Season 20, Episode 11 “… And Start Getting Real”
“… And Start Getting Real”
Greta provided us bright red snowsuits before we boarded the chopper, but the imminent cold was nothing compared to Erika’s demeanor.
“It makes me sick thinking how many excuses I made for you,” she grumbled, tugging the zipper up her chest. “All the shit you’ve been complicit in, and I just swept it under the rug because I felt sorry for you.
I don’t care what whitewashed narrative the network tries to force down people’s throats, I’ll be giving my unvarnished opinion of you to every journalist and podcast that will have me. ”
“That is entirely your right,” I said, fully meaning it. “I’ll never contradict you.”
“PB was right. You truly can’t find anything better to do with your life than this show. It’s honestly pitiful.”
“Erika, stop,” Imogen said. “You might hate Luke, but I promise you can trust him. And you know you can trust me, so let’s please just get through today?”
“I don’t owe either of you anything,” Erika snapped.
“Actually, you do,” Greta remarked from the sidelines. “Imogen, at least.”
Imogen’s eyes narrowed. “Greta, don’t.”
“What? She should know why you came back here after your divorce.”
“Excuse me?” Erika asked.
“The network never wanted to cast you, but Imogen baked it into her deal—which she has done every season since.”
“Why didn’t they want me?” Erika demanded. “Because I was trans? More stupid bullshit about how to categorize me for the Trials?”
“They were afraid of reminding viewers about your brother,” Greta replied, not unkindly.
Erika froze then, all the wind knocked out of her. “How could you not tell—”
“I never wanted you to doubt you deserved to be here,” Imogen said.
“But why keep coming back for me?”
Imogen held her gaze. “I guess I didn’t have anything better to do with my life.”
A chastened Erika followed Greta toward the helicopter, cooperating for now.
“It was good of you, to do that for her,” I said to Imogen as she finished lacing her boots.
She inhaled, something twisting behind her eyes. “I did it because someone did the same for me. For us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it, Luke. How would a Black girl who lasted three episodes on Medals of Honor and a gay guy with no TV experience get cast on a Battle of the Reality Superstars?”
My lips parted, but I struggled to even say his name. “Arjun?”
“Mary Peach told me after he died. He wanted someone on his team who was strong. Apparently that was me. And he wanted someone he could trust. Which was you,” she said. “He thought we’d gotten raw deals, so he made the network cast us. Fresh start.”
I thought back to the airport, how excited he’d been, as if we were the friends he’d been waiting on for longer than we’d known. “Why didn’t he tell us?”
She smiled sadly. “Maybe he wanted us to decide about him for ourselves.”
“Are you coming?” Erika yelled over the blades of the chopper.
I turned to meet Erika’s eyes, blazing just like his, Arjun still calling me for the journey I never realized he’d chosen for me.
We hadn’t found each other; he’d come looking for me.
But instead of guilt, I felt only gratitude now.
He’d set me on the path to my life. Sure, countless things had gone wrong—for him, me, Imogen, Barnes.
How many times had we all failed, only to return to where we’d made our first pivotal mistakes?
But how much had been gained? Arjun had given me my children, my family, without even realizing it.
Everything traced back to him deciding how he wanted the world to look, at least for a summer.
Even if that world had spun so far off its axis it almost shattered, it didn’t mean it hadn’t been the right world, that it wasn’t still.
“They filmed Lord of the Rings here. It’s very famous ice,” Greta said reverently as the helicopter descended to the glacier below.
I saw what looked like a frozen football field, then realized it was a cemetery of snow angels carved into the massive shelf, with five gates to the north.
Barnes was smashing each angel with a pickax, tomb raiding while Fortune rested.
We exited the chopper, razor-thin air slashing my throat, the oxygen low.
“Welcome to the Franz Josef glacier!” Ecklund proclaimed, draped in a Flintstone-esque faux fur (I know because it boasted the embroidery “Don’t Worry, I’m Fake!
”). “Three hundred twenty-three contestants have competed on Endeavor, and these snow angels represent them all. There’s a key buried inside every one, including one unique to each of you.
Only your key unlocks your gate, unless you clip—”
“Just give us the damn pickaxes,” I interrupted, desperate to make up time.
Barnes had left slipshod tracks through the snow, disemboweled angels and abandoned keys discarded in his wake. “Is it random?” I asked.
“No!” Erika replied, brightening. She picked up two discarded keys, which had first names emblazoned on bloodred ribbons. “Vanessa’s key, right by Ethan’s.”
“Who’s Ethan?” I asked.
“Vanessa Faccelli by Ethan Faria,” she whispered intently. “Alphabetical by last name.”
“Still the puzzle master.” I smiled. “Barnes won’t know most of these people, let alone their last names. If we get his key, we have all the leverage.”
“We still need one of ours to move forward,” Imogen reminded.
They went to suss out where Bhaduri and Cuthbert fell, while I marched toward the middle, hoping for a G.
I cut into a random angel and found Royce.
Miracle. Someone I knew. Royce Green. Griffin couldn’t be too far away.
The next was Winston, and I racked my brain back to the Amish wisp…
Her last name was Hilty. If Green was by Hilty, where was I? Then I realized.
Troy. Before he’d been fired, he had every chance to remove my key while prepping this site, just like he’d done with the puzzle piece in China. He would have dreamed of me rooting around until he discarded the key in the slush. What other traps had he hidden?
I saw Barnes staggering toward the girls. Even Fortune was moving, aware we were congregating in one quadrant. I hurried to Imogen and Erika in the upper-most corner. “Mine wasn’t there,” I wheezed. “A parting gift from Troy, I think.”
“What do we do?” Erika asked.
“Get yours, and I’ll find Barnes.” I prayed Appleby wouldn’t be too far down the row.
Within three keys, I discovered Chase. Chase Ankony, the tattooed ghoul.
I cracked the next angel’s heart, digging until my gloves found metal.
For the first time in ages I was elated to see Barnes’ name, but then Imogen’s cry pierced the air.
His key in my fist, I whipped to discover Barnes had hitched himself to the one person he knew I’d never abandon.
Barnes apparently found Erika’s key before we’d even arrived, keeping it as bait for precisely this moment.
Clipped together, we hiked across the glacier like a chain gang, Erika leading, then me, Imogen, Barnes, and Fortune.
Zara and a skeleton crew shuffled out of frame, a drone whirring as the afternoon sun pulsed.
Barnes’ face was already burned bright red, and I imagined mine wasn’t far behind.
The silence was a relief until Barnes finally piped up, “$1 million each isn’t a bad outcome. ”
“$5 million is better,” Erika said curtly.
“You sure you’re not a Republican?” He smirked. “Come on, can we compromise?”
Imogen groaned. “Barnes, you already lied once today.”
“It was for your own good. You needed to slow down and listen to reason,” he said, voice raspy from the cold. “We can make a deal here.”
“Oh, I remember our deal in Alaska.”
“And didn’t I do exactly what I said?”
“You did,” Imogen agreed. “Precisely so you could walk away with every red cent and make the rest of us chumps in the process, including your own husband.”
“Well, you’re the one who kicked him in the ribs, not me.”
“Both of you, stop,” Fortune said through heaving breaths.
“I promise I’ll protect anyone attached to Luke,” Barnes announced, ignoring him.
“He didn’t say anyone attached to you, Fortune,” I called over my shoulder. “You really want to stay his muscle? It’s not a good long-term prospect, believe me.”
I noticed Erika abruptly slow as we rounded a rocky outcropping that burst from the ice. Across the whiteness was a network of five different-colored balance beams, all about forty feet long and four feet off the ground. A lone gate stood nearby, helicopters beyond. We had to be nearing the end…
I stealthily unhooked my carabiner from Erika’s belt, the subtle release of pressure causing her to slightly jump. “Fast as you can,” I whispered. “I’ll get your key.”
Like a gunshot, Erika burst across the powder, and Imogen gasped behind me.
We both saw the same ghost. Pounding through the sheet of white, her gait had become less precise, almost identical to her brother’s gangly strides.
She hastily discarded her boots, mounting her beam in stocking feet, and pride blossomed within me. She was on her way.
Barnes exhaled. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Add it to the list,” I replied. “Now hand over her key, or yours goes down the deepest crevasse I can find.”
He shook his head, as if truly regretting what would follow. “Fortune.”
Fortune sniffed recalcitrantly, not meeting Imogen’s gaze or mine. He unclipped from Barnes and stomped after Erika. “Fortune, no!” Imogen cried. “She was your partner!”
Nonetheless, he reached Erika’s beam and hit it with a powerful thwack, causing the whole structure to shudder. Erika nearly fell as he drew closer, striking the beam as he walked beside it. He finally stopped just ahead of her, leaning against the beam, a monstrous gatekeeper to bar her progress.
“Can he do this?!” I demanded of Zara.
She threw up her hands guiltily. “Players can always impede another’s progress.”
How could I protect her from Fortune? My mind raced, until…
The apple tree. Balthazar and I throttling each other. All permissible physical contact required by the game, a loophole to make a headbanger. “Zara, are the rules like at the first Trial? Would that be considered ‘impeding’?”
Barnes looked confused, but Zara swelled with satisfaction. “No punching, no choking,” she said with a tight smile, and Imogen immediately released me from my tether.
I raced to where Fortune stood at the middle of Erika’s beam. He raised his hands defensively, but I still rammed into his side. I managed to bring him to the ground but ended up under him in the process.
As Fortune pinned me, I glimpsed Erika above us, warily clinging to the beam on all fours.
Barnes seized the opportunity to unclip from Imogen and sprint toward us.
He too removed his boots and ascended the course on a different beam, cutting his losses to attempt a crossing while Imogen pursued him.
Despite my struggling, Fortune managed to toss me away.
I landed roughly in the snow, and he proceeded to throw himself into Erika’s beam, slamming his mammoth torso so hard against it that the whole section snapped.
A gap about six feet long now blocked her path, Fortune inserting himself there like an immovable troll.
Summoning what energy I had left, I tackled him again. His sweat and snot dripped on my neck as we crashed down, hopefully buying Erika time. “Jump!” I cried. “You can do it!”
“It’s too far,” she answered. I lost my grip as Fortune rolled over, trying to stand, but I saw an opening and kicked him so hard in his calves he crumpled down.
We had seconds. I rushed to stand, opening my arms to Erika, and she didn’t question it. She leapt to me, and I swiftly ferried her over the gap to the other side. “Go!” I howled.
All impediments gone, she shot across the remainder of her beam in seconds, calling from the end of the obstacle, “Does Barnes still have my key?”
Fortune enveloped me right as I nodded, binding my arms so tightly I almost felt my lungs pounding against my ribs when he began hauling me toward the gate.
Barnes halted on his beam to pull Erika’s key from his snow pants. With a cartoon villain’s flair, he sent it spinning across the snow. “Imogen, I’ll stall! Help her!” I gulped out.
Imogen and Erika both chased after the key, allowing Barnes to briskly finish his beam and stalk over.
Despite my thrashing, he unzipped my jacket pocket and retrieved his key.
I squirmed fruitlessly in the knotted shackles of Fortune’s arms as Barnes clipped his carabiner onto my belt, then attached Fortune to his. “I’m not leaving them!” I yelled.
“You don’t have a choice,” Barnes replied. “No safety check. You’re stuck with us.”
“What happened to protecting them?”
“I said I’d protect anyone attached to you… Where’s the lie?”
“Barnes,” Zara interrupted grimly. “You can impede, but you can’t render someone physically unable to complete the competition. Leave it.”
Barnes sighed, producing another key from his jacket, its ribbon labeled Erika. I was dumbfounded as he blithely dropped it by the gate.
“It seemed wise to grab an extra. Right now they’re hunting Picholine’s key, whoever the fuck that is.” His casual tone belied the wicked twinkle in his eye. “Just like Imogen’s sandcastle in the Turks and Caicos, remember?”
I screamed to Erika and Imogen that they were chasing the wrong key, but the helicopter drowned me out as Fortune hauled me inside.