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“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I mutter, lifting my bound hands in front of my face and grasping onto the fabric of the hood, yanking it from my head. Removing it does little to improve my vision, because it turns out that I am, in fact, in some sort of box, the only source of light filtering in from tiny cracks in the corners. I run my fingers along the wall in front of me, the rough texture and the earthy scent of it telling me it’s made from wood.
I’ve got shifter strength on my side, so wood should be easy enough to break out of. I’ve just gotta free up my hands, first.
I shift my weight around until I’m sitting on my butt again, holding my bound hands out in front of me. Focusing my vision in the darkness, I can make out the shape of the rope wound around them, and I wriggle my wrists to test its strength. Though it holds firm, it’s nothing I can’t handle. At least they aren’t bound with zip-ties.
I work my wrists against each other, wiggling and stretching them to gradually loosen the rope. It’s a little bit tedious, but I finally manage to create enough give in the rope that I can slip one hand free of it, easily dropping the remaining rope from my other wrist. I rub at the reddened skin with a wince, glad my hands are finally unbound.
Now I’ve just gotta get the hell out of this box.
My heart pounds as I look all around me, identifying the seams of the box that allow slivers of pale moonlight to peek through. I decide that the top of it is the weakest point and, shimmying down to lay flat on my back, I bring my legs up above me and give it a hard kick.
It doesn’t budge. At least, not on the first kick. But with the second, I feel it give a little bit, a spark of victory igniting in my chest.
I kick again and again, grunting with the effort and working up a sweat. The air is thick inside the tight space, growing more suffocating by the second. After I’ve been kicking so long that it feels like I might just die in this box, I finally manage to dislodge one of the corners, nearly weeping with relief when it pops free.
After that, the rest of the lid comes apart easily enough. With a bout of renewed energy, I shift my body to the other side and kick at the corner until I knock it loose, and with a whoop of celebration, I shove the lid away, popping up to my feet triumphantly and wiping the sweat from my brow off on a forearm.
I take a moment to survey my surroundings as I climb out of the box, quickly realizing I’m inside an old hunting cabin. Only Avery is here with me, sitting atop a table across from the box with one long leg crossed over the other as she reclines back on her palms.
“What the hell was that?” I pant, stepping away from the godforsaken box and throwing a thumb over my shoulder at it.
She shrugs as she leans forward to sit up. “Fear of confined spaces.”
“Damn, I feel like I’ve been dumped into the plot of a scary movie,” I remark with a chuckle. “Are all of the challenges this sinister?”
“You’ll see,” Avery answers cryptically, handing me an elastic band with a key dangling from it. “Head on over to the swimming hole for your next one.”
I groan, taking the key from her and sliding the elastic onto my wrist. “Which way is the swimming hole from here?”
“South,” she provides, smoothing her long blonde ponytail over a shoulder and nodding to a pair of running shoes waiting beside the door for me, socks stuffed inside each one. “We’re in Norbury.”
“Great,” I mutter. I stoop down to pull on the socks and shoes, then toss her a little wave as I head out the door, bound for my next challenge.
I’d love to stay and chat and ask her more about what I’ve got ahead of me, but time’s of the essence here. It took me a lot longer to get out of that box than I expected it to, and if I’ve got a half dozen more of these ‘challenges’ to go before noon, I’d better get a move on.
The early morning sun is starting to peek through the trees as I emerge from the dilapidated cabin, heading south toward Goldenleaf. The swimming hole is located near the squad complex, so I start in that direction at a leisurely jog.
I can only imagine what fresh hell will be waiting there for me once I arrive.
The forest is peaceful at this early hour, the birds singing their morning song and small animals scurrying through the brush. It’s a deceptively serene scene for the gauntlet I’m undergoing. I have no idea who I’m meeting at the swimming hole or what I’ll be tasked with, but I’m eager to find out.
When I finally emerge from the woods at the path to the swimming hole, Archer is waiting for me on the bank, tipping his head in greeting as I approach.
“What’ve you got for me, Arch?” I ask cheerfully, picking my way down the bank to join him.
“Swim out to the deepest spot and tread water for thirty minutes, initiate,” he says bluntly.
Well that doesn’t seem so bad.
At least it’s not a challenge of how long I can hold my breath underwater or something.
I bend at the waist to untie my shoes and slip them off, stuffing my socks into them. “You’re scared of the water?” I ask dubiously, glancing up at Archer as I straighten.
“Not the water. Of Drowning,” he clarifies. Then he pauses, shrugging. “Everyone’s afraid of something.”
He’s not wrong, and these little peeks into my friends’ psyches are enlightening, to say the least. I can’t help but wonder what the others are afraid of- though I suppose I’ll learn soon enough.
The cold water stings my skin as I wade into the swimming hole, momentarily stealing my breath. I move further from the bank until I can no longer touch the bottom, then I swim out to the deepest part beneath the waterfall, glancing back at Archer for confirmation that I’ve gone far enough. With a nod from him, I start to tread water, moving my legs and arms to stay afloat.
