She’d experienced plenty of hunger in her life before the show, and she knew that real hunger was pain. It was feeling like your stomach had teeth and was eating itself from the inside out. She’d thought her experience would help her in the wilderness. What she hadn’t expected was for that familiar feeling to bring back the same old fear she’d had when she was a kid, when she didn’t know where the next meal would come from or how anything would ever change for the better. The surprise was the way it now set an aching fear at the base of her skull, yanking her back until she again was that scared little kid she’d thought she’d left behind when she stepped on the shore to set up camp.
She pulled the cookie out from her pocket and squeezed it. It was warm and gave easily with the pressure, soft and inviting, a slight slip where the cream glued the cookies together. Bandana Girl was out of sight for the moment. As she thought about the way the cream would melt on her tongue, the muscles of her cheek contracted painfully and her mouth watered. She tore open the package, ignoring the crinkling of the cellophane, unconcerned that it could be heard from the camp. Cam wanted to savor the taste, make the cookie last as long as possible, but instead she shoved it in whole and almost moaned as she bit into it, the icing squishing out the sides. The sweetness was so overwhelming it hurt her teeth, but she didn’t care. She closed her eyes as the sugar rushed through her veins.
Her eyes snapped open when Bandana emerged from the shelter holding a small colorful bag that Cam hadn’t seen earlier. She had something in her mouth, and grinned as it snapped when she bit it in half. Even from this distance, hidden behind leaves, Cam recognized the candy.
Gummy worms.
For the first time, Cam found herself contemplating that an alliance might not be the worst thing. Even while still tasting the sugar of the oatmeal pie, she wanted candy. It was as if an urge she’d managed to suppress for three weeks had been set loose by the taste of something sweet, and now it was on a rampage, a devouring monster.
Cam’s gaze stayed on the girl as she moved about the camp, then slipped back into the tent after a few moments. Cam could already feel the way the gummy would resist her teeth like soft rubber, the way the flavor would fill her mouth like fruit punch.
Her first indication that something was wrong was the smell. There was the odor of damp earth and salt water that always lingered in the air, and the usual campfire smell, which she was used to. This smell was no campfire, however.
Cam searched the area, looking for smoke, and then she saw the thin tendril rising from the top of the shelter. Even as her gaze landed on it, it grew larger and wider. The whole shelter was ablaze.
Without thinking, Cam scrambled from the ferns and ran for the tent. The girl turned and gaped at her. Cam ignored her and threw back the flap of the tarp. A blast of smoke hit her face. The acrid tang of burning wood filled her nose and stabbed into her lungs, but she dove in anyway.
“What are you doing?” the girl said behind her.
The tarp wasn’t burning. It held in the smoke, creating a black blanket around her. The wood of the poles smoldered white with surface ash.
This was a bad idea. Nothing here could be saved, and the shelter was seconds away from becoming an inferno. As she backed out, coughing, her arm brushed something and she pulled away with a cry to find a fragment of melting tarp sticking to her skin.
Once outside, clasping her burned arm, she breathed in fresh air, but the shelter poured out smoke and she couldn’t get far enough from it. She moved sideways and bumped into the girl, who caught her before she fell, overcome with a sudden overwhelming dizziness.
The girl blurred in front of Cam. What was that look on her face? It seemed more irritation than concern.
Cam heard her own voice, as if from far away, say, “You set the fire. Why would you . . .” Before she could finish, the world dimmed. She was on the ground, and the girl hovered over her, brow creased, lips pressed closed. Then the face disappeared into a narrowing black aperture, until it blinked out like someone had flipped a switch.
Chapter 03
Trip’s camp didn’t trouble River—he could always build a new one—but the fire could climb the mountain and take out the whole forest. The producers might be creating a fake reality for the sake of their show, but this fire was real.
River and Trip descended the hill to a ridge just above the camp. The smoke was thick and distorted River’s sense of the scene. He crouched down and tried to determine where the fire had originated. The wind, which had been blowing inland, suddenly shifted, and the view cleared.
Two girls emerged from a ragged blue-tarp shelter, the source of the fire. One of them stumbled and collapsed.
There was a chemical tang in River’s mouth from the mantle of smoke, and his eyes stung. He closed them, and when he opened them again, Trip was bounding down the hill. River followed.
Reaching the flaming shelter, River went to the first girl, the one who’d collapsed. She had dark hair cut to her chin and loose-fitting clothes. He knelt next to her.
“Are you okay?”
She blinked at him with eyes as dark as wet earth, the pale skin of her brow puckered in confusion. He wanted to say something calming, because she was scared, not just confused. Terrified, in fact, like if he couldn’t find the right words she might shatter. He touched her shoulder and thought suddenly of his mother’s bud vases, how the sun shone through them, revealing the delicate glass.
“Something’s wrong.” Her words seemed tangible, as dense as the smoke-laden air.
“There’s a fire, it’s still going. You’re safe, though.”
“No.” Her gaze searched the sky. “Not the fire.”
“You took in a lot of smoke.”
The air burned his lungs. He turned to Trip to ask for his water only to find him running toward the burning shelter. “Trip! What the hell?”
“Just need a second, man,” he called over his shoulder.
“That thing’s going to collapse!” River yelled, but Trip was either ignoring him or couldn’t hear him over the crackling flames. River jumped to his feet and chased after.
Before Trip reached the smoldering tent, the wind shifted inland, and smoke engulfed River’s body as the structure became a towering bonfire, glowing blue and white above him. In the forest, the flames licked the understory of trees, searching for fuel. The shelter teetered precariously. Trip lifted aside the plastic flap, then jerked his hand away with a hiss. He ducked as if he thought he could still get inside.
“Trip!” River yelled. “Stop!”
He was probably trying to retrieve a special item, a memento or a family photo. But if he went inside that shelter, it would collapse around him.
The sweat on River’s body dried like a layer of skin peeling off, hot air rolling over him in a wave. The ground itself was charged with heat.
“Come on!” River grasped Trip and pulled him away from the flames.
“No.” Trip resisted. “I just need a second.”
“Don’t have one.”
River dragged the boy away from the fire. It was easy enough—his body was light—but Trip fought him awkwardly, and once free of the searing air, River pushed him away with a bit more force than necessary. Trip didn’t seem to have a problem risking River’s life along with his own. He’d acted rashly, and out here that kind of thing would get him killed. They stood outside while the tent swelled in a burst of orange and yellow. They fell back together as the structure crumpled into a pile of burning refuse. The other girl, the one in the bandana, tugged River’s arm, guiding him to clear air.