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Twenty-Five
BROOKE
We skidded sideways through the finish line, covered head to toe in a thick, yellowish dust. The goggles we’d worn for the past few hours created a clean-spot around our eyes that was so stark, so obvious, we both broke out laughing when we looked at each other.
“Congratulations!”
Noah called down to us from a platform, using some kind of weird, space-age megaphone that changed his voice into something cool and robotic. I looked around, searching for anyone else from the Race.
“Second?” I asked, holding up two fingers. “Third?”
“FIRST!” Noah boomed, grinning from ear to ear.
Fireworks went off, illuminating the darkness over our heads with an prolonged burst of silver and red light. I knew in post-production they would add dramatic music and sound effects. It would almost seem like a crowd of thousands was here, applauding and roaring their approval in the middle of absolute nowhere.
But screw it. We’d won the leg!
He leapt down to congratulate us personally, as the cameras followed his every move. There was a brief interview that was done twice and from two different angles, apparently because we were too ‘breathless and incoherent’ the first time around. Finally we were awarded this leg’s first-place prize: a 10-day stint at some cliff-side Mediterranean mansion off the coast of Greece. One that even I had to admit looked absolutelyincrediblein the photos we were briefly shown.
“Is everyone else really behind us?” Devin asked, glancing around.
“Way behind,” Noah grinned. “Although one team is just about to come in at the other site. Nowhere near as many flags as you got, though. None of the other teams came close to your point total.”
Eventually the cameras dropped, and overhead light bars dimmed. Noah went on to explain that there were two distinct routes, with two sets of finish lines.
“You’ll meet up with the other half of your team back in town,” he said.
I scratched my head and looked around. “Which town?”
“Theonlytown,” Noah laughed, and skipped away.
From there it was blankets and coffee, along with whatever snacks the crew had left over from setting up the finish area. One by one we watched another five teams pull in, each looking worse for wear. The Nerd Herd somehow pulled third place, followed by Tour of Duty, Daily Grind, and Never Been Last. Ironically enough, the four-man team of middle-aged bowling buddies continued to live up to their name. They’dstillnever been last on any leg of the race, not even when eliminated by taking second place in their finale.
In the end it was the Snow Bunnies — four women from Alaska who lived off the land — who ended up going home. Their elimination was made even sadder by Noah shedding actual fake tears, then hugging each one before directing them toward the cameras one last time. There they endured the traditional ‘walk of shame’ — a slow-motion sequence during which the end credits would invariably roll over them.
“One more team down,” Devin sighed as we filed into the bus. He reached out and dared to squeeze me in by the hip. “Good job, sister. Your sorority would be proud.”
I rolled my eyes dramatically before we sank into our seats. After that we drifted in and out of sleep, drooling all over each other’s shoulders during the long ride back to the hotel.
Or at least what Ihopedwas the hotel.
“Think they’ll do a double leg?” one of the computer engineers from Nerd Herd leaned in to ask me, during one of my more coherent moments.
“I sure as hell hope not,” I yawned.
The big-eared engineer shrugged. “They’ve been known to do it before,” he pointed out. “Endurance legs are big ratings.”
Ugh.
Back-to-back legs were brutal, but they provided weekly cliffhangers that obviously boosted ratings. I remembered one particular season where they raced the contestants for thirty-six straight hours, over four different challenges. I could only imagine the insurance company had a field day with that one.
“And what makes you think this is an endurance leg?” I found myself asking.
“I don’t,” my fellow competitor grinned wearily. “Just talking out loud, really.”
Ten minutes later a cheer went up from the front of the bus, and we stood to see the source of the commotion. An unmistakable array of bright lights pierced the pre-dawn sky; a cacophony of blues and yellows, reds and whites, all glowing like a multi-faceted jewel in the middle of the desert darkness.
“Vegas!” I cried, bumping Devin excitedly with my shoulder. “We’re pulling in to Las Vegas!”
