Chapter 101.
There are six competitors left:
Jack McHenry.
Alek Andrich.
Ant Tipton.
Wyatt Jordan.
Marcelo Oliveira.
Somehow, against every expectation, the sixth is Lin Zhi—the one who took the bullet.
“I’m not eliminating someone for taking a bullet,” The Host had told them at dinner last night.
“Still making up the rules as you go along?” Wyatt had asked.
The Host smiled. “No. Just choosing which ones to enforce.”
Alek is still processing Hannah being gone. But she is gone, and Jack is still here because of the decision she’d made to help him.
The A Team is down to three:
Alek, Jack, Wyatt.
That’s what Alek keeps telling herself, anyway.
They will be told at tonight’s dinner what their next destination is, when they are leaving.
Before that, Alek decides to check in on Jack, see how he’s recovering. She finds him stretched out on his living room sofa, one hand on his ribs.
Jack tells her that the worst of the damage, according to the doctor—and his portable X-ray machine—is a hairline fracture of his kneecap, of all things. His ribs are badly bruised, but not broken. Nor is his nose.
“The doc’s English was thin. The diagnosis wasn’t,” he says. “I’m basically fine, which is doctor talk for: ‘You’re going to hate your life for a week.’”
It’s plain to see how swollen his nose is, even underneath the bandage the doctor had applied.
“Let’s face it, the biggest bruise is my ego,” he says. “No offense, but I got my ass kicked by a girl.”
“No offense taken,” Alek says. Now she grins. “Well, maybe a little bit.”
“By rights, I’m the one who should be out of here,” Jack says.
“She didn’t seem to think so,” Alek says.
They talk for a few minutes about what they might be facing next. Both Alek and Jack agree that they must be approaching the end of this competition, even though The Host hasn’t come right out and said anything like that.
“All I know is that we’re still here,” Jack says.
“Are we sure that’s good news?” Alek asks.
Jack reaches up and pulls the bandage off his nose.
“Don’t you still need that?”
“Probably,” he says.
He groans as he slowly raises himself up off the sofa. Alek can see he’s favoring one side. He is tough, though, she thinks, and she loves that about Jack.
Alek leans in. “Easy.”
Jack waves her off. “We should go get Wyatt. He needs us.”
When they arrive at Wyatt’s cottage, Alek gives a couple of quick raps on the door.
No answer.
Alek does it again.
Still nothing.
“Hey kid,” Jack shouts through the closed door. “It’s Alek and me. Let’s go eat.”
Still nothing from inside.
“He said he’d be waiting for me to come get him,” Alek says. “And my experience with Wyatt is that he generally does what he says he’s going to do.”
Jack tries the knob. The door is open.
They both step inside.
“Hey, Wyatt,” Alek calls out. “Where you at?”
They walk into Wyatt’s bedroom. It looks so neat to Alek, the bed made, towels folded on top of the spread. The counters in the bathroom are empty. No products of any kind on the shelf in the shower.
The closet is empty.
Even the empty hangers are neatly hung.
“No sign of that duffel bag he carries,” Jack says. “This is bad.”
“No, it isn’t.” She calls out, “Wyatt!”
Silence.
They walk back into the living room. They take a closer look around.
Nothing appears to be out of place here, either.
It’s when they open the door to the kitchen that they see it on the table.
The necklace with the red button.
Alek stares at it, not moving. Like if she doesn’t move, it won’t be real.
Jack’s voice is low. “He quit,” he says.
Jack doesn’t touch it. He just stares, jaw tight, eyes scanning the room again like Wyatt might step out of a closet and laugh and say got you.
Alek lifts the chain. It’s heavier than it should be.
There’s something else on the table, tucked under the red stone—one sheet of paper, folded once, like it was placed there on purpose. Neat. Centered. Like Wyatt couldn’t leave without making it look right.
Alek opens it.
It’s only a few lines. Handwritten.
She reads silently at first, then out loud because Jack is looking at her like he can’t breathe.
I’m sorry.
I wouldn’t do what he asked. Not like that.
I also realized there’s something important I need to do. I couldn’t do it and stay.
Tell Alek I’m safe.
—W
Alek’s throat tightens on the last line.
Jack takes the paper from her and reads it again, slower, like if he looks hard enough the words will change. Then he crushes it in his fist.
“That kid doesn’t leave notes,” Jack says, voice low and shaking. “He leaves jokes.”
Alek looks back at the empty closet. The folded towels. The cleared shelves. Wyatt didn’t storm out. He packed. And he planned.
Steven Noble