“That was pretty good guidance out there, with the dolphins and fishermen,” I remarked to her as she settled back
“Thanks, but October and I came up with it together.”
“Well, if you hadn’t, we’d still be out there trying to catch something, anything.” Ratt nodded in agreement.
“Why’d you let Hamlin take over, though? You’ve obviously got a good head on your shoulders. Why didn’t you take charge?”
We had to be careful when speaking strategy. How would what we say be taken if broadcast over the holos? Some game-changing strategy had the effect of bringing in the viewers, making them co-conspirators, so-to-speak. But sometimes loose chat had the effect of bringing the speaker down and elevating others. Ratt and I both watched her as she considered her words.
“Hamlin is a strong player. I’m not sure if I’m ready to butt heads with him. If I can come up with a course of action, but he wants to implement it, then that’s OK. We still get the end result. We’ve got fish here right now, after all.”
That was very politic of her. I wondered how it would play. I could also sense the underlying tension in her, as if she was holding back. And holding back was building up the pressure. I was sure she wasn’t used to taking a backseat to anyone, and I had the feeling that we might have an explosion soon if she kept holding herself back.
Alfhid stood up and wandered over to us, looking at the fish. She nodded at us but didn’t say anything. Finally she reached down to ruffle Ratt’s hair, then wandered back to where the others in Josh’s alliance were lounging. I watched her walk away, wondering what that was all about. There was obviously a friendship growing between the two of them, but Ratt was in Hamlin’s camp while Alfhid was in Josh’s. Did they have something else going on between them? Secret alliances were a staple of the game. But they were pretty open about their friendship, not hiding it, and secret alliances were the ones which were supposed to surprise you. Then again, by throwing us off by being open in their friendship, maybe that was their plan. Making it too obvious to be taken seriously. You could what-if this to death and only get a headache out of all the possibilities.
And if Josh didn’t come back, what would that do to his group? I hadn’t really aligned myself yet, and that could be real smart or real dumb. Today, it really didn’t matter much except that I’d been a dolphin rather than a fisherman, and therefore less likely to be able to shine for the viewers. But other challenges were coming where the actions of others could determine if you lived or died. And that was where alliances came in.
Right now, Hamlin and I seemed to get along, and it might make sense to align with his group, especially if Josh didn’t come back. But I looked over at Lindadawn. Something told me that she might be a key player to have on my side. Maybe I would wait another day or so to see which way she jumped. I studied her face in profile as she watched the trout. I wondered what was going on in that guarded mind.
Laughter rose up from Hamlin’s group. Yash was standing and acting out what had to be our fishing adventure, and the others were watching and laughing. Even Josh’s group had joined the fun and laughed as Yash pranced about and gestured. We may have been two separate groups, but in the larger picture, we were one. We were the cast of Darwin’s Quest, Season 32!
The laughter suddenly died as the hidden light beamed out of the rock and a single chime sounded. We looked expectantly at the path that came from the bridge, anxious to see who would come back. I knew the holos would be focused on our faces, so I tried to look calm and collected. Finally, Josh came into view, a broad smile on his face.
“Well, I guess my head was too damn hard for a little fall like that, so they sent me back to see if I could smack it again!”
We all rushed forward to congratulate him. I thought I could see a faint flash of disappointment on Hamlin’s face as he came forward with us, but that quickly was replaced by a big smile, and he pounded Josh’s shoulders with all the outward enthusiasm of the rest of us.
I felt a little of the same, truth-be-told. Josh was a threat, and by being voted back, we knew he already had somewhat of a following. And with him back, my own decision on which alliance to join was back to square one.
Chapter 6
“Revelations!” we shouted, a little better in unison that we had the first time.
It had been a comfortable, companionable night. With food in our bellies, we sat and talked. Josh and I were able to compare notes about Production Village and Baako Silver. But mostly we spoke of our homes, our backgrounds, and what we would do with the money if we won. But even then, we were playing the game. What we would do with the money was a loaded question. And except for the Final Two, the viewers would control our fate as far as coming back into the game. If they didn’t approve of what we would do with the money, well, it would be sayonara-time next time we got killed.
We had drifted off to sleep one-by-one, then just as haphazardly, woke up and started moving around. A few were still lined up to use the toilet when the lights flashed and the wall compartment came out.
Yash seemed to have appointed himself the duty reader. He rushed over to retrieve the paper, then brought back to the firepit where most of us were gathered. Joda was still in the toilet, but so be it.
“Survival means not only finding food, but being able to weather the weather. Cross the bridge and sit down on your designated spot. Endure.”
“Shit,” said Paul quietly, something I think we all wanted to echo. Well, we knew this game would be tough.
“It’s a temperature challenge,” Mike said needlessly. We all knew that. We had all watched the show before.
Joda came rushing out of the toilet, pulling up her shorts. “What is it?” she asked breathlessly.
“Temperature challenge,” Hamlin said flatly.
“Shit!”
“Yes, our dear friend Paul has already expressed that appropriate opinion,” said Mike, eliciting some forced-sounding laughter.
Wordlessly, we started to move out and over the bridge. I think even Hamlin knew that this was one challenge where leadership was not needed. We knew that all the construct dangers would be out of the way, and even the natural ones would be kept at bay for the duration of the challenge.
Just over the bridge in the clearing, the place where I had been killed, a ring made up of fourteen discs had been laid out in the grass. On each disc was a name. We milled about, looking for our own. I found mine between Paul’s and Joda’s.
This challenge was completely individual. We could not assist each other. We could not touch each other. We had to endure alone.
I sat down and wondered. Would it be heat or cold? Looking at Borlinga and Yash, I wondered if their full body wraps and clothing gave them an advantage. Maybe I should have claimed some sort of religious grounds to wear more clothes. They couldn’t know all the religious groups on Monsanto, could they? Well, maybe they could at that.
A breath of cool air brushed my face. So it would be cold. I was relieved a bit. Cold was bad, but better than heat for me. I didn’t want to be cooked. The cold intensified a bit, and before too long, I started to shiver. It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought. I could take it. It merely felt brisk.
As the temperature plunged, it moved beyond brisk to uncomfortable. I looked around at the rest. Borlinga seemed unperturbed. Same with Alfhid. Must be that Viking blood in her. Hamlin was staring straight ahead, but I could see his muscles shake. Poor Ratt, though, was already shivering violently. I knew that smaller people had a bigger problem retaining heat, so she had her work cut out for her. That was good for me, though. Joda, in her little shorts and bare midriff, was also already having a hard time. She wasn’t that much bigger than Ratt. She glanced over to me sitting next to her and tried to smile, but it came out more of a grimace. I gave her a thumbs up with a confidence I didn’t feel.
The temperature continued to plummet. Our breaths clouded our little circle. I tried to blow a smoke ring; it didn’t work. My ears and fingers started to hurt. No
t just cold, but hurt.
Along with many of the rest of us, I swung my arms and pounded my chest in an attempt to stay warm, to keep the blood flowing. My neck and shoulders felt strangely stiff, too, despite me swinging my arms. I found myself hunching over. We were not allowed to stand, but we could do with our hands and arms as we would. I put my hands over my ears, and I was surprised at how cold they were to the touch, but my hands were pretty cold, too. I cupped them in front of my mouth to breathe on them. It didn’t do much good. They still hurt.
I started to stare longingly outside the circle. There, a meter away, I knew it was warm. All I had to do was to stand up and step to it. Of course, there would be no chance at repechage. Once someone did that, they were out. But seven times before, cast members had chosen that option. I wondered if anyone of our group would. Forcing my eyes back, I focused on the ground in front of me. I could do this.
Time dragged on. My body started to shake more violently. I realized that I had stopped swinging my arms, so I tried to start up again. They didn’t want to seem to cooperate. I looked over to Ratt, and she looked still, slumped over. She wasn’t shaking, but maybe I couldn’t tell because I was shaking so much.
I was finding it harder to concentrate. I almost forgot about the game and thought I was back at home in my condo. I had to feed my fish. But there were no fish here. This was Darwin’s Quest. I had to concentrate!
Suddenly, I heard bells ringing. Was that a signal? I lifted my drooping head, but I couldn’t see any jing jing jingles. Santa wasn’t here. But naked Mike was. He was taking off his shirt. That was funny. I was feeling warmer too. I hadn’t felt my telltale vibrate, though, to say someone had died and the challenge was over. Maybe it was frozen, too?
I thought the challenge was finished. I was feeling warm, and I had stopped shivering. No one was getting up though, so maybe only I knew it was over. Well, it was a good secret. And since no one else knew, it seemed like a good time to go to sleep, so I lay back and closed my eyes…
…and awoke to see, though blurry eyes, a St. Bernard fussing over me. Did I die again? So soon? But then I noticed that all of us were being attended, and each of us had a St. Bernard. Mine had a tube stuck into my thigh, undoubtedly pumping me full of restorative and getting my nanos to speed up the healing. I guessed I had made it.
But who hadn’t? I looked over to where Ratt was and was surprised to see her still there, her own St. Bernard working on her. I would have given odds that it would have been her. But if not Ratt, then who? I looked around. Two spots over to my left was an empty disc. Mind still a little sluggish, it took me a moment to remember who had been sitting there. Then it came to me. Bernie. Bernie Sahadi was gone. So it must have been him. That was a surprise to me. Maybe his heart had given out. He was older than most of us, after all.
I hadn’t had time to really get to know Bernie, and I didn’t feel any sense of regret that it was him the cold claimed. Strategically, it might have been better if one of the stronger players had died. But at that moment, I was just relieved that I had made it, and as I hadn’t formed any bonds with Bernie, I took his death complacently. If he was voted back, fine. If not, fine. I didn’t feel strongly one way or the other.
Three field team members walked among us, looking at the St. Bernard readouts. It took awhile. Frozen flesh had to be knitted, damaged organs repaired. But one by one, they nodded and removed our St. Bernards and motioned us back to Haven. I was the third one released, and as I crossed the bridge, warm and happy, it was hard to remember that I had been shivering and close to death only a short while ago. My mind seemed kind of fuzzy on all of it, like it was a dream. I walked over to the firepit, took a piece of smoked fish, and sat down next to Yash and Alfhid to wait for the others.
Chapter 7
“Do you think I’m getting smaller?” Hamlin flexed his biceps for me. We were in line outside the toilet and supposedly in the cam-free zone. I was not sure how far that zone extended beyond the toilet itself, but I could understand why Hamlin might not want to ask a question that might get broadcasted. No one wanted to sound weak or unsure. Or vain for that matter.
“We’ve only been here less than a week. How can you already be getting smaller? You keep doing push-ups and stuff, anyway.” Actually Hamlin’s little exercise routine was a bone of contention with at least a few of us. Not just for the obvious posing for the viewers, but for the fact that because he was burning more calories, he needed more food for fuel.
“Yea, but that’s OK for pecs. But not for my guns.” He flexed them again, turning his arms slightly this time so he could see better.
“I don’t think you have to worry.”
“You’re in pretty good shape. How come you aren’t working out here? You work out much at home?”
“Just good genes, I guess. And here, I am trying to conserve my energy for the challenges.” I wondered if he would take the hint.
“OK, I guess that works for you,” he said absently. The door opened and Joda stepped out. She punched Hamlin in the arm as he stepped past her, smiling broadly.
Joda obviously had a little thing going for Hamlin. That probably bore watching.
I waited my turn, and when Hamlin finally came out, stepped in. The exhaust fans were whirling mightily, but there was still a faint miasma of Hamlin’s activities. No matter. It was good to be alone for a moment. I thought of our toilet as a sort of sanctuary within Haven. A place with a specific function, to be sure, but still a place where I could relax and not put up a front. I would have liked to linger, but with thirteen people still who might also need to use it, that wasn’t really quite fair. So I did what I had to do, then gathered myself and stepped back into the public eye.
I joined the others around the firepit. Still not committed, I none-the-less sat down next to Hamlin’s group rather than Josh’s. Mike and Borlinga had gravitated to Josh’s, and that left Lindadawn as the only swing player left. I wondered how that would shake out.
We already had a routine. Get up at dawn, grab a bite and drink, use the toilet, then gather round the firepit to chat and wait for our next challenge.
Yash was telling a story of going to Russia and being mistaken for a Muslim because of his Sikh clothing, and not being able to convince the babooshka that she was mistaken. But the way he was telling it, with over-acting and what were undoubtedly exaggerations, was pretty funny. We were all listening and laughing. He may have been playing it up for the viewers, but I got the feeling that our castmate was being true to himself. He was probably like this back at his home in India.
While listening, I looked around at the others. I hate to admit it, but I was feeling a degree of kinship with them, a degree of real friendship. I knew that these people were my competitors, and I wanted to win. But we were all bonding, even if we had two alliances. We were still castmates above all.
My reverie was interrupted by the theme music and lights. “Revelations!” we shouted, still laughing. Yash had been in the middle of describing how the babbooshka’s sister had joined in the argument, but he immediately stopped and bounded over to get the challenge notice.
“Life is not a free ride. Sometimes you have to fight for what you need. Follow the marked trail, and all will become clear,” he read.
“I wonder what that means,” Julie said.
“I hope that doesn’t mean we have to fight each other,” added Joda.
We all looked at each other when she said that. In Season 14, the cast had to fight Roman gladiator style, and in Season 19, the cast had to hunt each other. Neither had been very popular with the viewers, so we didn’t think we would be pitted against each other, but the producers had done stranger things in the past.
Hamlin shrugged and stood up. “We won’t know unless we go find out.” He walked over to where we had stashed our fishing spears, picked one up, and started toward the bridge. All of us filed after him.
He was the first over the bridge, where he stopped and watched outboard, spear at
the ready. We were really going into Indian Country now. As the rest of us made it over, we each took a position of our own, ready for anything that might come our way. Julie was the last one over, and as she made it, we started in single file to the small green arrow which pointed our way. Climbing up the trail, we rose a hundred feet or so in elevation. Looking back, I could see Haven. I couldn’t see our camp as it was surrounded by the rock walls, but the whole thing looked pretty small. I wasn’t paying attention, and I bumped into Paul. We weren’t really that close to the edge of the hill, but it wouldn’t have looked good if I had knocked him over it and down the slope. In his typical taciturn manner, he took my hurried apology well, though.
The trail turned and led us away from edge of the hill and into some thick foliage. We couldn’t see more than a meter or so, which offered more than enough concealment for any number of dangerous creatures, generically called “dangers,” all bent on attacking us. But nothing jumped out to bite and rend us.
I was starting to sweat pretty well when the trail opened up to a clearing. I could hear something grunt on the far side, and as my castmates in front of me stopped dead in their tracks, I edged to the side and moved forward to see.
“Good Mother of God, what have those warped wizards at DreamWorks come up with now?” asked Paul in amazement. I understood the sentiment.
On the far side of the clearing stood what looked to be nothing else but a malevolent pig, but a pig out of someone’s nightmare. Standing almost two meters tall at the shoulder, it stood over the body of a deer-like animal, its forward-facing eyes fixed firmly on us, glaring with intensity. It opened its mouth, revealing rather ominous teeth as it began to intensify its grunting. From the side of its face protruded fleshy spikes, and as it shook its head, spittle flew off, sparkling as it caught the sunlight. The head was probably close to a meter in length, and it hung low, the neck sloping up to massive shoulders. The rest of the body tapered behind the shoulders to a smaller size, but that was only in comparison. This thing had to weigh 700 kilos. Where had the folks at DreamWorks come up with this?
Darwin's Quest: The Search for the Ultimate Survivor Page 6