THE MOJAVE DESERT
STARVATION CENTRAL
NOVEMBER 3RD
3:12 P.M.
A slight breeze had kicked up in the soundless sauna of the desert, and Allie planned to use it as a navigational tool to figure out where the delicious food smell was coming from. She licked her index finger, wincing at the bitter taste of Purell, and held it out in front of her face to see which side of her finger the air cooled. Once she knew which way was upwind, she’d be able to locate whatever was seducing her nostrils. For what seemed like forever, the smell of bread and meat had been assaulting her, leading her along the desert floor like a police bloodhound sniffing for clues to a murder. Only instead of solving a crime, Allie wanted to do the time. With a plate. And a fork. And whatever sausage-and-bun combo it was she was smelling. But all she saw in the distance was the harsh, unwelcoming desert, the ever-present sun beating down on its floor. As Allie walked, veering left whenever possible, she considered the fact of Mel getting on the plane without her. The image of his butt disappearing into the cargo hold played over and over again, like a Black Eyed Peas hit on repeat in the cardio room of the 24-Hour Fitness in Santa Ana. She mulled over Mel’s actions for the hundredth time that day, swallowing sausage-activated drool accumulating in her mouth.
Now that she had some time to process it, she had to admit it wasn’t totally out of character for Mel to abandon her and run onto the plane. Of the whole group, he was by far the most terrified and uncomfortable in the wilderness. He belonged on a runway or in an atelier, not on a desert trail. Like a Lipizzaner stallion, those beautiful white horses bred for Spanish royalty, Mel was too pretty and too sheltered to cope in rugged conditions.
Allie shrugged her shoulders and reminded herself that whatever Mel had done, he still had a big heart. She wasn’t ready to give up on him yet. Not that it would matter, since it wasn’t like she’d be back at Alpha Academy anytime soon. Now that she was walking solo, the chances of her successfully hoofing it back to Shira’s island were smaller than ever.
To keep her growling stomach and drooling mouth from taking over and making her lose the trail of yummy food, Allie decided to play a game of What Will I Buy. Usually, she played this game the night before heading out for a daylong mall excursion, but this time it was harder. She had to project to a point in the future after Shira’s twisted contest was over and she was back in Santa Ana. She didn’t want to think about Alphas clothes, even if they were state-of-the-art and made of the finest materials she’d ever worn. She saw herself in her mind’s eye walking through the arches of the Santa Ana Towne Centre Mall and tried to imagine what her very first purchase would be.
But when she tried to picture her options, all the racks in her fantasy were empty. Shira’s media ban meant no magazines, so Allie didn’t even know what was in style—being in last season’s duds wasn’t part of this fantasy. Allie shook her dark blond mane, reminding herself of the one awesome thing Alpha Academy had given her. She was her own person now. She might still love to shop, but she wasn’t a slave to fashion trends anymore. She would create her own style.
Maybe a cute little shift dress, she thought, designing one in her mind’s eye. Maybe a retro pillbox hat. Something kind of… Jackie O.
Just then, Allie caught a whiff of baked beans that made her salivate Niagara Falls. The sound of voices carried to her sunburned ears, and she stopped short in front of a rock formation. Slowly, silently, she crept between two giant boulders, making sure to try to stay hidden from the view of whoever might be gathered on the other side. It sounded like five or six people, all female—would they be friendly? Should she just make herself known to them and ask for a few bites of their dinner? Maybe they were a lost desert tribe who had been forced to burn one of her J.C. Penney catalogues for warmth. Maybe they would recognize her from the eight-page back-to-school layout she did last fall and think she was some kind of goddess. Maybe they would take her in and pray to her. Pledging to fatten her up because where they come from, beauty is booty. They would teach her how to make makeup from succulents and she would amaze them with stories of love lost and found.
She just needed a way in. Something that said I am here, without scaring them into tranquilizer dart–throwing mode.
Allie crept along with her breath held, finally summoning up the courage to peek over the boulders. Just as she suspected, a group of girls were sitting around a flaming pit. Allie crouched low to the ground and watched as one broad-shouldered girl paced back and forth in front of a large campfire, atop which was—ohmuhgod. An enormous wild boar was tied to a spit, and two girls cranked it so the meat spun over their roaring fire like a horizontal gyro machine. Animal rights be dammed, a different type of pita came to mind.
Allie counted about twelve girls, all wearing the same khaki uniforms, cargo shorts with tucked-in shirts. They wore wide-brimmed straw hats with strings tied around their chins to keep them from blowing off. On their feet were hot-pink combat boots. Did they not feel heat?
Allie eyed their sturdy footwear enviously. While they weren’t a good look, especially with shorts, they were definitely more suited to this rocky terrain than her clear gladiator sandals, which weren’t doing her blisters or pedicure any favors. Allie stared down at her own outfit, a metallic silver flight suit with the sleeves and ankles rolled up—and had to acknowledge that whatever these girls were lacking in style, their clothes were far better for the terrain.
They looked like postal workers or zookeepers, but their badges were all Girl Scout.
COOKIES!
One of them—a tall, tan girl with a long braid draped over one of her broad shoulders—droned on, giving some sort of speech. Allie couldn’t quite hear her monologue, but she could almost taste the crispy skin on that wild boar.
C’mon, Al. Focus. You need a plan.
She wished Charlie was here right now. Charlie could always be counted on to be logical, to plan stuff out properly and to think a plan through from all angles. Allie was impulsive and went with her heart, barging around and hoping things would magically fall into place. Whereas Charlie led with her head.
Allie sighed, still hurt and confused after losing the best friend she’d made since Trina. What happened on that plateau? How had Allie managed to drive Charlie away? Forget it, she admonished herself. The past was the past. All that mattered now was tearing into that pig and… No! Forget Mel. Revenge is best served cold. Wild boar? Not so much.
It was time to eat.