The men emerge to congratulate Biology on her arrival. All three are freshly showered. Banker’s chest is bare, his shirt laid out by the fireplace, drying from a recent hand-washing. He clearly makes time for the gym, but Biology is far less impressed by his physique than the average female viewer will be. She collapses onto the bottom bunk nearest the fire. Tracker frowns. Judgmental jerk, bigoted viewers will think, assuming that he is scornful of Biology’s relative weakness. Another misinterpretation. Tracker feels bad about Biology’s exhaustion, her clear struggle. He is forcefully reminding himself that he’s here for the money and that helping these people will only slow him down.
The window behind Tracker shows a setting sun. At the camps the sky is dark and the moon is high. Our narratives are out of sync.
A roaring blare rips through the camps—a sound like fear itself, loud and hard and everywhere. Contestants become a tangle of confused, waking limbs. Waitress yelps; Air Force is on his feet, injury forgotten; Exorcist freezes, tense and waiting.
“Good evening!” comes the host’s voice, amplified. “I need everyone in the center of the field, double time! Bring your gear. You have three minutes.”
Blinking heavily, Zoo shoves on her glasses, then tugs on her boots and shoulders her pack. Carpenter Chick is ready just as quickly. Engineer can’t find his glasses; his eyesight is worse than Zoo’s. Carpenter Chick is twenty-twenty; she spots his frames on the ground and hands them to him. Waitress is near tears, she’s so tired. She doesn’t think she can do this, whatever this is. Zoo and Engineer disassemble the water-filtration system, quickly. Bandanas are reclaimed. Zoo almost dumps the charcoal ash from hers, then changes her mind and ties the bandana into a little bundle as she walks.
Cheerleader Boy stalks toward the center of the field, alone. Air Force is hard-pressed to make it in time; he’s feeling the ankle again. Black Doctor hangs back and offers an arm, which is politely declined—the walking stick is enough. Exorcist drifts along beside them, his pack casually slung over one shoulder. “When you’ve dealt with those who dwell in Hell,” he says, “an early wake-up call isn’t so bad.”
The host is waiting. He holds a steaming mug of coffee. Waitress nearly tears it from his hands.
“Where’s the other team?” asks Cheerleader Boy.
“Good morning!” says the host. “And it is indeed morning. Twelve-oh-four a.m., to be precise.” All eight contestants have arrived within the allotted three minutes. A shame—the host was looking forward to penalizing someone. “It’s time for a Solo Challenge. Here are maps.” He indicates a bin to his left. “And here are flashlights.” A bin to his right. “First five to the waypoint get to sleep indoors. The quicker you finish, the more sleep you get. And, go!”
Engineer springs toward the maps; Zoo, Carpenter Chick, and Waitress for the flashlights. Zoo takes a flashlight for Engineer, and Engineer takes four maps.
Waitress is terrified. She knows she can’t make it through the night woods alone. Carpenter Chick catches Zoo’s eye and nods a question.
“I’m happy to work this one as a team if you guys are,” says Zoo. If it was daylight, or she wasn’t the leader, she’d be less inclined to cooperate, but right now working as a team seems prudent. The others agree; Waitress wants to hug them all.
Air Force and Black Doctor’s cooperation is rightfully assumed. The level of mutual trust they’ve built in a day is remarkable. The producers will share a phone call later, seeking a way to use the allegiance against the allied.
“Maybe we should all stick together?” says Black Doctor to Exorcist and Cheerleader Boy.
Cheerleader Boy is still looking around for Tracker’s team, the best team. He doesn’t want to be locked into this one. Black Doctor and Air Force are okay, but Exorcist? Any minute spent in his company is a minute too long. Cheerleader Boy allows personal dislike to overwhelm common sense. “He said it was a Solo Challenge,” he says. “So I’m going solo.” He flips his former teammates a salute and then walks away—but only a few steps. He needs to consult his map.
“So we’re here and we need to get…here,” says Zoo. Her finger cuts across a flashlight’s beam to cast a thick shadow across the map.
“What are all these symbols?” asks Waitress. Her voice shakes.
“Look at the key,” says Carpenter Chick. “Each means something different.” She pauses. “What’s a knoll?”
“They live under bridges,” says Waitress.
Her teammates look at her, incredulous.
“That’s a troll,” says Engineer.
Waitress’s embarrassed flush is hidden in the moonlight. She’s rattled; her brain isn’t working right. Laughter from the producers, laughter from the viewers. Perfect.
Cheerleader Boy is on the move, he’s the first to leave. Northeast, he thinks. He’ll just follow his compass northeast until he finds the stream above the waypoint, and then he’ll cut south. Easy as pie.
“Look,” says Engineer, “there’s a road, half mile south. It’s out of the way, but it passes right by the waypoint.”
“Genius,” says Zoo. “That’ll be much easier to follow in the dark. Let’s do it.” Carpenter Chick agrees, and Waitress is along for the ride.
Air Force watches them go. “I bet they’re making for the service road,” he says.
“Should we do that too?” asks Black Doctor.
“Pah,” says Exorcist. “Too far out of the way.”
Air Force is torn. He’s trying to maximize his decision—what’s worth more: shorter distance or easier terrain? If his ankle were healthy, the answer would be easy. Bravado and practicality war within him.
“The road seems like our best option to me,” says Black Doctor. “I don’t want to be tripping over roots and sticks in the dark.”
Exorcist jiggles his flashlight tauntingly, but Air Force allows his new friend to guide him to the better decision. “You’re right, let’s take the road.”
“That’s like two extra miles,” says Exorcist. “I’m out. See you at the finish.” He takes a quick measurement with his compass, then starts walking east. There’s a trio of boulders a quarter mile away. He’ll find those and then turn north toward a pair of cliff faces, he decides. It seems so easy. That’s why they’re doing it at night, he thinks—to add an element of actual challenge.
The map, now shown to viewers in a darker shade to indicate night. Dots of color and pattern creeping along: a cluster, a pair, and two singletons.
“What do you think happened to Cooper and the others?” asks Zoo.
“Maybe they left already?” says Engineer.
“Or got a ride,” says Waitress.
“Does it matter?” asks Carpenter Chick.
Their maps are tucked into pockets, and they pick their way through tangled brush. Zoo consults her compass every few minutes.
“They’re following us,” says Engineer. The others look back, see two beams of light behind their cameramen, who have multiplied. One per contestant for this Challenge, in case they split up.
“We need to get the Chinese kid on our team next time,” says Air Force. “Secure the fishing line, get some protein.”
“I’d gladly trade Josh or Randy for him,” says Black Doctor. “Or both.”
Cheerleader Boy crashes through the trees. His pink dot is wildly off course—he hasn’t checked his compass since leaving the field. He rubs at his burning eyes, then keeps walking, flashlight aimed at the ground. His cameraman pauses a moment. To rest, Cheerleader Boy thinks; the cameraman is carrying so much equipment, he must need to rest. He pauses too, and slaps at a late-night mosquito. Though he will not admit as much, the cameraman’s presence gave him the courage to head off into the woods alone. It’s only pretend alone, he thinks.
But the cameraman didn’t pause to rest. He paused for a discreet close-up, which viewers will be treated to now: Cheerleader Boy’s pink-dotted compass lying in the leaves. Motion ejected it from his shallow jacket pocket. He should have put it around his neck or wrist. Too late now.
Zoo’s team finds the road: a scraggly, unpaved path rich with recent tire tracks. “So, we follow this east for a couple miles then turn north,” says Zoo. “There’s a bridge about halfway there, that should be obvious. After that…” She’s looking at the map, considering.
Engineer steps up. He’s never used a map quite like this, but is familiar with schematics. “It looks like the best place to turn is about equidistant between this tree cluster and the end of this ditch,” he says.