I also knew the creators of the show would love my panicked retreat, and I resolved from that moment on to be as boring as I could be. That would be my revenge. I kept to back roads and avoided houses. It was slow going at first; I got sick—the water, maybe the food but probably the water—and lost a day or two, maybe three but I don’t think so, shivering by a fire I was almost too weak to build, even with my fire starter.
I feel the pinch of loss. Just a thing, but such a useful thing. I don’t know that I would have made it through those days of illness without the fire starter; they probably would have had to disqualify me, pull me for my own safety. As it was, I came distressingly close to saying the safety phrase; I think it was only the fact that they didn’t come for me, that they were confident enough to let me wait it out, that gave me the strength not to quit, that allowed me to believe I would be okay. And I was. I got better, and I knew where I had to go; I started walking and I found peanut butter and trail mix, their next prop, telling me I was still on track.
Beside me, Brennan releases an especially loud snort and shifts on the couch. His arm flops over the side and his fingers twitch briefly into a fist before relaxing to graze the floor. He looks comfortable, at home on the plush cushions. He hasn’t screamed tonight.
I stare at his dangling hand. Firelight bounces off the face of his wristwatch. Sleepless curiosity prompts me to check the time. Eight-forty-seven. I’ve spent so long operating by light, not hours, that I immediately feel as though I’ve just done something wrong. My face warms, and I realize why as I watch the digital seconds snap toward sixty—I hadn’t expected it to be a working watch. Which is stupid; there’s no reason for a camera watch not to also tell time.
I put down my cold tea and lean toward Brennan’s hand, confronting the watch face unblinkingly. I know you’re there, I tell the producers with a look. I could steal the watch and smash it, but I won’t. I’ll let them record me, I’ll let them follow and document. That’s what I signed on for, after all. What I won’t do is let them break me. I won’t let them win.
No matter what, I will go on. I will blow through their finish line, wherever it is, and I’ll bring this living prop of theirs with me so all can see my victory.
14.
The host runs a hand through his hair, ignoring the horizon framing his reflection as he preens into his mirror. An intern deposits a duffel bag at his feet; the host hands off the mirror and at the producer’s go-ahead presents himself to the contestants. “Last night was the last time we’ll be supplying you with meat,” he says, “but the winners of this next Challenge will be rewarded with cooking supplies, so I suggest you all try your best. Everyone ready?”
The contestants stare at him. Zoo gives a halfhearted thumbs-up. Engineer manages a nod. Carpenter Chick wears a deep frown, and Waitress’s shoulders slump.
“That’s the spirit,” says the host. “There was a bear here, right here, one hour ago. It’s your job to find it. This is a Solo Challenge, but advantages will be allocated based on the order you completed the last Team Challenge.” He picks up the duffel bag. “For our first-and second-place teams, we have a profile of your target.” He hands Ziploc bags to Tracker, Zoo, Black Doctor, and Banker. Each contains a hair sample and a laminated card profiling the black bear, including to-scale depictions of paw prints and scat. “For our third-place finishers, a less complete profile.” He hands Air Force and Biology a set of cards containing bullet points about black bear behavior. “And for fourth and fifth, here.” He tosses an orange whistle to each of the remaining contestants. “Maybe you can scare it out.”
Waitress fumbles and drops her whistle. It clatters across the rock to settle at the host’s feet. He waits for her to retrieve it, then says, “Actually, there are two bears. Half of you will be pursuing one, half of you the other. I need the older member of each team to stand north of me, the younger south.”
Some teams are able to split without speaking—Tracker is at least five years older than Zoo, Black Doctor has a decade on Banker, and Rancher is the oldest of them all—but others have to talk it out. Air Force is older than Biology by a matter of weeks, and everyone is surprised to learn Engineer has two years on Carpenter Chick. Waitress doesn’t want to say her age, but Exorcist—nearly forty—pretends to be unsure which of them is older. Finally, she says, “Fine! I’m twenty-two.”
“So am I!” exclaims Exorcist.
“No, you’re not,” says Rancher. He’s had enough of Exorcist. They all have. “Go on over,” he says to Waitress.
Exorcist turns to the host. “It appears I am superfluous.”
The host tells him, “Choose a group.”
Exorcist considers his options. To the host’s left is the northern group, which consists of Tracker, Black Doctor, Rancher, Air Force, and Engineer. To the host’s right, the southern group, are Zoo, Banker, Waitress, Biology, and Carpenter Chick.
“South,” says Exorcist. He’s smirking and staring directly at Waitress.
“Great,” says the host. “You go to the north, then.”
Waitress smiles for the first time today, and a shocked look falls over Exorcist’s face. Then he nods—“Should have seen that coming”—and moves to stand with the northern group.
Chatter to the south:
“I should have saved some of that chocolate,” says Carpenter Chick.
Banker tells her, “I guess you’ll have to make do with bear.”
“You think it’ll be a real bear?” asks Zoo.
Carpenter Chick looks at her. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“He said they’re not giving us any more meat. And the deer tracks yesterday were man-made.”
“The deer you ate wasn’t,” says Banker.
“True, but…” Zoo trails off. She can’t believe that the show would have them track a real black bear. The species usually avoids people but can be dangerous if provoked. Besides, there weren’t any bears there an hour ago.
“Is everyone ready?” calls the host.
Zoo pulls out the identification card from her Ziploc bag, underwhelmed. It seems to her that winning a two-day-long Challenge should garner a greater prize. She was hoping for a cooking pot, or maybe some gorp. She looks at the bear track—which she already knows how to identify—and then around at the four other people assigned to the south. “If you find a track, don’t step on it,” she says. She doesn’t understand how this can work—five people tracking the same animal but not working together.
The host shouts, “Go!” and the contestants scatter.
Zoo hesitates, watching the mad scramble of her fellows. “This is going to be a disaster,” she says, and then she too begins to search.
While Tracker was wandering earlier, the producers told him to avoid one area, and it is to that area that he now walks, inferring. Exorcist follows him. The others go their own ways. Tracker sees the trail almost immediately: crushed foliage lined with clumps of brown-black hair. There are two perfect prints in the earth. He knows a bear would never be so obvious, but he also knows they’re not tracking a real bear. Exorcist sticks close to him. “I’m no fool,” says Exorcist. “If there’s a shortcut, I’m going to take it.”