Episode 34
Tonight’s the fire making contest.
After stepping into The Summit, Celeste, Beya, Arlie, and I take our seats.
The immunity talisman around my neck is a reminder that my spot in the Final Three is secure, but that doesn’t help my nerves.
I place my hands on the beaded leather necklace resting against my chest, appreciating the rainbow feathers brushing my arms. A symbol of the brutal three and a half hours I spent hanging onto that wooden pole today.
When Beya and Arlie dropped, it came down to just me and Celeste, a battle of sheer will against a glorified telephone pole until I somehow found a way to stick around longer.
The jury is sitting off to the side and Steph stands across from us on the center floor. Whoever makes fire and hits the target with their flaming arrow first wins.
Steph looks directly at me. Although I don’t regret my decision, I feel the pressure of the moment.
“Paya, you won the final immunity challenge. You have a guaranteed spot in the Final Three. You also hold the power to change the game. By choosing one person to accompany you, you’re leaving the remaining two to compete in the fire making contest. Who are you taking to The Final Summit? ”
The silence in The Summit stretches. I steal a glance toward Celeste and my heart flutters. Nearly forty days together, and she’s the person I want standing next to me at the end. “I choose Celeste.”
I watch Celeste exhale a long breath and blink through the emotion at the confirmation, knowing she’ll be in the finale. No twists this time. We share a relief-filled smile.
Steph nods, accepting my answer. She faces the remaining two women. “Beya. Arlie. You’re up.”
The moment is bittersweet as I watch Beya and Arlie walk to their stations side by side, their eyes locked on each other. Beya’s eyes are filled with determination as usual. I know she won’t go down without a fight, and Arlie doesn’t know any other way of living.
On paper, this is a mismatch. Being a firefighter, Arlie can make fire in her sleep.
Beya, on the other hand, hasn’t successfully been able to catch a spark once on her own this season.
Despite receiving help since the merge, she still hasn’t been able to do it.
In order to win tonight, Beya has to build a flame big enough to burn through the outstretched vertical rope nearly two feet above her concrete base, ignite her arrow, and hit the target.
All in front of us, the jury, and the camera crew at that.
Facing off against a professional, let alone the woman she loves, seems hopeless to me.
I’m happy to see Arlie in the final, but my stomach twists knowing I sent Beya to the jury.
Steph gives the signal and the contest starts.
Scratching sounds of flint hitting steel echo through the quiet Summit.
Sitting next to Beya, Arlie works with a calm and focused demeanor.
Within seconds, a small nest of tinder catches her spark.
She feeds it tiny twigs until a bright orange flame licks upward.
She moves faster than all three of us could have combined, easily ahead of the game.
Leaning forward in her seat beside me, Celeste’s hands form a prayer position against her chin as we watch Beya strike her flint frantically.
Sparks fly, but nothing holds through her trembling fingers, her forehead slick with sweat.
She glances over to Arlie’s station, whose fire is steadily climbing, then back to her tinder’s burnt ends. Nothing.
I look closely. Arlie’s slowing down, feeding her fire much slower than before.
Her sight wanders toward Beya, struggling, and she continues watching her intently for several seconds.
When Arlie reaches for a thick bunch of kindling, her fingers stumble slightly, and she drops it.
The next stick fumbles and now she’s taking a few too many seconds to position it over her kindling.
She appears distracted with Beya. Her hands are moving, but her eyes are fixed onto the woman next to her.
So much so her flame starts pointing sideways instead of straight up, enough that the rope above her station doesn’t catch.
She blinks and re-focuses to quickly course correct.
It is a minor error, a small misstep that looks like pure fatigue on the surface, but this is Arlie. She’s hardly one to make mistakes.
Steph’s commentary fades into the background to the point I’ve somehow tuned her out. Every ounce of my concentration is on Beya and Arlie.
Beya strikes the flint one more time and finally catches a stable spark.
My heart pounds as she leans over, blowing softly on the nest shielded by her hands until a small flame erupts.
She feeds it, her movements frantic but focused.
Her fire grows gradually, probably as stubborn as she is, climbing higher until the heat kisses the vertical rope.
Meanwhile, Arlie’s arms are down to her sides, attention solely on Beya.
Celeste’s hand finds mine and she squeezes in the final moments of the contest. With a loud snap, Beya’s rope severs first. She scrambles to her feet and unties the arrow that dropped down.
Carefully, she dips it into the first fire she’s ever created all season and faces the target.
Once the bow is in position, she pulls back, her draw arm tense, fingers steady on the bowstring. She pauses.
Through the flickering flames of the two fires, Beya looks over. Her arms stay locked, the flaming arrow held perfectly parallel to the ground, as her eyes find Arlie, who is already looking back at her.
Tears threaten to fall from the corners of my eyes as I watch Beya’s chin start to wobble. My breath catches, taking the moment in. The flame on the tip of Beya’s arrow flickers against the dark sky. She inhales shakily, holds it, then she releases the arrow.
The long bright streak zips through the night sky, striking the wooden circle target just above the center. The canvas bursts.
The Summit is frozen, even Steph Rhodes is stunned to silence. The camera crew too. Beya made it to the Final Three.
“Beya wins the fire making contest!” Steph’s voice finally punctures the silence. “Joining Paya and Celeste in the Final Three!”
Beya lowers the bow slowly. The adrenaline leaves Beya all at once, her shoulders dropping as she stares at the burning target. But she doesn’t celebrate or look at Steph, or at Celeste and me.
The bow clatters to the concrete floor. She turns right back to Arlie, eyes wide at the realization of Arlie’s sacrifice. Her brows scrunch in confusion. “Did you—”
“I always knew you could do it.” Arlie’s tone is soft and tender, barely audible, her eyes full of emotion in a way I didn’t think was possible. “Just like I taught you.”
“But you were beating me and then—” Beya halts her words, scans Arlie’s station, and rapidly shakes her head in disbelief.
“Arlie, I—” Her voice cracks and something grips at my heart when Beya steps toward her again, even closer this time.
She blinks and a tear falls, then another, and as if she’s suddenly realizing her camp wife won’t be there when she wakes up tomorrow, the dam breaks, sending a flood down her flushed cheeks.
Sounds of crackling fire and sniffling surround me. I glance toward the jury. There’s not a dry eye. Saffron, sitting at the opposite end from Raina, is officially ugly crying.
Arlie wipes Beya’s tears, then wraps her arms tightly around her and looks down into her eyes. “I love you, Beya. You deserve this.”
Beya cups Arlie’s face with both hands and kisses her passionately, like she’s saying all the things she can’t form into words. When they finally break, Beya tells her she loves her and presses a gentle kiss on her fingers.
Arlie gives her one last, gentle squeeze on the shoulder. She steps backward and walks with her head held high over to her new place on the jury bench.
Steph takes a deep, grounding breath. She blinks quickly, using the back of her hand to clear her eyes before looking at the three of us left sitting on the benches.
“Next is The Final Summit.” Steph clears her throat and grabs her staff, then returns to her typical host composure.
“Beya, Celeste, and Paya. Tomorrow night, you must state your case to the jury and answer their questions about why you deserve to be voted The Sole Champion. A key part of winning this game is jury management. Look at those faces.”
Beya, Celeste, and I peer up.
Steph motions toward the benches. “Raina. Blair. Jeida. Bo. Saffron. Lex. And now Arlie. These are your friends. Foes. Lovers. Fractured alliances. These are the people you put there, and these are the people who will determine your fate in this game.”
I turn my head and take a hard look at the row of faces staring back at us. Out of the fourteen people who started this journey weeks ago, only three of us remain where one of us will walk away with life-changing money and the title, Sole Champion.
Beside me, Celeste’s fingers are tightly laced through mine, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. There’s so much love in her eyes when our gazes lock. I glance to my other side, where Beya is trying to steady her breathing, her face still glistening from the battle fought, won, and lost today.
The shame from the production plant leak is imprinted on my forehead like a scarlet letter. How can I possibly convince this jury to choose me after everything that’s happened?