The Last One Page 12

  [-] LongLiveCaptainTightPants 33 days ago

  They’re not claiming to provide an accurate depiction of wilderness survival. The show’s not about getting on in the woods, it’s about breaking people—seeing how far each contestant will go before he or she quits. They explicitly said as much after they gave them the safety phrase. And if you want to discuss what’s wrong with America, I’m pretty sure there’s a thread for that here.

  [-] HamMonster420 33 days ago

  You can’t have a “weekly finale.” It’s not a finale if it happens every week.

  [-] Velcro_Is_the_Worst 33 days ago

  Show needs more hot chicks.

  [-] EarCanalSurfer 33 days ago

  I could watch the redhead bend over all day.

  [-] Velcro_Is_the_Worst 33 days ago

  No way, too skinny. It’s remarkable her guts fit inside.

  [-] 501_Miles 33 days ago

  I like the blonde. She’s got moxie! And a great smile.

  [-] 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.

  Rancher, Air Force, and Engineer are doing well. Almost as well as Tracker. If not for Zoo’s advantage, this would be a race.

  “Time!”

  Waitress and Banker have barely any water in their measuring cups. Exorcist is a third of a cup shy. All three are disqualified. Of the remaining eight, there is an obvious winner. Zoo’s water is not crystal clear, but it’s far less yellow than the rest. Biology’s cup looks like she dipped it straight into the dirty bucket.

  “Congratulations,” says the host to Zoo. “As your reward, you get to assign teams for our next Challenge. Partners, but with one team of three due to the…oddness of the group.” The producers don’t like this; he’ll have to re-record the line later, sans pun.

  “Do I get to know anything about the Challenge before I choose?” asks Zoo.

  “No. Who do you want as your partner?”

  Engineer is trying not to smile; it’ll be him. It has to be him—they caught a fish together.

  Zoo doesn’t hesitate before naming Tracker. Engineer is quietly devastated. Zoo pairs him with Carpenter Chick, thinking that they will work well together. Her next move splits the young alliance as she pairs Air Force with Biology and Black Doctor with Banker. That leaves Rancher, Waitress, and Exorcist as the team of three.

  The host motions for everyone to follow him. He leads them west, in the direction of yesterday’s field. The trek that follows will be glossed over—they’ve arrived! They’re at the southern cliff, the one visited by both Biology and Exorcist during last night’s Challenge. A salmon-colored rope now dangles from the top of the cliff, where it’s anchored to two tree trunks and
a small sunken boulder.

  Banker is smiling. “Nice,” he says. At Black Doctor’s curious look he adds, “We got this.”

  “No way,” says Waitress. The editor decides to make this her catchphrase. “No way. I hate heights.”

  Exorcist gives her a condescending look. “It’s only like thirty feet.”

  Rancher considers the cliff face, the rope. “We have to climb that?” he asks. It’s unclear who’s more frightened—him or Waitress.

  The host steps forward to stand at the base of the cliff. He tugs on the dangling ends of the rope with one hand. “Rock climbing,” he says. “It may not be an essential skill for wilderness survival, but it can get you out of a bind. Plus”—he flashes a white-picket smile—“it’s fun. The first part of this Challenge is to get one member of your team to the top as quickly as you can. Your finishing time will determine the order in which you set off on the next phase.” He turns to Zoo. “Who’s first?”

  Zoo didn’t hear Banker’s confident remark to his partner and wonders if anyone here is a climber. She’s gone a few times with friends to indoor climbing gyms, but has never climbed outdoors. After a moment, she names Biology and Air Force to start.

  “Have you climbed before?” Air Force asks his partner.

  Biology shakes her head.

  “Who’s ascending?” asks the host.

  “I am,” says Air Force.

  Time skips. Air Force and Biology both wear helmets and harnesses. All the contestants have received an off-camera lesson in how to take up a rope’s slack as a climber climbs—Banker scoffs at the equipment, “Anyone can belay with a grigri,” but he helps Black Doctor when he gets confused—and a guide who will never appear on camera positions himself behind Biology to serve as her backup. Air Force is tied in, and the belay device is clipped to Biology’s harness. The leg loops of the harness frame her rump, lifting both cheeks, and the waist is tight only a few inches below her breasts, like an underline. The camera lingers, shameless.

  “I’ve climbed wooden walls, but never a rock wall,” says Air Force. His short hair is oily and his skin shimmers with sweat. There’s a smear of dirt down his neck from where he scratched at a mosquito bite. He and Black Doctor are the only two who weren’t able to shower since the overnight Challenge. “We’ll see how it goes.” He pauses. “My ankle? It feels better. It’ll be fine.”

  “And go!” says the host.

  Air Force doesn’t have enough experience to race up the cliff face, and he knows this. He considers where to start. Any climbers watching will know what Banker already knows: This route is a 5.5—an easy 5.6, tops—a slab with juggy holds. This Challenge is more mental than physical.

  Air Force touches the rock above his head, then steps onto a knee-high ridge. He’s off the ground. Biology yanks the rope’s slack through the belay device. She’s tense; she truly believes she has another’s life in her hands. Behind her, the guide keeps a brake hand on the rope. Air Force begins to move upward, clenching the rock and keeping his body close. He’s relying too much on his arms; soon his forearms are pumped and his fingers ache. He’s halfway up. He pauses with his cheek pressed to the cool rock face and looks down. The view doesn’t affect him; he’s out of his comfort zone, but steady. He shakes out his hands, one after the other, then creeps his fingers up to the next hold.

  Five minutes and four seconds into the Challenge he swats the white-tape X at the top of the cliff with his gritty palm. Biology yanks out any last inch of slack, then Air Force sits back and lets go of the wall. Biology releases the brake and her partner walks his way back down the cliff face. She doesn’t breathe until he reaches the ground.

  “Who’s next?” the host asks Zoo.

  She points at the trio.

  “And I will ascend to Heaven,” says Exorcist. He cracks his knuckles, then attacks the wall, scurrying up the rock like a beetle. Waitress is sitting out; Rancher struggles to take up the slack quickly enough. The motion is unfamiliar and he can’t quite keep pace.

  Exorcist slips, scrabbling with hands and feet as he careens toward the ground. Waitress shrieks. Exorcist jolts to a stop halfway down; Rancher is lifted to his toes and jerked forward, both hands tight about the rope below his waist. His backup holds firm. Exorcist swings left, twirling and bashing his shoulder into the rock. When he finally stills, dangling loosely in his harness, there’s blood on his face and hands.

  Viewers will now see Exorcist from above, as the camera drone swoops down from invisibility to zoom in on his pale, sweaty face. The blood on his forehead and left cheek is like war paint, smeared from his scraped palm and fingertips. His jaw is tight, his almond-brown eyes wide.

  “Can you continue?” the host calls.

  Exorcist nods stiffly. His God-given bravado is faltering. For the first time since taping began, he’s visibly scared. His fear makes him seem more real, like a person instead of a caricature. The producers are concerned; this isn’t why he was cast. But they give the editor the moment. They too are curious where it might go.

  A full minute passes—a few seconds for the viewer—as Exorcist collects himself. When he resumes climbing, he moves with unaccustomed care.

  “Wow,” says Carpenter Chick. “He’s got guts.”

  Engineer nods; he doesn’t think he could keep climbing after a fall like that.

  On the whole, the respect the contestants have for Exorcist ticks up a notch—from zero to one on a yet-to-be-determined scale.

  Exorcist finishes with a time of nine minutes and thirty-two seconds.

  Banker and Black Doctor are next. It’s clear from Banker’s first move that he’s an experienced climber. He glides up the wall, moving with smooth efficiency. His ascent will be intercut with a confessional: “You’ll find me in the Gunks most summer weekends, and I climbed El Cap last year. This is a great Challenge for my skill set. I’m pretty confident I’m going to kill it.” He slaps the white X after only one minute and forty-four seconds. He’s not even breathing hard. Black Doctor whoops as he lowers his partner. Exorcist’s eyes narrow.

  “Wow,” says Zoo. “Nice.” She turns to Engineer and Carpenter Chick. “You’re up. Good luck.”

  For the first time, a woman ties in to climb. “I don’t know,” says Carpenter Chick via confessional. “Heights have never really bothered me. I kind of like them. Some of my favorite days on the job have been on roofs. This looks fun.”

  Carpenter Chick is short, which limits her reach, but she is also light and highly flexible—residue of a childhood passion for gymnastics. And though she doesn’t make it look as easy as Banker did, there is ease to her movements as she climbs. She taps the X at four minutes and thirteen seconds, placing her and Engineer in second place.

  Zoo and Tracker are up. “Part of me feels like I should’ve volunteered to climb,” says Zoo, as Tracker ties in. “Like I should take on anything, no matter how scary or difficult. But you have to take strategy into consideration too, and in this case it’s clear that my partner’s going to be better at this than me. I mean, did you see him with that tree the other day? He’s like a monkey. Or a cat.” She laughs. “A monkey-cat. Sounds cute, right?” Accusations of racism will pepper the Internet—Zoo would be horrified if she knew. She meant only that he climbs well.

  On the cliff face, Tracker lacks Banker’s experience, but he knows movement and he knows his body. He moves quickly and sleekly toward the top. The timer ticks. “One minute down,” says the host. Tracker has just passed the halfway point. He has forty-three seconds left if he wants to beat Banker. He does want to beat him—but he also knows his limits. His fingers are learning the rock, his eyes and brain working together to judge the best holds ahead of time. “One minute thirty!” He’s close to the top, but is he close enough? Black Doctor grips Banker’s shoulder.

  “One forty-four,” says the host.

  Black Doctor and Banker slap a high five.

  Fourteen seconds later, Tracker reaches the X. He and Zoo finish in second pl
ace.

  Between all the delays and transitions, this Challenge has lasted hours. The fruit provided in the log cabin was devoured long ago. Rancher has one burger still tucked in his pack, and Banker a fistful of limp asparagus. Tracker finished the last of his chicken this morning; he prefers calories now to calories later, always. “I’m starving,” says Engineer. Biology has only a few protein bars left and she’s no longer sharing.

  The host had eggs and sausage for breakfast. There was no time for lunch, but he ate a Snickers bar and drank a Coke Zero between climbs, turning his back to the contestants as he ate. He’s looking forward to sending them off on the next leg of the Challenge so he can have a sandwich. But first, more down time. The contestants mill about, anxious to know what’s coming next. After a few minutes, an intern barrels in from the south, shouting, “Sorry, sorry!” He’s chubby and white, in his early twenties. He carries a large duffel bag, which he brings to the host.

  “About time,” says the host, as the contestants are ordered to line up in front of him.

  The duffel bag contains five rolled-up maps, one for each team. The host flourishes one. “The next phase of this Team Challenge is tougher than anything you’ve faced so far. And longer. Inside your map, you will find a printed Clue, which will lead you to a waypoint with another Clue. The third and final Clue will lead you to the Challenge’s finish.” He pauses. “You will not finish today.” Several of the contestants grumble, their murmurs an undertone to the host’s words as he continues, “The order in which you leave on this journey will be determined by how you finished your climbs.” He hands one of the rolled maps to Banker. “You two leave first, followed by the others in ten-minute intervals. Your time starts now.”

  Banker and Black Doctor rush to collect their gear, then dart about twenty feet away to unfurl their map. The others mill about; Waitress sits, leaning against a tree and closing her eyes.

  The new map is topographical, covering many more square miles than anything the contestants have been shown before. Rounded shapes, never quite concentric, and the U’s and V’s of running water tell the land’s tale. A You-Are-Here dot is settled near the bottom-left corner. Last night’s dirt road looks very close at this scale. A curl of paper tucked inside the map reads: