Survive or Die

by Catherine Dilts

  “Who’s there?” Candace yelled.

  Madison stood. “Just us. We were chasing—”

  Aubrey elbowed Madison before she could finish. “We’re just checking out the camp.”

  “Before things get started.” Madison nodded. The brim of her hat flopped up and down.

  Some things had already started, apparently, but Aubrey didn’t voice that thought. Candace placed her manicured hands on her narrow hips. Her scoop-necked T-shirt exposed acres of cleavage.

  “Let me see your camera.”

  “I don’t have a camera.” Madison wrapped her thick fingers around her smart phone.

  “That thing takes pictures,” Candace said. “Give it to me.”

  The cowboy raised a hand. “Now Miss Candace,” he drawled, “let’s not blow things all out of proportion.” Rowdy Hunter sounded just like he had on TV, but he didn’t look the same. He had put on forty pounds since being star of the most-watched reality show on television. The chaps and cowboy hat were the same, and they had not aged well, either. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’ve got to check on the chuck wagon.”

  He tipped his battered black Stetson at the women and escaped.

  “Your phone.” Candace tapped one sandal-clad foot and held her hand out.

  “It wasn’t me.” Madison gripped her smart phone possessively. “I heard a shutter clicking too, but my phone doesn’t make a sound like that. See?”

  Madison scrolled through photos of pine trees, Otter Creek cabin, and a bird on a hitching post. No photos of Candace and Rowdy engaged in a lip lock. Apparently satisfied, Candace turned her attention farther afield, scanning the forest cloaked in lengthening afternoon shadows.

  “There.” She pointed. “Who is that?”

  Aubrey spotted a flash of turquoise skulking away. Stewart was the only Miami Dolphins fan at the Colorado-based Bender Clips company, and that did look like his jacket, but Aubrey wasn’t going to rat on anyone. Before Candace could escalate her inquisition, a metallic clanging rang through the camp.

  Madison grabbed Aubrey’s arm. “That’s the chuck wagon triangle. It’s dinner time.”

  Saved by the triangle.

  ROWDY HUNTER’S

  SURVIVAL TIPS

  Out of the clear blue sky, lightning cracks and rain comes down like somebody dumped a bucket of water on your head. If you’ve got any brains in your thick skull, before you left civilization you loaded your pack with everything on my survival supply list. So instead of whining that life’s not fair, or cussing out the weatherman, you pull out your rain slicker. You were smart enough to be prepared, because in the wilderness, your life depends on planning ahead.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Grant stood near the campfire, balancing a disposable bowl on one hand as he chatted with the sales team. After a brief “hi, honey,” he ignored Aubrey. Two dozen people crowded around a mobile food trailer made over to look like a chuck wagon. Aubrey waited in line, taking a disposable bowl from a stack. A woman wrangler waved a spoon at her.

  “Hand me your bowl.” Her raspy voice matched her rough appearance. Pinned to a stained white apron covering her flannel shirt was a nametag reading “Millie.” The woman looked like she could wrestle a steer to the ground.

  “What are the options?” Aubrey asked.

  “Chili, chili, and chili.”

  Nothing like a serving of sarcasm with your meal.

  “I’m vegetarian.”

  “That went first,” Millie said. “There’s only buffalo chili left.”

  Sotheara leaned close and whispered to Aubrey. “They do it to us all the time. Carnivores gobble up our food, leaving us vegetarians nothing but charred animal carcasses.”

  The buffalo chili was swimming with meat. Aubrey was not as dedicated to vegetarianism as Sotheara, who wore her opinion clearly on her “Love Animals, Don’t Eat Them” T-shirt. Still, there was no working around chunks of ground buffalo that outnumbered the beans. The women settled on splitting the last piece of cornbread, after first confirming there was no lard, bacon grease, or other animal product contained in the gritty yellow square.

  Aubrey was still commiserating with Sotheara when Stewart Neamly elbowed past her. The air had chilled as the sun dropped behind Gold Hill, but Stewart wasn’t wearing his Miami Dolphins jacket. He handed a memory drive to a hunky cowboy with “Chance” on his nametag. The wrangler pulled a screen down in front of the chuck wagon. The Survive or Die camp logo displayed at a drunken angle until Rowdy Hunter straightened the laptop projector, balanced precariously on a tree stump.

  Grant perched on a log with coworkers, engaged in a conversation better suited to a Bender Clips conference room. Abandoned by her husband, Aubrey decided to sit with someone who cared. She clutched her pathetic bowl of cornbread and headed toward Madison.

  Sotheara hung back. The young accountant didn’t seem chatty with her coworkers. She was probably shy.

  “Why don’t you sit with us?” Aubrey asked.

  Sotheara beamed a smile. “That’d be great.” She padded barefoot to the log bench Madison had commandeered.

  “What happened to your shoes?” Madison asked Sotheara.

  “I’m a minimalist.”

  “Does that include minimal food?” Madison pointed at her bowl.

  “They ran out of vegetarian chili,” Sotheara said. “Aubrey and I were stuck with this.”

  “Too bad,” Madison said. “This buffalo chili is tasty. Although the cook could have cut back on the spices a little. Wow, my mouth is burning.” She dug in her fleece jacket pocket and pulled out two peanut candy bars. “Here.”

  “You might want these later,” Aubrey said.

  Sotheara squinted as she read the label. “Vegan. Great.” She tore open the wrapper and attacked the candy bar with the zeal of a predator.

  “I brought plenty,” Madison said. “Never go to the wilderness without an emergency food supply. That’s in Chapter Four of Twelve Tips for Survival, although Rowdy might have meant beef jerky and trail mix, not candy.”

  Images flashed onto the screen. “Here we go, folks.” Rowdy clicked to a slideshow of Bender Clips employees at camp.

  “I wonder if he’ll show the photo Stewart took of Rowdy and Candace,” Aubrey whispered.

  “I’d love to see the look on Bender’s face if he does,” Madison said.

  Candace Milbank was the type men called stunning, and women called cheap. She had been making out with Rowdy just minutes ago, but now she pressed her oversized bosom against Bender’s arm as she whispered in his ear. He chuckled in response.

  Rowdy scrolled through shots that made driver’s license photos seem like fine art by comparison. Stewart managed to capture everyone at his or her worst. In one, a young factory worker who reeked of marijuana smoke and wore his blond hair knotted into dreadlocks stared at a map of Survive or Die camp with a blank look on his face.

  “Where am I?” the caption read.

  Another showed barefoot Sotheara standing beside a factory worker who wore a tie-dyed sun dress that left no doubt the older woman had burned her bra decades ago. Her pasty complexion contrasted poorly with Sotheara’s healthy tan.

  “Woodstock reunion,” the caption read.

  There were no incriminating shots of the camp host making out with Bender’s mistress. Stony silence met the last of the photos.

  “Stewart, must you always bring your blasted cameras?” Bender was already two sheets to the wind and rapidly on his way to the third.

  “Guilty, as charged!” Stewart snapped a photo of Bender, with Candace nestled close to his chair.

  “You and that camera,” Bender muttered with a tight smile.

  Blending into the woodwork was a talent Sotheara had planned to use spying on her coworkers, although it would make for a lonely week. She was grateful Aubrey and Madiso
n welcomed her to their bench, even if Operation Clean Sweep suffered from her lack of complete anonymity.

  She balanced a paper bowl on her bare knees and nibbled the meager piece of cornbread. Hardly adequate sustenance, even with the addition of the candy bar. Sotheara would have preferred a salad with a side of tofu. The wastefulness of throw-away dishes and utensils was disgusting. She wished she’d brought her own.

  The July day had been warm, even this high in the mountains, but the evening air cooled quickly. Sotheara pulled on a sweatshirt. Between the soft fleecey comfiness and the raging campfire, the chill that gathering samples of cold river water had created gradually dispelled.

  “Keep that camera away from me!” a woman yelled.

  Escaping his more vocal critics, Stewart Neamly squeezed onto a log next to his wife Nel. Stewart’s chubby sunburned face flushed a deeper shade of pink.

  “I usually get paid for my photographic skills.” He rubbed his hands down his skinny bare arms.

  “Aren’t you cold, Stewart?” Sotheara asked.

  “Not sitting this close to the campfire.” He placed his cameras in a boxy case with loving care, then held his hands toward the flames. “Nice.”

  Nel leaned around Stewart. “Somebody stole his jacket.” Her voice was as sharp as her ferret-like nose.

  “Really?” Sotheara asked. “Who would do that?”

  Nel lowered her voice. “I told Mr. Bender to let me review the list of employees before he announced the camp. But no, he had to invite everyone. He’s far too generous if you ask me.”

  That was not a trait with which Sotheara would have expected Bender to be labeled.

  “You probably just set your jacket down somewhere,” Madison said to Stewart. “You must have worked up quite a sweat taking all those photos.” She drew out “all,” rendering the diminutive word multisyllabic.

  Sotheara wondered what put the bee in Madison’s garish orange sunbonnet. Was it the horrible photo Stewart had snapped of her? Or had he taken a photo of Madison and Aubrey spying on the make-out couple? Interesting.

  “I tried to warn him,” Nel continued, as though her husband was not sitting right next to her, “but no, he insisted on bringing that stupid jacket. Paid good money for it, too, when it’s really just advertizing. A person should get paid for wearing it.”

  “I like to support my team,” Stewart said.

  “Your team.” Nel’s ferret-nose pinched up like she detected a foul odor. “As if you have anything to do with a football team. You can’t climb a flight of stairs without wheezing.” She poked a finger at Stewart’s belly. “If that jacket was so precious, you shouldn’t have brought it to camp. Especially knowing the type of people who would be here.”

  “What type do you mean?” Madison asked, straight-faced. “Executives?”

  Sotheara fought to keep from laughing out loud. Good one, Madison.

  Rowdy clanged the chuck wagon’s triangle. He waited until all eyes were on him.

  “Welcome to Survive or Die camp. I’m sure y’all remember the number one television reality show I hosted for ten years. Back then, my contestants had to pass fitness exams, and we liked for them to have some camera appeal, too. But this camp is a different deal, and the challenges are scaled back considerably to accommodate any age or fitness level.”

  After insulting most of the attendees, the has-been TV star rattled off the rules. Aubrey wasn’t here voluntarily. What did she care about a game she didn’t want to play? Her attention wandered to the cranky cook who was packing up the chuck wagon. Aubrey debated asking Millie to set aside the vegetarian meal options for the vegetarians.

  The cook climbed down the chuck wagon’s side steps, stiff like she had arthritis, but she couldn’t have been much older than Aubrey and Grant. Late forties, at the most. The woman lit a cigarette and leaned against the chuck wagon, glaring at Rowdy like he was a slab of ribs she wanted to barbeque. Not in a yummy kind of way. It was more a burn-in-hell look.

  Apparently Jack Bender wasn’t the only boss with hostile employees.

  When nothing was left of the cigarette but filter, she dropped it in the dirt and stubbed it out with the toe of her scuffed cowgirl boot. Then she lumbered behind the chuck wagon. The cook returned a moment later, carrying a turquoise jacket. She stepped in front of Rowdy, who was still explaining rules convoluted enough to rival Congressional legislation.

  “Anyone missing this?”

  Stewart ran to her and snatched it from her hand, hugging it protectively to his chest.

  “Thank goodness.”

  Not thank you, Aubrey noticed.

  Madison leaned close and whispered, “Maybe Stewart didn’t snap the photo.”

  “You’re right,” Aubrey whispered. “Someone could have worn his jacket to disguise themselves while they snooped on Candace.”

  “Why would anyone do that?” Sotheara asked.

  Aubrey had forgotten the quiet accountant was there, but she was obviously all ears. Not only was Aubrey a tag-along on her husband’s business trip, now she had to watch what she said around his coworkers. It was going to be a fun week.

  “Blackmail,” Madison whispered. “Imagine how valuable a photo of Candace swapping spit with Rowdy Hunter would be.”

  Sotheara shrugged. “Maybe, but do you think Candace has enough money to make blackmailing her worthwhile?”

  “The boss’s girlfriend?” Madison asked. “Are you kidding? It’s not about money.”

  Aubrey tuned out of their discussion. The intrigues of her husband’s coworkers didn’t interest her as much as his own. She glared at him across the campfire, but he was watching Rowdy. He didn’t react as Veronica wormed her way onto the log bench next to him, then shot a smug glance in Aubrey’s direction. The woman was taunting her, while Grant seemed oblivious.

  Rowdy’s rules lecture finally ground to a halt. Bender took center stage, listing slightly as he walked to the chuck wagon. He wore khaki cargo shorts displaying knobby knees and hairy calves. Thick wavy hair topped a jowly flushed face. He resembled a bulldog wearing a bad toupee. The whiskey sour he clutched in his paw wasn’t his first.

  “I hope you’re having fun tonight, because tomorrow the work begins.”

  Aubrey frowned. Vacation, huh? You’re going to pay for this, Grant Sommers.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jeremiah wiped a piece of cornbread around the bottom of his bowl. Not bad chili, but the cook had been stingy with the buffalo and spices. The meat was as tender as veal. Had to be farm-raised. While Jack Bender babbled on, Jeremiah watched the trees. Bats flitted in the open spaces between pines. He had never eaten bat. Probably not enough meat on the flying mice to be worth a bullet. He turned his focus back to the campfire. Bender was finally getting to the point.

  “Business has been slow due to foreign competition. Overseas manufacturers make fasteners cheaper because they don’t have to deal with OSHA and the EPA. They can pay their workers a more reasonable wage than Americans demand.”

  Grumbling rumbled around the campfire like thunder before a storm. Jeremiah watched the faces of his coworkers, wondering whether one would snap. They kept their peace, like obedient little sheeple.

  “Are you wondering why I put out big bucks for this camp? So you can learn to work as a team. That’s your only hope if you expect to compete against cheap foreign labor. To sweeten the pot, the winner of the Survive or Die competition will get a hefty raise.”

  Everyone cheered, some leaping to their feet and clapping. Bender raised a hand to silence them.

  “The flip side of the deal is that the loser gets a pink slip.”

  While a good many campers inhaled horrified gasps, the more athletic employees nodded and bumped congratulatory fists with each other.

  Slick, Jeremiah thought. Play them against each other.

  “While you’
re having fun,” Bender said, “don’t forget who’s paying the bill. Tonight, the drinks are on me! While the beer lasts.” He turned his attention to the minions at his side. “Which way is our cabin?”

  As Bender left the fire circle, a stampede to the bar began. Like the chuck wagon, the bar was a thinly disguised food trailer. A “saloon” sign hung below the open window. The fruity wrangler’s barkeep costume looked like he stole it from a 1950s Country Western star, complete with a silk kerchief knotted around his neck.

  Free beer was a poor substitute for a raise. Jeremiah watched his coworkers elbow their way to the bar, making sure they got what was coming to them if they had to fight for it.

  Jeremiah only hoped that Bender got what he had coming before the week was out.

  Aubrey was more than ready to call it a night. She worked her way through the clusters of campers to Grant’s log bench, then squeezed between him and Veronica. Survive or Die, far from being a relaxing week away from the kids, had just turned into a fight for Grant’s job. As Veronica pointedly ignored her presence, Aubrey realized it might be a fight for her marriage, too. She grasped Grant’s hand.

  “Come on, honey. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day. You’ll need a good night’s rest.”

  “Aubrey’s right,” Frank said. “Set your alarm for six.”

  Once inside their room, Grant was too excited to sleep. He paced, sat on the edge of the double mattress, then paced again, talking in loud whispers about strategy, and whether Bender had already decided who he was firing and was merely using the competition as a ruse.

  “Grant, the walls are thin. You’re going to keep everyone awake.”

  “I’m not the only one.”

  Aubrey could hear Madison talking on her cell phone in the room next door. Frank’s low rumbling came from across the hall, with his wife Edna responding in a slightly higher pitch.