Chapter Seventeen
Sabine would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. There was a knot in her stomach the size of a bowling ball, and although she’d spent much of the afternoon trying to shake it loose, it stayed put. The Sending did that. It had a way of making even good plans feel flimsy.
Which was annoying, since it was a good plan.
Yesterday, under the tattered shade of a banana tree, Sabine and Talia had managed to convince—though not as easily as expected—Connie and Charlize to turn against Isla and Taye on the next vote.
Charlize had been the hardest nut to crack.
“I don’t think that’s good for our game,” Charlize had said while Connie sneezed and blew her nose.
Twice Sabine had leaned back just in time to avoid a spray of germs. “We need to vote out Marloe and Lucia.”
“If you vote out Marloe and Lucia,” Sabine had said. “You’ll be the next vote.”
“And why is that, exactly?” Charlize asked. “You two might be the next vote.”
“Isla and Taye trust us,” Sabine said, grasping at straws.
She was right; they very well might be the next vote if this plan didn’t pan out the way she wanted.
The thought made her feel physically sick.
She had barely even managed to dodge that third sneeze and was only slightly grateful for Charlize telling Connie to wait over by the other tree.
“And your names have come up,” Talia added quickly.
Charlize had seemed surprised by this. Sabine too. She couldn’t remember a conversation where their names had been mentioned, but then she realized, quite happily, that Talia was bluffing.
“You’re stronger than Lucia and Marloe,” Talia had said.
“And you’re better at puzzles than Monique and Amy.
You’re a threat.” This wasn’t technically true, but Talia had sold it better than a cashmere scarf at a Black Friday sale, and Sabine had felt a hot rush sweep straight through her hips.
She could’ve kissed Talia right then and there.
Luckily, Amy and Monique were easier to sway this morning.
Amy was still reeling from saying goodbye to Shakira, and also because Taye and Isla’s next vote was Amy and Monique.
They’d be saving their own asses by siding with Sabine and Talia.
“I’ll do it, but only if we vote out Taye.
I think it was her idea to vote out Shakira in the first place. ”
Whether that was the truth or not, Sabine didn’t care. She didn’t care if it was Isla or Taye who went out first. As long as she destabilized the throne.
“Welcome to the third Sending,” Vivian said, her voice smoother than marble. This evening, she wore faded black ankle-grazer jeans, gladiator sandals, and a white tank top with a square neck that accentuated her cleavage to the point where several of the contestants were blinking more than normal.
There was a ripple of nervous smiles and one unnecessary whoop from Talia.
Vivian turned toward Connie and smiled. “How are you feeling? You started with a head cold two days ago but went through the worst of it yesterday. Dr. Maurine, the on-site medic, said if it went to your chest, you’d be at risk of going home.”
“She did,” Connie said, dabbing at the tip of her nose with the back of her hand. It was still pink, a little raw but a lot less splotchy than before. “She explained that a sudden spike in temperature or even minor chest tightness could land me in trouble.”
“Luckily there’s a doctor amongst us,” Vivian said, gesturing toward Sabine.
Her stomach dropped at the mention, like she was living a recurring nightmare.
Every single Thanksgiving, her Uncle Yates would ask her opinion about a mole on his back.
She could be off duty, miles from the nearest hospital, stuffed with pumpkin pie, and somehow still be responsible for everyone’s moles, colds, lumps, and bumps.
Still, she smiled politely.
Connie gave a raspy laugh. “If I stopped breathing, I would have been in good hands,” she replied, then turned to Sabine and winked. Sabine took it as a sign that things were still going according to plan. Although it didn’t shrink the bowling ball in Sabine’s stomach.
Not while Taye was sitting beside her, so close she could hear the click-click of her knuckles every few minutes.
Not with Isla just behind her, with her toes brushing against her stump that she shouldn’t be able to feel, but somehow did.
Yesterday, when Isla and Taye had gotten back from the challenge, looking bright-eyed from the snorkeling and overstuffed from the decadent feast they’d enjoyed afterward, they’d taken Sabine aside.
“We’re still on for Amy and Monique, right?
” Taye had asked. “We’ve got the numbers. ”
“It will be an easy vote,” Isla had said.
Sabine had smiled and pretended she wasn’t about to stab them in the back. “The easiest.” In this game, there never really was such a thing as an easy vote.
Vivian turned toward Amy. “How are you finding your new pairing?” she asked, clasping her hands in front of her.
Apart from her ginormous diamond ring, Vivian wore only a thin, delicate bracelet around her wrist. “I can imagine there must be some relief being able to participate in challenges again.”
Amy uncrossed one leg only to cross the other.
“It’s good,” she said, nodding. Everyone else had started feeling sorry for Monique.
Amy’s ongoing moping consisted of moments of elation and normalcy, and then downward spirals where she disappeared to the beach all by herself for hours.
Frankly, Sabine understood why Isla and Taye wanted her out.
She was beginning to feel like a human cloud of gloom.
“We’re still finding our rhythm. We’re not perfect.
But we’re learning to trust each other.”
“Trust,” Vivian stretched the word out like an elastic band. “It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?” She tilted her head just slightly, enough for a few blonde strands to fall out of their perfect place, and said, “Isla.”
Sabine looked back over her shoulder just in time to catch Isla sitting up straighter, almost like she was unlocking her spine. She smiled. “Yes, Vivian,” she said smoothly.
“Do you trust those closest to you?”
“I do,” Isla said matter-of-factly. So matter-of-factly that Sabine felt a sinking weight of guilt so pronounced she could hear it thud against her ribs.
“This game is built on trust. We always hope that we can rely on the people closest to us. And tonight is no different. I choose to believe the people we’ve been talking with, who we’ve bonded with over the last couple of days, will have our back. It’s as simple as that.”
More guilt. So much fricken guilt.
Sabine hung her head. Partly because a wave of nausea had just crashed down on her, and she knew from experience that focusing on something specific—in this case, a freckle on her knee—would keep the vomit at bay.
And partly because if she looked at Talia, she’d see her trying to catch her eye.
And if Talia caught her gaze, well then Sabine would see the panic reflected in those brown irises that reminded Sabine of honey melting over hot toast. And frankly, she might just melt herself.
But no. She wasn’t going to change her mind. Not now. Even with the guilt curling through her gut like a snake. Even though she knew Talia probably wanted to abort the entire plan and run back to Isla and Taye like confused puppies.
Simply put, Dr. Sabine Kallix wasn’t going to play it safe.
“Well, with that in mind, let’s vote.” Vivian pointed to the far right of the semi-circle and added, “Amy and Monique, you two are up first.”
Sabine watched the first pair step onto the platform.
Then she studied their backs for any telltale sign of betrayal.
Unfortunately, Sabine couldn’t see much more than the crinkly nylon of Amy’s pink windbreaker.
She couldn’t see where her hand was moving to, or which cup she dropped the stone in.
All she could hear was that devastating clink.
“Marloe and Lucia, you’re next.”
The two of them walked up confidently and deposited their stone without, it seemed, a second thought.
Connie and Charlize did the same, though there were three seconds of pure blinding panic where Sabine had fully convinced herself the two Cs were about to betray them.
And then it was their turn. Sabine and Talia walked up to the stand.
This time, Talia picked up the stone. She didn’t hesitate.
She didn’t try to convince Sabine not to go through with the plan.
She simply dropped the stone into the cup with the lime-green trim and whispered, “I trust you.”
“Alright,” Vivian said once Isla and Taye had cast their stones. “Let’s count the votes.”
Just like the other two Sendings, Vivian started at the leftmost end. The first three cups were empty. Talia and Sabine, Connie and Charlize, Lucia and Marloe were all safe.
Sabine exhaled. She should’ve been ecstatic, grateful for another few days in the game, but that was not the case.
“Two cups left,” Vivian said.
The fourth cup had two stones.
The fifth had three.
Vivian hadn’t announced which cup belonged to which pair, which, honestly, was evil. She inhaled deeply and scanned the contestants. Sabine’s mouth was completely dry. She couldn’t even swallow. Beside her, Talia kept wringing her hands.
“Monique and Amy,” Vivian said after what felt like forever. “Your cup contains two stones... which means... Isla and Taye, you are unfortunately the pair with the most votes against you.”
There was silence.
No one said a word. Not even Isla and Taye, whom Sabine assumed were shocked to the bone.
Then the two stood up and walked wordlessly toward Vivian.
Sabine tried to catch Isla’s eye. She knew that if she avoided eye contact, she’d look ten times more guilty, but Isla didn’t glance her way even once.
In fact, Isla was openly glaring at Talia. But why?
There wasn’t any time to unpack it, because Vivian had just said, “You two have a choice. Do you...” She paused and let the drama marinate. “Wish to leave together or face The Sending?”
Isla and Taye glanced at each other and in unison said, “The Sending.”
Just as expected. There wasn’t a contestant in their right mind who would willingly choose to end the game prematurely for someone else. The Sending meant there was still a chance to win this game. No one would give that up.
“Let’s vote.”
The re-vote happened quickly. Each pair walked back up to the platform and dropped a stone into one of two cups. Green for Isla. Pink for Taye.
Vivian counted the stones in each cup once again. Sabine held her breath, so too did basically everyone else. Then, with an exhale, Vivian said, “I’m sorry, Taye. You are the third woman voted out of Outlast Her.”