline, Dink, Harper, and the twins are sandwiched between Guy and Titus. For several minutes, we walk in silence. Then Guy turns and faces me. He holds a finger to his lips and points at my feet. He’s insinuating I walk like an ogre, heavy and loud.

“What?” I cock a hand on my hip when I say it, because it’s honestly kind of belittling. “Sorry, I don’t slither like a snake.”

He looks me over for a moment too long. The others continue walking, oblivious that Guy is staring me down, running his eyes over my face … my neck. “Pick your legs up higher,” he says before returning to the hike.

I glare at the back of his head but decide I’ll try the whole picking-up-my-legs thing. It causes my thighs to burn, and at first, I’m certain the only thing it’s doing is making me work harder. But then I realize I’m not stumbling anymore, and, yeah, I guess I sound a little less like a bulldozer.

At one point, Ransom jogs over to hang out with me. “Going to puke again?”

I see Guy tilt his head and realize he’s listening. My face burns.

“No, I think I’m retch-free,” I answer.

Ransom nods toward Madox. “Dude,” he says.

I smile. “Dude.”

“Did you have any idea?”

I pretend to brush the front of my shirt so Ransom doesn’t see how guilty I look. It’s not like I knew exactly what Madox was capable of, but then again, I certainly hadn’t admitted to what happened with his glowing eyes last night. “Um, sorta.”

Ransom grins. “Way to play the underdog.”

“I wasn’t —” I start to say, but Ransom is already jogging toward his brother.

“Let us know if you need to ralph,” he yells. “We’ll make a pit stop.”

I’m mortified. Though I don’t know why. Who cares if the two new guys know I got sick?

After what feels like another half hour, Titus points in front of him and says something. I’m too far back to hear, but I see the pole and connect the dots. We’ve found it. Again, we stand in a circle and stare up at the flagstaff. I half expect us to take hands and sing “Kumbaya” while swaying side to side.

We don’t. But Harper does practice the art of self-mutilation via eagle talon for the third time today. The third small gash along her stomach indicates this flag is southeast of the one the twins found. And the one the twins found is southeast of the flag Guy found. The three marks make a diagonal line starting at the bottom left of her stomach and continuing to the top right.

“Is it a pattern, you think?” Levi asks.

“We have nothing better to go on,” Harper says. She looks at Guy, and I wonder when he suddenly became her collaborator. He nods and then pitches his head to the east. “Yeah,” she says. “Let’s head east for a while. We’ll camp there for the night, then head south later.”

I agree, but secretly resent I’m not the one giving orders. Five days ago, when it was my first day in the jungle, I would have loved for someone to take charge. Now I feel an itch to be a part of the decision making.

I’m not sure we’re headed exactly east. Who could tell? We more just hang a left and start walking. At some point, the rain finally relents. The brown scrubs cling to my body as we move, and my boots are heavy. I run a hand over my head and figure that with my short hair matted against my scalp, I probably look less like a girl and more like an emaciated, prepubescent boy. Hot.

Though we’re all dragging our feet through the mud and probably driving Guy crazy, we’re making good progress. Walking in a group helps. No one wants to be the person to slow the rest down.

At some point, I tire of being at the back of the pack. So I quicken my steps — passing Guy and fighting the urge to stick my tongue out at him — and catch up with Ransom and Levi. The first thing I notice is Ransom holding his left hand with his right.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

Ransom drops his hand and presses it against his side. “Yeah, it’s nothing.”

I circle him and grab his arm. There are a dozen dots of blood springing up across his palm. “What happened?”

Harper pauses and motions for the rest of us to stop. She trudges over and inspects Ransom’s hand. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” he answers, though he says it through his teeth and is obviously lying. Below us, Ransom’s Pandora is going crazy, circling his feet and reaching up like it wants to say something. “I grabbed ahold of a vine to keep from slipping in the mud.” He shakes his head. “It was covered in spikes.”

Guy appears and takes Ransom’s hand from me. He rubs his thumb over the puncture wounds. Then he glances around like he’s searching for something. “You need to disinfect the area. There’s a plant that can help. I’ll keep an eye out for it as we walk.” He nods to Harper.

“Let’s keep moving,” she says.

Titus, who joins our huddle, tilts his chin in her direction. His eyes keep shifting toward the jungle, as if standing still is physically painful.

“Wait,” I tell Harper, though I’m watching Titus. “We need to do something for him. He’s in pain.”

“It’s okay,” Ransom says.

“No, she’s right.” Levi studies his brother’s face. “He’s hurting.”

Ransom tears his hand away from Guy. “I’m going to keep walking. The rest of you can stand here and discuss whether I feel up to it or not.” Ransom turns and walks in the direction we’ve been heading. He doesn’t want to be the weak link, and I don’t blame him.

Levi shakes his head and follows after his brother. Before he gets too far away, I hear him mutter, “Damn this race.”

I couldn’t agree more.

When the sun begins to set, Harper indicates we should stop and set up camp. The twins plunge into the jungle to look for moss and twigs, things to help start a fire. When they return, they hand what they found to Dink. I have no idea what this eight-year-old is going to do with this stuff, but he begins rubbing the bark between his hands with surprising confidence.

Guy walks over to Dink and looks him up and down. Then he reaches his hand out. “It’s okay, M-4 can handle it.”

I really want to see what Dink was about to do, but the boy just hands the bundle to Guy and watches him set it on the ground. Guy waves M-4 over, and the lion breathes fire over the twigs and moss, lightly at first until they’re dry, then harder to make them catch.

Harper grins, watching the lion’s skill. “Very nice,” she says. “He’ll be a good asset to our team.”

Guy doesn’t acknowledge her, and I’m kind of glad. There’s a part of me that doesn’t like her considering us tools in this race. I just want … for these people to be my friends. Watching the fire grow, I silently kick myself. I can’t afford to think this way. I have to remember my brother.

I have to be more like Harper.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

As we sit around the fire, Titus tries to make conversation. He jokes about how unpredictable Pandoras can be, but no one humors him besides Caroline. Next to him, his bear shifts and then disappears into the jungle night. I don’t like his Pandora being out of sight or how easily Titus lets him venture off without saying anything.

Grabbing a dead leaf, I try to entertain Madox. He jumps after it a few times as I swish it back and forth, but then he collapses and closes his eyes. I smile to myself and stroke his fur. My fox has had a big day.

“He was pretty impressive.” Titus’s voice makes me flinch. “The way he changed shape.”

I look at him for a long time while I pet Madox. “How do you know he changed shape?”

Titus grins so that I can see every tooth in his mouth. “He was a lion when I got there.”

Glancing around, I notice everyone else is watching him speak. I wonder why he’s still with us. We already found his flag location. I wait for Harper to say something, but she doesn’t.

“Where is your Pandora?” I ask him.

Titus shrugs like he couldn’t care less. “Probably went hunting.” As if on cue, the bear peeks out from the brush. He studies his Contender for a long moment, then saunters over to sit beside him. All along his great shoulders are strange lash marks. I wonder if he got them from the fight or from something else. My curiosity over his injuries is severed when I see what’s between the bear’s jaws. I gasp with surprise.

The rabbit struggles against the bear, and already I can see blood dripping from its back legs. AK-7 opens his mouth and drops the rabbit to the ground. The creature immediately tries to run, but the bear pins it down. Then he drags a single claw lightly along his prey. He does it over and over again as the rabbit squeals. The animal’s entrails begin to bulge from its belly, but still the bear torments it, and still the rabbit screams.

“Stop him. He’s torturing it,” I tell Titus. The other Contenders shake their heads and mumble their own protests.

“Why?” he asks, laughing. “He has to eat.”

Titus watches with fascination as the bear places a giant paw over the rabbit and presses down. I jump to my feet and rush toward AK-7, but it’s too late. The rabbit’s skull cracks with an audible snap.

“Oh God.” I turn away and feel tears burn my cheeks. When I glance back, the bear is ripping the rabbit’s leg off and shoving it into his mouth. Red flashes before my eyes. “What is wrong with him?” I rub my tears away. “What is wrong with you?”

Titus holds his hands up, but I don’t miss the smirk on his bronzed face. “Calm down. This is a Pandora, not a teddy bear.”

I storm toward him, but two strong hands grab ahold of me. “Tella.” Warm breath tickles my neck. “Go sit down.”

Craning my head, I see Guy standing behind me, feel his fingers burning against my skin. “You go sit down.” I glare at the other Contenders, and finally, Levi speaks up.

“Seriously, man,” he says. “Why don’t you ask it to eat that somewhere else?”

Titus tucks his blond hair behind his ears. “I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

Guy lets go of me and steps toward him. “If you want to travel with us, the bear eats somewhere else.”

“Exactly,” Harper says, nodding.

Titus holds his hands up, surrendering. “Fine. AK-7, eat that away from here.”

The bear looks at him for a moment, then gets up and leaves, rabbit carcass dangling from his jaws.

Guy faces Titus for another moment before turning to me. His eyes search my face, digging for something. “You can sit down.”

“What’s in your hand?” Caroline asks. I glance at her and notice she’s directing the question at Guy. That’s when I notice the two snakes he’s holding.

I stumble backward and land hard on the ground. He watches me bust it, then picks up a long twig from the fire and drives it through the snakes.

“Dinner,” he says finally. “They aren’t venomous.”

“I usually make RX-13 hunt,” Harper says, and I’m surprised to find even she appears uncomfortable. “But I guess I could give her the night off.” Harper waves a hand at the eagle. “Go hunt for yourself.”

Levi and Ransom do the same for their Pandoras, though Ransom’s is slow to leave. The raccoon seems upset by something, but I can’t tell what that might be. Before long, the three animals vanish into the jungle. I should send Madox after them. He should learn to get along with the other Pandoras. But I can’t help wanting him close.

My stomach turns as Guy cooks the cleaned snakes, then hands each Contender a piece. When he offers Titus a helping, Titus says, “Is that all I’m supposed to eat?”

In response, Guy tosses the piece of charred snake into the dirt at his feet. “Overeating will make you sleep too heavy.”

“We take shifts,” Harper breaks in. “We can sleep heavy if we need to.”

Guy looks at her and then tilts his chin toward the snake, saying she can have more if she wants it. I decide to follow Guy’s lead and eat only what he gives me.

There’s an uncomfortable silence as we chew the tough and bony meat. I gag four times but somehow manage to get the meal down. For some reason, the only thing I can think while I’m swallowing a hunk of snake is that I am the type of person to have three glittery feather boas draped over my dresser mirror at home, purple, pink, and red. And now I am eating snake.

Everyone watches Titus as he shoves the charred meat into his mouth and chews. I don’t like the way his eyes flick over my body as he eats, or the way he eyes Harper as she tends to the fire.

Caroline senses the need to break the awkwardness. “We did well today, huh?”

I smile in her direction. Her eyes are a soft gray, and they tell me everything I need to know. She is kind and giving … and she will not win this race.

Harper hands Dink a stick from the fire, and the boy uses it to draw bunnies in the dirt. “We did do well,” Harper says to Caroline, returning to her seat. “We’ll do even better tomorrow.”

I want to ask how she can be sure. But then I realize she can’t be. It’s just what leaders say to inspire the troops. Harper twists her long blond hair into a bun and spears it with a thin twig. Her green eyes dance in the firelight, and I wonder what she’s like when she’s at home. Whose child she is. What her room looks like. I wonder if we had gone to the same high school, if we’d be friends, or if we’d ignore each other, too different to connect outside of this race. I’ll tell you one thing, I bet having a friend like Harper would have made life at Ridgeline High a lot more exciting.

“Do you think we’ll —” Caroline starts to say.

“Guys,” Levi interrupts. “Look at this.”

We all look at his open hand. He’s holding his white earpiece.

The red light is blinking.

No one says anything for a long moment, then everyone fumbles into their pockets or bags for their own devices. When we’ve each retrieved them, we hold them out on display. They still work. Even after all that rain. I breathe a sigh of relief, then wonder whether this should actually worry me rather than provide peace of mind.

Seven lights blink, creating a circle of red flashes around the fire. I count the devices. There are too few, I realize.

Dink starts crying softly.

“It’s okay. It’s fine.” Caroline pulls him into a hug. “We’ll tell you what it says.”

“What? Did you lose your device?” Titus asks Dink, laughing. Though I’d also like to know, I want to slap him for asking.

Dink cries harder, and Caroline gives Titus a look that’s supposed to shut him up.

“And where are your Pandoras?” Titus adds, looking back and forth between Caroline and Dink.

“They didn’t make it,” she says for them both. “And Dink did lose his device, but it was an accident.”

Titus tilts his head and presses his lips together, like he’s being sympathetic. “It’s not his fault. This race isn’t cut out for certain people.”

Caroline’s face reddens. She jabs a finger in his direction. “Listen, kid —”

“Guys.” Levi lifts his hand and refers to the device. “Can we listen to the message now, please?”

Titus shrugs like he doesn’t care, and everyone starts to put their devices into place. But me … I can’t stop watching Caroline glare at Titus. Maybe I underestimated her. Each of us has a reason back home to fight through this jungle. Caroline has one, too, I’m sure. But she also has a reason sitting right next to her.

I feel someone staring and glance over to find Guy studying me. I make a what? face. He points to his ear as if to say I’m lagging behind. I roll my eyes and shove it into place.

As soon as I do, a wave of anxiety rolls over my shoulders. Harper gives us a thumbs-up. Everyone besides Dink touches the red blinking lights. The clicking and static noises begin, and I feel my body tighten with anticipation. I know that across the jungle and here in front of me, other Contenders are probably hearing the same message. But for some reason, it’s as if the woman is speaking directly to me.

“If you’ve been keeping count, you’ll realize this evening concludes day six of the race. You have until noon on the fourteenth day to arrive at base camp. Therefore, you have approximately eight more days remaining to reach your destination.”

My skin crawls thinking about spending another eight days in this place. I don’t know how I will do it. As I look around the campsite, I understand now more than ever that I may not have had a prayer before I met these people.

“We are so very proud to have such a diverse group of Contenders this year. It will make for an exciting race.” The woman pauses and I hear paper rustling. “You may be interested to know that exactly one hundred and twenty-two people entered the Brimstone Bleed.”

A hundred and twenty-two people? I think back to the first day at the starting line, to all the nameless faces. I wish I knew them. I wish I knew where they were now. A new thought occurs to me: If we had all decided to race as a team and demanded to share the winning prize, could these people have created enough of the Cure for everyone?

The woman shuffles more papers.

“There are currently one hundred and fourteen Contenders competing in the Brimstone Bleed.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Contenders around me remove their devices, but I stay still. I keep waiting for an explanation. Why are there fewer Contenders now than there were six days ago?

You know the answer, my mind whispers.

The device suddenly feels too large. It’s going to grow until it splits my ear wide open. I snatch it out and throw it to the ground. “What happened to them?” I yell to no one in particular. “Where are the other Contenders?”

Titus chuckles. “Seriously?”

My head turns in his direction. “Yeah, seriously. Spell it out for me.”

“Okay, they’re dead.” He slides his hand across his throat. “Jungle meat.”

“Real nice,” Harper says, looking disgusted.

“Yeah, you know what, why don’t you take a walk?” Levi adds.

“You going to make me?” Titus asks, laughing.

“Yes, we might,” Ransom says, next to his brother.

“Please.” Titus snorts. “I’ll whip you both and wipe my ass while I’m at it.”

Guy stands up.

Titus sizes him up for a long moment, then opens his arms out wide. “I don’t know why everyone’s jumping on me anyway. The girl asked a question.”

“And you answered it,” Guy says. He nods his head toward the jungle. “Go blow off some steam.”

Titus’s mouth quirks on one side like everything’s a big joke. “I’ll go. But I’ll be back.” Before he leaves, his eyes land on me. He searches my face and then looks down into my lap where Madox is sleeping. Titus narrows his eyes.

I clutch Madox closer, and Titus laughs.

“See you later, compadres.”

After Titus disappears, Guy turns around. He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he eyes the same thing Titus did — Madox. They want him, I suddenly realize. It’s why they’re both traveling with us.

The thought makes my stomach turn. For a minute there, I figured they wanted the same thing I did during this race — the comfort of companionship. But they only want what will help them win.

Is that so terrible? I wonder. That they want to save the life of someone they love?

The things I’m thinking feel too big for my head to hold, like they need somewhere to go.

“I’m here for my brother,” I blurt out.

Guy’s eyes flick from Madox to me. His face stays hard and unreadable, but he sits down. I imagine it’s the best invitation I’ll get from him.

“He’s nineteen years old. Only three years older than me.” When I glance around, I notice Harper is looking at me with a strange expression. Envy, maybe. “He likes these glossy comic books about aliens?” I say it like a question, because I’m not sure how everyone is taking my verbal vomit. But no one stops me from continuing. “And he still has these action figures that my grandma gave him. They’re from a fast-food joint by our old house. Which means they’re worthless, you know? But he keeps them anyway.” I pull in a long breath. “He likes vanilla pudding, but only if it’s really cold, and he has about thirty different colognes that are half used.”

I have no idea where I’m going with this, but once I’ve started talking about him, I can’t stop. A million fun facts about Cody Holloway fill my brain, itching to be released into the jungle. I open my mouth to continue, but Ransom jumps in.

“We’re here for our sister,” he says, and Levi nods. “She’s a year younger than us. Mom says she got so lucky with Levi and me that she had to keep going while her luck was hot.”

Levi laughs, like he remembers his mother saying this.

I’m so happy Ransom is sharing his own story that I can hardly breathe.

“Josie, our sister,” Ransom continues, “has this boyfriend we give such a hard time. But I guess he’s all right, really. She texts him so much that we joke and say she has an addiction. So now my dad has been researching texting rehabilitation clinics. Seriously. They have those.” Ransom gives us all a look so we know just how serious he is. “Anyway, she’s obsessed with her boyfriend. And mood rings. And these dumb mint cases that you can only buy online.” Levi nudges Ransom, like he’s forgetting something. Ransom shakes his head like he doesn’t understand, but when Levi rolls his eyes, Ransom laughs. “Oh, I guess she likes us all right, too.”

For some reason, we all look at Caroline. She seems like the next-most receptive person to this little share-and-tell thing we have going on.

“Oh, my turn?” she asks, placing a hand to her chest.

“Spill it,” Levi says.

“Okay, well.” Caroline adjusts herself on the ground, crossing her legs tighter. “I guess I’m here for my mom. I mean, I am here for my mom. She just turned fifty-five. We had a birthday party for her before we left. My son and I made this cake … but she refused to eat any.” Caroline shakes her head. “My mother used to be in the movies. Not like those big-budget films, just some of the ones that go straight to DVD. But that doesn’t stop her from acting like a big-budget actress, right down to the no-carb, no-sugar diet.” She laughs to herself and rubs the back of her neck. “My mom carries around these markers in her purse, just in case someone asks for her autograph. And then if no one does, she’ll just sign something anyway — a napkin or ticket stub or whatever — and hand it to them with this smile … this smile that says she’s somebody.”

Dink tugs on Caroline’s sleeve and she wraps her arm around him.

“I never really knew my mom that well. But she says if I win, she’ll spend the rest of her life being friends with her daughter.”

The first thing I think is that her mother is lying. That she’s saying whatever she needs to motivate Caroline to win. The second thing I think is … “How does your mom know about the race?”

Caroline glances at me. “Because her uncle was a Contender.”

I feel like someone has kidney punched me. “So she knew? She knew about the Brimstone Bleed? Did she know you’d be invited to become a Contender? Does she know about the Cure?” I know I’m grilling her with questions too quickly, but I can’t help myself. I’m dying for more information on how this happened to us.

“No.” She shakes her head. “She just knew the stories about her uncle. She only told me about them after the blue box — er, the device — appeared on my windowsill. Mom says she would’ve told me sooner if she thought there was any truth to his stories. But I’m not sure she would have. It seemed like she was nervous telling me what little she did know.”

“So what did she tell you exactly?”

“Only that he competed in something called the Brimstone Bleed to save his wife’s life.” She looks at Dink before adding, “He left after the second leg of the race.”

I want to ask why her uncle gave up, but I don’t want to pry in case it’s a reason she doesn’t want to share. Instead, I ask, “Did she say anything else? Like what to expect or how this all started?”

Caroline thinks for a moment, and then shrugs with one slender shoulder. “That’s all she really told me. That her uncle entered and that he didn’t win.” Her eyelids flutter. “Maybe she didn’t want to scare me.”

Glancing around, I notice that Harper and the twins are just as eager for information. Guy, however, looks like he knows something. “Guy, do you know anything else?”

He looks slowly from Caroline to me. Then he shakes his head.

But I can see it all over his face.

He’s lying.

Harper interrupts my train of thought and speaks to Caroline. “Are you sure that’s all your mom told you?”

Caroline nods. “I’m sure.”

“So this race has happened before,” Harper states.

Ransom crosses his arms. “This crap is so messed up.”

I wholeheartedly agree. Somewhere out there is a person, or a group of people, running this thing. How can they do this to us? How can they play with our emotions — and our lives — this way? I look up at the people sitting here with me. We’re not so different. We’re all here out of selflessness. Here to save someone else’s life.

Glancing at Dink, I wonder who he’s here for. Titus is a prick, but he’s right. This race isn’t for children. “Dink,” I say softly. “Who are you trying to save?”

The boy’s head snaps up. He looks at me with big brown eyes. Somehow, though I hate my own curly hair, on him, I find it adorable. It makes him appear even more innocent. So I can’t bring myself to push when he just shakes his head.

“That’s okay,” Harper says. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.” When I look at Harper, she makes eye contact with me for a second, then glances down. It’s obvious she won’t be sharing a story tonight, either.

Everyone looks at Guy.

He pulls in a long breath. “No.”

We all stare at him, thinking he may say something else. He doesn’t.

The silence among our small campsite is ruptured when the raccoon and ram return. Behind them are Titus and AK-7. I cringe, thinking Titus is going to pick right back up where he left off. That he’s going to confront Guy. But he just sits down and leans back, like he couldn’t care less that we’re here. His grizzly bear shakes like a wet dog, then lies down beside him, muzzle still coated in blood.

DN-99 runs circles around Ransom, and again I wonder what’s going on with this supersized raccoon. Finally, Ransom pays attention to him. “What?” he says. “What on God’s green earth are you so wound up about?”

When Ransom reaches out to stop his Pandora from racing in circles, the raccoon leaps onto his left hand and pins it down. “What the hell?” Ransom says. He tries to jerk his hand back, but before he can, the raccoon begins licking his puncture wounds. Ransom’s eyes slip closed and he groans with pleasure. Then his eyes snap open. “Wow, that was embarrassing.” He laughs. “It just — it feels really good.”

Levi leans forward and looks at his brother with disgust. “All right, man. Can you stop with the animal porn? Get him off your hand.”

“No,” Ransom says, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“Dude,” Levi yells. He grabs his brother’s left hand and yanks it away from the raccoon. Then he narrows his eyes. “Holy crap.”

Ransom pulls his hand away from his brother and inspects his palm. “The wounds,” he says quietly. “They’re healing.”

We all rush over to see it happening — the small, round holes squeezing closed. I feel like I’m imagining it and wonder if maybe that snake was venomous after all. When the wounds have completely healed, we all take turns pressing on his palm to make sure it’s real.

Then we stare at the raccoon.

So that’s why it’d been acting strange all afternoon. Then again, what is strange for a Pandora?

Glancing up, I notice Titus licking his lips. Harper notices him ogling, too. She makes a face like she’s uncertain of what to do next. Finally, she says, “So the Pandoras haven’t shown us their full capabilities yet.”

“Maybe they aren’t even aware of them themselves,” Caroline muses.

Ransom turns his hand over several times in front of his face, while the rest of us pull away and try to relax on the ground. Even though it feels like something truly mind-bending has just taken place, we settle down to sleep. It’s the only thing we can do for now. Dink yawns, and Harper stretches out onto her back, gazing up into the canopy.

“Ransom, how about you and your brother take the first shift?” Harper says, her eyes still locked on the trees. “Caroline and Dink can go next, then I’ll go, then Guy and Titus, and finally, Tella.” Harper tears her eyes away from the jungle and looks back and forth between Guy and Titus. “We take shifts when we sleep, looking out for predators and insect hordes.” She glares at Titus. “And stray Pandoras.”

Titus doesn’t acknowledge her remark. He just lies back and folds his thick arms beneath his head. Even though he looks about eighteen, his enormous frame makes him appear much older. But right now — lying in the dirt like the rest of us — he doesn’t seem very menacing.

I watch as Guy stands up, dusts himself off, and searches for a place to sleep. I’m not sure why. There’s no magical spot that feels better than the rest. My heart picks up when he moves closer to where I’m sitting. He inspects the area only three feet away, kicking at rocks and pulling up stray vines. Then he sits back down. His eyes flick in my direction and a chill races over my arms. He nods his head, lies down, and closes his eyes.

Did he move next to me on purpose? Is he offering his protection?

Or am I his first target?

My God. I am in the epicenter of hell, and I’m trying to psychoanalyze some guy. Pathetic. Shaking my head, I lean back and try to find a comfortable position to sleep. Right as I’m about to drift off, I hear Caroline’s voice.

“I just don’t like that there aren’t any rules,” she says. “There should be rules.”

No one responds. I know she’s talking about the race. I’m sure everyone does.

We just don’t know what to say.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I wake up and am surprised to find I slept deeply, despite the small portion of delicious snake I ate. As I’m stretching, I glance up, thinking it might be morning. But that would mean I missed my shift for keeping watch.

Surveying our campsite, I note Guy sitting straight up, staring into the fire. I look around. Everyone else is asleep. I’m not sure why he’s ignoring me. It’s obvious he knows I’m up.

“Hey,” I whisper. He turns and looks at me. “Why isn’t Titus awake?”

Guy looks back at the fire. I’m not sure he’s going to answer. It certainly wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t. But then he says, “Harper only woke me. Maybe she thought I would wake him up myself.”

He doesn’t finish his thought. That he didn’t wake Titus up.

“How long have you been keeping watch?” I ask.

Guy scratches his cheek. “A while.”

“It’s my turn, isn’t it?” I say. “You didn’t wake me up, either.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Okay, well. We need to get something straight.” I straighten and look directly at the side of his head. “You may think I’m weak, but I’m actually pretty damned determined to win this race. And I am going to do my part as long as I’m traveling with these people.” I gesture toward the sleeping Contenders. “It’s only fair.”

Guy cranes his neck. Not enough so that he’s fully looking at me, but enough to let me know he’s listening.

I reach down and pet my Pandora, who’s lost in dreams. Guy and I don’t say anything for several minutes. I’m trying to prove that I’m a contributing team member, and Guy is trying to prove … what? That he doesn’t trust me?

“You needed sleep,” he says suddenly. His voice, normally so deep, is almost jarring when he’s making an effort to keep it low.

I attempt to process what he’s saying. “So, you didn’t wake me up because you thought I needed more rest?’

Guy doesn’t move for a moment, but then he nods slowly.

“Because you think I can’t handle this race like the others can?” There’s a defensive edge to my words as I recall my dad trying to burn the earpiece. He didn’t believe I could handle this race, either.

He looks me dead in the face. “Because you looked tired.”

I hold his gaze for a moment, and as I do, a shiver shimmies down my spine. His eyes are the most phenomenal shade of blue I’ve ever seen. They’re not beautiful, exactly. More … startling. And the way he looks at me now — as if he sees through to the other side — makes him seem wildly unpredictable. I wonder about the deep white scar cutting through his right eyebrow. For some reason, it seems to say more than even his eyes do.

“Oh,” I manage to say. “Thanks, then. I guess.”

Guy looks up at the canopy and puts one hand on his lion. “Your Pandora is extraordinary.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say Guy just initiated a conversation. It stings that it’s only to dig for information. “Yeah,” I mumble. “The other Pandoras were picking on him a couple of days ago. I’m kind of happy he was able to prove his worth. Not just for my sake, but for his own.”

“You care about it,” Guy says. It’s not a question. He’s seen the way I cling to Madox.

I nod and wrap my arms around my waist.

Guy rubs his jawline. “The other Pandoras were intimidated.”

I glance at him, curious as to where he’s going with this. Shadows cast by the fire dance across his face. “What do you mean?”

“They must have” — Guy flicks his fingers near his nose and breathes in, like he’s sniffing something — “smelled it on him. They must have sensed his ability to replicate them. That has to be intimidating, knowing their only job is to help their Contender win and running into another Pandora that can do what they can just as easily.”

I watch Guy saying this, the sureness with which he speaks. “Maybe you’re right,” I say. He seems to be intuitive about a lot in this race. He found a flag within the first twenty-four hours. He knows how to handle himself in the jungle. And I’m certain he knows much more than he’s letting on. “Guy,” I say gently, “how much do you know about the Brimstone Bleed?”

The muscles in his arm tighten, and I’m sure I’ve heard the last I’ll hear from him today. But he surprises me again.

“I know some things,” he says. Then he looks at me. “But it isn’t anything that will help me or you win.” He clenches his fists. “Our families, even if they knew, weren’t allowed to tell us anything before we received our devices. If they had, there would have been consequences.”

I search his face and feel sure he’s telling the truth. There are so many questions I want to ask him, but I think he’s told me everything he’s willing to share for now. So instead, I try something different. “Do you think we’ll make it to the other side of the jungle in time?”

He tilts his head and studies me with what, strangely enough, looks like sympathy. “Tella, they’re not leading us to the other side of the jungle. They’re leading us to the center.”

I let my gaze fall to the ground. Of course they are. The jungle must get much worse the farther you get inside. “I don’t understand what the people running the Brimstone Bleed get out of this,” I mumble, shaking my head. “They seem so cruel.”

“It’s complicated,” he says quickly.

Everything in me wants to shoot questions at him like rapid-fire, but I can’t speak. Because Guy is staring at me in a way that makes my cheeks flush. He puts his palms against the ground and moves closer. When he’s only a breath away, he lifts a hand and runs it over my side. Every rational thought in my mind vanishes.

“What happened here?” he asks.

Glancing down, I notice he’s thumbing the quarter-sized stain of blood on my shirt. To my surprise, there’s a fainter, larger stain circling the center one, as if the blood has seeped outward. Guy pulls the side of my shirt up and I gasp when I notice the small wound the leech left. It’s pink and puffy, but the most alarming part is that it’s still bleeding.

Guy presses near the wound and blood oozes out.

I fight the urge to faint.

“This is from a leech.” He looks at me for confirmation, and I nod. “When they bite, they inject you with venom that prevents your blood from clotting.”

I am going to bleed out from a leech. And die.

That is how I take this news.

“You’ll be fine.” Guy lets my shirt fall back into place and stands up. “I need to go find something to stop the bleeding, though. I’ll be right back.” He taps the lion’s head. M-4 springs to his feet. “Come on, boy.”

For fifteen minutes, I plan my funeral. My pastor will give my life eulogy. He’ll say I wore way too much makeup and that I had a borderline obsession with sticky notes. They’ll serve Greek food at the wake, because Mom will insist it was my favorite, and Cody will ask why he has to eat this crap even after I’m gone.

But that’s not right. Because if I’m gone, then Cody …

I hear a rustling nearby and am so relieved to see Guy, I almost hug his legs. He’s holding a fistful of leaves in one hand and two stones in the other. Sitting next to me, he grinds the leaves between the rocks.

“Is that going to save me?” I ask.

Guy stops grinding. “Save you?”

I realize in this moment that my life is not dangling by a thread. I laugh. “I’m kidding.”

He goes back to grinding. Seconds later, he lifts my shirt back up. Despite what we are treating here, I can’t help but get goose bumps. Because he’s, you know, lifting my shirt up. I watch as he gets some of the leaf pulp between his fingers and spreads it over the wound. As he works, I don’t even think about what he’s touching. Instead, I concentrate on the way he chews his bottom lip in concentration. Guy is so distant and cold, but right now he’s something different.

“Why are you traveling with us?” I ask suddenly.

He stops applying the makeshift medication and looks up. And, my God, he is so damn close. Guy’s eyes travel from my eyes to my lips. He presses his own together, and then pulls away. “Your Pandora is very powerful,” he says. “I can’t imagine there was a better one created than him. I know if I stay close by, your Pandora will remove most roadblocks from here to the Cure.”

I swallow. He told the truth. I had expected him to lie. Then I’d expected to wrestle the rest of the day with whether to believe him. But he told the truth. I run a hand over my head. “Thanks for telling me, I guess.”

“You already knew,” he says.

I look at him. “I suppose I did.”

Guy returns to medicating my side. When he’s finished, he moves away, but only a little. “You look different,” he says.

My face scrunches with confusion. “How so?”

He touches a calloused hand to his head and tugs on a spiked clump of his own dark hair.

Oh.

“Yeah, I probably do, huh?” I say. “I forgot you saw me at the Pandora Selection Process.” I lean back on my hands. “There was a girl that dragged me down that day by my hair. I decided it had to go.” What I want to also say, for some asinine reason, is: Don’t worry, it’ll grow back. I won’t always look this hideous.

Guy studies the feather lying over my shoulder, then nods to himself. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I just got an official nod of approval. Not sure of what to say next, I ask, “Do you think the raccoon would have done this? Healed my wound?”

He shakes his head. “Not for you, no.”

It’s what I figured, that each Pandora looks out only for its own Contender. Still, I wonder how he knows for sure.

Guy cracks his knuckles like he wants to say something, but doesn’t know how. When after several seconds he still hasn’t spoken, I decide to take a gamble. “Guy? Will you tell me about this race?” I swallow hard and add quietly, “Please.”

“I told you it wouldn’t help.”

“Tell me anyway,” I say, hoping my voice is steady.

Looking toward the sky, he seems to think. He pulls in a breath and lets it out. He does it again. And again. His broad chest swelling like a bird’s, then flattening. Then to my astonishment, he speaks. “There are different people running it. Different … names for them.” He stops suddenly, like he can’t believe he’s said anything. I stay quiet. So quiet, I can hear my heart pulsing in my ears. Guy wets his lips. “There are the Creators, the ones that made your Pandora. They’re more commonly referred to as Pharmies.”

My mind spins. I know that word. The girl in the train car with me said it.

“They work in pharmaceuticals, of sorts, and ensure the Cure is available to the winner.” He taps his temple lightly. “These guys are brilliant. They were experts in genetic engineering by the early 1950s, two full decades before the public started reading about it.”

Guy looks at me, but I avoid his eyes. I don’t want him to see how enraptured I am by what he’s saying. Instead of asking him to clarify, and before I can really think, I ask, “Who are you here for, Guy?”

He turns away from me. I’ve asked the wrong question, and now he’s shutting down. To my surprise, he looks back at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You owe me a favor for treating your wound.” He says it so even keel that I wonder if he practices speaking without emotion.

“A favor?” I ignore the fact that he’s avoiding my question, or that he’s just told me half a story. “What kind of favor?”

He looks at Madox, and my stomach plummets. No. I won’t give him my fox.

“I want you to sing that song,” he answers.

“What song?” But as soon as I ask, I know. He heard me singing to Madox when I was following him. Which means he knew I was following him. “Oh God.” I cover my face with my hands. “You mean the sicky song.”

When he doesn’t say anything, I realize he really, truly means for me to sing it. Like, now. “You can’t be serious,” I say.

Nothing.

I roll my eyes. This will be the most embarrassing moment of my life. But he touched my leech wound, for crying out loud. And I have so many more questions I need him to answer. So if he wants the sicky song, he gets the sicky song.

I clear my throat like a professional might do. Then I open my mouth and sing. It lasts for ninety humiliating seconds. I can’t even look at him when I’m done. But when he doesn’t say anything, I can’t not look at him.

Glancing over, I notice he’s just staring forward.

“You are a horrible singer,” he says.

My jaw falls open. The friggin’ nerve. I’m about to tell him where he can shove it, but then I see it — the smallest of smiles tugging the corner of his mouth up. And I can’t help myself. I point at his face. “You’re smiling,” I say while laughing. “You’re totally smiling.”

The grin slides from his face, and he shakes his head as if he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. But I totally busted him and he knows it. Mr. Stone Cold just broke.

He lies down and closes his eyes. “I think you’re well rested enough to watch on your own now.”

“I was to begin with,” I retort.

He’s quiet for a full minute before I hear him speak again. “My cousin,” he says. “I’m here for my cousin. Because he’d have done it for me.”

I smile to myself.

I know he won’t say anything else.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Our group hikes through the jungle for five days, our Pandoras trailing nearby. We face problem after problem: falling trees that nearly flatten us, unrelenting rain, chronic fatigue, insect stings … the list feels never ending. The race feels never ending. Mostly, we do what we can to survive each day. We eat and drink what the jungle provides. We share stories and memories from home as we hike to keep our spirits up. And we locate two more flags: each southeast of the one before it.

At night, we set up camp and take our usual shifts keeping watch. Guy continues to not wake me when it’s my turn, and I continue to wake up on my own through sheer determination.

We talk during this time. Me more so than Guy, but still, he has his moments. There’s never any divulgence about the race, not since that first time. But it feels good to have a moment that’s stolen. As if we carve it out of the jungle night and say, This belongs to us.

I learn that Guy actually enjoys the wilderness, and if it weren’t for the race, he might be having the time of his life. He’s from Detroit, which I find insanely cool, and he has three younger brothers. Though he’ll never admit it, I know he also worships his father. Oh, and he likes newspapers: not to read, just the crinkling sound the pages make.

Five days. Ten stolen hours. And that’s all I know.

Every day now, Guy hikes behind me. It makes me super paranoid. Mostly, I think about the size of my butt and its general flatness versus roundness. At least it keeps my mind off more serious matters. Like the fact that my hands have started trembling, or that Dink hasn’t said a word in three days, or that Titus grows more agitated and aggressive by the day. I once asked Guy why we let him stay. He said something about it being better to have him in sight.

Today is day ten. And behind me I can hear Guy’s steady steps. They are faint, but the sound still soothes me. Just like every other day, I puzzle over what Guy told me about the race. About why the Pharmies created the Cure, and the Pandoras, to begin with. Four days ago, I thought about telling the others what Guy told me but decided I’d better try and get the full story first. Because God knows if they all start asking questions, he’ll clam up for sure. But once I do find out, I’ll share what I know. It’s only fair.

“Everyone still good for another hour before we rest?” Harper asks, rupturing my thoughts. She cranes her head skyward as she speaks, searching for her eagle.

The other Contenders and I mumble an affirmative response.

“Okay, I’m going to ask it,” Ransom says. “How much friggin’ farther do you think base camp is from here?”

“Forever,” Levi answers, one hand on his ram’s curled horn. “It’s forever from here. That’s what it feels like anyway.”

“Ten days,” Caroline says quietly.

I know what she means. We’re starting to cut it close. We have only four days left.

“What if,” Ransom says. “What if there really isn’t a base camp?”

Harper stops suddenly, and Ransom slams into her back.

“God, Harper,” he groans. “Walk much?”

She spins to face him. “Don’t say crap like that. We don’t need it. Understand?”

He looks off to his right. I can’t see his expression from here, but I imagine it’s one of irritation. Our fuses have become shorter with each mile we hike. Ransom rolls his hand as if to say, Whatever, let’s go.

We keep walking, and I fight the urge to look behind me. To see what Guy is doing. Maybe he’s building binoculars out of bark or a cell phone out of vines. Madox trudges through the jungle near my right ankle. He’s been a trooper during this race, though I can tell even he is beginning to tire.

We walk in formation for another few minutes until I hear something. Everyone stops and listens. This is what this leg of the race can be summarized as: listening. There are sounds that tell us a foreign animal is near, and others that the rain makes. When it’s morning, there are sounds that entire armies of insects create, and different sounds for when we’re near a stream.

The sound I hear now is not an innocent one.

It’s heavy and slow, and my mind begins to fill in the blanks. It must be large, and it’s either hunting for something or already on the prowl. As the noise grows louder, I know it’s closing in, and because it doesn’t slow, I determine it’s not here to attack us. Titus’s grizzly takes a step forward and lifts his muzzle into the air, smelling. M-4 mimics him from a few feet away.

I startle when I feel something behind me. Craning my neck, I find Guy standing so close that his arm brushes my back. He’s looking over my shoulder, watching intently, like he’s waiting to take those last two steps so that he’s in front of me. I want to tell him I can take care of myself. That Madox can take care of me. But the truth is I like that he’s there, just in case. So I turn and face the sound.

Narrowing my eyes, I can spot two animals heading toward us. As they tread closer, I notice there is a third smaller animal and three people following behind. I wonder if they are Pandoras or jungle creatures. But as I get a better look, I know it’s the former. The animal in front is a zebra. Its stripes change colors as it walks so that it blends almost seamlessly into the green and brown foliage. Behind it is a rhinoceros, a thick ivory horn growing from the tip of its nose. Hanging near the back, close to the three Contenders, is a kangaroo. Its long tail drags behind it as it hops along.

The Contenders don’t notice us, and I’m not sure if that’s for the best. I can’t help wondering who these people are, where they came from. The cluster of travelers is made up of an older man, maybe in his midforties, and two younger girls who appear dangerously thin.

Harper takes a few hesitating steps toward them, and then raises her arm. She’s going to let them know we’re here. But before she can, Titus grabs her wrist and yanks it back down.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hisses. “Trying to get us killed?”

Harper gives him a lethal stare before ripping away from him. “There’s no reason we can’t help each other until the end.” I still don’t know how I feel about Harper, but I can’t help agreeing with her on this point.

Though I know she’s fuming, she looks away from Titus and back at the strangers. No one else says anything as we watch them pass. When they’re out of earshot, Guy steps beside me and speaks to our group.

“Running into other Contenders may mean we’re getting close.” His brow lifts. “And it probably means we’re headed in the right direction.”

Levi points toward where we spotted the Contenders and their Pandoras. “Look, something else is coming.”

We watch and wait. The vines and plants rustle, but we never get a clear view of who’s there. I make out that they’re human — that there are maybe six of them — and that they aren’t Contenders. Their clothing is also brown, but it’s too dark in color. As they move, they stay close to the ground, their heads snapping this way and that. A sense of foreboding brews in my stomach, and even the birds overhead seem to hold their breaths. Though my brain demands my silence, every muscle screams for flight.

“They’re following the Contenders,” Guy says quietly.

Watching them, I know he’s right. There’s an odd, jerky manner to the way they move. These people, though I can’t fully see them, are like nothing I’ve ever known.

Except.

I think back to the man I saw the first day of the race. The one I thought I imagined. Maybe he’s one of these men. I wonder what they’re here for and whether they’ve been following us. Madox whines below me … and my legs begin to shake. I tell myself it’s because we’ve walked for too long this morning and that I’m exhausted. But I know it’s something more. That it’s fear.

Guy looks into my face. I wonder if he sees how this race is beginning to take its toll on me. I think for a moment that he’s going to suggest we stop here to rest.

“We should walk through the day,” he says. “We can rest tonight.”

I close my eyes against the disappointment. But I won’t be the one to suggest we stop. So I clench my fists, remember why I’m here, and hike to the front of the group with Madox at my heel. “I’ll lead,” I announce. “We’re all tired, but I expect you to keep up.”

For one single moment, I wait for Harper to protest. To stake her claim as leader of this troop. But when I glance at her, she has a look of relief in her green eyes. She doesn’t smile at me, or even nod. She just gets in line behind me and starts walking.

We’ve been heading east, but it’s nearing time for us to turn and trek south. I’m still at the front, hiking through thick jungle plants, a film of dirt and sweat across my brow. Every few minutes, I scan our perimeter, searching for more Contenders and their Pandoras. We’d seen more over the last three hours. There was a teenage boy with a tortoise, a man with long black hair and a yellow snake wrapped around his arm, and two women in their forties with a pair of owls. Most Contenders traveled alone, but some, like us, hiked together. It’s reassuring to see them. A lot better than seeing the strange men, who we keep an eye out for but haven’t spotted again.

My boots begin to feel heavier as I walk, and I cringe from the blisters that have formed along my Achilles tendons. I look up to ensure the path ahead is free of logs or dense plants, and notice the ground seems darker. I realize then that my boots haven’t gotten heavier, but rather the earth has become softer, making it more difficult to walk.

“The ground,” I say. “It’s getting muddy.”

Guy walks up next to me, and his lion shadows him. He crouches down, digs his fingers into the wet dirt, and rubs them together. “We’re nearing a body of water.”

Over the last week or so, we’d crossed many streams that allowed us to quench our thirst. But at night, Guy tells me about great, rushing rivers that live inside most jungles. A tickle of excitement creeps through me, imagining his river.

“Let’s keep going,” he continues. “We have to stick to the plan.”

This is fine by me. I’m eager to see what’s ahead. So I plow onward, even though the dirt gets thicker and harder to trudge through the farther we go. Soon, the sound of rushing water is unmistakable. My tickle of excitement morphs into full-body exhilaration. Ever since that day in the clearing, where Madox shifted into different Pandoras, I haven’t seen anything but dense vegetation and tall trees. And right now the desire to see the sky or a river or something different is overwhelming.

I rush forward. After several more feet — and a few stumbles — I see it. The river. It’s wide and caramel brown and there are bright white clouds floating overhead. A grin sweeps across my face, and when I turn to see the other Contenders, I’m thrilled to see they are smiling, too.

Everyone except Guy, that is.

I’m suddenly furious that he can’t appreciate this, the whispering water and cool air. “What’s wrong with you?” The bitterness in my voice surprises me. “Why aren’t you happy?”

His eyes stay on the river, searching. “Because it’s time to go south.”

I turn back to the water and dig my nails into my palms. He’s right, of course. We’ve spent about six days traveling east, so it’s time to turn. Scanning the thick mud along the bank, I know it’ll be impossible to hike alongside the river and make enough progress.

We’ll have to use the current to carry us south.

We’ll have to go into the river.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The river seems so vast, a winding, curling snake in the heart of the jungle. I can’t imagine how we’ll ever use it to travel. Or what creatures live in its dark belly.

“Do you …” Caroline says slowly, eyeing Guy. “Do you think we should swim?”

“I’m not swimming in that shit-stain water.” Titus snorts. “Do I look like someone who wants Ebola?”

I have no idea whether you can get Ebola from swimming, but I sort of agree. This water doesn’t look like something I want to submerge myself in.

Guy walks away from us and comes back a few seconds later, holding various things. He moves closer to the water and throws the first item in. I’m not sure what it was, but it now lives at the bottom of the river. He throws the second thing, and it plays follow-the-leader, sinking fast. I watch as he throws in two more things. They all plunge into the river and drown.

His back rises and falls like he’s taking a deep, frustrated breath. Then he cracks his fingers — all but his thumbs. I picture racing over and cracking those blasted thumbs for him, but before I can, he says, “We need something that floats.”

“Okay,” I say quickly, turning to browse the vegetation around the riverbank. This feels good, like we have a plan. We need something that floats, he said. Fine. Everyone in our group searches the jungle floor for several minutes while our Pandoras watch. We look like a crew from one of those murder movies. Like we’re searching for a body. It’s a twisted thought, but it makes me laugh.

“What’s so funny, Looney Tunes?” Levi asks.

I shake my head. “This is the crap I used to watch on TV. People searching through wooded areas, wearing horrendous clothing. I mean, how is this happening to me?”

Levi’s brows pull together like he’s thinking really hard. Then he looks at me and his face splits into a smile. “I have no idea.”

Ransom stands up like something huge has occurred to him. We all look in his direction.

“What is it?” Levi asks.

Ransom glances around. “I’m in a jungle. A. Freaking. Jungle.” he says. “With a magic raccoon.”

Dink giggles, and the sound surprises us so much that we all stare at him.

Ransom points at Dink. “I made the kid laugh.”

“People,” Guy says. “Floating objects.”

We all look at Guy, then make faces to one another like he’s our overbearing dad. Secretly, though, I love that he’s so focused and reliable. His steadfastness is what allows the rest of us to let loose. Even Harper, who days ago was the epitome of seriousness, now shakes her butt at him.

“That’s great,” Guy says, watching her. “Thanks for your help.”

“Okay, okay,” I say. “Let’s help Boy Scout find something that works.”

Minutes later, we’re standing along the bank, our arms overflowing with random jungle foliage.

“All right,” Guy says. “Throw them in.”

Everyone tosses their arms up, and down rains the most useless crap ever.

Except for what Caroline throws — which, thank the sweet heavens, actually floats.

“Yep-yah!” Ransom shouts, pointing at the long, thin tube surfing the river.

We all dance around like idiots at Caroline’s success. Levi and Ransom pick her up, and the three nearly tumble into the river. We are delirious from exhaustion, but I’m relieved that something has worked and that we’re doing our best to stay optimistic.

Titus glares at Caroline.

Lost in the moment, I stick my tongue out at him. “Cheer up, Grinch.”

He crosses the distance between us in a matter of seconds. His hands wrap around my waist and he jerks me against him. “Stick that tongue out again,” he whispers against my neck, “and I’ll show you what I want to do with it.”

Titus flies away from me and lands hard. Guy stands over him, face twisted with rage. He points a densely muscled arm at him. “I need your help with this river, so I’m going to let you pick yourself up out of that mud.” Guy bends down and gets in his face. “But if you touch anyone else here, I’ll hold you underwater until the last breath leaves your body.” He stands up. “Do you understand? I will end you.”

Titus’s eyes are large with surprise, like he has no idea how he ended up on the ground. But then his eyes change. They fill with fury. And the smile that crawls over his face in no way resembles the wrath lacing his voice. “Sure, buddy,” Titus says, grinning. “I was just messing around.”

The look on Titus’s face says there’s no way he’ll let this slide. Afraid of what Guy will do, I eye him with alarm. But Guy does something that surprises us all. He offers Titus his hand.

Titus, still sticking to his innocent facade, takes Guy’s offer and pulls himself up. He looks at me and his grin widens. “You know I was just playing, right?”

I nod, because I don’t know what else to do. In my peripheral vision, I spot Titus’s grizzly bear. He never moved to protect Titus, which surprises me. Madox, on the other hand, is at my feet, hackles raised, a small growl in his throat as he eyes Titus.

No one speaks for the longest moment of my life, and then Caroline says, “So what do we do now, Guy?” It’s a reasonable question, but it still feels odd after what happened. Guy tears his gaze away from me and looks at Caroline. He seems equally confused by how to respond. Rubbing the back of his neck, he glances at the water, like he just remembered it’s there. “We have to build something so that we can ride the river.”

Everyone kind of looks around, eager to have something to do that isn’t standing here uncomfortably.

“Caroline, where did you find the thing that floated?” Guy asks. “That piece of bamboo?”

She points upriver. “It’s down that way. Along the bank.”

“Okay, good.” Guy knits his eyebrows together, and the scar over his right eye deepens. “Titus, Ransom, and Levi, you guys come with me and we’ll get as much bamboo as we can. The rest of you need to look for vines that don’t break when you tug on them. Does that sound good to everyone?”

Harper glances at me and says, “We got it on our end.” I nod to let her know I agree.

Titus salutes Guy. “Happy to help, General.”

Guy ignores the comment and starts walking, M-4 at his side. The rest of us head back into the jungle foliage. A half hour later, we’re on the riverbank again. We made out like bandits in the vine department. It was Harper who found the best kind. We tried everything to get it to break, but short of RX-13’s eagle talons, nothing worked. We have our winner.

The boys appear minutes later, carrying their last armfuls of long bamboo shoots. M-4 and AK-7 walk beside their Contenders, holding their heads high. I imagine it was them who cut the shoots down and then sliced them into equal lengths.

Ransom lines the bamboo stalks side by side as the guys lay them down. Harper, understanding what is happening, goes to one side of the bamboo and begins tying the ends together so as to create a long and narrow raft. I take her lead and begin working on the other side.

As I’m winding the vines around the bamboo, I notice Madox is watching me. Thinking about riding the river creates a nervous rumbling in my belly. But I smile at my Pandora and pretend everything is as it should be. He climbs onto the raft and cocks his head to the side. I imagine he’s saying: Let’s do this thing.

Guy tugs on the bamboo and tries to separate the stalks. They don’t budge. He looks at Harper and me, and gives us a thumbs-up. I light up like the sun, then feel like a chump for being so desperate for approval. “Are you all ready?” He doesn’t actually wait for an acknowledgment. Just starts positioning us on the raft. I suddenly realize there’s not enough room for our Pandoras. Not even close.

“What about our Pandoras?” I ask him.

“They can travel faster without us.” He motions farther up the bank. “We’ll have them follow our progress along the river.”

“No way,” I say. “I’m not leaving Madox behind.”

“Tella,” he says. Warmth fires across my skin when I hear him speak my name. I shake my head against the reaction, and he mistakes it as disagreement. “Yes. They have to stay here. If we try to put them aboard, the entire thing will capsize. We have a lion and a bear. Think about it.”

He’s right. I know he is. I want to insist there’s at least enough room for Madox and perhaps even RX-13 and DN-99. But I know it’d be unfair. I swallow down the fear of losing my baby fox and gently nudge him off the raft. “KD-8,” I say. “I want you to follow the raft from the bank. Understand?”

Madox looks at me with confusion, and Titus snickers. I fight the urge to yell at Titus.

Please do it, Madox, I silently plead. Just go with the others.

I sigh with relief as my fox chases after the other Pandoras, whose Contenders have given them similar orders.

“Okay, everyone off.” Guy waves his hand to hurry us along. “Titus and I will move the raft into the river, and then everyone needs to get on exactly as before.”

We all step off and watch as Titus and Guy maneuver the bamboo raft into the water and hold it into place. Then we carefully step back on. Surprisingly, the raft doesn’t rock too much, and we’re able to get on without too much trouble. Right before Levi steps on, he grabs a spare bamboo shoot. He holds it as Guy gets on behind Titus, who’s in the very front. Guy takes the bamboo shoot from Levi and pushes us away from the bank.

As we float toward the middle, I spot something moving in the brush.

“Look,” I say, pointing to where we just were.

A man dressed in strange brown clothing peers out from behind the trees. His head darts side to side as he inspects us. He acts just like the men we saw following those Contenders earlier today. And he looks like the guy I spotted my first day in the jungle. The one I thought I’d imagined.

There’s a long, spear-looking object in his left hand, and he raises it to point in our direction. Moments later, two more men come to crouch beside him. Their faces and lips are painted with vibrant red streaks and their heads are adorned with bright feathers. The effect is nothing if not creepy.

Inspecting the feathers closer, I notice they are green and blue like the one I wear in my hair. I touch it absently, running my fingers down the soft bristles. “Who are they?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Harper answers. “But I’m glad they’re there and we’re here.”

The men cock their heads like birds, then disappear into the jungle. I watch the spot for a few seconds longer until we’ve floated so far down the river that I can’t remember where I’d seen them. An icy chill swirls inside my chest, and I wonder if the men will follow. I don’t like the way they watched us — like they’d missed a crucial opportunity.

Dink raises his arm and points. We all look up and see RX-13 flying overhead.

Harper — who is standing next to me — grins.

I look toward the bank. I pray Madox is keeping up with us and that the other Pandoras are, too. Though I remember these people are my competition, I don’t want them to lose their companions.

When I don’t see any sign of Madox, I stare down into the river. It’s dark, too dark to see much of anything beneath the surface. Gazing into it, I can’t help wondering what animals live in the current. Piranhas? Do they live in jungle rivers? What about crocodiles?

“Titus, I need you to steer me in the right direction.” Guy uses the bamboo paddle to keep us floating in the center of the river. I wonder why he chose Titus to take the lead. Maybe to keep an eye on him, I think.

Though we are all behind Titus and Guy, I can see the way Titus pulls himself up taller. “So far, so good, General.”

We float for about fifteen minutes before the sun begins to set, and it starts to rain.

“Rain. How original,” Levi mutters.

Harper presses in close to me. I look at her in surprise, but she won’t meet my eyes. I press back against her and try to hide my smile.

The rain isn’t anything new, but the fact that we’re on the river while it pours down is. I watch as the river slides farther up the banks and notice that the water under the raft is rushing much faster than before.

“Guy,” Caroline says from behind me. There’s a question in the way she says his name, and I realize I’m not the only one who’s growing more afraid of the rising river.

“Titus, guide me toward the bank.” The muscles in Guy’s back tighten as he works to get our raft stable. “We’ll continue after the rain stops.”

Titus yells over his shoulder, but because the rain is coming down harder, I can’t make out what he’s saying. Guy switches the bamboo paddle from his right side to his left, and back again. Then he looks back and motions for us to crouch down.

We don’t wait to be told again. Soon, everyone besides Guy and Titus are on their knees, holding on to the bamboo as best they can. The river rages beneath us, and I can’t fathom how this happened — how the river changed from frightening to lethal.

The sound is almost deafening. It’s like a white noise, and it is everywhere. The rain pours over our scalps and shoulders, and the river sprays across our bodies. I see white tips form along the river surface and though I’ve never floated on a river — not once — I remember they’re called rapids. It’s a strange word, I think. Rapids. Rapids.

My thoughts are shattered when I hear a high-pitched scream. I spin around and my stomach plummets.

Caroline is gone.

I stand on unsteady feet and search the river. The scream grows louder and I realize it’s coming from Dink. Next to me, I see Harper get to her feet and rock unsteadily. She moves to the side of the raft and I realize suddenly what she’s going to do.

“Harper, don’t,” I yell.

Above us, RX-13 screeches. Harper’s concentration breaks and she glances up. I do, too.

The eagle glides through the sky, beats her wings once, then folds them against her body and dives down. The Pandora crashes into the river, vanishing beneath the surface.

“No,” Harper screams.

Though the water is murky and the sky is growing dark, I spot the eagle just beneath the surface. She’s flapping her wings as though it’s the most normal thing in the world — an eagle swimming. Seeing this, Harper pauses. But only for a moment. Then she readies herself to dive in.

The eagle breaks through the river and opens her great wings in front of Harper like a shield. Every time Harper tries to dive in, the eagle blocks her advance.

“Stand down, RX-13,” Harper cries.

But I know if the Pandora can help it, she won’t let that happen. Because her job is to protect Harper, and no one else.

I know what I have to do.

I close my eyes, pull in a breath — and jump.

The last thing I hear is Guy calling my name. Then there’s nothing but the river.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

My body is pushed forward so quickly, it’s like I threw myself in front of a moving car. My legs and arms splay out in a panic and I wonder if maybe this wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. But then I remember why I jumped. That Caroline is in the river, and that I have to help her.

I somehow gain control of my body and break the surface. Guy peers over the edge of the raft, a hand raised to his eyes. From the angle of his body, I can tell he wants to jump in, but he’s trying to determine where I am before he leaps. Maybe I should have done the same. Now I’m being dragged downstream, with no idea of where Caroline is.

Diving under the water, I search for her. My eyes fill with the murkiness, and I don’t see her anywhere. I come up for air and then dive back down. Underwater, I hear a sort of ringing in my ears and the dull thump-thump-thump of my heart. Though it’s chaotic above the surface, it’s strangely peaceful below it.

I swim in a circle — and see Caroline. She floats like a broken angel — long, dark hair forming a halo around her face. I yelp with surprise and bubbles burst from my mouth. Taking another breath from above the river, I dive down and swim toward her. How long has she been underwater? A minute? Two?

My fingers brush her skin. I’ve almost got a good hold on her when something large appears in the corner of my vision. My heart flies into my throat and I imagine this is it, that I’m going to spend the rest of my days in a crocodile’s gut. But when I look closer, I realize it’s Dink, swimming toward Caroline like he was born with fins. He wraps his arm across her chest and pulls her toward the surface with ease. I follow him, gasping for air. When his eyes find mine, I point toward the shore and he nods.

We swim hard toward the bank, Dink doing a far better job than me. The closer I get, the faster the river seems to go. I watch as Dink gets on dry land and drags Caroline behind him. My arms and legs grow heavy, and that’s when a new fear washes over me — one that says I’ll drown in this river. Behind me, I see the raft pulled up onto the bank. The other Contenders look like blurry dots in the rain. Closer to me, Dink is bending down over Caroline, breathing into her mouth. But even he is moving away much too quickly.

My head bobs above and below the surface, and each time I draw in a breath, I wonder if it’ll be my last. Everything is happening so fast. I have no idea how I went from hero to victim, and I’m not sure how I’ll ever get to shore when I can hardly use my legs.

I feel something break through the water behind me and then brush the top of my head. I glance up and almost cry with relief. RX-13! The bird latches her talons on to my shoulders. I bite down against the pain as her nails dig into my skin. The bird flaps her wings hard in the rain and moves toward shore. I do what I can to help the momentum, but I’m running out of energy.

Little by little, the eagle gets me closer to land until finally I feel the earth beneath me and am able to walk up the bank. I collapse onto the ground and breathe hard. When I turn to see the eagle drying her wings, I realize her eyes are bright green.

“Madox,” I croak, spitting up water.

Pain shoots through my ankle and I realize my foot must have caught on something in the river. I reach down and grasp it. The pain worsens beneath my touch. I have no idea how I’ll keep moving on a bad ankle, but there isn’t time to feel sorry for myself —

Because I hear something.

It’s a sound — careful, deliberate steps — that lets me know I’m being watched. Madox shifts into fox form and stands between me and the sound. A low growl erupts from his throat. The noise causes a bolt of terror to strike through me. My gut says it isn’t the other Contenders from my group. But then, what could it be? It’s the strange men, I realize suddenly. They followed us.

New sounds crash around me, and I glance away.

Contenders.

Everywhere.

They’re running, sprinting toward something, with looks of horror twisted across their faces. Or maybe they’re running away from something. Not waiting to see what’s coming, I grab Madox and run in the direction the other Contenders are. Pain rips through me as I step down on my injured ankle, but I will myself to race through it. Pandoras of all shapes and sizes run beside their Contenders — and if it weren’t for their anxious howls, I’d be filled with awe.

I look over my shoulder and gasp. The strange men are chasing us. Each holds a long spear, and they’re making odd chanting noises. Nearby, I notice a girl a few years older than me. She’s running hard, her hands splicing the air. For one moment, our eyes connect. Then she hits the ground hard. I stop, thinking she fell and I’ll just pull her back up. But when I get closer, I spot the spear protruding from her back. Her head is turned sideways, and her face is vacant.

“Oh God.” My whole body begins to shake.

I hear my name being called, but I don’t look up. I can’t do anything but stare at the girl. Someone grabs my arm and yanks me forward. It’s Guy. He’s tugging me onward and screaming at me to move.

But the girl.

“Tella,” he yells, shaking my shoulders. “Run!”

Madox wriggles in my arms. It’s enough to bring me back to reality. I nod at Guy and we race forward. Beside us, I see Levi and Ransom and wonder where the others are. Maybe they’ve found a safe place to hide. I tell myself this as I run, pain tearing through my ankle.

Up ahead, I see a flickering orange light. As we get closer, I discover that the light is coming from lit torches and that the torches form a massive circle.

“It’s base camp,” Guy yells through the rain, through the night. “It has to be.”

I run harder, but when I look over my shoulder, I realize the men are closing in. From this distance, the red stripes on their faces look more like blood than paint.

I concentrate on keeping my legs high so I don’t trip. It’s no use, though. Because the men are gaining on us, and I know it’s only a matter of seconds before they take one of us down.

I glance back one more time and scream when I see a man with green face paint reaching toward me. In the same moment, I feel Madox fight against my arms and fall to the ground. The second his body hits the wet earth, he begins to shift. The man slows enough to watch Madox transform into a lion, and he stops cold when my Pandora opens his mouth and roars. I try to stop, too, but Guy grabs my hand and pulls me along.

“Keep moving, Tella,” he growls.

I try to keep running, but when the man recovers his senses and aims his spear at Madox, I stop and cry out. Madox spins away from the man and races toward me. I think he’s going to barrel into me, but instead he digs his head beneath my legs. I realize what he’s trying to do — that he intends for me to ride him — so I grab on to his mane with my left hand. My right hand is still holding Guy’s, but when Madox launches forward, we’re ripped apart.

“Guy!” I yell.

He runs after me, but Madox is too quick, and it isn’t long before I can hardly see him. The camp ahead grows closer. When I turn back, I can just spot Levi and Ransom running toward us. Behind them is the man with green face paint who almost grabbed me. He raises his spear — and throws.

Levi hits the ground.

I can still hear Ransom screaming when we fly between the torches and into base camp.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I scrabble off Madox’s back to rush to Levi, but my Pandora blocks my way. I’ve never been angry with him, but right now I’m so furious, my vision blurs.

“Move, Madox,” I scream. “That’s an order. Get out of my way.”

He either doesn’t understand or isn’t listening, because he continues to ensure I stay put. Moments later, I see Guy and M-4 race past the torches. He turns around to look behind him and gasps for air. Then he sees me.

“Are they here, too?” he asks. “Are the men inside the camp?”

I shake my head, but not because I know one way or another. But because I can’t speak, thinking about what happened.

“Tella, are you okay?” he asks, moving toward me. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head again and begin to cry.

Over Guy’s shoulder, I see Harper, Caroline, and Dink cross into base camp. Minutes later, Titus arrives. Through my tears, I watch them catch their breaths and gather around Guy and me.

“Is she hurt?” Harper places a hand to her chest and rubs, like she’s willing her lungs to fill with air.

“I don’t know,” Guy answers.

I’m so relieved to see Caroline okay, but it does nothing to stop the things I feel after seeing Levi fall.

“Where are Levi and Ransom?” Harper asks, glancing around.

Everyone stops and looks for them. Everyone but me.

“They got him.” My voice breaks. “This man threw a —”

I can’t finish my sentence. It’s too hard. Especially when I see Ransom approaching base camp. His cheeks are streaked with tears, and his chest and arms are coated with blood that I know isn’t his own.

I rush forward to help him, but the others beat me there. Harper puts her arm around him, holding him up as best she can. Caroline gets the other side. Titus just stares at us. He doesn’t help, and he doesn’t say anything. He just watches.

Guy looks away from Ransom and back at me. His eyes run over my face, but he speaks to both of us. “You couldn’t have saved him.”

I cover my eyes and press them, but a sob still pours from my body. I feel someone’s arms around me. They lift me up and carry me somewhere warm. They lay me down and tuck a heavy blanket around my shoulders. I only know for sure that it’s him when he tells me to sleep, that he’ll be right here when I wake up.

When I open my eyes hours later, the first thing I see is Guy. He’s sleeping a few feet away on the floor. I glance around and spot several other Contenders, and a few Pandoras, sleeping, too. My heart skips a beat when I see Madox lying over my feet. I’m so relieved to find him there. Then I wonder why I’m so relieved.

When I remember what happened, I bolt upright. The girl lying in the jungle with lifeless eyes. Levi with a spear breaking through his chest. The men —

“Guy,” I whisper, shaking him. “Guy, wake up.”

He moans and then opens his eyes. They go from sleep laden to alert in a matter of seconds.

“Are the men here?” he asks.

“No. Or maybe. I’m not sure.” I gaze out a small window and see the same orange lights dancing in the night. The torches are still lit. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A while,” he answers. “Some people were already asleep when we got here.”

I look down at my hands. “Levi?”

Guy slowly shakes his head.

I expect to feel sadness or depression or even fury. But instead, I feel nothing. It’s like I’m empty inside. I came here to save my brother. But how many people have died trying to save one person? I wonder why we stay … if we could leave now if we chose to. But then I imagine returning home to watch my parents grieve and Cody die in his bed. And I know there’s no way I can stop if there’s a chance I can change that future.

“Our devices went off while you were sleeping,” Guy says. “We all listened already.” I start to dig into my chest pocket, but Guy holds out a white device. “It’s yours. I just checked to see if it was blinking.”

I feel my eyes glass over. “Can you just tell me what it says?”

He looks at me like I may suddenly break into a thousand pieces. Then he nods. “It was the woman. She congratulated us on completing the first leg of the race and for arriving at base camp.”

My face scrunches, and I turn away in disgust. People died in this jungle. Congratulations, she said.

“She said there will be a ceremony in four days when the first deadline passes. She called it Shevla.”

I hear what Guy is saying, but for some reason, I can’t absorb the information. I inspect the interior of where we are. It seems like a cabin, like something made of logs and mud from frontier days. It’s a single room with only six beds, which are more like cots. Everywhere I look, I see green-and-blue plaid blankets and fluffy white pillows. The cots remind me of home, of how secure I felt in my own bed with the cool of my pillow beneath my cheek.

I wonder how Guy secured me a bed when so many people are sleeping on the floor.

The cabin has two small windows and only one door. No bathroom, no kitchen … no electronics of any sort. Once again, we’re completely barred from the outside world, without a clue as to where we are.

“Is this everyone?” I ask Guy.

He pauses, like he’s processing that I brushed past the ceremony tidbit. “No,” he says, finally. “There are nine more cabins like this one. Most are about half full. This one has more beds than the others.”

I glance down at the cot I’m lying on. Then I remember where Levi is lying — dead in the jungle — and I’m overtaken by a wave of dizziness.

Guy stands up and then sits along the side of my small bed. He places a hand on my shoulder and pushes me back down. I don’t fight him. I just let my head find the pillow and I squeeze my eyes shut. I hear him get up and walk away, and the sound rips my heart in two. I don’t want him to leave me. I know so little about him — about the person he was before this race — but I’ve come to think of him as a source of stability. With him, we are safe.

I wonder if Levi thought he was safe.

I stuff my mouth against the pillow and cry.

Then I feel someone slip into bed behind me. My head snaps around to see Guy’s blue eyes slide over my face. He holds my gaze for a few moments, then lies down and wraps his strong arms around me. He pulls me tight and buries his face in my neck. Madox hardly stirs.

All the fears I’ve held inside rush out. It’s like he’s asking for them, saying he’ll carry them for me. I press back against him and curl into a ball.

We lie like this for several minutes before I feel his words on my neck. “My cousin loves lemon,” he says. I can tell he’s trying to whisper, but the deepness of his voice makes it almost impossible. Over the past ten days, I haven’t learned many personal things about Guy. But I have picked up on the way he operates. And so I know that if I say anything now, he’ll shut down. I stay quiet, and after what feels like ten minutes, he speaks again.

“He has lemon everything. Lemon soap, lemon shampoo, lemon tea. He even let his girlfriend paint his room yellow because the color was called Lemon Laughter.” I feel Guy shift behind me. “My brothers and I ragged on him pretty hard about it. But after he got sick, I spent months obsessing over that same lemon crap. Sometimes … I felt like if I could find something really great for him, something lemon scented or lemon flavored or whatever, that he’d be happy again.”

We lie in the silence, and eventually, I feel his breath on my neck deepen. Before I fall back asleep, I wonder where the strange men are and if they’ll enter the base camp. But inside Guy’s arms, I imagine it isn’t even possible.

For four days, we reside inside the camp. The two men from the start of the race are here, the same ones who helped unload us from the semis. They wear green, collared shirts and gold chains with serpent pendants. Contenders try to ask them questions, but when that happens, the men just glance past as if they aren’t even there. The only thing they will do is tend to the injured. Apparently, they’re part day laborer, part doctor. The men are an odd addition to an even odder situation.

The base camp is made up of ten small cabins, and the ground around and between them has been cleared so that it’s just soft dirt beneath our boots. I’m thankful for this, because even though my ankle is improving, I imagine it’d still hurt to walk on uneven terrain.

Torches circle the perimeter, and in the center of the camp is an enormous fire pit — though the men keep us from lighting it. In one of the cabins, there are basic supplies: packs of dried fruits and meats, bottles of water, toothbrushes and toothpaste, deodorant, soap, and even TP. And across the base camp, where no windows face, are three outdoor showers that offer a bit of privacy. I don’t know where the water comes from, and I don’t care. It feels like heaven on earth.

During the day, we entertain ourselves as best we can — mostly by meeting other Contenders and gawking at their Pandoras — but at night the Contenders pull away into small clusters. Harper, Caroline, Dink, Guy, and I spend most of our time together. I keep an ever-watchful eye on Madox, who seems playful and carefree at times, and anxious at others.

Ransom has become reclusive, and though we try to include him in everything we do, he mostly stares off into space, his face shadowed with rage. It kills me to see him this way. I think the others are getting tired of me talking about it. But I can’t forget him, and I know he needs us now more than ever.

Titus also doesn’t hang around us anymore. This, on the other hand, is a relief. He seems to have found a new knot of Contenders to group with. They’re all guys, ranging from maybe early teens to midtwenties. The pack has swiftly formed an unsettling reputation, and most people stay out of their way as best they can.

Glancing around, I spot three women in their early fifties discussing something. Two of them laugh, while the third frowns. After a moment, the women disperse. Sitting close to where the women stood are a guy and girl pair a bit older than Guy. They stay close to each other, constructing something long and thin out of branches. They don’t speak; they just work. On the far side of the camp, children play. A girl Dink’s age chases a boy and girl, diving after them and kicking the ground in frustration when they narrowly avoid her grasp. Many of the Contenders have plum-colored bruises or shallow lashes across their extremities. Others seem untouched by the jungle. But they are all here, seeking some sense of normalcy.

Since it’s the last day to locate base camp, I’d expected a constant stream of Contenders to trickle in. But no one has arrived since last night. When the sun nears the middle of the sky, all the Contenders hover around the perimeter, waiting to see who will make it in at the last minute. But as the sun crosses the sky and begins to set, we know it’s over. That this is everyone.

The horizon, or what I can see of it, is splashed with reds and pinks. It’s so beautiful, and in my stomach, I feel the first twinge of happiness after four days of fear and mourning. I knew Levi for only ten days, but I won’t ever forget him. And I’ll never forget that he died fighting for his sister’s life.

I feel someone standing near me and turn to see Guy watching me.

“Hey” is all I say. Then I turn back to the painted, darkening sky. Guy feels huge next to me, and I fight the urge to lean closer. I don’t know how to explain my feelings for him — if they’re circumstantial, or something more — but I know it’s hurt that he hasn’t slept in the bed with me since our first night at base camp. It was the only time I felt any true relief — and though he always sleeps close by, it isn’t close enough.

Guy reaches his hand toward me, but when I turn to face him, he lets it fall. His jaw clenches.

“Guy —” I start to say.

“May we have your attention?” a voice booms from behind us. Guy and I spin around to see the two men in collared shirts standing near the fire pit. We glance at each other like we’re not sure they just spoke, because before now, you’d have thought they were practicing to enter a Buddhist monastery. “We will now begin the ceremony that marks the completion of the jungle race.”

The man on the right has a swollen belly and thin arms. He lights a match with his even thinner hands and tosses it into the pit. Fire bursts toward the sky and sounds of awe ripple across the Contenders. The man on the left, who’s sporting a wicked comb-over, raises his arms into the air and his voice rumbles. “Welcome to Shevla!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I gasp as men, women, and children dressed in white robes and ankle-high boots pour out of the jungle and into our camp. The women wear huge, bright jewelry and serious faces as they carry platters of food above their heads. And as they move closer, decadent scents roll off the dishes. Every memory of being eaten by ants, of escaping chimpanzees, of being sucked on by leeches and nearly drowning and racing through the jungle with strange, painted men trying to kill me — they vanish when I smell the food.

The women set the platters down onto tables the men carried in on their backs. I laugh with surprise as small children approach the fire and sit with drums between their legs. They begin to play. The beat is contagious, and before long, the women in white begin to sing strange, seductive songs.

Guy takes my hand.

I look up at him, forgetting the trance Shevla has brought.

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

I nod like a child on Easter, a yard of candy-filled eggs just beyond my reach. Guy pulls me toward the tables and we get in line. Four women in white tell us about the food as we fill our stoneware plates.

“Smoked over fire,” a woman says, pointing to cooked fish. “And here, we roast these with spices from the jungle,” she adds, touching a finger to a platter brimming with glistening vegetables.

Guy and I settle in close to the fire and listen to the beat of the drums. The women continue singing, but now they add dancing to their performance. They skip and leap and toss themselves in peculiar patterns around the fire as if the music has possessed them. I glance at Guy, and notice there’s a smile on his lips fighting to make an appearance. I want to tell him to let it happen, to not be so serious all the time. But I know it’ll vanish the moment I do, so I don’t say anything. Instead, I nudge him with my shoulder.

“Pretty cool, huh?” I say, after swallowing down a bit of charred, buttery fish.

He doesn’t look at me, but the quasismile leaves his face, as I expected. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” He looks down at his plate. “I don’t think these people know about the race. They were probably just paid to bring us food.”

That’s why I’m able to enjoy it, he means. Because they didn’t do this to us.

Across the fire, Caroline is finger brushing Dink’s hair. He pretends to pull away, but the slight grin on his face gives him away. Ransom is nowhere in sight, which worries me, but I do spot Harper a few feet from Caroline. There’s a guy talking to her. She ignores him completely. Even so, he continues to chat away as if they’re both participating in the conversation. Harper sees me watching and sighs heavily. Against all odds, I smile, and it actually feels authentic.

I’m not sure what Harper’s ideal type would be, but I’m pretty certain this guy isn’t it. For one, he seems way too happy to be here. Or maybe he’s just happy to be near her. The guy looks a bit younger than Harper and is extremely tall. His hair falls in messy blond curls that nearly hide his eyes. He uses a lot of dramatic arm gestures as he speaks to Harper, and I can only imagine this annoys her to no end.

“Check out the guy talking to Harper,” I say, attempting to discuss anything that isn’t the race or Levi or the fact that no one has seen Ransom today. “He seems pretty determined to get her attention.”

Guy’s brow furrows as he inspects the blond. “Poor guy.”

I laugh and punch his shoulder. “Why is he ‘poor guy’? Harper is a … is a …”

“Exactly,” he says. “There are no words.”

I roll my eyes and try to keep laughing, to hold on to this small moment of joy. An older man sitting on Guy’s other side hands him a bottle of something. Guy smells it and raises it to his lips. After he swallows, his face pulls together and he sucks air between his teeth as he passes it to me.

Taking it in my hands, I inspect the bottle. It’s round and heavy at the bottom, and flows into a long and narrow neck. The green glass is too dark to see what’s inside. I glance at Guy, and he makes a tipping motion with his hand as if to say Drink up. I remember all the things I don’t want to remember, and I stare down into the bottle. For three seconds, I wonder what Dad would say about my drinking to kill bad memories. Or about my drinking at all. But then I decide that the second I joined the Brimstone Bleed was the second I had to learn to survive any way I could. And this … this is a ticket to mental freedom.

I tip the bottle back and guzzle until my head swims.

When I lower it and wipe a hand across my mouth, I note Guy eyeing me.

“Great,” he says, shaking his head.

“Great what?” I pass the bottle to the woman next to me, who is all too eager to accept it. “What’s so great?” I ask this question about a hundred times over the next half hour. Guy just shakes his head, which makes me laugh hysterically and hang on his arm. “What’s great, Guy? Me? Am I great? I am, right? Do you want to know why?”

I stare into the fire, transfixed by the flames.

“Why?” Guy says suddenly.

“What?” I turn and look at him.

“You asked if I wanted to know why you’re great.”

I shake my head and look for the green bottle of magic and awesome. “You’re crazy.”

He sighs.

I glance back at the fire. All around it, Contenders dance. Most of the men in white have left, but a few children and women stay behind, singing and beating the drums. The smoke from the fire wraps around the arms and legs of the people dancing and eggs them on. Everything seems to go in slow motion: the thwump-thwumping of the drums, the Contenders’ easy laughter, the Pandoras howling at the moon.

When I glance at Guy to see if he sees what I do, I realize he’s staring at me. “Why are you always watching me?”

His face opens with surprise at my question. I’m a little surprised myself, but mostly, I’m wondering where the damn green bottle is.

“Did you hear me?” I ask.

He presses his lips together and nods his head.

“Then why don’t you answer?”

“Maybe I don’t have the answer.” He leans back onto his hands and looks up at the sky. “Why do you ask so many questions?”

“Because I’m curious,” I say.

“About everything, apparently.”

“No, just about you.” Though I feel relaxed and carefree, this last admission feels like one I may later regret. My eyes find his, but he’s not looking at my eyes. He’s looking at my mouth. Before I can protest, he raises a hand and runs his thumb over my lips. I close my eyes and shiver beneath his touch. I feel him shift beside me, and then his warm palms wrap around my face. I pull in a breath.

And his lips touch mine.

It’s so sudden that I almost don’t know how to react. But that’s okay, because my body understands exactly what to do with him. My back arches and I wrap my arms around him. His mouth is warm and soft against mine. And when his tongue touches the inside of my lips, a clap of thunder sounds through my body. I realize now that neither the jungle, the leeches, the raft, nor the river posed any real threat. The real fear is here.

That I will surely drown in his embrace.

All the things I question about Guy vanish. I don’t care what he’s hiding. I don’t mind that his hands are calloused and his skin is pricked with sweat. I only care that he’s pressed against me. That he’s here.

Our kiss has just started — seconds of bliss, maybe only a single moment — when it’s interrupted by the men in collared shirts.

“May we have your attention?” one man says. The drums stop. The dancing stops. Guy and I pull away and look at each other, breathing deep. I have a sudden impulse to kiss the scar over his eye, or run my fingers over the mangled part of his left ear. Every last imperfection seems to beg for my immediate attention. “It’s time to announce the first victor.”

This gets our attention. Guy and I turn and gaze at the man with the comb-over. He holds something in his closed fist, but I can’t make out what it is. “One hundred and twenty-two people competed in the first leg of the race,” he says. Some Contenders clap and the sound appalls me. “But only one could win the initial prize.”

The man holds up his fist. I notice then how large his ears are, how they redden with his excitement. “Rachelle Gregory, please come forward.”

A short, robust woman on the other side of the fire stands up. Contenders nearby give her congratulatory pats as she moves toward the man. She appears to be Caroline’s age and has feathery red hair … and freckles. I wonder if she hates them as much as I do mine. Maybe she doesn’t think about them. Maybe I shouldn’t think about them.

The woman — Rachelle — stands near the fire and beams. Her smile is so wide, I’m afraid her face will break. But her rigid posture speaks the truth. She hates it here, and I decide then that I like this lady.

Opening his fist, the man stretches a long green ribbon taut. Then he ties it around her upper arm. A hush falls over the crowd. We’ve been trained so that flags mean everything. They were life preservers in the jungle, something that said: You’re on the right track; everything’s going to be okay. And now, at base camp, they’re a status symbol. I spot them here and there tied around the arms of Contenders, young and old. They wear them proudly, their heads held high and their chests full.

But no one has a green flag.

The woman’s smile falls as she fingers the ribbon around her bicep. I wonder how it feels. A few days before we found base camp, our group agreed not to wear the flags. Except Titus, who may very well have solidified the trend.

“You worked hard to win this leg,” the man tells the woman. “And though our resources are limited, those of us working behind the Brimstone Bleed are doing everything we can to help save lives.”

I wait for people to scoff, to mumble smart responses. No one does. I think about what Guy told me, about the Pharmies. Glancing at him, I vow to learn more of the story soon.

“So tonight, we’d like to award you a monetary prize: enough to secure the best doctors in the world. While only the Cure can guarantee health for your loved one, this money will help ensure they get the best care in the meantime.”

The man hands her a slip of paper.

She gasps.

Nobody says anything for a few seconds. Finally, a young boy calls out, “What does it say?”

Rachelle looks up. Tears threaten to spill down her cheeks. “It’s a check for two million dollars,” she says. Contenders who just got done patting her on the back are now looking at her with envy. And hatred.

The man places a hand upon her shoulder. “And now it’s time to ask you a question, Rachelle.” He touches a hand to his thinning hair, then glances out at the crowd. “Are you going to continue the race? Or will you return home?”

Rachelle looks at him with shock. Before this, I’d often wondered if we’d be allowed to leave if we wanted to. Surely, she must have wondered the same thing. And now here it is — a ticket out of this place. I try to decide what I would choose: to return home with the money and hope better doctors can help save Cody, or to stay and fight for a guarantee. The woman’s face tightens, and I can tell she’s asking herself the same thing.

“I want to leave,” she announces.

The Contenders clap at this, happy to have her out of here. To be rid of a fierce competitor.

A woman in white takes her by the arm and the two disappear outside the base camp. Where are they taking her? To a village? A small airport outside the jungle? I have a reckless longing to race after them, screaming to wait up, Madox bobbing in my arms.

A small voice inside my head whispers: Are you sure you’re strong enough? Are you sure there’s really a cure? Worse still: Is your brother’s life really worth risking your own?

I jump to my feet and storm toward the cabin Guy and I have slept in for the last four nights. Behind me, I hear the man saying something else, and the Contenders grow excited. But I block it out and keep moving. I have to get away from here. I need time to think.

Finding my usual cot, I nearly collapse onto it. But I stop myself. What makes me deserve this bed more than someone else does? After questioning the value of my brother’s life, perhaps I don’t warrant anything more than the floor.

I grab a plaid blanket and a pillow and lie down beside the bed. Curling into a ball, I pray for the sound of Guy’s approaching footsteps. I want him to chase after me. I need him to find me and hold me like he did the first night. My face burns as I think about our kiss. I squeeze my eyes shut and think about the feel of his lips, the fleeting touch of his tongue. But what does it matter amid the Brimstone Bleed?

It matters more than anything.

I hear footsteps approaching and watch the door. Please let it be him. Please let it be him.

The door creaks open, and Harper steps inside. Somehow, her being here is even better. I watch her search the floor until she finds me. In her hands are two envelopes. “Tella,” she says gently. “You left before they made their final announcement.”

Madox trots through the door Harper left open and locates me within seconds. He nudges my arm until I lift it and let him snuggle against my chest. I pet his thick black coat and raise my head to look at Harper. Her eyes are red-rimmed and glistening.

I bolt upright. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She hands me one of the envelopes. The other, the one she’s clutching in her left hand, has already been opened. “This is for you.”

Harper turns to leave. I want to ask her to stay, to tell me what’s wrong. But she’s moving too quickly. When she gets to the door, there are two Contenders trying to make their way inside.

“No,” Harper says, blocking their way. “Go away. Find another cabin.”

“This isn’t your —” one starts to say.

“Out,” Harper shouts. She looks back at me. My stomach clenches when I notice tears are now streaming down her face. “I’ll be right outside.” Her voice breaks. “No one is going to come in.”

“Harper,” I say. But she’s already closed the door.

I glance down at the envelope in my hand. It suddenly feels too heavy, too hot. Like it’s going to burn right through my palm. Grabbing the corner, I tear it open.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The letter is folded three times. So little stands in the way of my reading what’s inside, but my hands shake as if I’m hanging from the side of a cliff, seconds left until I free-fall to my death.

I don’t have to unfold the snow-white paper to know who it’s from. The blocky letters peeking through tell me everything. There’s only one person in my family who writes like this. Only one person who uses all caps like they’re screaming everything they inscribe. My mom tries to tell him to write like a gentleman.

But my brother never listens.

I unfold the letter and squeeze my eyes closed. A lump forms in my throat. I try to swallow it down, but it’s there to stay. When I manage to open my eyes again, the letters are blurred, swimming on the page like they’re playing a game. I rub the back of my hand across my face and begin reading.

TELLA,

YOU LEFT BECAUSE OF ME. I KNOW YOU DID. MOM AND DAD TRY TO PROTECT ME FROM WHAT’S HAPPENED, BUT I WISH THEY’D STOP. SOMETHING’S GOING ON, AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT. I ONLY KNOW THAT DAD SAID SOMEONE SENT YOU SOMETHING MEAN. THAT IT WAS A PRACTICAL JOKE, AND I SHOULD PRETEND IT WAS ME TO PROTECT YOU. AND NOW YOU’RE GONE.

THE POLICE OFFICER HERE, HE ASKED ME TO WRITE YOU A LETTER. HE SAID YOU RAN AWAY TO TRY AND FIND SOMETHING TO MAKE ME BETTER. BUT THAT’S CRAZY, TELLA. THE DOCTORS SAID THEY COULDN’T HELP. SO JUST COME HOME. OKAY? JUST COME HOME. I KNOW I ALWAYS GIVE YOU A HARD TIME, BUT I’M JUST PLAYING. YOU KNOW THAT, RIGHT? I’VE NEVER ACTUALLY TOLD YOU, BUT I THINK YOU’RE PRETTY COOL. I’VE NEVER ACTUALLY TOLD YOU THAT I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, IT HURTS. THAT I’D DIE TOMORROW IF IT’D BRING YOU HOME.

WE’RE ALL WORRIED, TELLY. DAD STAYS UP ALL NIGHT PACING, AND MOM KEEPS REPEATING SOMETHING ABOUT YOU HAVING HER EYES. COME HOME. PLEASE.

— CODY

The letter flutters to the floor as I curl into myself. The knot in my throat unties itself, and I choke on a sob. Madox is on his feet, licking my hands, telling me he’s here. But right now it isn’t enough. I need my brother. My mom. My dad.

I need my family.

I’ve deceived myself. Pretended I was okay here in this jungle without them. But it’s a lie I can’t escape. Tears race down my cheeks and tumble to the floor.

I know why the people working this race delivered these letters.

It’s to prepare us for the next leg of the race. To provide motivation.

Their plan so works.

Having Cody’s words in my head makes everything I’ve done worth it. He loves me. Of course he does, I know that. But he actually said it. My brother and I don’t do that. We tease each other, pull harsh pranks, and take every opportunity to make the other look bad. But deep down …

And he said it.

I despise the people running this race. But I need them, too. Because I have to win. I have to save him.

The door opens and I wonder if Harper is back. When I glance up, I see Guy silhouetted in the doorway, an envelope crumpled in his grasp. My sobs deepen, and I reach toward him. I’ll crumble if he refuses me. If he walks away.

He looks at me for a long time. Even in the dark, his eyes are the same as the first moment I saw him — cold as revenge. I reach toward him again and say his name. He glances away, and his face whispers of torment.

“Don’t —” I say, but it’s no use.

He turns and leaves.

My heart explodes. My bones break. Tears pour from my body until I’m sure there’s nothing left. I pull into myself and clutch the letter to my stomach. My eyes slip closed, and I drown in despair. Madox nudges against my hand, but I don’t lift it. I can’t. He whimpers softly. It’s the last thing I hear as I crash into sleep.

When I wake in the middle of the night, I feel Guy behind me, holding me as if I’m his only path to salvation.

After five more days at the camp, I become restless. The woman from the device said the race would take three months. Harper and I decided this meant two weeks in each ecosystem, and one week of rest in between them. We couldn’t decide what the last week would entail. Then again, this was all guesswork.

The other Contenders seem ready for action, too. It’s like we’ve all spent adequate time sulking over our letters, and now we’re ready to tackle the next obstacle. But the men in collared shirts don’t respond when we ask what’s coming. They just wave us away and keep patrolling the area. I begin to wonder if this isn’t part of a bigger test. To see who breaks under the pressure of idleness.

As time passes, Guy continues to stay nearby. Rarely close — but nearby. Sometimes he’ll grace me with conversation. And on rare moments, a smile. My body aches for him in a way I’ve never known. I feel like an animal, all muscle and hormones and lust. We never mention the kiss, and it does nothing to quench the strange pull between us. It’s odd to feel this way in the heart of the jungle, but I think Guy could probably make me hot in the ninth circle of hell.

I watch as Titus picks on a kid half his age. I’m tired of seeing him bully his way into a position of authority among the Contenders. And I decide since I have nothing else to preoccupy myself with, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.

Dusting myself off, I head toward him. He’s holding the boy around the neck, and I mentally tell the kid to go for the crotch. That’d be my tactic. In fact, it will be my tactic. I’m only a few feet away when Caroline steps in front of me. Dink is hanging on her waist, and she’s holding her device out so I can see.

It’s blinking.

My teeth snap together, and I immediately look for Guy. I don’t want to hear the message without him near my side. I’m aware that my feelings for him can’t end well, not with us both here as competitors. But those are long-term thoughts. And right now, staring at the blinking light with my heart pounding against my ribs, I’m only thinking in the now.

“Does everyone know?” I ask Caroline when I don’t spot Guy.

“Not yet.” She places the device into her ear but doesn’t press the button. “It won’t be long, though.”

She’s right. Within minutes, every Contender is putting their device into place. I don’t want to listen without our group together. It feels like if I do, then maybe we aren’t really a group at all. Already, Caroline and Dink stay by themselves, Ransom hides inside the cabins all day, and Guy and I move quietly through base camp side by side.

And Harper. She’s still being stalked by the gangly blond. He refuses to leave her alone, and for some reason, she doesn’t tell him off. Just continues to ignore him.

I give up hunting the Contenders I’ve become familiar with and put the device into my ear. Caroline wraps her hand around the side of Dink’s face, and nods.

We both push the buttons.

There are a few moments of silence while everyone tunes in, then the woman begins.

“Good afternoon. I’d like to wish everyone well as we close the first chapter of the Brimstone Bleed.”

I curl my hands into fists.

“As you know, Rachelle Gregory won the first leg of the race and chose to return home to be with her family. We, at headquarters, fully support her decision. And now we’d like to offer the remaining Contenders a choice as well.”

The woman pauses, and I can almost feel the Contenders around me holding their breaths.

“In a few short moments, the two men who have graciously overseen base camp will leave. If you choose to follow one, you will be led to the next part of the race. If you choose to follow the other, you will be taken home. The decision is yours to make.”

Caroline finishes listening to the message and drops her head. When she looks back up, there are tears in her eyes.

I don’t know what to tell her. This decision is easy for me. I won’t give up. My brother loves me. And I love him right back. But her mother has never shown her enough affection to warrant this kind of personal risk. I’d understand her decision to leave. I grab her hand and squeeze. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “You don’t have to stay. We’d understand.”

“Would she, though?” Caroline says as Dink tugs on her side and looks up at her. “Would my mother understand?”

I shake my head, because I can’t find the words. And because, no, her mother doesn’t sound like the kind of person who would understand. Or the kind of person who’d have ever considered doing for her daughter what Caroline’s done for her.

“If I leave, I’m going to take him with me.” Caroline pulls Dink in front of her.

“I think that’s a good idea,” I say, though I’m fighting the urge to beg her to stay. To tell her I can’t continue this race without all of us there.

Something brushes my back, and I turn to find Guy. His eyes lock on my face. “Are you ready?” he says. “They’re already lining up.”

I glance over his shoulder and see that he’s right. The two men are positioned ten feet away from each other, and a line of Contenders stands before each person. There are fewer Contenders in front of the man on the right, and I wonder if that’s the leave or stay line.

Guy places his hand on the small of my back and a torrential current rushes through me. I wonder whether Guy is confident I’m staying, or has come to ensure I don’t go.

I look back at Caroline as Guy leads me away. I want to tell her good-bye, that I’ll never forget her or Dink. But something tells me it’s better this way. That I have to learn to move forward without lingering on the past.

Guy moves toward the left. “Is this the stay line?” he asks the girl in the back.

She nods, looks us both over, and turns back around.

Harper comes up behind us. I smile in her direction. She doesn’t return the gesture, but maybe that’s because the blond guy is still chatting away in her ear. He follows her into line like she’s his lighthouse and gives me an excited wave when he catches me watching.

I wave back and laugh despite the situation.

Titus elbows his way past us all and heads toward the front, his pack trailing behind him. He turns once to verify we’re watching. When his eyes connect with Guy’s, he looks forward and continues on.

Near the front, I see the man in the collared shirt raise his hand to silence us. For the first time, I notice there’s a small chest near his feet. It’s made from carved wood, and the latch glitters emerald green. When a hush falls over the Contenders, he opens the chest and retrieves a monstrous-sized syringe. It’s filled with a green, swirling liquid.

“Right sleeves up.” The man indicates the syringe. “You’ll only need a little,” he adds, as if this is supposed to comfort me. As if the thought of that needle going in my arm isn’t enough to make me switch lines. I glance over at the leave line. Yeah, no syringe.

The Contenders begin pulling up their right shirtsleeves. The man injects a small amount into the first Contender and moves down the line.

“Guy,” I whisper, sweat pricking my brow.

“It’s okay,” he says. “They wouldn’t kill us now.”

Kill us? Kill us? I wasn’t even thinking that. I was only worried about the syringe. And maybe that it’ll make us fall asleep again. But mostly, that the man and his mammoth needle are only four Contenders away now.

Three.

Two.

He gets to Guy, and Guy holds out his upper arm as if he’s actually excited about getting injected with a foreign substance. The needle punctures his skin and I see a bit of blood spiral amid the green. They shouldn’t be using the same needle on all of us, should they? My muscles clench tighter. Madox rears up against my leg and barks.

Yeah, no crap. That’s what I’m saying. Why is no one freaking out?

I glance at Harper, but she’s facing forward like a marine. I hate her so much right now, I could scream.

Something pricks my arm and I yelp. I turn and glare at the man. He gives me a look that says I’m pathetic and moves toward Harper. It’s over, I think. It wasn’t so bad. I glance at Caroline and Dink, and I can’t help myself. Raising my arm, I wave. I must tell them good-bye, if only in this small way. Caroline smiles warmly and waves back, her eyes still wet with tears. She raises Dink’s arm and waves for him, too. I bite my lip to keep from laughing … or crying.

And then Caroline’s face begins to blur.