The Last One(37)

[-] Velcro_Is_the_Worst 33 days ago Seriously? I’d choo-choo-choose Boobs over her any day.

[-] CharlieHorse11 33 days ago Where are the acid volcanoes? I DEMAND ACID VOLCANOES!

…





10.


In the morning, the eleven remaining contestants assemble outside the log cabin, murmuring about their missing twelfth. An intern circulates among them, replacing the batteries in their matchbook-sized mic packs. The host steps up. He’s holding a black backpack identical to the one worn by each contestant. A large plastic bucket sits on the ground to his right and a tall wooden post juts toward the sky on his left.

“We have our first casualty,” says the host. He reaches into the pack and pulls out Cheerleader Boy’s knife and pink bandana. He pins the bandana to the post’s midpoint with a violent stabbing motion. A few seconds of shocked silence follow from the contestants, then whispering: “Did he quit?” “You think he got hurt?” “Scared of the dark, I bet.” “Who cares.”

The host commands their attention with an imperial step forward. “And now it’s time to distribute his supplies.” His voice is light and happy, a startling and intentional contrast to his forceful use of the knife. He pulls Cheerleader Boy’s trash bags from the backpack and gives one each to Air Force and Black Doctor. Exorcist steps forward to take the third, but the host turns from him to face the group of contestants who used to be Zoo’s team.

He hands the folded trash bag to Waitress. “He wanted you to have this.”

Waitress accepts the black plastic with a mix of reverence and guilt. Though her head is creaking, she slept on a mattress last night and was able to shower this morning. She feels far better than she did yesterday. But she’s not sure what to think about this bequeathal. She wouldn’t have given Cheerleader Boy anything.

Next the host pulls a water bottle out of the pack. It’s full—though this will go unspoken, any time a contestant quits, his or her Nalgene will be filled with clean water before being given to its next owner. “As for this, it goes to…” The host drags his gaze along the contestants as he paces left to right and back again, drawing out the moment. Waitress is the only one among them who doesn’t want the water; she has three bottles already and they’re heavy.

Cheerleader Boy’s exit interview will be shown now, intercut with footage of his being led out of the woods by an unidentified guide dressed in black. “Did I think I would be the first to go?” he says. “No, but who ever does?” He’s in the backseat of a car. The windows are tinted. “I don’t regret coming, but enough is enough, I’m ready to go home. I don’t really care who gets my stuff.”

The host stops in front of Black Doctor.

“Doc’s all right,” says Cheerleader Boy. “And he’s really concerned about having clean water. Give it to him, I guess. Anyone but Randy.” The muscles of his face twitch into hatred, almost too quick to see. He closes his eyes and eases back into the seat. “I can’t wait to be home.”

Black Doctor accepts the bottle solemnly, and the host moves on.

“Our second Team Challenge will take place today,” he says. “But first, a Solo Challenge to determine teams.” He indicates the bucket with a wave of his hand, and viewers will be treated to a view of what it contains: brown water rich with unidentifiable organic bits. The camera pans out, revealing a table with two more buckets on top. One contains sand, the other chunks of charcoal. Next to the buckets are eleven two-liter soda bottles, labels removed. Zoo’s hand is in her pocket, clenching a bundled blue bandana. The host explains what she expects him to explain: Using the items on the table, as well as the supplies already in their possession and whatever they can scavenge, the contestants have to filter water. They have thirty minutes. “You must have at least one cup filtered by the Challenge’s end, or you’re disqualified. Whoever’s water is the clearest wins.”

The half-hour-long Challenge will be compressed into three minutes. Much of those three minutes is focused on Zoo, who leaps into action, sawing a two-liter bottle in half with her knife then stabbing a series of small holes in its bottom. She dumps in her damp charcoal dust, packing it tight, then layers sand on top, followed by pebbles and blades of grass. Using the top half of the severed bottle, she scoops and pours dirty water into her makeshift filter. She holds the filter above her measuring cup and waits. As Zoo’s water dribbles through, Tracker finishes grinding his charcoal to ash and begins constructing his filter. The others are watching these two, emulating them with varying degrees of success.

“Yesterday, I thought she was being noble using her bandana for the ash,” says Carpenter Chick as she puts rock to charcoal. “I figured that would be the hardest to clean. It sucks that she has it now, but good for her, really. I wouldn’t have thought to keep it.”

“Smart,” says Engineer.

“Lucky,” says Waitress. She pokes her two-liter bottle with her knife, tentative.

Zoo’s water has filled her measuring cup but retains a yellow-brown tint. “Ten minutes,” says the host. She scoops the worst of the filtered goop from her top layer and replaces the grass, then dumps the once-filtered water back in.

Banker’s filter is a muddy swirl, his measuring cup dry.

“Think they’ll notice if I just fill it with this?” asks Black Doctor, holding up the bottle he received from Cheerleader Boy.