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Fern stepped up into the gazebo and faced the group. “Welcome to day three of One Lucky Winner! We’re calling this challenge The Polar Plunge. Right behind you is a large hole. This will be your portal in and out of the lake. You’ll also see that a few feet beyond the hole are four flags, each corresponding to the color of your One Lucky Winner gear. Pink, green, yellow, and orange. Your task is to dive into the hole and swim until you find a pouch.” Fern held up a black cloth bag about the size of a fist.
“How are we supposed to see those?” Ned asked, incredulously. “It’s going to be pitch-black down there.”
Maire’s head snapped to Ned. Had she heard a slur in his voice? Was the pill starting to work?
“Don’t worry,” Fern assured him. “You can’t miss them. When you find a pouch, untie it from its mooring and swim back to the hole, climb out, drop the pouch at your designated spot, and then go back in. The person who collects the most pouches wins the challenge and will win a Super Clue.”
“Got it,” Ned said, and he swayed on his feet. The pill was working. Then a new terror surged through her. What if Ned passed out in the water? What if he drowned? She would be a killer. Again.
Maire dreaded jumping into the lake, but she was more afraid of someone else getting the Super Clue. If the clue held incriminating information about her, she wanted to get to it first. Maire’s shoulder ached, but she was a strong swimmer. She could do this.
“It sounds dangerous,” Camille observed. “Is the water warm enough for swimming?”
“And there’s only one way out,” Samuel added, gravely. He caught Maire’s eye. So many clues pointed to Tanglefoot and that cold night so long ago. They both knew it. Would Samuel quit? Maire couldn’t, no matter what.
“You mean, like someone could drown?” Camille asked, her eyes narrowing. “Certainly that’s not the case,” she insisted.
“The choice of whether to participate or not is yours, Camille,” Fern said. “As you know, with every challenge there is risk. Now, if you’re all ready, we’ll get started.”
“What precautions are being taken?” Camille pressed. “Are there lifeguards nearby? EMTs? Who’s going to sweep in and save us if something goes wrong?”
Maire wanted to clap a hand over Camille’s mouth, even though she had the same fears.
“Jesus, Camille,” Ned said. “Do you want to play or not?”
Fern gave Camille a sympathetic smile but there was a glint of irritation in her eyes. “You are welcome to sit this one out, Camille, but that puts you at risk for being voted off the show. Only you can decide if ten million dollars is worth the risk.”
“Well, it’s worth it to me,” Ned said, unzipping his warm-up jacket and stepping out of his pants. “Let’s do this.”
“I don’t like this,” Camille whispered in Maire’s ear. “Something is very wrong.”
Camille was right. This entire competition was twisted and masochistic, but Maire was in too deep. If there was even one sliver of a chance of winning the money, she had to take it.
“So quit,” Maire said shortly, kicking off her shoes and peeling off her warm-up suit until she was down to her bathing suit. She walked gingerly to the edge of the lake, the rocky shoreline sharp against the bottoms of her feet, and joined Ned. She was followed by Samuel and Camille.
Off to the right was a black hole that stood out starkly against the white expanse. She tried to swallow back her terror. The entire setup was eerily similar to the way Tanglefoot Lake looked that night. Even Fern’s crimson dress reminded Maire of the blood that had pooled at the edge of the broken ice.
She peered down into the hole. The water was murky and still. How were they going to see where they were going? The thought of being trapped beneath the lake with no light made her pulse quicken. She wouldn’t be able to go in there. There was no way. Suddenly, something in the chasm blinked back at her. Maire pulled back in surprise, but just as quickly realized it was a light. She stepped closer to the hole, bending down to get a better look. Soft glints in the water bobbed lazily.
“There are fourteen pouches. Each is marked by a light and connected to a rope that is tethered to the surface,” Fern explained, and Maire felt a wave of relief come over her. They wouldn’t have to go into the water completely blind. “And make sure you always know where you are in relation to the hole. It can be disorienting down there and it’s your only exit,” Fern warned. “Any questions?”
“What’s in the pouches?” Camille asked. “Clues?”
“Just bobbers, to keep them afloat,” Fern said. “The Super Clue goes to the winner who collects the most pouches. Anything else?”
No one spoke. Fern handed them each a pair of goggles and Maire hurried to pull hers onto her face. “Alright, then,” Fern said, lifting the starter’s pistol.
This was really happening, Maire thought. A crack filled the air, followed by the squawk of some startled birds.
Samuel was the first one into the water, immediately disappearing beneath the surface. Maire lunged for the hole, but Ned was quicker. Now only Camille and Maire remained. Camille looked unsure, afraid.
“Come on,” Maire said. “We can’t let the guys win.”
“Okay,” Camille said, her voice shaky. She reached for Maire’s hand. Together they leaped, feetfirst, into the hole. The shock of the cold water was like a million shards of glass piercing Maire’s skin. She lost her grip on Camille’s hand and immediately lost her equilibrium. For one awful moment, she had no idea which way was up or down. Then she saw it, the tiny spark of light. Then another and another. The pouches were visible, connected to varying lengths of buoyed rope.
Samuel and Ned already had a pouch and were swimming back toward the hole. That meant there were only twelve left. Camille swam past her with a thumbs-up. She had gotten a pouch as well. Now there were eleven. Something smooth and slippery brushed against her legs and bits of debris floated past. Maire shuddered, reassuring herself that there was nothing down here that could hurt her.
In that moment, Maire made a decision. It could backfire with catastrophic consequences, but right now, she was at her strongest. She swam past each of the remaining pouches one by one, counting them as she went. Fern never said that they had to come up for air between each pouch. Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen. At the fourteenth pouch, Maire stopped and began untying it from the rope it was tethered to. Once free, she stuffed the bag into her bathing suit and swam up a few yards to the thirteenth pouch. Again, she worked the knot and it released easily. She shoved the pouch inside her bathing suit with the other one.
