Chapter 5
EITHER EVERYONE HERE IS AN IDIOT,OR I NEED TO GIVE MYSELF MORE CREDIT
DEAN
Yeah. I’m going down.
But I can’t tame my worries as we hike back down the trail to the parking lot, where us contestants are ushered into one sleek black bus, and the camera crew pack themselves into three others.
Just my luck that the first challenge relies on speed, something I don’t have.
How can I make up for my points through the strategy-based games when the slowest four people are going home right now?
I could beat a first grader in a race on a good day, maybe a third grader on a very good day, but today?
Any energy I had left after my flight I exhausted trying to get up this goddamn mountain and then arguing with a beautiful, annoying girl.
I wonder for half a second what Garrett and Blake are thinking, throwing us headfirst into a marathon after what must have been a long morning of travel for everyone, until it clicks: They want to push us to our limits, physically and mentally.
Everyone knows the best outbursts on reality TV come when the contestants are too exhausted to filter themselves.
Or maybe they’re just evil.
It’s a long, bumpy road down the mountain to wherever the set of our challenge will be.
Once the bus turns off the highway, we stop passing cars and start cruising alongside the Nisqually River.
I watch the muddy, brown water run on the other side of the road, waiting for a sign of a nearby town to appear, but after we drive through Elbe, there are only markers for the speed limit.
An hour later, the bus takes a turn onto a gravel road that leads into the woods.
One of the crew members hops out and opens the gate blocking the path, knocking down the Private Property: Do Not Enter sign in the process.
We drive until the trees get so dense they block out the sunlight.
Eventually, the bus groans to a stop in a clearing, and we step out.
It’s hotter here than on the mountain, muggy without the crisp breeze from the snowcaps.
The sound of babbling water nearby and birds tweeting in the trees mixes with the clatter of equipment as the crew members unload their luggage.
One of the contestants, a tall girl with thin braids to her waist, puts her hand on her hip as she scrutinizes our surroundings. “This forest is almost identical to the one at camp,” she says. “Why’d we have to come all the way out here?”
Garrett, who is apparently an omnipresent figure ready to barge into any conversation, sidles up next to her.
“Because we own these trees and can do anything we’d like to them.
But if we so much as snap a branch on the ones on Mount Rainier, our lovely friends at the ranger station will slap a hefty fine and a federal misdemeanor on us,” he says, not a trace of shame in his tone.
“With the challenges we have in store for you guys, we can’t exactly ‘leave no trace.’”
He walks away then, whistling to himself. The girl watches him go with her mouth pulled back in a disgusted sneer. “Just because you can legally damage this land doesn’t mean you should.”
She put to word the feelings I didn’t have the guts to say out loud, especially not with the cameras up and rolling again.
It’s not like I should be surprised that a game show playing with people’s emotions for views has no moral qualms about buying out a forest to do whatever they’d like with it.
Money-hungry network executives aren’t exactly saints.
I take a moment to size up the competition and quickly realize I’m out of my league when it comes to physicality.
My only strategy is to keep up as best I can and hope there’s a component of this race that’s better suited to my strengths.
The first challenge is important for so many reasons—it sets the tone for the rest of the season, and both the viewers and producers will use this moment to gauge your character moving forward.
But for me, I know I have to go above and beyond if I want to earn any shred of my dignity back after that embarrassing fight with Seyoon.
Once all the camera operators have stationed up in the woods, we’re led a few paces away to an opening in the wall of trees: a flattened, dirt hiking trail.
Garrett paces in front of us with his hands behind his back like a drill sergeant.
I squint to see him against the backdrop of a million lighting umbrellas.
“Now, contestants, this isn’t going to be any regular old race.
I don’t want to spoil anything, but prepare for a few obstacles in your way.
There are plenty of cameras placed in the trees and along the route, so smile.
The only rule is you can’t cut through the woods, but besides that, hey, get creative.
” Garrett pulls a whistle out of his blazer pocket and brings it to his lips. “On your marks…”
I look down the line to where Seyoon is. She digs her heels into the dirt, then glances my way when she feels me looking. The corner of her mouth quirks up. Like she already knows she has this in the bag. My stomach flips.
“Get set…”
Floodlights set up in the trees explode with life, illuminating a stark path down the mountain trail.
The whistle screeches, and everyone takes off in a flurry of stomping feet.
I get jostled in a sea of shoulders and elbows. Seyoon moves out in front, taking the lead in just three long, quick strides. It’s not long after until her and the others are lost to the forest ahead of me. I’m behind. Already. Fuck. I scramble to catch up.
Forget that corny quote about overcoming your fears—Teddy Roosevelt would stone me to death himself, I think as my feet pound the earth, shins twinging at every heavy step. Shit. Don’t panic. You can’t give up yet. The race has just started. Something will—
“Woah!”
There’s a shout from up ahead. Then a second confused yell, and the rustle of foliage. I pick up the pace, round a corner in the path, and follow the flags lining the trail until it opens into a large clearing.
A handful of the others are here, but they’re not running like I expected. Instead, they’re milling around the open area, eyes on their feet, jumping at every snap of a twig like they’re worried the ground is going to open up and—
“AAAH!” A girl at the far end of the clearing disappears into a pitfall trap, neatly concealed by foliage and branches. A moment later, her hand shoots up above the earth. “I’m okay.”
Somebody else falls into another hole that was hidden by moss, and now I get why they had to buy a plot of forest for this show.
Can’t exactly get away with digging trenches on government-protected land.
I take a step back, wary of the dirt beneath my feet.
I’m glad I wasn’t the first person to stumble upon this.
… Wait. It’s actually a good thing I’m last. I can use this.
Despite the itch that tells me to hurry, I wait and analyze where the contestants ahead of me place their steps.
A girl with a short black bob leaps over a suspicious lump of grass and makes it to the other side safely.
A boy to her left doesn’t have such luck.
Someone else inches across slowly like it’s a minefield (and makes it across in one piece) while another person zigzags like they’re outrunning a crocodile.
(That strategy is a myth, I’m pretty sure.
They trip in a hole anyway.) Six people fall in, and the rest make it across.
The camera operators stick as far to the outskirts as they can, looking at their own feet anxiously.
I follow the path of safety the others laid out and spare a quick glance into one of the pitfalls. They’re shallow, and those that have fallen in are already scrabbling up the dirt walls and climbing out. It’s not much, but it does buy me some time.
I run for several minutes, avoiding looking at the cameras positioned every fifty feet or so and the ones hiding in the tree branches, before I’m stopped by the path ending abruptly again.
The dirt crumbles into a steep crag about five or ten feet above a creek.
Carefully, I inch toward the edge and gaze at the water and rocks below.
“Is Garrett trying to kill us on national television?” I ask aloud.
TSW Studios would like to remind viewers at home that all Forest Feud challenges and courses are quality tested to ensure contestants’ safety.
TSW Studios is not liable for any harm or injury that may come upon contestants during their time on the show, and individuals waive their right to sue Forest Feud or its affiliated company for damages, injury, or death.
The only way across is over the bridge, if you can call it that.
It’s a long, skinny wooden board just wider than my shoe.
Three people who beat me here are trying to cross it, wobbling and holding their arms out as they carefully place one foot in front of the other.
I watch them in a mix of confusion and awe and make no move to join them.
I have brain cells to preserve, after all.
“Why would they all try to go across at once?” I mutter aloud.
Whoever’s in front puts their foot down a little too hard, wobbling the board and sending everyone overboard. My heart drops—until their heads immediately bob back up. The water’s deep but slow.
“Gah!” yells one contestant as the creek drifts him lazily downstream. “Fuck you… uh, what was your name?”
“Sid—” Another person, the guilty party, gargles as water washes over his face. “Sorry. Siddharth.”
“Oh, yeah. Fuck you, Siddharth!”
Speakers from somewhere in the trees crackle to life. Garrett’s voice fills the forest.
Contestants! Even if you fall in the water or one of the pitfalls, don’t give up. You’re not out of the race yet!
That’s my sign to get a move on. Doing my best to ignore what sounds like rapidly approaching footsteps behind me, and those in the water already swimming toward shore, I swallow down my fear and force myself onto the bridge.
You can do this. Be brave, Dean. Or at least, pretend that you are for the next ten seconds.
My foot slips, and I barely manage to regain my balance. My half-hearted optimism is not helping. What does get me all the way across the creek—albeit slowly and unsteadily—is the memory of Seyoon sighing and saying, Even though I’m going to win, I hope we can become friends.
Like hell.
Once I’m on solid ground, my breath returns to me more steadily than it has all morning. I glance over my shoulder, stunned to see the distance between me and the others.
Huh. I may not be the fastest, or the strongest, but I can think on my feet. It’s the one thing I’m confident about.
Or maybe I just have more common sense than everyone else here.
My earlier impending sense of doom dissipates.
It’s happening. A two-bedroom apartment in Portland with my and Meredith’s names on the lease.
Something for Dad to remember me by when I leave, something that’ll ease the sting when he laments the distance between us.
I’m doing it. I’m going to make them both proud.
Because I can win. And nobody is going to get in my way, no matter how infuriatingly beautiful or athletic or annoying they are.
Without wasting another second, I take off down the path, adrenaline licking at my heels and fire burning in my lungs as I chase after Seyoon.