Episode 10
Camp isn’t the same without Dana. My team’s morale hasn’t been this low since when Atlas was still here. We haven't moved from our shelter all morning.
“I think my stomach is eating itself.” Lex groans, rubbing circles on her belly.
Bo releases a long sigh lying next to her. “I would kill for a giant blue raspberry slushie right now. Hell, I’d even settle for cherry, and I’m allergic to red dye.”
Lex lazily squats at the way Bo mimics slurping sounds through an imaginative straw. “Stop it. You’re not helping.”
“My lips are so chapped.” I wet my lips for the fifth time in two minutes. I peer around and squint one eye toward Beya on the ground next to me. “Does anyone have Chapstick? I’ll pay double in rocks and coconuts.”
We laugh in our shared misery. Eventually, Bo scurries outside before the sun becomes unbareable, mumbling something about foraging or hunting or fishing. None of us bother to respond.
The beans we won off Team Femme are gone, and we’ve been splitting handfuls of berries and clams between the four of us.
I adjust the hat Dana wove for me. Another reminder of the loss of someone who not only is an all around great player, but someone who taught us survival skills. The hat keeps the sun out of my eyes, but it doesn’t make the weight of her absence any easier.
With only four of us left, I hope there’s a merge in the near future. At this rate, we’re going to keep getting picked apart.
“I tried.” Beya is the first to finally get up hours later. She climbs to her feet and brushes sand off her shorts. “I can’t lay here all day, no matter how exhausted and sad I am. My cats’ food bowls don’t get full by me doing nothing.”
Lex huffs a weak laugh. “More than what No Show Bo is probably doing.”
Beya’s right. Sulking isn’t helping. We need to eat if we’re going to be strong enough for the next challenge.
That’s what Dana would want anyway. Beya reaches a hand out, and when I take it, she pulls me up with more strength than I’d expect from a short woman who owns a small cat cafe.
Lex continues lying on her back, one arm thrown covering her eyes.
“My kitten Rupert does this thing.” Beya starts talking about her cats again. “He’s quiet all morning and then 2p.m. hits and it’s pure chaos around the cafe. He sprints from one end of the room to the other, knocking stuff over. That’s the type of energy we need right now.”
I bring my stainless steel canteen to my lips and take a long sip of water. “Didn’t Bo say she was going fishing?”
“I thought she said firewood.” Beya follows my gaze. “I can’t keep track anymore.”
The spearfishing kit is still leaning against the tree where Bo left it yesterday and the woodpile hasn’t changed since this morning.
I sigh. No Show Bo is at it again. She’s probably searching for a relic. “At this point, we might as well give it a try ourselves.
Beya picks up the spear and hands it to me. “Let’s go.”
We wade out past the shallow tides where tiny red crabs scatter into the sand. I inspect the long fiberglass fishing spear in my hand. It has a pronged metal tip and a thick rubber loop at the back, designed to be stretched tight against the pole to launch it underwater.
As children, my dad used to pack up a tent and drag our family out to the lake every summer.
Unlike Megan, my idea of camping included a fully functioning plumbing system and kitchen.
I haven’t spear fished before, but I know I can’t do any worse than Bo.
Stretch the band. Look for the shadow. Don’t aim where the fish is. Aim where it’s going to be.
I slip my hand through the rubber loop and stretch the elastic band along the shaft until it’s under maximum tension. My bicep strains.
A flash of red drifts out from beneath a ledge of coral. I settle on the empty space just below the iridescent belly, tracking its path. I release. The spear strikes. I surface and rip off my diving mask.
“A red snapper!” Beya shouts, clapping a hand against my wet shoulder.
“Let’s get this back.” I smile, proud of myself.
During our short walk to camp, Beya falls into step beside me, and lowers her voice. “There’s only four of us. Someone will have to leave if we don’t merge teams soon. What are you thinking?”
I slow my pace and think back to the baggage claim challenge. Bo’s luggage was full of tech gadgets and VR survival online course receipts. Has she actually practiced any of the skills she’s claimed to have mastered?
“Bo hasn’t pulled her weight,” I tell her.
“She’s been bragging about being some kind of outdoorswoman with nothing to show other than slacking in camp chores.
If we lose the next immunity challenge, writing her name down makes the most sense to me.
” Not to mention she’s been on my radar since she wrote my name down during the Atlas vote.
“Agreed. I hope we merge soon. I’m sure you’ll be happy to see Paya again.” Beya flashes a teasing grin. “You look at her the way my cats Bobby and Honey look at each other. Before they play wrestle.”
I can’t help my smile at the sound of her name. “I know you’re not talking. You literally dropped the sandbag in front of Arlie.”
“She growled at me, so I gave her a peace offering.” Beya looks toward the tree line in the distance. “It’s a feline courting practice…or maybe it should be.”
I chuckle. “Whatever you say.”
When we reach camp, I hold up the fish and shout, “We got lunch!” Catching one fish alone is worth witnessing the sudden shift in Lex’s demeanor as she scrambles to her feet. Bo wanders returns, two pathetic logs of firewood tucked under one arm. She’s definitely going home.
“You guys actually got one!” Lex brings over two canteens of drinking water in exchange for today’s catch. After her happy dance, she stokes the small fire she’d kept going while we were gone. “Just in case,” she’d always say when Bo went hunting for food.
Beya pays tribute to the fish’s sacrifice and we roast it over hot stones, the savory smell of fish, clams, and herbs driving away the heavy melancholy that’s been suffocating us all morning.
We split the flaky white meat evenly into four portions. It’s a modest meal that spreads warmth through my chest, restoring my sense of vitality.
As soon as Beya swallows her last bite, she stands and wipes her hands on her shorts. She grabs the spear and hoists the empty bucket.
“Where are you going?” Lex asks.
“Back out. We need more food.” Beya’s jaw sets into a stubborn line.
Before any of us can argue, she turns on her heel and heads down the shoreline.
Forty minutes later, Beya’s back.
Beya drops off a cobia fish, then without a word, she turns back toward the water. Later, another one thuds into the bucket. Time passes and she drops off two mackerel. She’s overexerting herself at this point, dragging her short frame through the resistance of the ocean over and over again.
By the time the sun begins its afternoon dip, Beya stumbles back into camp for the final time. Chest heaving, she drops the bucket onto the sand with a wet slosh. We lean over the rim and gasp. Seven fish are floating inside.
“I’m sorry,” Beya says, completely spent. “I wanted everyone to have two full fish for themselves. I only got seven though.”
“What do you mean?” Lex’s voice goes up an octave. She breaks into a triumphant laugh. “Look at this. Beya, you’re an absolute legend.”
“This is incredible.” Surprising myself, I wrap my arms around the annoying cat lady who apparently fishes like a big cat. “This is exactly the score we needed for challenges. Thank you.”
“Great job, Beya,” Bo mumbles, before drifting toward the back of the camp.
I take a long look at Beya. Her shoulders are sunburnt, her shirt is soaked through with salt crust, and her hands tremble from the raw exertion.
While Bo is all talk and no show, Beya is all talk and all show.
She works hard to provide and today proved that even more.
That’s the type of person I’d want to be in alliance with, especially with the possibility of the two teams merging soon.
She’s exactly the kind of person I could trust enough to tell about the relic.
Lex sets to work rebuilding the fire to cook the feast. I wet my lips at the thought of more food in my belly.
For the first time in days, we’ll eat until our stomachs stop aching. I smile, knowing my team will feast today, my fake relic is officially planted and the real one is secure in my pocket.
Beya catches my eye and tilts her head toward the perimeter. “Walk with me to cool off?”
“Of course.” I pick up the empty bucket. The least I can do is rinse it out. We walk down to the tree line where the jungle canopy offers a brief reprieve from the sun. Secluded, Beya stops near and leans her weight against a mossy trunk.
“Do you know what my favorite part of being a business owner is?” Beya wipes sweat from her forehead, continuing before I get a chance to answer.
“When the cats choose a favorite staff member. Watching my employees’ faces light up when that happens makes the long hours worth it.
Out of nowhere one day, they crawl into your lap and decide you’re their human. ”
She steps closer, sincerity in her eyes. “You’re not only my ally, Celeste. You’re a friend. You’re my human out here.”
Warmth floods through my chest. She’s offering something more valuable than any fish.
After trusting the wrong person in the past, accepting her alliance feels like a colossal risk to my game.
Then again, I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t want to return the favor after years of keeping every relationship at arm’s length.
On paper, everything makes sense, but my gut keeps tapping the brakes.
Is it a real warning or are my trust issues at play again? I push the thought away.
A silly grin forms on my face. “Just don’t sit on my lap, okay?”
She mirrors my smile. “I’m sure Paya can handle that.”
I start to tell Beya about my game changing relic. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I try again. “Beya. Listen. I—”
“Fish is done!” Lex’s yell interrupts me. “Get over here before it gets cold.”
Instead of continuing when Beya looks at me, I give in to the twist in my stomach that holds me back. I shake my head. “Never mind. Let’s go.”