Chapter Two
Tamsyn Lott had never done anything halfway in her life.
When she decided to do something, she did it with the intensity of someone trying to prove a point.
A perfect example of this was when she was twenty-five and jumped out of a plane for the first time while on holiday in Queenstown.
The experience had lasted less than five minutes, but the adrenaline burrowed into her brain like a parasite.
Within a week, she’d signed up for skydiving back home in Santa Monica.
Within three months, she’d nearly logged more jumps than the newbie instructor.
It was only when she’d misjudged a landing, hit the ground harder than intended, and woken up in the hospital with two screws in her radius and a concussion that she’d decided the hobby had run its course.
“Temporarily,” she’d clarified to the orthopedic surgeon.
More recently, she’d become a marathon runner.
Not casually, because she never did anything casually.
She’d flown to France to run Marathon Mont Blanc because the race had come up on her Instagram feed.
She’d learned conversational Italian in three months because Duolingo kept passive-aggressively reminding her she was falling behind imaginary strangers.
And she’d gone vegan for an entire year after watching a documentary about factory farming, which her cousin Mikey said would be impossible given her historic relationship with barbecue.
Tamsyn could devour a super-sized plate of brisket in one sitting.
Moderation, in Tamsyn’s opinion, was for people who didn’t know who they were and what they liked.
Which was how she found herself gripping the handle on the back of a seat in a rattling Jeep as it tore across a dirt track deep in the Flinders Ranges, South Australia.
Two weeks ago, she’d gotten a callback from Outlast Her and instead of responsibly considering whether a high school biology teacher could disappear for weeks in the middle of term, she’d said yes almost immediately.
Because she was a huge fan. A massive, borderline concerning fan who had watched absolutely every episode, some even thrice.
She spent the half-hour commute to work every day listening to Pat Stevens and Gloria Hamilton dissecting every blindside, alliance fracture, and The Sending drama on their podcast called Outlast Her Unpacked.
Through the window, Tamsyn could see a landscape that stretched wide and open in every direction.
Low mountain ridges folded into one another, their surfaces streaked with red and deep violet stone.
Grey-green saltbush, wiry grasses, and scattered river red gums clung to the dry earth.
The occasional dry creek bed cut through the terrain like a scar.
The Flinders Ranges were the largest mountain range in South Australia and apparently one of the oldest in the world.
Tamsyn had done a quick Google search after receiving the pre-game packet.
She’d quickly skimmed over the medical clearance forms, liability waivers thick enough to qualify as a short novel, and a packing list until she found the survival guide.
On the front page was the title Outlast Her: Legends vs.
Contenders. Which could mean only one thing: contestants from past seasons were coming back.
Tamsyn had lost hours of sleep wondering who.
And then more hours hoping one of them was Isla Stone.
The Jeep hit another rut, hard enough to lift her slightly off her seat.
Tamsyn grinned. The woman beside her, a short brunette with a rubber duck tattoo on her forearm, did not.
In fact, she was turning a concerning green and gripped the handle so tightly her knuckles were chalk-white.
Tamsyn wanted to ask her if she was okay, but they had been instructed not to talk until they reached their destination.
Which she assumed they’d reach soon, considering the line of river red gums up ahead.
The trees needed an occasional flood to flourish, and in her mind that had to mean they were close to a water source.
From everything she knew about Outlast Her, each season took place near a body of water. Either beach, alpine lake, or quarry.
And she was right.
Tamsyn glanced over her shoulder and spotted the other Jeep trailing behind them, the one carrying the Legends.
A second later, their vehicle began to slow.
Tamsyn was so excited she couldn’t feel her toes.
She had an egg and mayonnaise bagel for breakfast and could taste it at the back of her throat.
It was probably the last delicious thing she’d taste in days.
The Jeep rolled to a stop in a wide clearing of compacted red dirt.
There were scraggly red mallee plants and sun-bleached rocks, and beyond the clearing, the land dropped slightly toward a ribbon of water cutting through the area.
Tamsyn could physically see the heat shimmering above the ground.
Until now, the air-conditioning had kept the Jeep cool.
She would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous about the heat.
The Outback was known for its extremes. Mikey called it a torture chamber, and frankly, he had a point.
The days were scorching, even in March. And Australia had some of the most dangerous creatures known to this planet.
Eastern brown snake, red-bellied black snake, redback spider, bull ant, centipede; the list went on.
The passenger door was suddenly yanked open, and a man with a backward baseball cap hiding a shag of brown hair stuck his head inside.
“When you hear the horn, climb out and run straight ahead to where the flags are.” He pointed toward the other end of the clearing, about a third of a mile away.
Six heads, including Tamsyn’s, swiveled toward the flags that were stretched taut between two poles.
One was midnight sapphire and the other tangerine blaze.
“You six are the Contenders. Don’t forget that.
And don’t talk. Don’t touch anyone. Just run. ”
Then he slammed the door shut. Ten seconds later, the horn blasted, and the Jeep’s doors flew open. Everyone moved instantly.
Tamsyn swung herself out of the Jeep and sprinted across the clearing.
She’d never run so elegantly in her life.
Which, given the fact that she was wearing cowboy boots, was genuinely impressive.
Production wanted her to lean fully into the cowgirl look, despite having lived in Santa Monica for the past decade and not Canton, Texas.
She did regret the tan leather fringe jacket.
She was already cooking in it. Less than two minutes out of the air-conditioning and her mouth was dry enough to sandpaper the inside of her cheeks.
Tamsyn had just leaped over a bush no taller than a Chihuahua when her eye caught something. Or, more accurately, someone. Up ahead, less than two yards away, also sprinting, except far more elegantly than Tamsyn ever could, was none other than Isla Stone.
The Isla Stone she’d devoured in Mallory Applebee’s powder room exactly six months, two weeks, and one day ago.
A date Tamsyn remembered easily because it was the weekend her cousin Mikey had dragged her all the way to New York for a prepaid, three-day food tour called the Underground Appetite, which he’d originally booked for himself and his boyfriend before they broke up two weeks earlier.
Mikey had decided the best cure for heartbreak was overindulging in food in the Big Apple.
Tamsyn had taken that Friday off and graciously accepted the all-expenses-paid weekend.
She, however, hadn’t foreseen Mikey falling in love with a lawyer during their visit or being invited to some bougie housewarming party she one hundred percent hadn’t wanted to attend.
At least not until she’d spotted Isla Stone in the kitchen.
Isla’s dark hair gleamed in the sunlight.
It was streaked with strands of honey blonde Tamsyn didn’t remember from when she’d run her fingers through it.
She wore a red tank scattered with tiny white daisies, tucked into a pair of frayed cut-off jean shorts that looked one wash away from falling apart.
Her long legs were thin and tanned and surprisingly muscled for a model.
She couldn’t remember them looking like that six months ago.
There was something else different, too.
Tamsyn, who had slowed down a bit, stared so hard trying to decipher it that she barely paid attention to the terrain.
Then, out of nowhere, her boot slammed into a stone, which bounced into the back of a tall, copper-haired woman wearing a lilac fitted tank and rugged cargo shorts running in front of her.
The woman snapped her head back and scowled. “Watch yourself.”
Tamsyn didn’t even get a chance to apologize.
The copper-haired woman sped up and slipped between a brunette and a woman with a buzz cut.
The flags came up soon after. Isla reached The Legends’ flag first, and Tamsyn got to The Contenders’ just a hair later.
But she didn’t get a chance to catch Isla’s eye because just then a Ford Ranger pulled up.
Vivian, the ever-loved host of Outlast Her, and previously The Sapphic Match, leaped flawlessly off the back.
She was dressed for the inferno in a sleeveless sand-colored linen jumpsuit cinched at the waist with a tan leather belt and VEJA sneakers.
“Welcome, Team Legends and Team Contenders, to Season Five of Outlast Her,” she announced.
This year her blonde hair was styled in a pixie cut.
“We’re doing things a little differently this time around.
As you may have noticed, there are two groups instead of one.
I’m sure some of you have already recognized a few returning Legends. ”
Tamsyn recognized them instantly: Kendall Vega and Janelle Torres from Season Two, Petra Thao and Agatha “Aggie” Rhode from Season Three, and Dominique Voortman from Season Four.
Isla Stone from Season One.
But Tamsyn barely got a chance to revel in her fangirl moment.
Her thoughts ricocheted inside her head like marbles in a metal tin.
She was too busy wondering if Isla had noticed her.
Had she spotted her during the run? If she had, did she recognize her from the tryst in the gaudy powder room?
Then another thought slipped in uninvited, one even more embarrassing than being forgotten.
.. what if Isla had seen her, recognized her, and was ignoring her on purpose?
Surely even Isla Stone didn’t have that kind of gall.
“Here’s how it works,” Vivian went on. She stepped toward a thick tree trunk that two production assistants in black had hauled into the clearing just a minute ago.
Atop it sat two canvas bags. One stamped Legends, and the other Contenders.
“Legends will be paired with Contenders. You’ll each draw a stone from your respective bag.
Each stone is colored to match a pair. Once paired, you will compete together in challenges, fight for rewards, and face The Sending as a team. ”
Tamsyn had expected as much. What she hadn’t expected was a chance to be paired with Isla Stone. She wasn’t sure if she even wanted that. Especially after the very real possibility that Isla might want nothing to do with Tamsyn.
“Before we start, I would like to take a moment to acknowledge the place we’re standing on.
” Vivian gestured toward the rust-colored ridges and the endless blue sky.
“This place is older than any game we could invent. These mountains were once seabeds. The ground beneath you has been ocean, desert, and everything in between.” She let that sit for a moment, and Tamsyn used the silence to look at Isla and try to will her to turn her head just a few inches.
But nope. Isla was looking straight ahead.
“Remember, ladies, this land doesn’t care how strong you are, how clever you are, or how badly you want to win,” Vivian added. “Out here, the land is your first competitor.” She turned toward the Legends and extended a hand. “Dominique, you’re up. Come forward and draw your stone.”