Chapter Three
Sabine smiled like she wanted nothing more than to get to know the other contestants. Which she absolutely didn’t. At least not until she knew what was in that box.
Curiosity was driving a slow nail into her heart. In fact, her fingers were itching to get a peek. So much so that she had to busy herself by brushing sand off her knees. She wanted to flip open the lock and pull out whatever scrap of parchment was surely inside.
If she’d reached the chest first, she would’ve done exactly that without hesitation.
There would have been no waiting for anyone else to tell her what to do.
But Sabine avoided the chest on purpose.
She wasn’t an idiot. She’d watched enough Survivor seasons to know that whoever had an advantage this early in the game would automatically be on the chopping block.
Sabine wouldn’t be surprised if the woman in the pink windbreaker was voted off first.
Unless, of course, the advantage was immunity, which she doubted. It was too early for that. And maybe Outlast Her didn’t have immunity. She hadn’t thought about that until right now. That realization sat uncomfortably in her chest.
“Alright, everyone, should we form a loose circle?” Talia asked, flourishing her arms out as if she were gathering a swarm of mosquitoes. “We can start by saying our names, where we’re from, and what we do for a living.”
“Should we add in a little fun tidbit about ourselves?” a woman with a Milwaukee Brewers cap on her head asked.
She wore a deep violet triangle bikini, and her abs stuck out like bricks.
Sabine had to divert her eyes before she stared.
But then again, she also wanted to roll them.
Not only did she detest icebreakers, because they made everything ten times more awkward in her opinion, but she also wished she hadn’t heard Talia’s name yesterday.
For some reason, which she couldn’t medically explain, she’d spent a good portion of yesterday repeating the name to herself.
While she’d stood in front of the open mini fridge, stocked with six kinds of sparkling water, she’d wondered if Talia preferred lime or lychee, which was stupid really, because no one liked lychee.
And this morning, while she’d brushed her teeth and mint foam dripped down her chin, she’d wondered who would name their child something that sounded so smooth.
And then, while she’d soaked in her bath, relishing feeling clean for the last time in a while, she’d tested the name on her tongue.
Just twice. Which was enough to be a problem.
Clearly, Sabine wasn’t focused on the game.
And she had to be focused to win this thing.
She could win if luck was on her side, which it usually was.
Just last week, she’d somehow managed, in what most would call record time, to stop the arterial bleed of a man who’d crashed his motorcycle into a streetlight.
Sabine quickly brushed more sand off her legs and joined the circle.
Most of the women were still breathing as if they’d sprinted the length of Manhattan. Her lungs, on the other hand, were perfectly regulated.
Sabine swatted a bug that landed on her shoulder and instead of sizing up the women standing around her, she concentrated on the ocean behind her.
The waves hissed as they dragged themselves up the shore before retreating again.
She hadn’t even had time to properly study the island where she’d spend the next twenty-eight days, but then again, she assumed there would be two islands.
One for each tribe. Though in all seriousness, there wasn’t much clarity in how this show was going to play out.
She had no idea whether there were going to be two tribes.
In fact, she didn’t know if they would even be called tribes.
Sabine hoped that whatever was in that small chest would at least give them some answers.
“Well, I’ll go first,” said the woman in the windbreaker.
“My name is Amy and I’m from California and work as a kindergarten teacher.
I also play for the Bay Breakers Rugby Club.
Last year we won the Women’s Premier League final against the Glendale Merlins, which might not be a big deal to most people, but it was actually huge for us. ”
Ahh, Sabine thought. That explained the tackle.
The woman with dreadlocks went next. “I’m Shakira—”
“Like the singer?” Talia interrupted, and Sabine had to remind herself not to get aggravated. There was always one contestant who thought it was okay to interrupt. It was the same contestant who usually annoyed the socks off everyone else. Talia was in the running.
Shakira inhaled deeply, like this wasn’t the first time she’d been asked that question, and nodded.
“Yes, like the singer. But I can’t sing to save my life.
I’m from Boston, and I work as a microbiologist. A fun fact about me is that I discovered a previously undocumented strain of soil bacteria during my graduate research, and I named it after one of Shakira’s songs. She Wolf. I thought it was fitting.”
There were a few impressed murmurs around the circle.
Even Sabine had to admit it was pretty cool.
She’d always thought she’d one day have a signature stitch or some flashy cardiac procedure that she would publish in Circulation Research and teach it at Johns Hopkins Hospital to eager surgical residents.
Instead, she’d chosen emergency medicine and so far, her only signature was her lilac Crocs with two white and yellow daisy jibbitz on each shoe.
A tall woman with black hair and a porcelain complexion took half a step forward. “I’m Monique and I’m from Wisconsin. I work as a climate scientist, and on the last few weekends, my wife and I have driven cross-country in search of the best bear claw donut.”
Then another woman—short, mousy blonde with a beauty spot above her upper lip—introduced herself as Hanna, a real estate agent in Atlanta.
And another, with dark skin and dark eyes, said her name was Taye, and that she was a graphic designer from Chicago.
She also enjoyed crossbreeding plants into new hybrids as a hobby.
Sabine just heard Isla from New York mention that she was a model and had spent the majority of last year working in Paris, before the rest of the introductions blurred together.
In fact, Sabine wasn’t listening at all. Her focus was entirely on the chest Amy had set down at her feet. She kept wondering what was inside. What kind of game-changer could there possibly be? Was there any way she could possibly benefit?
Someone cleared her throat.
Then, Sabine felt warmth on her arm and looked down to see long, slender fingers curled around her wrist. When she looked up, she saw Talia staring at her with a slight frown on her face, and her concentration shifted.
It was like she had tunnel vision. All she could see in front of her was Talia’s face, her brown eyes, light, like honey left in the sun.
Her skin was smooth and dewy. She had the faintest freckle above her lip.
The only freckle on her face, actually. Or maybe there were more elsewhere that were visible without her being naked.
“Um,” Talia said softly. “It’s your turn.”
“My turn to—” But then Sabine remembered where she was, why she was there, and heat suddenly seared down her neck.
“Sorry,” she apologized quickly. But then regretted it immediately.
Not only had she completely zoned out, which was so unlike her.
She was also caught staring at the box like a psychopath.
Then she had been caught staring at Talia like a creepy stalker.
This wasn’t the start she wanted. This wasn’t the first impression she wanted to give.
“I’m Sabine,” she said, hating how her voice suddenly sounded.
It was so high-pitched. Would clearing her throat help or make it worse?
Why the hell was she overthinking this? It was just an introduction.
But still, it felt like everything suddenly depended on this.
“I’m from Seattle, and I work as an emergency physician at Harborview Memorial Hospital.
” In that moment, she couldn’t think of a single fun fact about her life.
Or any fact, which was absurd considering all that she’d accomplished in her life.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again just as Talia clapped her hands together.
“Great,” Talia said, holding Sabine’s gaze. “That’s all of us. Should we see what’s in that box? I’m honestly dying to know. Well done, Amy, on finding it first. I hope I never have to come head-to-head with you in a challenge. You might just break me in half.”
Amy laughed.
Sabine inhaled through her nose.
She wasn’t sure if she should be grateful that Talia had somehow known the exact moment Sabine’s mind had gone blank or upset with herself for looking like a fool.
Or both. And then there was also disappointment that she hadn’t heard Talia introduce herself.
Which, frankly, only created even more discontent because there was no reason for her to even care.
“Okay, everyone, let’s do this,” Amy said, dropping to her knees in the sand. She flipped the chest open with both hands. The hinge squeaked, and everyone held their breath. Sabine included. In fact, her lungs felt vacuum-sealed, like the air had been sucked out of them.
Inside the box sat a rolled parchment, sun-stained and cracked at the edges, tied with a thin leather cord. Beside it was a mustard-colored pouch that looked deceptively soft.
Amy lifted the pouch, and as she did, something clinked. Then she reached for the parchment, slid the leather tie loose, and unfurled the scroll. Grains of sand spilled from the creases as she flattened it against her thigh.
Sabine bit the side of her cheek. Amy was taking her sweet ass time, and Sabine had to do everything in her power not to rip that parchment out of her hand and read it out loud herself.
Amy breathed in deep and squared her shoulders as she began to read aloud. “Welcome to Outlast Her.” Her voice dropped enough to make the jungle behind them seem to lean closer. “Twenty-eight days. One ocean. One island. One title.”
Sabine’s heart was racing.
And then it nearly stopped when Amy read, “This is not a game of individuals.”
Wait. What?
“Not a game of individuals?” Hanna said, her frown so deep that her thick eyebrows became one long dark line across her forehead. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Shh,” Isla scowled. “Let her finish.”
Amy readjusted her fingers around the parchment and carried on. “From this moment forward, you will not stand alone. You will compete in pairs.”
“Pairs?” Talia spluttered, but then quickly slammed a palm over her mouth when Isla sent her a look so hot it could burn a hole through an ironing board.
Sabine rarely spoke out of turn, but even she was close to interrupting.
“Inside the pouch are twelve colored rocks.” Amy lifted the pouch for everyone to see.
“Each of you will draw one. Two rocks of the same color form a pair. Your pair is permanent. You will compete together. You will strategize together. You will survive together.” She glanced up briefly, then back down.
“When one of you wins, you both win. When one of you fails, so does the other. Every challenge. Every vote. Every decision will test not just your strength, but your ability to adapt to the person who matters most.” Then she exhaled shakily, which she was sure mirrored how everyone felt.
Stupefied, flabbergasted. Viscerally discombobulated.
Vivian had been right; this was a game-changer.
“Trust is currency,” Amy read. “Luck is fleeting. Outlast... or be dragged under.” She was just about to fold up the paper when she spotted a scribble on the flip side.
Sabine had noticed it earlier, but it was too small to make out what was written.
“The player who claims this advantage may override chance. Before the rocks are revealed, you may choose your partner,” Amy finished, then she folded the paper and placed it back in the box.
“I’m confused,” Shakira said, shaking her head. “How is there only one winner but we have to work in pairs? Does that not make sense to anyone else, or is it just me?”
That was a great question. An intelligent question. If they had to be paired, Sabine silently hoped she’d end up with someone who had brains. Someone like Shakira.
“I’m sure it will explain itself at some point,” Monique offered. She adjusted the straps of her bikini top and turned to Amy, who, if Sabine wasn’t mistaken, had gone a little pale. “Who do you want to pair up with, Amy?”
Amy looked utterly regretful. Sabine would be too. Picking someone you’d basically just met felt reckless. Honestly, it was better to let chance handle things. And this was coming from someone who didn’t believe in fate and tried to control everything down to the last hair on her head.
“Ummm...” Amy muttered.
What followed was a bunch of women talking over each other.
Once Amy had decided she’d like to be paired up with Shakira, to which Sabine had suppressed a jealous groan, Hanna had then suggested alphabetical order.
But eventually they’d landed on age. Oldest to youngest. Which, frankly, had been a kick in the gut since Sabine had learned that she was somehow the second-oldest woman standing on that beach.
She couldn’t believe it. Just like she couldn’t believe Charlize, who practically looked forty, was nearing her sixties.
“Charlize goes first,” Talia said.
Which she did.
And when it was Sabine’s turn, she stepped forward and brushed the pouch with her fingers.
Her hand hovered. Then she picked out a rock, gripped it tight so no one could see the color, and stepped back into the circle.
She waited while the others drew theirs.
She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous.
Not a six-year-old on a gurney after a freeway pileup while her mother screamed from the hallway level nervous. But close.
“Everyone ready?” Shakira said once the bag was completely empty. “On the count of three, we reveal our rocks... One... Two... Three.”
Sabine opened her hand. A smooth, almost round stone sat in her palm. “Blue,” she muttered under her breath.