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The thing was, Cat would be right. Fern had fucked everything up. She had this unbelievable, golden opportunity that landed right in her lap and she destroyed it. In the short span of three days, Fern had locked her boss in the wine cellar, had hijacked a reality show, had nearly been killed by a former U.S. senator, and had watched four near drownings. She wanted to walk back to the lake, slip into its welcoming arms, and disappear. Now, that would be must-see TV. The ratings would go through the roof.
She wasn’t sure how she had gotten here. Ambition? Greed? Probably both. But there was something more. There had to be. Fern hadn’t been the one to plan the dangerous challenges, hadn’t curated the strange clues, hadn’t been the one to invite Ned Bennett. But it didn’t matter. In the end, Fern would be the one holding the bag. Her name would be the one people remembered, the one that would be the butt of a thousand jokes. She could already see the memes.
It was time, Fern thought. It was time to quit, to make a new plan. Time to tell the contestants to go home, to free Cat from the cellar, to face the consequences. She would go home, maybe go back to school. Better yet, go to a far-off country and disappear into anonymity. First, she would go pack a few things, grab her passport, maybe help herself to a little of Cat’s cash. It wouldn’t be stealing—it’s not like Fern hadn’t earned it. Consider it payment for services rendered.
She would leave a note for the contestants, along with their cell phones, letting them know the game was over. But how to get Cat out of the wine cellar without being caught? That was a little trickier. She was tempted to leave her there, but that would be murder. Fern was many things, but she wasn’t a murderer.
She could let Cat out and then leave the villa. Cat might even be too weak and tired to make much of a fuss. But knowing her boss, the moment she was free, she would raise holy hell and call the police, the FBI, and a SWAT team to come after Fern. Fern would have to get a message to someone to let Cat out after she had made her getaway.
“Fern,” came a voice. Fern was pulled from her thoughts to find Samuel standing next to her. “This is unacceptable,” he said, his face furrowed with frustration. “This is pure negligence.”
“It’s for ten million dollars,” she said mechanically. “You knew the competition was going to be challenging. You signed a waiver.”
“Nothing is worth this,” Samuel said, throwing up his hands. “I quit.”
“But you won,” Fern said. “You won the challenge. You get the Super Clue.” She lifted a blue urn from its spot on the gazebo. “Here.”
Samuel shook his head, refusing to take the urn.
“You won. You came in first place, Ned in last. Take the urn.”
Samuel reached inside the urn. “A letter opener?” Samuel asked in disbelief. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” He walked away shaking his head.
Still dripping wet, Fern led the way across the lake toward the shore. The sun was long gone. The navy sky was pricked with a million stars, the camera operators’ drones buzzing above, taking in every single second of this shit show.
They trudged forward. The walking wounded. Fern would get them to their room to take steaming showers and put on dry clothes. She would ensure that they got dinner and hot coffee. This game was seriously twisted, and she wanted no part of it any longer. She would get them to settle into their beds for the night and when they woke up in the morning, Fern would be gone, and they would be free to go.
Once at their bedroom door, Fern paused. “We were scheduled for one more challenge tonight, but in light of this evening’s...” She struggled to find the right words. Disaster? Near-death experiences? Clusterfuck? “Events,” she finally settled on, “I think we will postpone until tomorrow.”
“Hell no,” came a soft voice. It was Maire. Her pale skin was now nearly translucent. “We’ve come this far, and I want to play.”
“I don’t know,” Camille said doubtfully. “I think maybe we all need to get a good night’s sleep. Talk about this in the morning.”
“I agree with Camille,” Samuel said, his eyes heavy with weariness.
“Then you forfeit,” Maire said, her voice rising. “You quit. I want this on camera. I want people to know that I want to keep going. That I’m not giving up.”
“Hold on now,” Samuel said, raising his hands. “No one’s quitting. We are just coming to a mutual agreement to pause things for the night. To regroup.”
“I agree,” Camille said. “Ned? How about you?”
“I nearly fucking drowned tonight,” Ned said. “So a break would be welcome.”
“Then you quit,” Maire said, triumphantly, setting her gaze on Fern. “What does your trusty rule book say about not taking part in challenges?” she asked.
Fern pressed her lips together. If a contestant refused to take part in one of the challenges, they essentially bowed out of the game. “Technically, she’s right. We have to stay on schedule,” Fern conceded. In reality, it didn’t matter. She was leaving. Let them think the game was going to go on forever for all she cared.
“So what’s it going to be?” Maire asked. “Are you in or out?”
There was silence. Everyone cast looks at one another, trying to gauge each other’s thoughts. “I guess I’m in, then,” Ned said. “But Jesus this game’s going to kill me one way or another.”
Samuel nodded grimly.
“This is a big mistake,” Camille said ruefully.
“Fine, then,” Fern said. “We play.” She checked her watch, now frozen on 6:31 p.m. It had stopped when she was in the water. She glanced up at a clock on the corridor wall. It was nearing eight o’clock. “We’ll meet on the veranda at nine. The good thing, I guess, is that this challenge isn’t as physical as the other ones. But just so you know, there will be a vote to send someone home tonight too. And, Maire, the intern is waiting for you in The Vault. Head on down and she’ll get you set up.”
Fern left the contestants staring after her. The first thing she needed to do was get herself warm. Well aware of the cameras watching—always watching—she kept her back straight and her chin up as she tried to move casually through the hallway to her quarters. Once safely inside her room, Fern stripped off Cat’s red dress, now ruined, and tossed it to the floor. She ignored both cell phones, lighting up with alerts, and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water roll over her skin. As Fern washed the lake water from her hair, she realized that her life as she knew it was over.
