Scavenger Hunt
A novel by John R. Little and Fatima Monteiro
Cemetery Dance Publications
Baltimore, MD
2015
Copyright © 2015 by John R. Little and Fatima Monteiro
Cemetery Dance eBook © 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
Cemetery Dance Publications
132-B Industry Lane, Unit #7
Forest Hill, MD 21050
http://www.cemeterydance.com
The characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN-13: 978-158767-503-4
Front Cover Artwork & Design Copyright © 2015 by Elder Lemon Design
Digital Design by Dan Hocker
This book is dedicated to the memory of Jose Barcelos Monteiro.
Are You Adventurous?
Why not try out for the newest and best reality show? It’s unlike any other you’ve seen, and it has the biggest prize: Ten million dollars.
Yup, $10,000,000 for your team to share.
Teams must be three people willing to work together for a common goal. You must have up-to-date passports and be willing to do almost anything. This show pushes the boundaries of both television and yourself… can you take it?
Download our application form here and create a four minute video of your team. Once you send it in, you might be on your way to sharing the biggest prize in reality TV show history.
What will you do with $10,000,000?
The Teams
Team Harvard:
Joe Anderson
Michael Fletcher
Susan Cook
Camerawoman: Beatrice Lace
Team Hollywood:
Brittany Manning-Santiago
Fernando Santiago
Carlos Santiage
Cameraman: Steve Howard
Team Genius:
Jonathan Lewis
Pietre Radovic
Samantha MacDonald
Camerawoman: Jackie Orazek
Team Superior:
Emma Lehman
Maria Hudson
Tanya Morawski
Cameraman: Rob Bors
Producers:
Cathy Wright
Rick Sanderson
Host:
Karen Wilson
Chapter 1: Production
Cynthia - Los Angeles
Cynthia Wright stared at the three monitors in front of her. The videos all seemed to merge together after watching them all night. Her red hair shimmered in the low light, and she held one finger to her lips, as if to keep herself from spilling a secret.
Her eyes wanted to close but she kept blinking them open. Over the past few days, she’d begun to wonder if she was getting too old for the game.
Last fucking team, she thought.
She stretched and shook her head, then sipped from her bottle of Glacier Water before glancing back and forth among the videos. There was no sound. Only the camera mattered now. Which team would attract the most viewers?
Who knows?
All three choices had some weird secrets buried. And any one of them had the potential to really fall apart and bring some serious drama to the show. Sex, conflict, and danger. Who could best provide it?
“Cyn? You’re still here?”
She exhaled and swiveled her chair around to see Rick Sanderson in the doorway with two grande Starbucks coffees in his hands.
She laughed. “Don’t sound surprised. You knew I’d be here. Gimme that damned latte. I need it to wake me up.”
He smiled, the lopsided smile he only showed to her. After a decade of producing reality shows together, she knew just about everything about him including that he used Crest toothpaste and Johnson’s Baby Shampoo.
The latte wasn’t very hot, but right now she wasn’t very picky.
“I’ve got three of the four teams nailed,” she said. “We’re going with Harvard, Genius, and Superior. I just need to decide between these three applications for the last spot.”
“You had to pick Team Superior. Emma’s gonna be a real crowd-pleaser. She’s all kinds of cute. And Tanya…” He smiled again.
“She’s gonna blow at some point. I guarantee it. We got some great footage last night.”
Cynthia typed some commands on her console and the center monitor showed Team Superior’s hotel suite. The three girls were sitting on a couch, drinking wine and laughing. They had no idea there were a dozen hidden cameras and microphones in the suite.
“Watch Tanya.”
Cynthia pointed at the slim, dark-haired girl at the far end, who seemed to be staring at one of the other girls.
“Now let’s roll ahead.”
She tapped out some more commands and the video jumped to show an infrared image later in the night. The girl was alone in her room, lying naked in her bed, her hand between her legs. They could hear her breathing heavily. Then she moaned and her body stiffened.
“Wow,” said Rick. “You think you can use that?”
“You bet your ass. We’re cable now. No standards and practices crap. This goes in Episode One. She signed the release, just like the others.”
He stared at the girl until Cynthia stopped the playback.
“You’re okay with the other two teams?” she asked.
“Genius is good, but I don’t get why you like Team Harvard so much. They still seem boring to me.”
“Joe’s the wildcard there. We need him to show what he’s made of. I’m betting he will.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
She took a sip of her coffee. Heaven.
“Well, maybe we don’t want all four teams to be nutcases anyhow.”
Rick stared at the monitors, which were back to playing the audition tapes, and Cynthia stared at him. She liked Rick, liked how he could do all the fighting with the idiots at the networks while she made all the serious decisions about their shows.
She was the show runner. The one whose signature on a series guaranteed it would be a hit. He was the fire fighter. He kept the shit away from her, which is just how she liked it.
Too bad it would be the last time they worked together. Maybe they could have a celebration fuck once Episode Eight aired and all hell broke loose. Kind of a farewell-to-television fuck.
He’d go for that. He always did what she wanted. But then, maybe there won’t be time… She pushed those thoughts from her mind.
He pointed at the left-most monitor. “I still like Team Mayhem, but my gut tells me they wouldn’t last through the first leg of the race. They’re totally dysfunctional.”
“Yeah. We’ve got eight weeks to fill. We need to drag the tension out.”
“You want Team Hollywood. You know you do.”
“Yeah, but I just wonder if they’d go too far.”
“Too far for Cynthia Wright?” He laughed loudly and looked at her. “You wanted this to be your big swan song.”
“Yeah.”
“Just pick them. You’re not picking Team Miami. You hate them.”
“Team Hollywood has the two Mexicans. We need Latinos to help our demographics. But Miami has the cute Cuban girls. That works too. Mayhem just has that one Native American. Not really the same.”
Rick just shook his head and repeated, “You know you’re not picking the damned Miami team.”
“You should have been a politician. You’re so sure of everything.”
He laughed, and for a second, Cynthi
a thought he really could have been a politician, a JFK-style hunk who would have no trouble getting the women’s vote with his dynamic smile and sharp features.
Except of course, he only smiled for her. He was 49 and in perfect condition. Maybe he could be an actor instead. The camera would love him.
Cynthia was 56, and she knew she looked to be in perfect shape, too. Rick didn’t even know she was older than him.
Maybe that fuck should come sooner. She looked back to the monitors.
The videos were each a maximum of four minutes long. They cycled through, over and over, an endless stream that Cynthia had watched a hundred times each. She was reading the character flaws, the tiny flinches or half-smiles that told her how each person really felt about their teammates.
Each team had mailed in their video along with a detailed 30-page questionnaire filled out separately by each member of the team.
It’d been a long selection process. There were 5,824 applications sent in, not counting the ones where the application wasn’t complete or the video missing or in the wrong format.
Flunkies eliminated some of the most boring teams, as well as teams that were obviously attention-getters or had political connections or were so clearly out of condition they couldn’t possibly complete the physical part of the show.
Cynthia and Rick then culled the list down to 932 teams from around the U.S. The pair toured the country, visiting six different cities: New York, Miami, Chicago, Seattle, L.A., and Denver. 793 of the teams came for interviews at their own expense. From there, they spent long nights narrowing the field to the fifty semi-finalists. They flew each of those fifty teams to their West L.A. studio, while Cynthia and Rick interviewed each member in detail. Twenty teams had been sent home. The last thirty teams were in isolation until the finalists were chosen. The teams went through additional interviews, this time with their bracelets on.
A nearby conference room had thirty two-inch binders stuffed with the most interesting answers from the interviews along with the psychological profiling of each team member and the results of the medical exam.
Cynthia made the final selections. It’s how they’d always worked. She leaned onto the table and stared at the Team Hollywood video.
“Let’s get Hollywood back here one more time,” she said. “I don’t have enough yet. I want to hear a bit more from Fernando.”
“They’re probably sleeping.”
“Fuck that. If I can work all fucking night, they can crawl out of bed a bit earlier than they’d like.” She glanced at her watch. “Get them here at seven. That’s a half hour. I want the bracelets on them again this time.”
When Rick left to call the team, Cynthia stood and stretched her arms. She carefully pressed her stomach and felt the pain surface again.
Without wanting to admit it, she wondered if she’d be able to see the last episode of Scavenger Hunt hit the air.
Cynthia - Eight Months Earlier
Cynthia and Rick walked into the reception area at Reality TV’s Burbank studio. She was impressed. It beat anything the broadcast networks had by a mile. The building was designed by Frank Gehry, with two original Lichtensteins hanging on the wall and Eames furniture in the waiting area. Of course they wouldn’t have to wait.
The receptionist looked to be about twenty years old, wearing a light blue top and a matching skirt. She smiled and asked Cynthia and Rick to follow her. They hadn’t had to tell her who they were, even though they’d never been here before. Brownie points for RTV.
Rick followed Cynthia, walking just behind her and to one side.
Carlton Ellsindale’s office wasn’t far. The receptionist knocked quietly and then left.
“Cynthia! It’s good to see you. I’m Carlton.” He was about thirty, wore a brown polo top and khaki pants. “And this is Jayson Smeele.”
Another kid. He looked even younger.
Doesn’t matter. They control the cash.
They all shook hands and Carlton led them to a round table at the far end of his office.
“Coffee?”
“No, thank you. We know you’re busy men.”
“Never too busy for you. We’re delighted you’re offering us your new project. You’ve been very circumspect so far. What’s the title?”
She liked that they got right to the point and didn’t seem to notice that she was twice their age. Of course, she also knew her successful track record was the only reason they’d give her the time of day.
“It’s called Scavenger Hunt.”
The other guy — Jayson — interrupted. “Before you start, is your agent joining us?”
“No. Rick is our contract lawyer in addition to my co-producer. I trust him more than any greedy-ass agent.”
Jayson laughed and nodded. “Won’t hear any complaints from me.”
After years of practice, pitching a show wasn’t a big deal to Cynthia. And this one, she knew, was pure gold.
“Gentlemen, RTV wants to have the best reality show running. It’s your mandate. I have that show for you. You all know our track record. Rick and I have had the two biggest money-makers on the broadcast networks.
“This time, we’re aiming even higher.” She took a DVD from her briefbag and gave it to Carlton. “Can you play this for us?”
There was a twenty-inch plasma screen built into the wall beside the small table they sat at. The recording opened by showing a deep blue field. A tiny bright dot in the middle expanded and grew, like an exploding star, until it flashed the logo for Scavenger Entertainment: a hyena at sunset trotting around a small dead animal and then reaching its snout into the air and howling.
The intro dissolved, leaving the image of a woman who seemed to be in her early thirties. She stood still, smiling, as the camera moved closer to her. She had auburn hair and wore a beige silk cami and a knee-length blue jean skirt. Her fitted off-white jacket matched her knee-high boots.
“I’m Karen Williams and I’m your host for Scavenger Hunt.”
Jayson nodded. “She’s that chick from, umm, that dance show.”
Cynthia said, “Yes. But she’s wicked smart.”
On screen, Karen spoke directly to the camera. Her piercing green eyes captured Carlton and Jayson. Cynthia knew they were already hooked.
Karen stood on the edge of a cliff. The Southern rim of the Grand Canyon. The sun shone brightly, making her hair glow like burnished copper.
“We’re going on an eight-week journey to the far corners of the world. Four three-person teams will try to be the first to solve seven clues that will lead them to artifacts they need to retrieve.”
She looked over the canyon.
“Will they have to go to the bottom of the Grand Canyon? The top of Mount Everest? The North Pole? The Mariana Trench? Wherever it is, you can be sure that excitement and danger abound.
“But what are the rules of the game?”
Carlton whispered, “She’s good.”
Cynthia said, “We’ve got her locked in for all eight episodes and the reunion show.”
Karen smiled and continued. “Each team has to perform the scavenger hunt, hitting all seven secret locations and retrieving the object they’re told to find.
“Each team will have a credit card with fifty thousand dollars to pay for all expenses. They cannot use any other source of money. Not one penny.”
Karen held her arm up so the camera could zoom in on her wrist. She wore a silver bracelet that looked like a watch, but the face was an empty disc.
“This is a GPS locator. We call them the Scavenger Bracelets. They’ll come in handy. Each team member must wear them at all times. That way, if anybody gets separated or lost, we can find them. They’ll also help players reach their destinations.
Cynthia reached for the remote that was in the center of the table and pressed Pause.
“The bracelets have other purposes as well,” she said.
“What?” asked Carlton and Jayson simultaneously.
She just laughed. “Once
we sign the contract, I’ll tell you. The best is coming up.”
She hit Play.
The camera pulled back and moved to a tight shot of Karen from the shoulders up.
“My forehead is bare. Our team members won’t be so lucky. They all must agree to have a micro camera surgically embedded, so we can see exactly what they see at all times.”
This time it was Carlton who hit Pause.
Neither he nor Jayson said anything. They both just stared at Cynthia.
Finally, Jayson said, “Brilliant. Nothing can be hidden.”
Cynthia smiled at Rick. He nodded and said, “Nothing.” It was the only word he said during the meeting.
“I’ve been doing this a long time, guys,” Cynthia added. She thought of talking about her fifteen-year track record, but it would be a waste. They knew. “The best reality shows are all about three things.” She held three fingers in the air. “Sex. Conflict. Danger. And we’re pushing all three to the absolute limit here.”
“You’ve sold us. Get us the contract.”
“Let’s finish watching the teaser.”
Karen unfroze and the camera pulled back. “Only one team can win. Ten million dollars.”
The executives stared at the screen, not sure they heard right.
“Yes. Ten million dollars. The highest prize ever awarded for a TV show.”
Once again she gave the camera her thousand watt smile.
“If any member of the winning team fails to complete the race for any reason, only the remaining team members will share the prize money.
“And you know what?
“There are no other rules.”
The camera pulled back and brassy music started playing as the Grand Canyon filled the screen and then the image turned to blue.
Carlton turned to Cynthia. “You’re encouraging them to sabotage their own team?”
Cynthia shrugged. “I don’t know what strategies any particular team might choose.”
Jayson said, “Ten million for the winning team? You serious? You don’t need to give that much.”
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