“Yeah, we’ll stop,” Harper answers for Guy.
After walking for several more hours, we’re still a day or more away from the rocks. It doesn’t seem like base camp would be this close, but it still gives me hope. Maybe we found it really quick this time. It’s only been, what, five days? That means we have nine left. Piece of cake.
Oh my God. Cake.
Once I start thinking about it, I can’t stop. I picture chocolate on chocolate and strawberry with pink frosting. Then I think of the more interesting kinds: carrot cake, pound cake … German chocolate. And cheesecake. Oh, holy mother. Cheese. Cake.
“You okay?” Jaxon asks as we find a place to camp for the night. “You look a little crazy in the face.”
“I’m so hungry,” I say.
Jaxon holds his hands up and steps backward. “Easy, girl.”
“I’ll send RX-13 out,” Harper says.
Though I’m not looking forward to what the eagle finds in this hellhole, right now I’m too starved to care. “Want me to send Madox with her?” I ask, eyeing my waistline. I’m thinking I could’ve used the desert diet last swimsuit season. Maybe I could package it and make millions.
The desert diet: Eat whatever you want, as long as it’s nondescript green fruit or beetles. If you’re hungry, spring for a rabbit. Plain.
“No, the fox will just slow her down. Even if he does change shape.” Harper sends RX-13 off in search of food, while I think over the Madox insult she just tossed out. “God, I’m exhausted,” she says.
I eye her with amazement. I thought she was like Guy, that maybe she wouldn’t know exhaustion if it shaved off her shiny, blond hair. Yawning, I realize I’m also beat. Walking through sand for hours on end has a way of sucking the life — and soul — out of you. For a moment, I imagine winning the Cure for Cody. On one hand, after he’s better, I could be all quiet-hero and never mention how difficult the race was. People will talk behind my back and say, She’s so brave. She never even brings it up, but we know it must have been terrible. That Tella, she’s amazing.
On the other hand, I could go for martyr-who-will-never-let-it-go. I could shove it in Cody’s face every chance I got. I’d be like, Hey, Cody, enjoying that doughnut? You wouldn’t be if I hadn’t saved your ass. And, Hey, Cody, nice wedding you’re having here. You know what you’d be doing today if I hadn’t saved you? Not getting married.
Lying back and driving my hands beneath my head, I smile at the possibilities. I feel Guy lie down beside me. I wonder if he’ll light a fire, now that I can hardly see a thing and the temperature is dropping. Or if he’ll get twigs for our beds — God forbid we sleep on something mildly soft. I decide if he does go twig hunting, I’ll go with. There’s no reason why I can’t help.
I’m still puzzling over what Guy will do, and what his bedroom looks like, when sleep takes me.
When I wake up in the middle of the night, the sheer darkness startles me. I’m so used to waking to find sunlight or a fire. I sit up and glance around. I can’t make anything out, but I can tell there are sleeping bodies nearby. I assume they’re my fellow Contenders and decide I must have missed dinner or that everyone passed out before RX-13 returned. I also determine Guy is human after all — otherwise, I know he would have lit a fire before crashing. I lie back down, scoot closer to where I think he is, and try to fall back asleep.
But before I can, I spot something.
In the distance is a glowing light. Madox is grunt-snoring at my feet, so I know it’s not coming from his eyes. I decide maybe it’s the cheetah but figure I better check it out. Pulling myself up, I debate whether to wake Guy. If this were a movie, this would be the part where I scream at the girl to not go alone. But this isn’t a movie. And if I wake up Guy and it turns out to be nothing, he’ll give me another one of those concerned looks.
Running my fingers over my feather, I decide to take a quick gander and come right back. I listen for a moment to ensure Madox is still asleep — and still snoring — and head toward the light.
As I get closer, I realize from the way the light dances that it’s a fire. Something is blocking my view of the flames, but I can’t determine what it is. In the colorless night and the flickering glow, my mind plays cruel tricks. I slow my stride and stoop closer to the ground, a nervous sensation blooming in my belly.
I should go back.
I should wake Guy. Or Harper. Or anyone.
Though I think these things, I can’t help but take one more step. Then another. My heart throbs inside my chest. My skin tingles with energy. I can see the thing in front of the fire better now. It’s small. And it’s crouched. My face pulls together with confusion.
One more step and I’ll be able to see it.
I take the step.
Understanding hits me as the thing turns in my direction. My entire body tightens and something screams inside my head.
The thing is Dink.
His pink mouth and small hands are covered in dark blood. I stagger backward and shake my head when Dink’s blood-coated lips part into a spine-chilling grin. Something is wrong with him. Something is very wrong with him. And I can’t help but notice how close he is. How he could reach me in a few seconds if he wanted. But that’s a ridiculous thought. Because this is Dink — the boy I decided is only about eight years old.
Dink stands, and I notice the blood doesn’t just paint his hands but stretches toward his elbows. I take another small step back and stop when he holds out his palm. It’s like he’s asking me to come play. Behind him, there’s something lying on the ground.
The blood. That’s where the blood is coming from.
I glance around Dink and train my eyes on the thing he’s been toying with. The boy brings his outstretched hand to his mouth and licks his fingers. Then his smile stretches farther.
Oh God.
He hasn’t been playing with something. He’s been eating it.
I move to the side, my sight fixed on the boy. Then I glance down.
A scream catches in my throat when I see Jaxon’s cheetah lying behind Dink, his stomach ripped open.
Dink makes a loud hissing noise and leaps forward.
He’s on me before I can think.
The boy opens his jaws and reveals his miniature teeth, laced with bits of flesh. He jerks his head toward me and tries to bite my neck. I fight to keep the child away from my face. There’s no way he weighs more than seventy pounds, but his strength is staggering when he knocks me down into the sand, as if his sickness has made him stronger. I cry out as I shove him away. But as hard as I push, he moves only a few inches back. He’s still dangerously close, but the extra space between us gives me the opportunity I need. I use my leg as a slingshot and kick him away. He flies off and lands hard in the sand.
In a heartbeat, he springs onto his hands and feet like a monster and scurries toward me. His jaw hangs open and that same hissing sound emanates from his throat. I crawl backward as fast as I can, but he’s coming too quickly. His brown eyes have taken on an almost red hue, and I know if he gets to me again, that this time, he will actually bite me. No matter what, I have to stop that from happening. I can’t contract whatever he has. I can’t die in this desert. Because if I do —
My brother dies with me.
As Dink races closer, I spring to my feet, look for something to ward him off. Spotting the fire, I decide if I can grab a burning stick, maybe I can use it as a weapon. I dash toward the flames, the sound of Dink at my heels driving me forward. When I get to the blaze, I stop in astonishment. The fire — it’s burning without wood. Without leaves. Without anything.