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.