Save the Last Dance

by Fiona Harper

  His smile. The pitch of his laugh, deep brown like his eyes. The exact way his delicious accent curled around certain words.

  Little things, yes. But important things.

  They’d been going for about forty-five minutes when Finn suddenly stopped. Allegra almost bumped into the back of him. He held out a hand—low, slightly behind him, palm down—and they all stopped and fell silent.

  ‘What is it?’ Tim asked from behind, ever on the lookout for danger. He moved past Allegra to stand beside Finn, who had crept forward a couple of paces. They chatted in hushed tones for a few moments and then Finn looked over his shoulder and gave her a smile that didn’t even attempt to make it all the way to his eyes.

  ‘Just stay there for a second,’ he said firmly.

  She watched as the men headed farther up the trail. Well, Finn said it was a trail and she believed him. To Allegra, one bit of the jungle looked very much like the next. Just before their khaki clothes made them disappear into the greenery, Finn headed back in her direction, looking very serious indeed. Allegra’s heart began to thud.

  ‘What?’ she said in a tight voice when he reached her.

  Warmth slid into Finn’s fierce gaze. ‘It’s up to you now,’ he said. ‘Until sunrise tomorrow. This is your last challenge. You can do it.’

  And then he shrugged his backpack off and thrust it towards her. She gripped onto it and hugged it to her chest. Finn turned as if to walk away and Allegra opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but her question died as he did an about face and pressed a hot, quick kiss to her lips before running off into the jungle.

  Up to her? What did that mean? Did he mean she was going to have to build the fire on her own? They’d be stranded here for ever if that was the case. Mind you, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea…

  The bird calls and other noises seemed to have got suddenly louder, and she held her breath at every rustling leaf and cracking twig—things she had never done when Finn had been around. At least Simon was here to keep her company.

  She peered into the dense green foliage ahead. Something moved near her feet and she froze, trying desperately to remember what Finn had told her about snakes. Were you supposed to stamp around making a noise, or were you supposed to go as quietly as you could? Perhaps Simon would know. She turned round to ask him.

  That was when she got her second shock of the morning.

  He wasn’t there.

  Not a sound to indicate where he’d gone or even a swaying branch to show which route he’d taken.

  Sweat was dripping between Allegra’s shoulder blades. Her shirt was damp and her hair was sticking to her head. Even so, she shivered.

  What was she going to do?

  She was in the middle of a jungle, thousands of miles from home, and she was totally and utterly alone.

  CHAPTER TEN

  IF THERE had been anywhere to sit down, she would have sat down. But one thing she’d learned from Finn about terrain like this was never to put anything down on an uncleared bit of ground—especially a body part you didn’t want teeth or fang marks in.

  So she stood, and she waited.

  It took more than five minutes before she let the meaning of Finn’s last words even start to sink in. She swung round, keeping her feet planted, hoping to see something other than multilayered shades of green that stretched on for as far as the eye could see. Then she hugged the rucksack tighter and turned slowly on her heels.

  What had Finn drummed into her? In this kind of environment you’ve got to slow down, stay calm. The worst thing she could do was panic.

  She stopped turning and stared straight ahead. Uh-oh. She had already broken that rule. Turning round had been a bad idea. She wasn’t facing the same way she had been a few moments ago, and now she didn’t know which way the ruins were.

  Her pulse started to jog.

  How do you know that? How do you know you’re not facing the right direction? It all looks the same, this green stuff, doesn’t it?

  An image flashed into her mind—Finn and Tim stepping over the slim brown trunk of a fallen tree. They’d still been heading north. She needed to follow the same trail.

  She turned again, more slowly this time, until she spotted something like it. Yes, that was definitely it. Then she tipped her head back, looking for the sun.

  Head north.

  It had to be early afternoon still, which meant she should keep the sun on her…left. Okay. She could do this. She’d follow the path she thought Finn and Tim had taken, and she’d use all the tips Finn had given her on the way. The ones she remembered, anyway. But she was right about the sun, she knew that much.

  By conscious decision, she relaxed her arm muscles and loosened her grip on the rucksack, then she slung the straps over her shoulders and adjusted them before looking straight ahead.

  Only another ten minutes or so until she reached the fort. She could manage that without getting lost, couldn’t she?

  Allegra drew a deep breath in through her nostrils and began to walk.

  It was closer to twenty minutes before the dense vegetation thinned and she could see the sea sparkling through the trees and bushes. She let out a long breath as she pushed her way through the last twenty feet and out onto a small beach. She must have been slightly off course, because she’d been aiming for the northern tip of the island. However, she kept the sun on the correct side and after a few minutes she realised her destination was straight ahead and then off to the left. This was the beach that ran down the eastern side of the island’s tip.

  She’d done it!

  Smiling, she climbed up the rocks at the edge of the beach until she reached the grassy plateau where the ruins were situated. She swung Finn’s backpack off and rested it on one of the broad fallen stones. He’d given her his kit. Finn never went anywhere without his kit. He’d told her he’d prefer to lose his left arm. What if he needed it?

  She walked to the edge of the rocks and stared out over the ocean and lifted her arms over her head, linking her fingers so her shoulders got the benefit of the stretch. What on earth was she going to do now? Stay here? Go back?

  No. Going back to the camp would be stupid. It would be better to wait here than trek back through the jungle for an hour and risk getting lost. Finn had said they had a job to do—build a signal fire. Even though she might not be able to light it, she could pile the wood up nice and high, no problem. And then it would all be ready when Finn and the others turned up again.

  She didn’t let herself think any further about when that might be, even though she feared Finn had been pretty specific. One hour at a time. She was only going to think about the next hour. And she could cope with being alone for sixty minutes, no problem.

  It took more than an hour to collect all the wood she’d need, and then almost another hour to stack it the right way. She had to tear it down the first time, realising too late that she’d worked on autopilot, hadn’t thought things through. A signal fire would need to catch quickly and burn brightly. It would also need to produce smoke—and lots of it. And that wasn’t the kind of fire she’d built. She’d reproduced what they’d done in their camp every evening, where longevity was important and smoke undesirable.

  When she finished the second fire she was really thirsty. She took a couple of sips of water from her canteen and then screwed the lid back on. Best to conserve that. There were some coconut trees nearby, so maybe she could gather some of the fallen fruit. Young ones would be nicer and contain more water, but the effort of climbing up to get them would probably burn up more calories than they’d provide, and she needed to conserve her energy.

  Either way, she was going to need a knife to get them open. She just hoped that the smaller one Finn always kept in his backpack was up to the job.

  The pack was still sitting on
the stone she’d plonked it on when she’d first arrived, and she walked over to it, unzipped the main compartment and pulled the edges back to have a good look inside.

  Instantly her focus was drawn to a long shape, half-hidden by a balled up shirt. She reached into the bag and drew it out slowly.

  Finn’s machete. Not strapped to his lower leg, but here, still in its sheath.

  Why?

  She felt the weight of it in her open palms and stared at it as it lay there. She took a step back and stared at it some more, a frown creasing her features. There was only one sensible reason she could think of why Finn would have deliberately left his machete behind.

  He really wasn’t coming back until morning.

  ‘What’s she doing?’ Simon leaned over the boxy black monitor and squinted. ‘She’s just standing there. Do you think she’s going to cry?’

  A ripple of discomfort passed through the tent that had now become Fearless Finn’s mobile production suite. Barry and Tim shifted uncomfortably. None of them liked female tears. Made them feel helpless, even when they were on a tiny ten-inch screen and the female in question was a quarter of a mile away. Give them snakes and spiders any day.

  ‘No,’ Finn said quietly, moving closer, and glancing at one of the other four monitors to get an alternative view of his celebrity guest star.

  Simon puffed out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. ‘I hope you’re right. We had enough waterworks last week from Toby when he realised he was doing his final night solo.’ He checked his watch quickly. ‘Mind you, it did take him until almost midnight… Action star, my foot.’

  Finn tuned Simon out. He’d heard this particular rant before and he was most interested in the slender figure being filmed by several hidden cameras placed strategically round the ruins. When she put the machete down on the rock and put her hands on her hips, Finn wanted to smile, but the warm churning in his stomach made it difficult.

  You can do this, he urged her silently. This is your chance. Your fate tonight is in your hands. You can panic and freak out like the previous guest star or you can choose to use everything I’ve taught you in the last seven days. Your choice whether you survive or fail.

  He watched closely to see what she’d do next, hoping his gut feeling wasn’t going to let him down for once. Allegra had done well this week. Really well. But while she’d been excellent at following his lead, her success rate when she’d been left to her own devices had been a little patchier.

  After a few moments her hands dropped from her hips. She marched over to the signal fire she’d built near the edge of the ruins and started pulling it apart, flinging palm branches and bits of wood behind her.

  ‘No!’

  His outburst echoed round the tent, which was pretty clever, seeing as the old canvas structure wasn’t supposed to facilitate such a sound. Everyone else stopped what they were doing and stared at him. Just as well that Dave was still out filming Allegra from a distance, because he really would have given Finn some stick.

  He feigned shock at their reaction. ‘What? It was a nicely constructed fire, that’s all.’

  He turned back to the monitor to hide the heat creeping up his neck. It must have migrated there from his stomach, which was now feeling jittery and cold. He’d expected more of her than this. More than a temper tantrum. Perhaps he’d just been blinded by the tropical sun this week and she really was a prima donna after all.

  Monitor four showed her from a different view, and he switched to that one now. What was she doing? She seemed to be sorting through the wood, tossing it into smaller piles closer to the lone remaining wall…

  Suddenly Finn laughed out loud.

  He knew exactly what she was doing!

  She’d worked out that if she was staying the night there she’d need a different type of fire—one that would burn slowly for hours, not blaze then die out after twenty minutes.

  He was so proud of her he wanted to run the quarter mile through the jungle to the ruins and kiss her again.

  That would be impossible, of course. So he cemented his attention on the monitors, stacked on a folding camping table at one end of their large working/living/sleeping space.

  Allegra had built a new fire now, in the centre of the ruins. Camera two zoomed in on her as she gathered the knife and flint he’d left in his backpack for her and then crouched down, using a fallen stone as a base for her tinder.

  Another monitor, another angle. Even closer, this one. Lines appeared on her forehead as she concentrated, and Finn found his own brow wrinkling in sympathy. Again and again she struck the flint. Sparks flew occasionally, but they were never enough. He could see what she was doing wrong. Sometimes she waited too long before she blew on the dried grass, sometimes it was too much too soon.

  Slow down. Let your instincts guide you.

  He knew she could do it if she didn’t give up.

  And Allegra refused to give up, until she had to stop, stand up and stretch out her aching shoulder muscles. He could see the frustration radiating from her, even in the shot where her back was to the camera. It was there in her stance, the clenched knuckles at her side.

  Relax.

  Once she’d stretched, she crouched down and kept going. Finn wanted to cheer. Even Simon stopped scribbling notes and watched.

  ‘Still disappointed poor old Anya Pirelli had to pull out?’ he asked, giving Finn a sly look over his shoulder.

  Finn kept his face still and his tone deadpan. ‘Absolutely gutted.’

  Simon chuckled as he turned round and picked up his pen again. ‘Thought so.’

  Dave appeared through the tent flap some time later, camera in hand. ‘Need a new battery,’ he said and dumped it on one of the folding camping tables that were holding the production equipment. ‘Got some great shots of her working her way through the jungle, but she almost spotted me following her once or twice.’

  Finn mumbled a response. He wasn’t sure what he actually said. He was too busy watching Allegra at her second attempt at fire starting. She’d broken off a couple of hours ago to make a shelter—a lean-to, using the stone wall as one side. She hadn’t built a platform, but she’d remembered she could at least raise the bamboo floor a few inches by using more poles for support. Not bad, Finn thought. She’d used her head and hadn’t just tried to replicate the shelter they’d had on the other beach.

  Once she’d finished that, she’d turned her attention back to the fire. With no more success than the first attempt, unfortunately.

  Finn glanced out of the tent opening at the darkening sky. Another fifteen minutes and she’d really need the warmth and protection a fire would give her. Without it, she’d have a really miserable last night on the island. He didn’t want her last memory of it to cloud all the other wonderful things she’d experienced.

  Something blunt but insistent poked him in the ribs. It still wasn’t enough to make him tear his gaze from the bank of monitors—especially as he suspected the source of pain was one of Dave’s pudgy fingers.

  ‘See?’ Barry said from the other end of the tent, where he was stretched out on a sleeping mat. ‘I told you. He hasn’t changed position for the last forty minutes.’

  Had it really been that long?

  He had one hand on the table and was leaning forward, feet planted one behind the other. A quick inventory of his muscles and joints revealed that he was indeed rather stiff. He straightened, keeping his eyes on monitor three, and did a few shoulder rolls.

  ‘Lo, he moves,’ Dave said dryly. ‘It’s a miracle.’

  Finn snorted. ‘Don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. We all crowded round to watch Toby when he did his final challenge, didn’t we?’

  ‘Yes, but that’s because it was so darn funny watching him cry and ask for his mummy.’ There was a creaking
noise behind him as Dave dropped into one of the canvas folding chairs. ‘She’s all right, this one.’

  Barry piped up, fancying himself as Dave’s sidekick. ‘You can stand down, Finn. She’s doing okay.’ He pulled himself up and came to stand beside Finn, and Finn didn’t care for the slimy edge to his voice when he grinned and said, ‘More than okay, that girl.’

  Finn’s reply as unrepeatable.

  And Allegra wasn’t okay. She still had no fire.

  He leaned forward again, placing his palm on the table and ignoring the creak of his protesting muscles, and turned his attention back to the monitor.

  After twenty minutes solid of trying to get a fire going—at one point getting enough sparks to light the tinder, but not managing to get the kindling to light—Allegra suddenly threw down the knife, straightened her legs and looked skyward.

  She stood still. So still Finn wasn’t entirely sure she was breathing, and then she buried her face in her hands. The low howl of frustration, picked up by a hidden microphone and transmitted to speakers either side of the main monitor, made Finn feel like a caged tiger.

  She needed him.

  He couldn’t stand here and watch her like that. He had to go to her.

  The urge intensified when she pulled her face from her hands. Simon, who was operating the remote-controlled cameras, zoomed in closer, and now Finn could see how the setting sun had picked out a single vertical track down each cheek, making them sparkle. He almost pressed a finger to the monitor screen, but reined himself in just in time. No point in giving the terrible two back there even more ammunition.

  Allegra’s face disappeared from shot and he started. Camera three had been in too close to follow her when she’d suddenly moved, and Finn frantically searched the other monitors for a sign of her.

  His heart rate slowed. She hadn’t fallen or run or panicked. She’d merely crouched again and had picked up the knife and flint.