“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.
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.