The Last One(13)

Tracker drops from the tree, landing softly on his feet in the grass below. In his hand there is a red flag. He doesn’t want to leave a trail, not even the trail he is intended to follow. He stands straight, tucks the flag into his pocket, consults his instructions and compass, and heads toward his second control point.

Black Doctor struggles to find his first control point. His mistakes are twofold.

His first mistake: After setting his compass to the noted 62 degrees and turning to face that direction, he sets his gaze to the ground and starts walking. He doesn’t want to miss his flag if it’s hidden in the long grass. A reasonable concern from a reasonable man. But it’s a proven if inexplicable fact that people are incapable of walking in a straight line while blindfolded, and Black Doctor is all but blindfolding himself by looking at the grass. With each step he veers slightly to the right, just far enough to take him off course.

His second mistake: He counts each step as a pace, instead of following the and-one-and-two cadence of orienteering. When Black Doctor reaches what he believes is his intended stopping point, he finds nothing but more grass and a low-growing bush. He pauses to observe the others and sees Air Force and Rancher find their flags. He sees Zoo find her flag. He notes that all three did so at the edge of the field, whereas he is only halfway across. He takes his bearing, looks at a tree, and then walks straight toward it.

He will find his mustard-colored marker not in that tree but one tree to the left, and he will double the amount of paces noted on his instructions for each of the following control points.

Biology and Asian Chick will learn similarly, as will Engineer and two white men so far shown only in flashes—the tall one notable for his red hair, the other not notable at all.

Waitress and Cheerleader Boy will not learn. They will putter about the field, growing increasingly frustrated. Four times, Waitress returns to her violet marker and stalks off in roughly the correct direction, first muttering, then yelling, “One-two-three-four…,” stopping at forty-seven, turning circles, and tossing her hands toward the sky. She’s worn a crop circle in the grass with all her pacing.

She sits, and Cheerleader Boy, equally at a loss, leaves his path and approaches her. “I think we’re doing it wrong,” he says.

“You think?” She waves him away. Cheerleader Boy seems like someone she might like in real life, but here he’s clearly a handicap. She knows no one will help her if he’s hanging about, needing help too.

The host is conspicuously absent from the shot. He’s been told to step aside. He’s checking his phone, expecting an email from his agent.

Tracker has reached his fourth flag and is in the lead. Air Force, Rancher, and Zoo have each found three. Biology stands beneath her second, looking, looking, and then with a smile seeing.

Successes pass quickly; there’s much to cover in the premiere, and successes aren’t what viewers want to see.

Engineer stumbles and catches himself against a tree; a branch slaps him in the face. He recoils and rubs at the sting.

After twenty-three minutes—or, depending on one’s perspective, eight including a commercial break—Tracker finds his red box. He opens it, sees the red-wrapped package and a slip of paper. He reads the paper only as confirmation. He has deduced the Challenge’s finishing point from the path of the control points. Two minutes later, he steps for a second time into the field.

Waitress and Cheerleader Boy see him, and for an instant Tracker is surprised. He cannot believe that these two have beaten him. And then Cheerleader Boy says, “You’re kidding me,” and Tracker realizes they haven’t yet left the field at all.

“Well done,” says the host, returned from the off-camera netherworld. He shakes Tracker’s hand. “You will learn your reward when everyone has returned. For now, you have a choice. You can relax, or you can help others in need.” He nods toward Waitress and Cheerleader Boy. Waitress is mired in gloom, and Cheerleader Boy is frustrated to the point of anger.

“Uh,” says Tracker, his first word on camera outside of pre-taping interviews. He doesn’t want to help his competitors, but they both look so pathetic he finds it difficult to believe either could ever become a threat. “Count two steps as one and keep the compass flat,” he tells them, familiar with the mistakes of beginners. “And look straight ahead, not at your feet.”

Waitress’s eyes widen as though her mind has been truly, fully blown; Cheerleader Boy rushes to his pink stick.

Air Force steps into the field. About a hundred feet to his right, only a few seconds behind, so does Zoo. Both hold their colored boxes, dueling shades of blue.

“First one to me!” calls the host. Zoo and Air Force dart toward him.

Air Force takes an easy lead, and then his right foot strikes a depression and he jolts into a hop-skip as pain shimmies through his turned ankle. He slows, favoring the foot. Zoo does not see this; she is in an all-out sprint. She reaches the host well ahead of Air Force.

“I found it!” calls Waitress from the far end of the field. A moment later Cheerleader Boy has found his first flag too.

“Those two are just starting?” asks Zoo, breathing hard and pushing her glasses up her nose. Tracker nods, looking her over. She looks fit enough. A contender, perhaps. He’s noted Air Force’s sudden limp, and while he hasn’t dismissed the man, he’s moved him down a notch in his consideration.