Waitress accepts the black plastic with a mix of reverence and guilt. Though her head is creaking, she slept on a mattress last night and was able to shower this morning. She feels far better than she did yesterday. But she’s not sure what to think about this bequeathal. She wouldn’t have given Cheerleader Boy anything.
Next the host pulls a water bottle out of the pack. It’s full—though this will go unspoken, any time a contestant quits, his or her Nalgene will be filled with clean water before being given to its next owner. “As for this, it goes to…” The host drags his gaze along the contestants as he paces left to right and back again, drawing out the moment. Waitress is the only one among them who doesn’t want the water; she has three bottles already and they’re heavy.
Cheerleader Boy’s exit interview will be shown now, intercut with footage of his being led out of the woods by an unidentified guide dressed in black. “Did I think I would be the first to go?” he says. “No, but who ever does?” He’s in the backseat of a car. The windows are tinted. “I don’t regret coming, but enough is enough, I’m ready to go home. I don’t really care who gets my stuff.”
The host stops in front of Black Doctor.
“Doc’s all right,” says Cheerleader Boy. “And he’s really concerned about having clean water. Give it to him, I guess. Anyone but Randy.” The muscles of his face twitch into hatred, almost too quick to see. He closes his eyes and eases back into the seat. “I can’t wait to be home.”
Black Doctor accepts the bottle solemnly, and the host moves on.
“Our second Team Challenge will take place today,” he says. “But first, a Solo Challenge to determine teams.” He indicates the bucket with a wave of his hand, and viewers will be treated to a view of what it contains: brown water rich with unidentifiable organic bits. The camera pans out, revealing a table with two more buckets on top. One contains sand, the other chunks of charcoal. Next to the buckets are eleven two-liter soda bottles, labels removed. Zoo’s hand is in her pocket, clenching a bundled blue bandana. The host explains what she expects him to explain: Using the items on the table, as well as the supplies already in their possession and whatever they can scavenge, the contestants have to filter water. They have thirty minutes. “You must have at least one cup filtered by the Challenge’s end, or you’re disqualified. Whoever’s water is the clearest wins.”
The half-hour-long Challenge will be compressed into three minutes. Much of those three minutes is focused on Zoo, who leaps into action, sawing a two-liter bottle in half with her knife then stabbing a series of small holes in its bottom. She dumps in her damp charcoal dust, packing it tight, then layers sand on top, followed by pebbles and blades of grass. Using the top half of the severed bottle, she scoops and pours dirty water into her makeshift filter. She holds the filter above her measuring cup and waits. As Zoo’s water dribbles through, Tracker finishes grinding his charcoal to ash and begins constructing his filter. The others are watching these two, emulating them with varying degrees of success.
“Yesterday, I thought she was being noble using her bandana for the ash,” says Carpenter Chick as she puts rock to charcoal. “I figured that would be the hardest to clean. It sucks that she has it now, but good for her, really. I wouldn’t have thought to keep it.”
“Smart,” says Engineer.
“Lucky,” says Waitress. She pokes her two-liter bottle with her knife, tentative.
Zoo’s water has filled her measuring cup but retains a yellow-brown tint. “Ten minutes,” says the host. She scoops the worst of the filtered goop from her top layer and replaces the grass, then dumps the once-filtered water back in.
Banker’s filter is a muddy swirl, his measuring cup dry.
“Think they’ll notice if I just fill it with this?” asks Black Doctor, holding up the bottle he received from Cheerleader Boy.
Rancher, Air Force, and Engineer are doing well. Almost as well as Tracker. If not for Zoo’s advantage, this would be a race.
“Time!”
Waitress and Banker have barely any water in their measuring cups. Exorcist is a third of a cup shy. All three are disqualified. Of the remaining eight, there is an obvious winner. Zoo’s water is not crystal clear, but it’s far less yellow than the rest. Biology’s cup looks like she dipped it straight into the dirty bucket.
“Congratulations,” says the host to Zoo. “As your reward, you get to assign teams for our next Challenge. Partners, but with one team of three due to the…oddness of the group.” The producers don’t like this; he’ll have to re-record the line later, sans pun.
“Do I get to know anything about the Challenge before I choose?” asks Zoo.
“No. Who do you want as your partner?”
Engineer is trying not to smile; it’ll be him. It has to be him—they caught a fish together.
Zoo doesn’t hesitate before naming Tracker. Engineer is quietly devastated. Zoo pairs him with Carpenter Chick, thinking that they will work well together. Her next move splits the young alliance as she pairs Air Force with Biology and Black Doctor with Banker. That leaves Rancher, Waitress, and Exorcist as the team of three.
The host motions for everyone to follow him. He leads them west, in the direction of yesterday’s field. The trek that follows will be glossed over—they’ve arrived! They’re at the southern cliff, the one visited by both Biology and Exorcist during last night’s Challenge. A salmon-colored rope now dangles from the top of the cliff, where it’s anchored to two tree trunks and a small sunken boulder.
Banker is smiling. “Nice,” he says. At Black Doctor’s curious look he adds, “We got this.”
“No way,” says Waitress. The editor decides to make this her catchphrase. “No way. I hate heights.”
Exorcist gives her a condescending look. “It’s only like thirty feet.”
Rancher considers the cliff face, the rope. “We have to climb that?” he asks. It’s unclear who’s more frightened—him or Waitress.
The host steps forward to stand at the base of the cliff. He tugs on the dangling ends of the rope with one hand. “Rock climbing,” he says. “It may not be an essential skill for wilderness survival, but it can get you out of a bind. Plus”—he flashes a white-picket smile—“it’s fun. The first part of this Challenge is to get one member of your team to the top as quickly as you can. Your finishing time will determine the order in which you set off on the next phase.” He turns to Zoo. “Who’s first?”
Zoo didn’t hear Banker’s confident remark to his partner and wonders if anyone here is a climber. She’s gone a few times with friends to indoor climbing gyms, but has never climbed outdoors. After a moment, she names Biology and Air Force to start.
“Have you climbed before?” Air Force asks his partner.
Biology shakes her head.
“Who’s ascending?” asks the host.
“I am,” says Air Force.
Time skips. Air Force and Biology both wear helmets and harnesses. All the contestants have received an off-camera lesson in how to take up a rope’s slack as a climber climbs—Banker scoffs at the equipment, “Anyone can belay with a grigri,” but he helps Black Doctor when he gets confused—and a guide who will never appear on camera positions himself behind Biology to serve as her backup. Air Force is tied in, and the belay device is clipped to Biology’s harness. The leg loops of the harness frame her rump, lifting both cheeks, and the waist is tight only a few inches below her breasts, like an underline. The camera lingers, shameless.
“I’ve climbed wooden walls, but never a rock wall,” says Air Force. His short hair is oily and his skin shimmers with sweat. There’s a smear of dirt down his neck from where he scratched at a mosquito bite. He and Black Doctor are the only two who weren’t able to shower since the overnight Challenge. “We’ll see how it goes.” He pauses. “My ankle? It feels better. It’ll be fine.”
“And go!” says the host.