“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.”