Survivalist Reality Show: The Complete Series

by Grace Hamilton

She nodded her head, not bothering to disagree. There was a little niggle in the back of her mind telling her it hadn’t been a branch, though. What she’d heard had been a constant, steady tapping. She knew she hadn’t imagined it. Maybe it had been some annoying bird, after all. One way or another, Wolf would think she was losing her mind if she pressed the issue. She put it to the side for the time being. Together, they continued the inspection of the house, checking on the rain barrels to make sure they were still upright and looking for any signs of damage.

  “Look!” Regan exclaimed as she peered inside the dark blue barrel. “They’re almost full!”

  Wolf nodded his head, a smile on his face. “It rained pretty good last night. This water will last us a couple of weeks, and now that it’s going to be raining nearly every day, we should be in good shape from here on out. It’s a good time to do some of that laundry that’s been piling up. It even looks like we could see some more rain today or maybe tonight,” he said as he glanced up at the sky, which was a shade of gray that made Regan a little apprehensive.

  “Do you need help with anything this morning?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No, I’m going to be heading into town soon. I’m going to do a quick perimeter check first. If I don’t see you before I leave, I’ll see you tonight.”

  Regan leaned up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “In that case, I’m heading off to check the aquaponics. I want to make sure the storm didn’t disconnect any of those solar panels on the roof.”

  He nodded his head, smiling as he did. “Good thinking. I was about to do that myself.”

  “Now you have me. You put me in charge of the aquaponics and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it runs like it should.”

  Wolf nodded, an appreciative smile quirking his lips. “I’m glad you’re taking it seriously.”

  “This isn’t something I want to screw up,” Regan assured him as they headed back toward the front of the house and the nearby greenhouse.

  “Have fun,” Wolf said, “and remember—ask if you have any questions.”

  “I will,” she said, eager to spend some more time with the system.

  Truth be told, she loved the smell of the vegetation in the glass shed. It reminded her a little of being in the forest on one of the backpacking trips she’d taken before signing up for the survival show. The forest always smelled so alive. That’s what the greenhouse reminded her of. It was cathartic to pick veggies while listening to the gurgling water in the tanks. She could relax in her own world when she was in the greenhouse. She’d even been surprised to discover that watching the fish swim around could also be very relaxing.

  Having parted ways with Wolf so that he could head back into the house and get ready for his trip to town, Regan walked inside the building and looked around at the space she’d begun to consider her private domain, to the extent that she could have one on the island. “Helloooo, fishies!” she called out.

  Then, she peered inside the first tank and felt her stomach drop into her toes. “Oh no,” she whispered, terrified by what she saw.

  The fish weren’t happily swimming around. Some were floating on their sides, alive but barely moving. Others were hovering down lower, near the bottom of the tank and clearly in distress.

  “Oh, no, no, no,” she mumbled, reaching for the test strips on the shelf.

  “What’s wrong?” Tabitha asked, coming into the building.

  Regan shook her head. “I don’t know. The fish, they’re not acting right.”

  Tabitha stood next to Regan and looked inside the tank. “Uh oh, that doesn’t look good.”

  “Check the others!” Regan ordered her friend, sticking the test strip into the water before pulling it out and holding it against the chart.

  Tabitha came back over quickly. “These all seem to be okay. I think that, whatever it is, it’s isolated to this tank.”

  “Wolf told me we want this reading to be a seven,” Regan moaned. “This is five!”

  “Test it again,” Tabitha instructed. “I’ll test the other tanks just to be sure.”

  The women set about testing each of the tanks. Regan’s stomach had begun rolling and tumbling with nervousness as they finished reading the results of the water tests. Tabitha had been right—it was only the one that was off-course. With all the tanks tested, she went back to stand at the first tank, peering inside it with a pit of despair quickly opening in her belly.

  “How did this one get so far out of whack?” Regan mused aloud. “The others are all okay.”

  Tabitha shrugged, frowning. “I haven’t got a clue. I have zero understanding about any of this—Wolf only explained things to me the one time, and you and him have been taking care of things ever since so I could focus on the garden. I barely remember what I learned about this stuff.”

  Regan ran a hand through her short hair, staring at the tank and trying to remember what the books said and what Wolf had told her.

  “Ammonia. Something about the ammonia in the water can lower the pH level,” Regan said, nodding her head. “That has to be it.”

  “Okay, how do we fix that?”

  Regan looked at her. “I have no idea. Wolf mentioned adding stuff to the tank.”

  “I wish I could help, but I really don’t know what to suggest. I was hoping you could re-train me on this.”

  “I’ll figure it out,” Regan promised. “I can do this. I read the books, and Wolf gave me a good walk-through. I can figure it out. I’m sure it’s something easy. I just need to take a step back and think on it. I don’t want to add the wrong stuff,” she muttered, looking to the shelf with all the supplies needed to maintain the systems.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to ask Wolf before he heads to the mainland?” Tabitha asked.

  Regan shook her head. “No, I can do this. I want to prove to him I was paying attention. He said it was simple and dummy-proof. I don’t want to be the dummy that proves him wrong and can’t grow plants and fish.”

  Tabitha chuckled, placing a hand on Regan’s shoulder. “You are definitely not a dummy. Take a minute and I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Come get me if you need my help, too. I’m going to take advantage of that rain softening the dirt a little and get some of those herbs planted.”

  “Okay,” Regan mumbled, not really listening. Her attention was focused back on the tank, searching her brain’s data banks and trying to remember what the books had said.

  With Tabitha gone, she began to check the tubing, hoping it was the same problem she had found before. With great care, she checked over every inch of the tubing, making sure it was connected to the pump and that there weren’t any cracks or holes in the lines. The water seemed to be moving, she noted, but it was cloudier than normal.

  “Think, Regan. You can do this,” she whispered into the empty room. Still, she’d soon checked the lines and run through all of the trouble-shooting options Wolf had talked to her about over the last few days. She had nothing.

  Tabitha had a can-do attitude that seemed to give her strength and superior knowledge. Regan was a fighter, as well. She could do this. She could prove she was the right person to be in charge of the aquaponics—one of the main food sources for the island’s inhabitants. It was a huge responsibility, she knew, and there was no way she wanted to let down Tabitha, Wolf, or anyone else.

  “Any luck?” Tabitha asked, coming in and wiping her hands with a wet wipe she pulled from the box near the door.

  “No,” Regan said, feeling the stress of the situation on her shoulders. “And I’m not sure there’s any point in fixing the pH if we can’t figure out how it got so off-track to begin with.

  The look of disappointment on Tabitha’s face nearly crushed her. “That’s not good.”

  Regan hated letting her down. This was her one job. She couldn’t fail. What if the problem spread to the other tanks and the entire system collapsed? There was no way she could deal with that kind of guilt. Lily and Geno would really have a reas
on to hate her if that happened. RC seemed to be on the fence about her, but if the fish died and the system failed, this was all he’d need to join the other two. Heck, this would even turn her against herself if all the fish died.

  “Wolf’s probably gone by now, but we could find RC or Lily?” Tabitha offered.

  Regan shook her head despondently. “Not yet. Just give me a little more time.”

  “I have faith in you,” Tabitha told her, meeting her eyes. “You’ll figure this out. I’m going to head inside and get some water. Make sure you’re drinking,” Tabitha reminded her before walking away.

  But it didn’t take much longer for Regan to realize she needed help. With one last look at the tank and the sad looking fish, Regan accepted defeat. She’d spent well over an hour checking and rechecking everything she knew to look at, and nothing seemed broken. It was time to ask for help.

  With her shoulders drooping and her ego sorely bruised, Regan left the aquaponics behind and headed for the house, noticing it was a little cooler than it had been yesterday. It was a nice relief. Her eyes turned upward to note that the gray clouds had drifted away, leaving behind clear blue sky and a very hot, unfiltered sun.

  She found Fred sitting at the kitchen table, scribbling in a notebook with a pencil that was only a couple of inches long. As usual, he was hyper-focused on what he was doing and didn’t acknowledge her presence. Regan had long ago learned that it wasn’t that he was rude; this was his way.

  “Is Wolf still here?” she asked.

  Fred shook his head without looking up from his notebook. “Nope.”

  “Did he say how long he would be gone?” she asked.

  “He took Lily. Said not to expect them until this evening.”

  “He took Lily?” she asked, both surprised and happy that the two were getting to spend some time together.

  “Yes. She wanted to visit a friend she hasn’t seen in a while.”

  “Oh? Wolf is okay with that?” Regan asked, only half of her mind on the conversation—much of her focus was still on those discontent fish she’d just left behind.

  Fred sighed and looked up, clearly annoyed by her interrogation. “Yes, he was okay with that. I assume he hopes it will help put her in a better mood.”

  “But is it safe?”

  Fred shrugged. “They aren’t going into the city. It’s a small town about fifteen miles out of Naples. Wolf is convinced it will be relatively safe. The family of the friend she wants to visit lives out of the way.”

  “Oh. Okay…. Do you know where RC is?” she asked, dreading the idea of asking the older man for help.

  Fred grimaced. “He’s busy.”

  “What was that look for?” she asked, knowing Fred too well.

  The man looked properly abashed. “We had a small disagreement about the way we’re using supplies. When he walked away, he told me not to bother him unless a nuclear bomb was dropping from the sky—and, even then, he said he wanted to die in peace.”

  Regan sucked in air through her teeth. “Ouch. You must have really gotten him mad.”

  He shrugged. “I was only pointing out the facts. He didn’t want to see reason.”

  Regan half-smiled at Fred’s seriousness, knowing exactly how irritating this man’s need for facts could be. “Great, well, I’m not going to be the one who gets the blow-up that’s owed to you. I’ll keep my distance.”

  Fred nodded his head, picked up his pencil again, and got back to scribbling in his notebook. Regan remained beside him, lost in her own thoughts as she tried to figure out what to do next about the fish.

  Fred paused after a few seconds. “Regan, can I show you something?”

  She shrugged half-heartedly, not making progress on her own problem. “Sure.”

  He got up and started walking down the hall. Regan joined him, assuming she was meant to follow him. He pushed open the storeroom door and stood in the center of the room.

  Regan moved in and stood next to him. “What am I looking at?”

  There were wire shelving units taller than Regan along all of the walls of the room, with a shorter set placed under the room’s one small window. Each of the shelves was filled with various items.

  “Look at the shelves. There’s no rhyme or reason to the shelving.”

  Regan stared at each of the shelves, not quite understanding what Fred was getting at. “I’m sorry, Fred. I see supplies neatly stacked.”

  He shook his head. “No. We need organization. I mean, Wolf has canned veggies in one area and canned sauces and whatnot in another, but I think we need freeze-dried food on one shelf, canned goods on another, first aid supplies somewhere else, and outdoor emergency gear separated and so on. It will help us find what we need without digging around.”

  Regan nodded her head. “Okay. Then why not do that?”

  Fred cleared his throat awkwardly. “RC says he likes it the way it is.”

  Regan laughed. “Fred, I think your system sounds great. Maybe label the shelves to make sure everyone knows to put things back in the right area,” she suggested.

  Fred nodded his head. She could practically see the wheels turning. He walked to the closet and slid the doors open. Regan saw white, sealed, five-gallon buckets stacked on top of each other.

  “And these,” he said, throwing his arms out in apparent frustration.

  “And those, what?”

  “I don’t know what’s in them unless I unstack them and look at the labels on the lids!”

  Regan wasn’t sure why that was a huge issue, but nodded her head in agreement. “Okay, so what do you want to do?”

  “I’m going to label the sides of the buckets with big letters.”

  “Good idea.”

  He shook his head. “Wolf says it’s a bad idea because we’ll reuse the buckets, and he doesn’t want to advertise what we have.”

  Regan thought about it for a few seconds before shrugging her shoulders. “Honestly, if someone gets into this storeroom and sees the amount of supplies kept in here, the last thing they’re going to care about are buckets of beans and rice. It’s too late at that point. They’re going to take whatever they can get. And the labels, well, as for those, we can scratch out the old ones and make new ones when we need to. Or, maybe, use some of that duct tape to make labels that can be removed.”

  Fred’s gaze jerked up to hers, and then he grinned. “That is an excellent idea!”

  Regan stared at the buckets. “Why are there buckets filled with rice and beans anyway?”

  Fred smiled. “Because mice can’t get in and neither can other critters. If it floods even a little, the bucket will keep the food dry and safe to eat.”

  “Oh, right—that’s smart.”

  Fred nodded. “Some of the buckets hold actual bags of beans and rice, while the others are lined with big Mylar bags with desiccant bags inside. The grains are poured inside the bag and then sealed inside the bucket. Those are the buckets at the bottom and will be used last. They’ll be fresh for decades.”

  Regan’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  He nodded his head with satisfaction.

  “Okay. But, look, I’m going to get back out to the greenhouse if you don’t need anything else,” she said, noticing Fred was sliding into one of his trance-like states as he looked at the shelves.

  He was already organizing and planning.

  She left the room then, stopping in the kitchen to fill a glass with water from the pitcher kept in the small refrigerator that ran off the propane and solar power; there, she considered her last two options. RC would know what to do about the fish, but he was one person she felt she needed to prove her worthiness to. If he was already in a rotten mood, she didn’t want to press her luck. That left Geno.

  “Crap!” she muttered, ultimately deciding to give the problem one more look before she had to swallow every ounce of pride she had left and ask Geno for help. Geno would love the idea of her asking him for help. He’d probably even get a lot of pleasure over making
her beg. That was about the last thing she wanted to do.

  There had to be something she was overlooking. She wasn’t ready to give up—not yet.

  7

  “Dammit!” Regan cursed, kicking at the dirt floor by the aquaponics system. It was no use. She had checked everything at least ten times and she still couldn’t find anything that would explain the sick fish.

  It was time to suck it up and ask Geno. She couldn’t wait until that evening when Wolf got back. The fish would probably be dead by then—as it was, she feared she’d waited too long. True, Geno would probably gloat for the next week about Regan needing his help, and it killed her to admit that she did, but she could deal with the man’s cockiness if it meant saving the fish. This was one of those things she had to do for the good of the group. I didn’t matter if the idea of needing his help made her want to puke.

  With this in mind, she walked to the dock and found a shirtless Geno tinkering with the motor boat.

  “Hi,” she said flatly.

  His head popped up, his expression making it clear he was surprised to see her seeking him out. “What?”

  “I thought Wolf was taking the boat to the island?” she asked, motioning to the boat he was working on.

  Geno gave her a withering look. “He couldn’t. It still isn’t running. He had to take the rowboat. I guess it’s a good thing the water is calm today.”

  Regan bit back her frustration at still being accused of breaking the boat. Geno was never going to believe her, so there was no point in arguing.

  “Look, Geno, I was wondering if you could help me out with something?” Her voice had barely been audible over the sound of a seagull screeching overhead and the water moving in and out, lapping against the dock.

  “What?” Geno asked, a look of pure disgust on his face.

  Regan took a deep breath. She’d known it wouldn’t be easy to ask him, and now reminded herself why she’d ventured out to the dock in the first place. It wasn’t about her pride or her needs. It was about doing what was right for the group as a whole. Maybe this was a new way of thinking for her that she’d have to get used to, but she was determined to embrace it.