Free Fire & Flood by Victoria Scott

as I move. It’s amazing how optimistic I feel this morning. This race lasts only three months, I reason. If I can make it one night, I can make it two. Et cetera, et cetera.
    When my stomach growls, I’m not surprised. The last thing I ate was a PB&J yesterday morning. The more I think about it, the hungrier I get, until at some point, my brain is pounding against my temples.
    As I’m walking from plant to plant — wondering which will kill me fastest if I consume it — I hear a muffled, snapping sound. For the last eighteen hours, I’ve heard more coinciding sounds than I could have thought possible. They never stop.
    But this one is close.
    I wrap my arm around Madox, mentally telling him that everything is going to be okay. It’s amazing how fast I’ve become attached to my Pandora. One night alone, and I’m more afraid of losing him than I am of starving. But I guess whoever created this race knew this is exactly what would happen.
    When the sound comes again, closer, I pull Madox onto my chest and protect him with both arms.
    The noise is behind me now. I whip around to face it, shaking so hard, my teeth chatter. A sharp caw rips right above my head and I glance up. When I look back down — an enormous beast is staring right at me, hunger storming in its yellow eyes.
    It lowers its head, touching a pink nose to the ground. A low growl builds in its throat. The animal stalks closer, eyes locked on my face. I try to stand perfectly still, but I’m hyperventilating and it makes holding myself together extremely difficult.
    As the animal moves in, its shoulder blades rise and fall like waves in an ocean. I allow myself to believe for one fraction of a second that it’s only curious. It’ll see that I’m not a threat, that I’ll give it no chase, and will tire of me and leave.
    But then the beast lifts its enormous head and releases a bloodcurdling roar only the king of a jungle can.

The lion rushes toward me in an instant, and all I can think about is how I once heard that lions don’t actually live in jungles. Today, I will die at the hands of a misconception.
    My legs shake as the animal closes in, his muscles rippling as he moves. There’s too little time to dream of fleeing. No chance to react, to run for my life. I close my eyes and wait for the impact. But at the last minute, I can’t help but peek. It’s the wrong move. My eyes fall on the lion’s open mouth, on the dark shadows cast by his ivory teeth.
    I choke on a scream as the lion leaps.
    “M-4,” I hear a deep voice bark.
    The lion touches down an inch away from me and stops cold. Then he glances over his shoulder.
    From out of the brush, the serial-killer guy strides toward me. He slaps his thigh once. “Now.” The lion pads toward him and stops near the guy’s leg, turning to keep both bright yellow eyes trained on me. When the guy steps closer, I notice he has a scar cut through his right eyebrow and that the bottom of his left earlobe is mangled.
    He’s wearing the same brown scrubs I am, but he also has two straps across his chest that attach to bags at his hips. When I see what’s in the bags, my stomach rumbles. They are both overflowing with some kind of fruit, and I even catch the scent of raw meat. I have no idea where he found food or how he knew what was safe to eat, but I consider taking on him and the lion for just a taste.
    “What are you doing here?” The guy’s voice is as sharp as it is rough, and he steps toward me when he speaks. An intimidation factor, no doubt. His shirt pulls tight against his chest, and Irealize just how easily this guy could kill me. Muscles bulge beneath the fabric, and thick veins run along his tanned, sculpted arms. I yank my eyes away from his shoulders to meet his gaze.
    “What do you mean?” I clip. “I’m in the race, same as you.” The lion at his side stirs, licks his chops. “What is that thing?” I should be more afraid, but I’m still too weak from exhaustion and hunger