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“You guys’ll set up here,” the man says. He’s a short guy, balding, with a giant eagle tattoo on his arm. He reminds me of a dad in the most innocent of ways. The kind of dad that rides a motorcycle, owns a rescued pit bull, takes his kids for ice cream on Sunday, and helps with math homework. He nods toward the tree line and sets up the shot as though he’s planning to stay, and a sense of alarm washes over me. I guess I knew this would be on television, but I hadn’t thought about how it would have to be filmed for that to happen. I guess that’s just how muddled my brain has been lately. “There are cameras mounted on all these trees, pointing into camp. They don’t do audio because of the wind. That’s what the necklaces are for.” He hands us all shells strung onto a black rope. “You’ll wear these as part of your contract. If you take them off you’re in breach. Same thing with the cameras. You can’t cover or manipulate the lens in any way.” He’s talking with a tone that’s serious, but unlike Jane I can tell he’s doing it as a formality. Jane seemed to have some sick pleasure in it all.
“What about our shelter?” Colin asks, his arms crossed as he takes in our new space. “Is that a private space, or—”
“Your shelter is private, and there’s a grid to the west about twenty feet back that’s private for doing your business, but I’d recommend digging a hole of sorts so you’re—”
“Got it,” I say, stopping him. I’ve been terribly queasy since this whole thing started, and that was about to put things over the edge.
“So yeah, just go about your business and pretend I’m not here at all. Oh, I’m also your protection out here. So if you see any animals lurking around, let me know so I can take care of it.”
I’m not sure whattaking care of itmeans, but I’m sure there aren’t many animals out here, nothing of size anyway. The whole place looked less than a mile wide when we were jumping.
I’m sure this would bother some people. Truthfully, I’m not the biggest fan of being watched, but if it means making a few bucks, I’m willing to do what it takes. This is much better than living on the streets and I get paid. The future kind of depends on me sticking through this.
“Why don’t you rest for a while,” Brad says, guiding me toward the shade of a palm tree. It is hot, and I’d love nothing more than to sit and relax while all these big men build me a shelter, but I don’t know how much respect I’d have for myself while I was trying to fall asleep tonight. We’re all making the same five thousand dollars a day. I can work for mine too.
“No,” I say. “I want to help, but I have to get this dress off. It’s driving me crazy.”
“What are you going to do? There’s nothing—”
“She can have this,” Zane says, his voice deep and imposing as he hands me the red bandana he’s had tied around his head.
“Thank you,” I say quietly turning away from the group to duck behind a bush. I check the area for cameras, then strip off the dress, and tie the bandana into place over my chest. It’s not perfect, in fact there’s a lot of bottom boob still spilling out, but cotton panties and this bandana will do nicely until I figure out how to braid together some kind of island sundress, or until mine dries out enough that I can shake out the sand.
When I pop back up from behind the bush, Brad and Zane have joined the men in chopping and stripping bamboo for what looks to be a shelter, so I decide to work on building a fire. I’m thirsty as hell, and on the survival shows I’ve seen on TV, they don’t get water until they have fire.
Crunching over top of brush covered sand, I make my way around camp to gather up fallen sticks, dried leaves, and coconut husks that I think would make for good kindling. I’m going to prove to that producer bitch that I can play with the men. In fact, that might be the one driving force out here… aside from the money.
When I think I’ve got enough wood, I head back to camp and dig a hole in the sand, just deep enough to set them in, then build a ring with nearby rocks, and angle in the sticks like I’ve seen them do on TV. The sun is beating down hard and sweat is dripping from my face and collarbone. I need to get some water soon or I’m going to dehydrate for sure. But seeing the ring of rocks built is about as far as I got on the TV show before I got bored and changed the channel.
Shit!What would you do if you were alone, Sara? How would you start a fire? How would you survive out here?
You wouldn’t,I say to myself.You’d wither up and die like a sponge out of water, wishing you’d kept that cable subscription to Discovery Channel.
I look up at the men, all working together. They’ve cut and stripped at least a hundred bamboo logs, their big muscles flexing and rippling. Maybe I should go help them. I could at least strip the leaves.
Zane catches my eye as he wipes sweat from his forehead with the back of his strong arm. At first I think he’s giving me some kind of evil eye for not doing more, then I realize he’s nodding back toward the tree behind me where we set the bags the producer gave us.
Does he need something out of the bag?
Wanting to be helpful, I twist back toward the small grass sack and pillage through, looking for something that would be helpful for him, but instead I see a small rectangular strip with a flame on a metal cover. It’s a firestarter.Was Zane trying to help me?
I’ve never used one before, but I can’t imagine it’s too hard. Strike the little metal stick against the rectangle thing and let there be fire. I take the strip from his bag then glance back up in his direction to thank him for not making a big deal out of the help. He wants me to look good. Maybe he isn’t so bad after all. Besides, if he’s friends with Brad, I want to know him. I’m not sure what’s going on between us, but I know we’ve got as long as I can hang out here to sort it out. I may as well use the time to get to know everyone.
After a few tries, a spark hits the coconut husk, and I’m able to breathe life into the fire, a flame igniting and roaring within a minute. My lungs expand into a deep, satisfying breath and I feel as though I’ve grown three feet.
I did it! I started a fire. Sure, I had the help of a firestarter, and a kind man who pointed me toward it, but no one touched the flame but me. It’s mine!
I jump from the sand, bouncing up and down excitedly, my throat dry and cracked, desperate for water. “I did it guys! Look! I started a fi—”
“Are you ready for your first challenge?” the producer says, walking closer toward our camp from the beach. She’s with two extra cameramen, their lenses both focused on me as I bounce up and down.
Shit.I’m doing exactly what they want me to. I’m the ditzy girl shaking her tits like a moron who did something most everyone on this island could probably do with their eyes closed.
The men drop their work and head toward the red-haired woman who’s carrying canteens for everyone.
“Well then,” she says, handing each of us a canteen. “Have I got a game for you…”
Chapter Seven
