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.