Read Darwin's Quest: The Search for the Ultimate Survivor Online
Authors: Jonathan P. Brazee
Darwin's Quest: The Search for the Ultimate Survivor (7 page)
Chapter 6
“Revelations!” we shouted, a little better in unison that we had the first time.
It had been a comfortable, companionable night. With food in our bellies, we sat and talked. Josh and I were able to compare notes about Production Village and Baako Silver. But mostly we spoke of our homes, our backgrounds, and what we would do with the money if we won. But even then, we were playing the game. What we would do with the money was a loaded question. And except for the Final Two, the viewers would control our fate as far as coming back into the game. If they didn’t approve of what we would do with the money, well, it would be sayonara-time next time we got killed.
We had drifted off to sleep one-by-one, then just as haphazardly, woke up and started moving around. A few were still lined up to use the toilet when the lights flashed and the wall compartment came out.
Yash seemed to have appointed himself the duty reader. He rushed over to retrieve the paper, then brought back to the firepit where most of us were gathered. Joda was still in the toilet, but so be it.
“Survival means not only finding food, but being able to weather the weather. Cross the bridge and sit down on your designated spot. Endure.”
“Shit,” said Paul quietly, something I think we all wanted to echo. Well, we knew this game would be tough.
“It’s a temperature challenge,” Mike said needlessly. We all knew that. We had all watched the show before.
Joda came rushing out of the toilet, pulling up her shorts. “What is it?” she asked breathlessly.
“Temperature challenge,” Hamlin said flatly.
“Shit!”
“Yes, our dear friend Paul has already expressed that appropriate opinion,” said Mike, eliciting some forced-sounding laughter.
Wordlessly, we started to move out and over the bridge. I think even Hamlin knew that this was one challenge where leadership was not needed. We knew that all the construct dangers would be out of the way, and even the natural ones would be kept at bay for the duration of the challenge.
Just over the bridge in the clearing, the place where I had been killed, a ring made up of fourteen discs had been laid out in the grass. On each disc was a name. We milled about, looking for our own. I found mine between Paul’s and Joda’s.
This challenge was completely individual. We could not assist each other. We could not touch each other. We had to endure alone.
I sat down and wondered. Would it be heat or cold? Looking at Borlinga and Yash, I wondered if their full body wraps and clothing gave them an advantage. Maybe I should have claimed some sort of religious grounds to wear more clothes. They couldn’t know all the religious groups on Monsanto, could they? Well, maybe they could at that.
A breath of cool air brushed my face. So it would be cold. I was relieved a bit. Cold was bad, but better than heat for me. I didn’t want to be cooked. The cold intensified a bit, and before too long, I started to shiver. It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought. I could take it. It merely felt brisk.
As the temperature plunged, it moved beyond brisk to uncomfortable. I looked around at the rest. Borlinga seemed unperturbed. Same with Alfhid. Must be that Viking blood in her. Hamlin was staring straight ahead, but I could see his muscles shake. Poor Ratt, though, was already shivering violently. I knew that smaller people had a bigger problem retaining heat, so she had her work cut out for her. That was good for me, though. Joda, in her little shorts and bare midriff, was also already having a hard time. She wasn’t that much bigger than Ratt. She glanced over to me sitting next to her and tried to smile, but it came out more of a grimace. I gave her a thumbs up with a confidence I didn’t feel.
The temperature continued to plummet. Our breaths clouded our little circle. I tried to blow a smoke ring; it didn’t work. My ears and fingers started to hurt. Not just cold, but hurt.
Along with many of the rest of us, I swung my arms and pounded my chest in an attempt to stay warm, to keep the blood flowing. My neck and shoulders felt strangely stiff, too, despite me swinging my arms. I found myself hunching over. We were not allowed to stand, but we could do with our hands and arms as we would. I put my hands over my ears, and I was surprised at how cold they were to the touch, but my hands were pretty cold, too. I cupped them in front of my mouth to breathe on them. It didn’t do much good. They still hurt.
I started to stare longingly outside the circle. There, a meter away, I knew it was warm. All I had to do was to stand up and step to it. Of course, there would be no chance at repechage. Once someone did that, they were out. But seven times before, cast members had chosen that option. I wondered if anyone of our group would. Forcing my eyes back, I focused on the ground in front of me. I could do this.
Time dragged on. My body started to shake more violently. I realized that I had stopped swinging my arms, so I tried to start up again. They didn’t want to seem to cooperate. I looked over to Ratt, and she looked still, slumped over. She wasn’t shaking, but maybe I couldn’t tell because I was shaking so much.
I was finding it harder to concentrate. I almost forgot about the game and thought I was back at home in my condo. I had to feed my fish. But there were no fish here. This was
Darwin’s Quest
. I had to concentrate!
Suddenly, I heard bells ringing. Was that a signal? I lifted my drooping head, but I couldn’t see any jing jing jingles. Santa wasn’t here. But naked Mike was. He was taking off his shirt. That was funny. I was feeling warmer too. I hadn’t felt my telltale vibrate, though, to say someone had died and the challenge was over. Maybe it was frozen, too?
I thought the challenge was finished. I was feeling warm, and I had stopped shivering. No one was getting up though, so maybe only I knew it was over. Well, it was a good secret. And since no one else knew, it seemed like a good time to go to sleep, so I lay back and closed my eyes…
…and awoke to see, though blurry eyes, a St. Bernard fussing over me. Did I die again? So soon? But then I noticed that all of us were being attended, and each of us had a St. Bernard. Mine had a tube stuck into my thigh, undoubtedly pumping me full of restorative and getting my nanos to speed up the healing. I guessed I had made it.
But who hadn’t? I looked over to where Ratt was and was surprised to see her still there, her own St. Bernard working on her. I would have given odds that it would have been her. But if not Ratt, then who? I looked around. Two spots over to my left was an empty disc. Mind still a little sluggish, it took me a moment to remember who had been sitting there. Then it came to me. Bernie. Bernie Sahadi was gone. So it must have been him. That was a surprise to me. Maybe his heart had given out. He was older than most of us, after all.
I hadn’t had time to really get to know Bernie, and I didn’t feel any sense of regret that it was him the cold claimed. Strategically, it might have been better if one of the stronger players had died. But at that moment, I was just relieved that I had made it, and as I hadn’t formed any bonds with Bernie, I took his death complacently. If he was voted back, fine. If not, fine. I didn’t feel strongly one way or the other.
Three field team members walked among us, looking at the St. Bernard readouts. It took awhile. Frozen flesh had to be knitted, damaged organs repaired. But one by one, they nodded and removed our St. Bernards and motioned us back to Haven. I was the third one released, and as I crossed the bridge, warm and happy, it was hard to remember that I had been shivering and close to death only a short while ago. My mind seemed kind of fuzzy on all of it, like it was a dream. I walked over to the firepit, took a piece of smoked fish, and sat down next to Yash and Alfhid to wait for the others.
Chapter 7
“Do you think I’m getting smaller?” Hamlin flexed his biceps for me. We were in line outside the toilet and supposedly in the cam-free zone. I was not sure how far that zone extended beyond the toilet itself, but I could understand why Hamlin might not want to ask a question that might get broadcasted. No one wanted to sound weak or unsure. Or vain for that matter.
“We’ve only been here less than a week. How can you already be getting smaller? You keep doing push-ups and stuff, anyway.” Actually Hamlin’s little exercise routine was a bone of contention with at least a few of us. Not just for the obvious posing for the viewers, but for the fact that because he was burning more calories, he needed more food for fuel.
“Yea, but that’s OK for pecs. But not for my guns.” He flexed them again, turning his arms slightly this time so he could see better.
“I don’t think you have to worry.”
“You’re in pretty good shape. How come you aren’t working out here? You work out much at home?”
“Just good genes, I guess. And here, I am trying to conserve my energy for the challenges.” I wondered if he would take the hint.
“OK, I guess that works for you,” he said absently. The door opened and Joda stepped out. She punched Hamlin in the arm as he stepped past her, smiling broadly.
Joda obviously had a little thing going for Hamlin. That probably bore watching.
I waited my turn, and when Hamlin finally came out, stepped in. The exhaust fans were whirling mightily, but there was still a faint miasma of Hamlin’s activities. No matter. It was good to be alone for a moment. I thought of our toilet as a sort of sanctuary within Haven. A place with a specific function, to be sure, but still a place where I could relax and not put up a front. I would have liked to linger, but with thirteen people still who might also need to use it, that wasn’t really quite fair. So I did what I had to do, then gathered myself and stepped back into the public eye.
I joined the others around the firepit. Still not committed, I none-the-less sat down next to Hamlin’s group rather than Josh’s. Mike and Borlinga had gravitated to Josh’s, and that left Lindadawn as the only swing player left. I wondered how that would shake out.
We already had a routine. Get up at dawn, grab a bite and drink, use the toilet, then gather round the firepit to chat and wait for our next challenge.
Yash was telling a story of going to Russia and being mistaken for a Muslim because of his Sikh clothing, and not being able to convince the babooshka that she was mistaken. But the way he was telling it, with over-acting and what were undoubtedly exaggerations, was pretty funny. We were all listening and laughing. He may have been playing it up for the viewers, but I got the feeling that our castmate was being true to himself. He was probably like this back at his home in India.
While listening, I looked around at the others. I hate to admit it, but I was feeling a degree of kinship with them, a degree of real friendship. I knew that these people were my competitors, and I wanted to win. But we were all bonding, even if we had two alliances. We were still castmates above all.
My reverie was interrupted by the theme music and lights. “Revelations!” we shouted, still laughing. Yash had been in the middle of describing how the babbooshka’s sister had joined in the argument, but he immediately stopped and bounded over to get the challenge notice.
“Life is not a free ride. Sometimes you have to fight for what you need. Follow the marked trail, and all will become clear,” he read.
“I wonder what that means,” Julie said.
“I hope that doesn’t mean we have to fight each other,” added Joda.
We all looked at each other when she said that. In Season 14, the cast had to fight Roman gladiator style, and in Season 19, the cast had to hunt each other. Neither had been very popular with the viewers, so we didn’t think we would be pitted against each other, but the producers had done stranger things in the past.
Hamlin shrugged and stood up. “We won’t know unless we go find out.” He walked over to where we had stashed our fishing spears, picked one up, and started toward the bridge. All of us filed after him.
He was the first over the bridge, where he stopped and watched outboard, spear at the ready. We were really going into Indian Country now. As the rest of us made it over, we each took a position of our own, ready for anything that might come our way. Julie was the last one over, and as she made it, we started in single file to the small green arrow which pointed our way. Climbing up the trail, we rose a hundred feet or so in elevation. Looking back, I could see Haven. I couldn’t see our camp as it was surrounded by the rock walls, but the whole thing looked pretty small. I wasn’t paying attention, and I bumped into Paul. We weren’t really that close to the edge of the hill, but it wouldn’t have looked good if I had knocked him over it and down the slope. In his typical taciturn manner, he took my hurried apology well, though.
The trail turned and led us away from edge of the hill and into some thick foliage. We couldn’t see more than a meter or so, which offered more than enough concealment for any number of dangerous creatures, generically called “dangers,” all bent on attacking us. But nothing jumped out to bite and rend us.
I was starting to sweat pretty well when the trail opened up to a clearing. I could hear something grunt on the far side, and as my castmates in front of me stopped dead in their tracks, I edged to the side and moved forward to see.
“Good Mother of God, what have those warped wizards at DreamWorks come up with now?” asked Paul in amazement. I understood the sentiment.
On the far side of the clearing stood what looked to be nothing else but a malevolent pig, but a pig out of someone’s nightmare. Standing almost two meters tall at the shoulder, it stood over the body of a deer-like animal, its forward-facing eyes fixed firmly on us, glaring with intensity. It opened its mouth, revealing rather ominous teeth as it began to intensify its grunting. From the side of its face protruded fleshy spikes, and as it shook its head, spittle flew off, sparkling as it caught the sunlight. The head was probably close to a meter in length, and it hung low, the neck sloping up to massive shoulders. The rest of the body tapered behind the shoulders to a smaller size, but that was only in comparison. This thing had to weigh 700 kilos. Where had the folks at DreamWorks come up with this?
“It’s an entelodont.” Mike had made his way to the front. I spared a glance at him, not wanting to take my eyes off the beast.
“The Hell Pig? You’ve never heard of it?” No one said anything. “Come on, guys. I’m not even from Earth, but even I know that. It’s from North America, from the Eocene and Miocene periods. And that is a big one, for sure.”
“So that thing is real?” asked Joda, her voice incredulous.
“Sure is. Or was. It’s been extinct for 20 million years or so.”
“Thank goodness for small favors,” she added.
“I think we see a theme here,” Lindadawn told us. “A T-Rex, huge old trout, this thing. An ice age. I guess we’re the Prehistoric Season.”
“Makes sense to me. So what do we do about it now? Do we kill it?” As usual, Hamlin was all about business.
Yash took out the challenge message again. “It says here, ‘Sometimes you have to fight for what you need.’ Maybe we only have to drive it off to get that animal it killed.”
Josh chuckled a little wryly. “As if that’s gonna make it SO much easier. But yea, I kinda like your position on that. Let’s just drive it off.”
The Hell Pig stood guarding the body of the deer, maybe twenty meters from us. We sort of shuffled around, forming a very loose semi-circle around it. It feinted a charge, causing us to start, and causing Julie to drop her spear. I could hear it fall and her exclamation, but I didn’t want to look and take my eyes off the beast.
No one really seemed to want to move forward. “Now what?” asked Joda.
“Well, we’ve got to do it,” Hamlin said off to my right.
Suddenly, a shout pierced the clearing. I was surprised that I noticed the shout was a clear, beautiful contralto. Why would that register with me? I looked over to see October lower her spear and start charging forward. I knew October was from the African Union, but I didn’t know her background. Was she a Maasai? I didn’t know. But she looked like one, her ebony arms holding her fragile bamboo spear, moving forward just as countless generations of Maasai warriors had charged lions. She was doing that tradition proud.
I watched in awe as her thin legs pumped, getting her up to speed as she lunged forward. This was going to stand her in good stead with the viewers. As she reached the Hell Pig, she tried to run the spear into the pig’s eye, but the creature lowered its head, and the spear grazed harmlessly up and over its massive shoulder. Unable to stop her charge, October stumbled and fell right under the thing. It reached down with its massive jaws and bit once. October didn’t even have a chance to scream. We could hear her skull crush, and we didn’t need to feel our telltales vibrate to know she was dead.
The Hell Pig dropped her lifeless body and glared at the rest of us. We stood there in shock for a moment, then something came over us. Like our far distant ancestors on the African plains, we felt the fury of the pack. And as they learned to drive leopards off, we too started hooting and hollering in wordless rage as we moved forward en mass.
Whether our slight bamboo spears could really damage that walking tank or not, I don’t know. But at the moment, I wanted nothing more than to drive it deep into his belly, to pull his guts out onto the ground. And that was certainly my intention. Maybe, that porcine brain facing us could recognize unadulterated rage. Maybe it didn’t realize we couldn’t really hurt it. For whatever reason, it simply turned and ran, bolting through the underbrush. I wanted to chase it, to bring it down. But a few steps into the bushes, I realized what I was doing. My mind cleared from the rage. I stopped and hurried back.
A St. Bernard was already trundling over to October. I was still amped, still hyped. Yash leaned back and howled at the sky, putting sound to my feelings, to all our feelings. October was dead, but we had triumphed. We had beat back the beast with our own force of will.
Hamlin reached down and picked up the deer carcass, slinging it over his shoulder. He started walking back, and the rest of us followed. We didn’t even bother looking back at October and the St. Bernard. The field staff would evacuate her before long, and either she or Bernie would be back in time for dinner.