Virgo's Vice

by Trish Jackson

  Winning this thing was gonna be like taking candy from a baby. Not that he didn’t respect every single one of the other contestants. That would be a big mistake. They all wanted to win just as badly as he did, but maybe they weren’t driven by the same need as him. A need to prove to his family that he had it in him. That he was a good person. They said they had forgiven him and that it was an accident, so why couldn’t he shake the guilt? It was always lurking there in the background, no matter how much time had passed. Would this really help? He wasn’t sure, but it was good to have some other things to occupy his mind and to present new challenges.

  Okay, so this was Africa and some things were gonna be different, but the wilderness is the wilderness. You had to understand and respect the wildlife and appreciate the fact that they had been living here long before man came along. There didn’t seem to be any signs of human occupation around here. He had asked the pilot about that.

  “AIDs and other diseases have wiped out a lot of people in this area,” the pilot had told him. “The survivors packed up and left everything behind. Most indigenous people live in the cities where they can get food, jobs and medical help. There’s also some talk that they left because of a monster that came into their huts at night and attacked them, but they’re a superstitious lot at the best of times.”

  A monster. Billy shook his head and chuckled.

  Attorney Andy Riggs pulled his jacket off and slung it over one arm as he walked. He was really hoping there would be water in one of the bags that were dropped by parachute from the aircraft. What if there wasn’t water? He and the others ahead of him were exerting a lot of energy and it was getting hot. He was already sweating. He was annoyed he hadn’t figured out that the party was a ruse to get them all together so they had to leave in their good clothes. He didn’t care that his suit would be ruined—the cost of it could be written off and the shoes too—but it was an oversight and he couldn’t afford to make one again if he wanted to win this thing. The shoes were beginning to pinch and he wished he had thought to wear a pair of hiking boots.

  Now that he’d been able to assess the other competitors he knew he could win. A million greenbacks. He’d be able to start his own firm and hire some experienced litigators. One million would be like chump change after that, but it takes money to make money and he needed this one big break.

  He checked his watch. Almost eleven in the morning local time. He patted his pocket to make sure the stuff was still there. He had brought enough for two months, and the game was only supposed to go on for six weeks, so he shouldn’t run out.

  I can’t keep telling these idiots what to do all the time, Trip thought. They’re so helpless I don’t know what’s gonna happen, but I’ll win this thing hands down. A million bucks. As soon as the cash is in my hands I’ll be on my way to Brazil. I’ve spent more than enough time in Africa. Lexie won’t talk. I wasn’t sure she recognized me at first. She’s still beautiful and she still does things to me even though she’s older now. His breath quickened. He remembered everything about her. The way she smelled, the way she tasted, the way . . . He swiped a hand over his sweating brow. This was not the time nor the place. If it hadn’t been for that one mistake—the one kid who wasn’t afraid to talk and whose mom believed her, he would have been with Lexie long ago. I was lucky to get away. If they had known sooner about the . . . the one who died they would never have left me on house arrest with that ankle bracelet before the trial. I didn’t mean to kill her. I was just trying to stop her screaming. That’s when I knew I had to skip town. It wasn’t hard to cut the bracelet off and split. Plenty of places to cross over the border by foot in Arizona. The illegals cut the fences all the time. I was lucky to have had the cash to get the plastic surgery, and it wasn’t hard to reinvent myself here in Africa. No one really cares about your past here. Sure I know the marshalls’ll always be searching for me, but Lexie’s probably the only person in the world who knows I’m here, now, and she’s already proved she’s too shit scared to talk.

  He chuckled to himself. I sure put the fear of God into her. He forced his thoughts back to the present situation. Once we have the backpacks and our rations I’ll back off and observe from the distance. I don’t know what’s with the producer. Lexie and the other camera operator don’t seem to have been briefed and she didn’t know she was expected to jump. She did well to land the way she did, but what’s gonna happen to that Mexican with the injured ankle? It’s good there’s one less to compete against, but hell, I’ve been living in Africa for three years now. That’s more than enough of an advantage.

  Camera operator Mark Proveaux was wondering what they would find in the cargo bags. He had an idea some of the contestants thought there would be water in them, but anyone with half a brain would know it would be too heavy to pack into those bags on top of each contestant’s backpack. The other camera equipment would be there, including the solar battery chargers, and there would probably be tents and food for him and Lexie. And the satellite phone. That was the single most important item in those bags. Maybe he could call the Old Man and get some directions from him. He’d also call home and find out how Suze was doing. He missed her already, but she had been real understanding about this gig and him being away from home. Thoughts of his wife brought a smile to his lips. Then he frowned. Should he and Lexie make a camp a little ways away from the others? It seemed more prudent to stick together at night and build a big fire to keep any wild animals away. He was annoyed at the Old Man for dropping them in the crap like this. They should have had at least one other crew person for support. Lexie had done well so far, but what would have happened if she had broken some bones? He knew the Old Man was crazy, but this was pushing it. He hoped the nurse was right when she said the Mexican’s ankle wasn’t broken.

  And what was going on between Lexie and the khaki dude, Trip? Did he say something inappropriate to her?

  The cowboy was yelling. He must have found one of the bags.

  Mark turned and headed back toward him.

  Henry Stretch Grant, ex-NBA player rubbed his temple. His head throbbed. He tried to remember the details of the landing that had caused him to fall and bump it, but came up with a blank. He must have blacked out. Didn’t that mean he had a concussion? It wouldn’t be the first time, and he had never had any problems after getting a bump on his head in the past. Just as well they had a nurse with them. She should be able to patch him up and worst-case scenario she said she could stitch it if she had to. He wished he could see the wound. It felt big. He touched it lightly and brought his hand back down to stare at the blood on his fingers. He couldn’t let this get in his way. He had to win. Henry Junior’s life depended on it. On him. If he didn’t win this, Henry would die. He wrung his hands and sighed heavily, and glanced around at the other competitors. He was so much older than them and some of them looked fit.

  He wriggled his toes in the new Merrells he had bought for hiking in Africa, and wondered if it would have been better to have worn shorts rather than the cargo pants that were getting hot. He was glad he’d been smart enough to figure out they might leave directly from the party, though.

  Jared Harner pushed his glasses up on his nose and watched the other dudes as they headed away to the east. He cursed. If he had shoes he would have gone with them, but this grass was spiky. And who knew if there were snakes or scorpions or thorns. When he was a little kid he ran around barefoot all the time and his feet didn’t seem to feel stuff, but he spent most of his time sitting behind a computer these days and his feet had gotten soft.

  He glanced around at the other players, all milling around without any direction. Some of the competitors were old. The younger ones were the cowboy and the lawyer, the Asian woman and the hot camera girl. The teacher with that red hair, too. She was way hot and his pulse quickened as he wondered if he would get to sleep beside her. He got a raging hard-on just thinking about that milk
y white skin and what he could do with it. And she kept sitting like that on the boulder with her legs open. Was that her panties he could see? Or what? He liked to think she didn’t have any underwear on under that short skirt.

  They would probably all underestimate him. He bet they thought he was too young at nineteen, and he could be mistaken for a computer nerd. Correction. He was a geek, but he knew all those nights working out at the gym would pay off now. Besides, there were a lot of things about his appearance that made him out to be someone he really wasn’t. None of them had any clue about all the information he had gotten about them, nor how he was gonna use it to beat them.

  He cleared his throat. “Do you think we should be thinking about building a shelter or something?”

  Everyone stopped what they were doing.

  “Yeah, we shouldn’t be standing around like a bunch of morons,” the tough-looking chick said.

  Sam Fillwood figured she worked in a man’s world. She drove sixteen-wheelers and, as a trucker, she could easily beat all of these men in this game. Women were far more resilient than men, everyone knew that, and she was as tough as any of them.

  The other women weren’t even worth considering. They were too dumb even to figure that the foxy old producer Allan Dockery had something up his sleeve when he invited them to a cocktail party after the briefing. That red-headed teacher actually wore a little cocktail dress and spiked high heels. She had already lost the game. There was no way she could compete like that. At least the others had worn flat, or almost flat, shoes. Some of them wouldn’t stand up to much hiking though.

  She could win it. She knew she could. Then she’d be able to put Jenny in a facility where she’d get the care she needed. Maybe they would even be able to help her—to heal her. If she didn’t get help, she would live her life out in that miserable little room like a . . . a vegetable. She had to have that money.

  “So if we could build a shelter right now, who would be able to help? I mean we have injured and shoeless people and that only leaves me and three other women. If any of you are up to it.”

  “I’ll help.” The lanky woman in the fancy business suit stood up from the ground and dusted the back side of her skirt.

  Sam felt her eyebrows rise.

  “Faith Frith,” the woman said. “I’m quite handy and I’ve done a lot of remodeling in my life.”

  Faith tried to read the trucker woman’s face. Did she see surprise? She was one of those types who think because they work in a man’s world they are superior to other women. Faith at six feet tall was strong and willing to work as hard as was necessary to win the game. She smiled a secret smile. These people had no idea who they were dealing with and what measures she would go to if she had to, nor could they possibly know anything about her past.

  All they saw when they observed her was a successful business executive. She patted her hair and wondered how long she would be able to keep it looking decent. Her suit was yet to wrinkle, thanks mainly to the fact that it was top of the line from Nordstrom, but she wouldn’t expect any of these people to know that. They probably thought she regretted wearing it, but it was comfortable and she had known there was a high likelihood of them being forced to leave for Africa directly from the party. Dress for success. That was her motto. She looked down at her shoes. She didn’t usually wear flats but she was happy she had made that decision. She picked a leaf off her skirt and chewed the inside of her cheek. Apart from being taller and stronger than the other women, Faith knew she was far superior in intelligence to any of the others, with her extra-high IQ.

  She didn’t care about the money, but to be able to prove herself out here would be huge. That would show all the people who called her a fruitcake.

  “I can help, too,” the Asian girl said. She was young, and her feet wouldn’t be very well protected in those sandals.

  Eve Li caught the tall, pasty-skinned woman eyeing her sandals, and smiled to herself. She was comfortable in them. The others probably saw them as a disadvantage, but in the African heat, her feet would be the coolest, assuming the others got their shoes back. She was glad she had worn pants but wished they weren’t so thin and filmy. They would probably snag on the first thorn bush she walked past.

  She was willing to help with anything but would be careful not to let anyone see how resourceful and strong she really was, and she wasn’t afraid to do things on her own out here. She had youth in her favor, and that would count for a lot when they started getting dehydrated. Only the kid without the shoes was as young as her. The two Mexicans—the injured one and the nurse—and the black guy were really old. That pasty-faced executive type woman had offered to help build the shelter, but she looked like she wouldn’t want to wrinkle her clothes, and what was with the fancy hairdo?

  A million dollars. It was like a dream to think she could actually win a million dollars. She had to win. She didn’t know how much longer she could go on living out of her car. It was becoming harder and harder to find places to shower, and if she kept on going the way she had been, she would never be able to rent a place again.

  Eve hid a chuckle when she glanced at the redhead in the black cocktail dress. Of all the dumb things to be wearing, and what about her shoes?

  “I’ll help as soon as I get my shoes.” Kelli Gannon was still mentally kicking herself for being duped into wearing cocktail clothes for the party after the briefing. She wasn’t sure how she was going to survive and win the game with those shoes. She wished she could offer to help make a shelter now. It seemed like a very good idea. She glanced in the direction the others had gone, glad the camera operators weren’t following her and focusing on her face, since it was most likely a mess. They and the others with them had totally disappeared from sight and who knew how long they would be.

  The lawyer was gorgeous but he was wearing a wedding ring, and anyhow, she didn’t want to mess around on Mark. She had promised him. Still, she and Mark hadn’t been together for more than two months now, ever since his mom started getting suspicious, and she was beginning to need a man again.

  “So how are you suggesting we do it?” the tall, attractive blond woman with the accent said loudly. She was pretty and might be a model. She must work out a lot. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her body and her arm muscles were like a man’s.

  Lela Sukhova knew she had a huge advantage over the others. None of them had lived through the hell she had had to endure in the prison camp in Iraq. She smirked. She was already a seasoned survivor and this reality show would be like child’s play compared to that. Reality? They had no idea about reality. She had experienced harsh reality in the camp—going without water and food for days, making her own shelter out of virtually nothing with her bare hands. The others in this group might be able to do that, but she doubted if any of them would have handled the daily beatings or public rape. All she had to do here was deal with the elements. With this money she would be able to buy her mom a nice house in the suburbs. Her mom wasn’t strong. She needed to live in a warm place or her lungs weren’t going to last much longer. Maybe she would even stop coughing altogether in a new house.

  “I’ll help as soon as my ankle is bound,” Rodriguez said. “I’m a contractor. So if it were up to me, I would head over there right now and check out those saplings.” He pointed. “When we get an axe, which I’m assuming is packed with the cargo; we’ll be able to start cutting them.”

  “Here’s another suggestion,” the nurse, Maria Lopez, said. “We will need water before the night comes, and fire to boil it.”

  Nobody spoke for a few moments.

  “Right,” said Lela. “We need to find the water.” She turned around in a three-sixty circle. “Down there could be a creek or water hole.” She pointed at a low area among the gently rolling hills.

  “That’s pretty smart,” the redhead with the cocktail dress and no shoes sai
d. Was her name Kelli? “The rain water must drain that way.”

  “So what are you gonna carry the water in?” the shoeless nerd, Jared said.

  There was another short pause. “We could at least scout it,” said the executive-type woman, Faith. She didn’t appear to be tough enough to be in this game. She was thin and pale.

  “Let’s do it,” the trucker woman responded. “Who’s coming?”

  “Wait,” the exec said. “I mean, shouldn’t we wait for them?” She pointed toward the path the other guys had taken to search for the bags, and that hill.

  “We’re just gonna do a reconnaissance,” the trucker woman sneered.

  “I’ll go with you.” But I hope there are no wild animals. Lela kept the thought to herself.

  Chapter 5

  “There must be another one some place,” Mark says when he and I reach Billy Murphy, who is standing over one of the canvas bags, loosening the cords from its parachute.

  “I’ll take this one back to the others,” Billy says.

  “I’ll go back with him,” I say.

  “I’ll keep hunting,” Andy, the attorney, says. He points to the rocky hill they’ve been using as a marker. “If I don’t locate it, I’ll climb that hill and see if I can spot it from up there.”

  “That’s further away than you might think,” Billy says. “I wouldn’t be walking that far without water.” He hefts the cumbersome bag onto his shoulders and starts back toward where we left the others.

  “Can I help carry that?” I ask him.

  “Nah. I can do it,” he says. “You could bring the chute.”