Chapter Fourteen
Tamsyn found the walk back to camp after The Sending almost as terrifying as The Sending itself.
Which was ridiculous because she was still here in the game, safe and sound, for another few days.
It was just that the walk back was always done in near-total darkness, and the path was all roots and loose shale and the occasional branch that reached out and tried to clothesline you.
The moon was completely absent tonight, leaving the sky an endless spill of stars, though offering no form of light on the ground.
She could barely even see Isla in front of her.
Not to mention, apart from the occasional distant dingo howl and the dry chirr of crickets, the silence was thick enough to cut. Nobody said a word.
They never did.
This was the decompression walk. The silent autopsy of the evening’s events, where everyone introspectively processed Abigail being sent home and considered the newest pairing: Kendall and Frankie, who, to Frankie’s relief, could participate in challenges again.
Everything had gone as smoothly as creamy yogurt.
But even so, Tamsyn had felt the hunch. Which was basically just a faint prickle at the back of her neck, as if someone had leaned in too close and exhaled.
It was her internal smoke alarm. A warning that something wasn’t as it appeared.
Except this time, and like most other times, she had no idea what that warning was.
The first thing Tamsyn spotted when they reached the campsite was the fire.
She was quite sure a production member stayed behind to ensure the flames didn’t leap into the nearby trees or spinifex.
But now the fire had dwindled to a shallow bed of embers.
She took it upon herself to stoke the embers while everyone gathered around it.
“I’m ready for bed,” Dominique said, yawning so loud it echoed off distant rocks.
“Me too,” Petra said, already turning toward the shelter.
“Shouldn’t we do a little reflection?” Kendall asked. It had become customary for the Outlast Her contestants to come together after The Sending and mention three things they’d miss most about the person leaving.
“You’re right,” Petra said, pausing for a second before she turned back toward the fire. The others remained where they were too, each one staring down at the flames like Abigail herself might flicker to life in the curling orange tongues.
“I’ll go first,” Barra said. Was Tamsyn imagining it, or was there a little shudder in her voice? “The first time I ever met Abigail, I told her she looked like the spitting image of a young Lisa Marie Presley. She didn’t know who that was.”
Laughter rolled around the circle.
“She was a True Crime fanatic,” Josie added.
“On the second day here, we were sitting in the creek and she started telling us about this unsolved murder in a tiny Outback town that’s apparently not that far from here.
She described every detail, like the victim’s shoes, blood splatter, you name it.
I know she’s a firefighter, but I think she missed her calling to be a detective or something. ”
More laughs rippled through the clearing, including Tamsyn, whose only real conversation with Abigail had involved Ted Bundy and why she agreed with Matt DeLisi—a criminologist—that there were more victims out there.
“She had the best voice I’ve ever heard in my life,” Barra added, going again. “Her rendition of Pink Pony Club was hauntingly perfect. I still get chills just thinking about it.”
“I’m going to miss her singing every time she walked back from Moon Pit,” Kendall said. “Especially when she’d belt out Talking to the Moon. I love that song.”
“She loved anything Ed Sheeran,” Dominique added. “And Florence and the Machine. I can’t get the lyrics to Cosmic Love out of my head because that’s all she sang before bed.”
Tamsyn smiled. She enjoyed these little reflections and often found herself wondering what people would say about her if she were ever voted out.
Which she wouldn’t be; she was winning this season.
Would they comment on her cowboy boots? Her curls?
Would they say they couldn’t figure out her accent, which only ever sounded Texan when she cursed?
Without meaning to, she caught Isla’s eye.
The glow of the embers flickered in her dark pupils like tiny orange moons.
If Isla ever got voted out, Tamsyn already knew what she’d say about her.
Isla gave her emotional whiplash. One minute they were friends, the next Isla was initiating a kiss followed by asking Tamsyn to sit on her face.
Tamsyn didn’t think she could ever forget that.
And then, the next minute, she was spending every waking moment ignoring Tamsyn once again.
“I’m going to bed,” Isla announced abruptly.
She walked away before anyone even had a chance to bid her goodnight.
Fortunately, Tamsyn was quick on her feet.
She jumped up, circled the fire, and grabbed Isla’s wrist before she could get even halfway to the shelter.
“Meet me at that first clearing with the big gum tree right before Moon Pit after everyone is asleep. We need to talk,” she whispered in her ear.
If anyone had been watching, Tamsyn wouldn’t have known.
The firelight didn’t stretch that far. Out here, everything was ink and outlines.
She couldn’t even see Isla’s expression.
They did need to talk. Tamsyn’s neck was on the verge of snapping off her body from all the whiplash.
Isla stood still for just a second.
Tamsyn’s stomach rolled at the possibility that Isla would reject her, because of course that would be something Isla would do. But then Isla finally said, “Fine. I’ll meet you after everyone’s gone to sleep.”
Tamsyn released her wrist just as Petra walked past them. She couldn’t see her face clearly, but she knew in her heart that the woman was smiling. And it didn’t have the energy of a nice smile.
“Goodnight,” Tamsyn said to Petra.
“Sweet dreams, Boots,” Petra replied in a sing-song voice.
Tamsyn shook the chill off her shoulders and headed for the teepee.
After the whole snake fiasco the other night, no one else wanted to sleep anywhere near it.
Aggie had called it a snake hotel and muttered something about the canvas pooling near the ground and how that was basically a welcome mat for anything that slithered.
But Tamsyn didn’t care. She believed lightning didn’t strike in the same place twice.
In her opinion, the teepee was the safest place out there.
TAMSYN WAITED UNTIL Barra and Aggie’s snores filled the clearing.
They were like a two-man demolition crew with their deep, rattling, uneven roars.
The only thing louder was if someone shouted snake, and since there was no snake, spider, or anything that crawled tonight, Tamsyn decided it was safe enough to sneak out.
She eased herself out of the teepee. The flaps sighed softly as she slipped past them and paused for a full five seconds once she was outside.
It wasn’t out of the ordinary for someone to visit Moon Pit at night.
She’d done it several times now, but when the reason for leaving the tent at night was for something other than relieving herself, it felt criminal.
Tamsyn waited and listened. There was nothing apart from the steady rumble of Barra’s snoring, which Aggie answered in her sleep as if it were a duet. She took a deep breath and started toward the clearing, keeping her head down while her eyes squinted against the darkness.
The clearing before Moon Pit wasn’t far, but for some reason, tonight, it felt miles away.
The wind picked up as Tamsyn got closer, sliding through the trees with a long, hollow sound. The red gums creaked, their branches rubbing together like dry bones. Bark peeled with a soft ripping sound that made every single hair stand up.
She quickly wrapped her arms around herself and called out softly, “Isla.” Her voice was barely louder than the wind. “Are you here?”
But there was no answer. Just the wind gusting harder and leaves hissing overhead.
For a dreadful second, Tamsyn wondered if Isla was even going to show.
What if she’d said yes but hadn’t meant it?
What if they didn’t get a chance to speak about the other night, and tomorrow would come and go and Isla would once again remain that distant version of herself who politely asked Tamsyn to pass the rice and beans without ever catching her eye?
Tamsyn didn’t think she could take it anymore, but then a hand suddenly brushed the middle of her back at the same second warm breath ghosted across her ear. “Boo!” the voice said.
A voice that clearly belonged to Isla, yet Tamsyn’s entire body still launched forward at the same time a scream rocketed up her throat. She slapped her hand across her mouth just in time. Instead of screaming out loud, the sound exploded into her palm in a strangled, way too high-pitched wheeze.
Tamsyn took a minute to calm her feral heart before she hissed, “What the hell are you thinking, Isla? You could’ve given me a heart attack.
Or a stroke. This isn’t a fricken horror movie.
” Though it certainly felt like one. Not only was Isla chronically ignoring Tamsyn, for reasons she wasn’t responsible for, but she was also trying to kill her.
“I’m so sorry,” Isla muttered, and she did look sorry. Even in the darkness, Tamsyn could see her wince. “I really don’t know why I did that. I wasn’t even thinking. It’s a habit.”
“A habit?” Tamsyn asked, frowning. What kind of habit was scaring someone in the dark? “You’re going to have to explain that to me because that makes no sense.”