Chapter 29 Into the Fire
Into the Fire
The descent into the volcano is long, the rickety metal lift sinking into the void.
Yumi squeezes her eyes shut, but going down doesn’t seem to bother her as much as standing at the top did.
I watch the halo of light at the opening of the volcano grow smaller above us, and picture the first man to enter this space, the one our guide tells us founded this company.
I wonder how difficult it was for him to keep going into the infinite darkness, the infinite silence.
Does the difference between extraordinary bravery and extraordinary recklessness just depend on what you find at the bottom of the volcano?
We get to benefit from his extraordinary whatever, though, because he has successfully gentrified this dormant volcano for human use.
There are lights that penetrate the abyss once you get far enough down, illuminating the volcano’s walls and floor.
I don’t know what I thought the inside of a volcano would look like—similar to the outside, I guess.
Like rock. Maybe blackened, like the crunchy lava fields we drove through to get here.
When I was a kid my parents took me to a carnival every year.
This was pre-Yumi, otherwise she would’ve gone, too.
In the aromatic haze of fried dough and powdered sugar that surrounded the zeppoli stand, there was one of those booths where they’d impale a piece of cardboard at the center of a turntable and let you pour paint on it.
I always used too much paint. The speed of the spinner would blend all my colors together into a murky brownish purple. If I was lucky, a few streaks of actual color would claw their way out of the mud.
The inside of Thríhnúkagígur looks like a spinner painting that I got lucky on—fire turned to stone, the heat long gone out of it. The only echoes of warmth are in the pops of blue and red that were left behind.
We don’t have a challenge at the bottom of the volcano—we’re just supposed to pretend we do. Aliona gathered us this morning to explain that the filming permit came through after they’d already designed the challenges, but that the literal inside of a volcano was too iconic to pass on.
“Okay, everyone, gather round,” Aliona calls.
The circle around her feels so empty with only six teams left: us, KC and Gabriel, Ball-and-Chain, the High Elves, Matt and Morgan, and the Influencers.
“We’re going to do a wide group shot here.
I want everyone to pretend you’re listening to Jonathan.
We’re going to dub his voice in later giving the challenge clues.
You’ll receive your envelopes at the same time at the top of the volcano and have, essentially, an even start—except for Bee and Logan, who will take their penalty down here.
Our plan is to make it look like you’re racing to the lift and fighting to get on. ”
It’s a common Adventureverse editing tactic—they make it look like teams are fighting over a spot on an elevator or bus, when in reality, the contestants are all standing around like kindergartners waiting for our turn on the slide.
“And I want you to look frustrated, desperate, competitive,” Aliona continues, circling her hands in the air. “Remember, this is the biggest, most important thing you’ve ever done in your life. Act like it.”
We run through the motions of looking shocked and alarmed when Aliona tells us what we’re “competing” for and then clump together in a tighter group when she signals us to. For our part, Yumi and I are meant to be huddled, whispering to each other about strategy.
“Perfect!” Aliona calls. “Now I need everyone to look panicked and rush toward the lift like your lives depend on it.”
We all dutifully scramble toward the lift, pushing and shoving in a carefully choreographed way that looks chaotic but ensures no one actually gets hurt.
Yumi grabs my hand and pulls me forward, her grip tight but not painful.
I follow her lead, letting her drag me through the crowd until we’re pressed against one another.
My breath catches as her body collides with mine, back to front, and I’m overwhelmed by the sudden proximity.
“Cut!” Aliona yells, breaking the spell. “That was great, everyone. Now let’s get a shot of you all actually getting into the lift.”
Yumi and I separate, and I immediately miss her warmth against the chilled air of the cavern. She glances back at me, a hint of something unreadable in her eyes before she turns away.
“Now, remember, this team order doesn’t mean anything.
Everyone will be leaving the volcano at the same time—Bee and Logan, you’ll take your time penalty topside, but we’ll load you up last and get some shots of you looking sad and pathetic down here.
In the first group, let’s get KC and Gabriel, Yumi and Noelle, and…
” She squints, tapping her finger against her lips.
“Kendell and Rania on the lift. Act like you just beat out everyone else for the prize money.”
We do several takes of us pushing our way onto the lift, elbowing other contestants out of the way until the lift finally, well, lifts, and we get to do our victory shot. Rania and Kendell squeal with excitement, KC and Gabriel woof rabidly, and Yumi and I high-five.
That high five turns into a hug, my face buried in her hair. And who can even say if I smile into it for a second longer than necessary, trying to catch a hint of pineapple and melon?
“Great,” Aliona calls up at us. “Let’s get a celebration kiss from each of you, please.”
Do you see the puzzle pieces shifting again? It’s not just me, right? Can’t I have a moment of peace? Can’t Yumi and I get to a place where things are normal? And stay there for more than twenty-four hours?
The other teams are already leaning into each other, but my brain is still buffering, the little spinning wheel going round and round.
KC and Gabriel share a quick peck. Rania and Kendell start full-on making out.
With tongue. Hesitating, I look at Yumi for some sort of confirmation that this is okay, and I find her looking back at me with a smirk of amusement on her face.
It settles me. I smile back.
Then her lips are on mine for the briefest second. The kind of kiss you have under a slide as a ten-year-old. It’s not convincing. It’s barely even a kiss. But somehow it inverts the entire hourglass of my life, sand spilling into the wrong side of me.