"You think they have anything planned for us tonight?" Alison asked. She and Travis were walking side by side, as the group made their way up another twisting trail looking for cabin number 2.
"I doubt it. They'll probably give us a chance to get settled in," Travis said.
"Yeah, maybe," said Miranda, looking back over her shoulder. "But you really never know what's going to happen next."
Isn't that the truth, Alison thought as she forced a smile back at Miranda's face, flushed and excited at the thought of adventure.
As it turned out, things seemed to have quieted down for the evening. Alison and Miranda were settled in their cabin, the last one the group had located in the labyrinth of trails. Alison unloaded her box, noting with some relief that most of what she had packed had been left intact. Of course, she considered, she'd had to be careful not to include anything that would betray that she was anything other than a between-jobs fitness instructor looking for her 15 minutes of fame and a chance at the prize money.
Miranda dumped a bag of makeup on her cot and began sorting through it. Alison looked on in amusement.
"Do you think you brought enough stuff?"
Miranda pulled out a jumbo container of facial towelets and began carefully removing her makeup.
"One of the things I wondered about was whether there would be a bunch of makeup people here, you know?" She finished wiping her face, then started applying moisturizer from a little tube.
"I mean, you never know just how 'real' these reality shows are." She finished with the moisturizer, scooped the collection of tubes, jars and flat cases back into her bag, and stretched her legs out. "I always wondered how it works, and I'm not taking any chances on looking like a total loser when this thing airs."
"I didn't see any make-up trailers, or set designers lurking around," Alison said, "but who knows? Maybe all that stuff doesn't really get rolling until tomorrow morning."
"Maybe. But just to be safe, I brought my own stuff." She patted the bag. "You're welcome to use any of it."
"Thanks," Alison said, smiling at Miranda.
"So what's your story, really?" Miranda asked.
"Nothing much to tell. I've been working in a few health clubs back East, and just needed a change of scenery."
Miranda nodded and Alison continued. It was amazing how much more her cover story rang true even to her own ears each time she told it.
"I've been wanting to open my own little club for awhile - something on a small scale, offer yoga and a few other classes, and some personal training services. But the costs are out of sight in New York. That's why I headed out to the West Coast. Plus," she laughed, "what better place to offer personal training than in the land of the beautiful people?"
"You've got a point," Miranda said.
"In a town where spandex is de rigueur, there's no place for a couple extra pounds to hide," Alison said, and Miranda grinned back at her.
"So, anyway, once I got there I found out that the demand for personal trainers may be higher, but so's the cost of retail space. I'd just about given up the idea of opening any sort of studio and was going to try offering personal training services at the client's home, when I saw the ad for this show."
"Cool," Miranda said. She got up and started rooting through her cardboard box again.
"I figured why not give it a shot? If I make it to the end, I'll have some start-up funds and maybe I can rent space after all. If I get booted off the show, at least I can use the TV exposure as my calling card."
"You've really got it all figured out." Miranda pulled her legs up onto the cot and hugged her knees. "Me, I just thought it would be fun. You know, an adventure." She sighed. "And about the best chance I'm ever going to have of a vacation on an exotic island."
"But you could just pick up and walk away from your life for six weeks?"
"Walking away from a job waiting tables is no big deal, believe me."
"But what did you tell your family?"
Miranda shrugged. "I haven't spoken to my 'family' in five years, so I doubt they're going to wonder what's happened to me now."
"You haven't seen your family in five years? You must be older than you look."
"I'm 19," she whispered, looking around furtively. "But don't tell anyone, okay? I mean, I said on the application that I was 21 because I didn't know if they would take me on the show if I put my real age down. I left home when I was 14." She laughed. "Ran off with some guy who was going to change my life. He changed my life all right." She sighed.
"Look, I don't really want to talk about that, because . . . in a lot of ways this whole trip, being a contestant on this show, it's a new beginning for me. And I don't want to look back. From now on I'm only looking ahead."
Miranda put on an oversize t-shirt and a pair of brightly patterned leggings and sat back on her cot, cross-legged, balancing a composition book on her knee. "I guess you have a close family?" she asked, sounding wistful.
"No, not really." Alison pulled the drawstring on her thin, dark grey cotton sweats and slipped on a plain navy tank top – it would work for sleepwear, and also be a good outfit to wear if she had a chance to do a little late-night reconnaissance if she wasn't able to find out any information during the day.
"My mother died when I was 12," she told Miranda. "And my father drank himself to death."
"I'm so sorry. You lost them both when you were a kid."
"No, it took a lot of years before drinking actually killed him. Mostly he just got fired a lot."
"Must have been rough."
Alison shrugged. "You get over it."
"So, it was just you and him? No brothers or sisters?"
It felt uncomfortable lying to Miranda, who seemed like such an open book herself, but Alison couldn't take any chances.
"Just me." Alison gestured at the notebook on Miranda's lap. "What are you writing?"
"You know, poems, thoughts, whatever just comes to me. It's something I started when . . . I guess about a year ago."
Alison stretched out on her cot and stared at the dull, grey ceiling. It was a far cry from the firm mattress and down comforter in her condo in New York, but she'd slept in worse places. She willed her muscles to release the tension that had been building up all day.
"Don't stay up too late writing. Things have been pretty calm today," Alison said. "But I have a feeling that's about to change tomorrow morning."
* * *
Alison woke the next morning to sunlight streaming in through the single window in the cabin, and the sounds of birds chirping. She opened the cabin door and breathed in the fresh air for a moment then, realizing that cameras could be and likely were anywhere, stepped back in and shut the door.
"Wake up, Miranda." She went over to the other cot and shook the girl's shoulder gently when she didn't respond.
Miranda rolled over and put her arm over her eyes when the bright sun hit her face. She stretched, sighed for a moment and then sat bolt upright in bed.
"Wow. This is it, huh?"
"We're off and running," Alison said.
When they got down to the campfire clearing, they saw that Travis and Daryl were already pulling out the camp stove. In daylight, the picnic table was obvious in a clearing not far from the campfire circle. Jolene was stretched out on one of the benches, wearing short cut-offs slung low on her hips and a t-shirt knotted high to soak up the early morning sun. The light glinted off her belly button ring, and when she got up and walked over to the group, Alison saw it was a barbell with two small red cherries under green crystal leaves.
Billy Ray was staring at Jolene's flat stomach with open appreciation, and Miranda nudged Alison, muttering "Dirty old man" under her breath.
Travis and Daryl set up the stove, then stood back and looked at it.
"Does anyone know how to cook on one of these things?"
Clarice walked up to them, looking amazingly not like someone who just slept on a cot in the middle of a tropical island. She looked skeptically at the stove.
"That's what we cook on?"
"You were expecting something different?" Travis glanced over quizzically.
"I thought we'd be having meals together in a cafeteria."
"A cafeteria?" Alison suppressed a grin. They should be so lucky.
"Well, maybe more like a mess hall. Like summer camp when you're a kid."
"This is no summer camp, honey," Jolene said, "and we're not kids. It's a survival show, not a trip to a spa."
Miranda walked over and studied it for a moment.
"Cool," she said "Coleman three-burner propane camp stove."
Travis looked at her in surprise.
"You know how to use one of these?"
"I grew up using one of these." Miranda knelt down in front of it. "Lots of camping trips when I was a kid."
She went back to the shed and rooted around, coming up with a frying pan and a box of powdered eggs.
"Powdered egg substitute?" she said, making a face.
"Not this morning," Alison said, peering into the cooler and pulling out two dozen eggs and a stick of Canadian bacon.
Miranda grinned and fired up the stove.
Over breakfast, the topic of conversation was the announcement posted conspicuously on the notice board.
Good Morning Social Climbers. Your task today is to follow the red trail markers and retrieve Key #1.
Jolene stood in front of the sign, her hands on her hips.
"Social Climbers? What's that supposed to mean?"
Travis shook his head. "Well, it's either some sort of inside joke we'll figure out later, or else we're supposed to take it literally."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, my guess is that trail's going to lead to some challenge - probably rock climbing - that we'll need to work together to get through."
"Don't worry about it," Alison said. "How bad can it be if we're expected to free climb?
"Free climb?" Clarice asked.
"Without gear," Alison explained.
"Gear?" said Miranda, turning a slight shade of green. "Oh, God."
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing." Miranda attempted a bright smile, but the effort made her look more ill.
"Let's get it over with," she said.
Writer's Note
What challenge would you least like to face if you were on a survival show? I saw one show where they made the contestants eat bugs. Rock climbing I would be fine with. Eating bugs is a hard no for me. What do you think?