Episode 8 Celeste #2
Without them saying a word, I can sense the collective weight of the question hanging over the camp: What am I taking?
Every eye follows my hands. I want to approach this situation with care.
Strategic, but not overtly hostile. I don’t want to completely alienate the people I’m trying to build a bridge with.
I scan their supplies. I settle on a generous sack of beans. “We could really use some food if you have any to spare,” I say, keeping my voice mild. Especially now since Bo lost the chickens. “And a knife since you already have two.”
They glance at one another as if silently speaking in code. While Paya scoops beans into a small bag, Arlie exhales a sharp breath before she yanks a knife from her boot sock and flips it handle side first in my direction. Charming.
With the transaction out of the way, the tension thins out enough for them to invite me to share in their meal. We sit in a loose circle, the physical labor of the game pausing for a brief, strange window of domesticity. I eat quietly, listening to their banter, filing away their camp dynamics.
As I scoop the last piece of rice from the banana leaf I’m using as a plate and place it on the ground beside me, the weight of the fake relic sitting in my pocket seems to double. Sunrise will be here before I know it, and I need to get this thing in the ground while the camp is still distracted.
I excuse myself to use the restroom. When I stand, I startle slightly as a pristine roll of toilet paper gets flung directly at my chest. I catch it on instinct. They really do have it all here.
I stalk toward the dense brush at the back of the camp.
Once I’m certain I’m far enough away from any wandering eyes, I crouch down, pretending to do my business while searching the perimeter.
I spot a tree a few feet off the path. At its base, nestled between two thick, twisting roots, is a deep, shadowed hollow.
The kind of spot that looks like an animal nest might have occupied it once upon a time. The perfect spot.
I look over my shoulder one last time, ensuring I’m alone and slide the fake relic inside the dark cavity. Noticeable enough where someone could see it. If anyone digs this relic up and plays it at Summit, they’ll think they’re safe.
There’s a soft clucking sound behind me.
I freeze. When I turn I discover a chicken watching with judgment of a small feathered jury.
I do a double take. Is that one of our chickens?
After scanning the area again, I glimpse at the DIY wooden coop, complete with a hand carved wooden sign that reads: CLUCK.
“Don’t tell, anyone.” I whisper. Cluck cocks his head and walks back over to the coop. A brief thought to take Cluck back to my camp, but he already seems to know his name.
I brush dead leaves over the opening, smoothing the dirt until it looks untouched. Hell yes.
I should tell Beya. Stepping back and brushing the dirt from my palms, I make a mental note of it. Beya might talk a lot, but she’s fiercely loyal, and if anyone can help me manage the fallout of this play later, it’s her.
Upon my return to camp, the midday heat has subsided.
Everyone seems to have slowed down, succumbing to the heavy pull of an afternoon nap under the partly cloudy skies.
The hammocks are fully occupied with bodies wrapped in actual blankets.
Over by the firepit, Saffron is sitting on a log with Raina positioned between her legs, lazily receiving a thorough scalp massage.
I look around to find Paya, feeling more like I’m at a luxury spa retreat than a remote island. She approaches from the side of the shelter, a bucket with items in one hand and a plush, dry towel in the other. I’m beginning to see the perks of them choosing the hygiene kit and comfort items.
A spear fishing kit is valuable, but it only works as well as the person handling it. Bo has yet to catch a single fish larger than a guppy in days. Meanwhile, a soft plush towel works perfectly every single time.
I moan when Paya holds up a new toothbrush wrapped in biodegradable plastic and a travel-size toothpaste. Seeing her in a bathing suit holding toothpaste is the hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen.
“Want to go for a walk?” She hands them to me, knowing I won’t refuse.
Saffron yells out, “Don’t worry. We won’t come knocking!” Paya playfully sticks her tongue out her shoulder as we’re leaving camp.
I lift a brow in Paya’s direction. “Now, I wonder why she’d say that.” Sarcasm coats my voice at the implication.
“What?” Paya’s smile turns devious, her bottom lip sandwiching between her teeth. “You’re our guest. A shower is perk of the tour.”
Only if you’re my tour guide. I almost say, but I hold back.
My shoulders relax as we approach a flat secluded area. I enjoy the sounds of the birds chirping around us, satisfied that my mouth smells minty fresh. She rests the towel, wash cloth, and body wash on a large rock. Minutes later, the shower is set up.