by Tom Nicoll
There were mixed feelings about the first Elimination Challenge. For some reason Zizi actually seemed excited about the prospect. Because she had done so many of these shows maybe elimination didn’t really mean that much to her. She’d be back on another one soon enough anyway. And with his army of fans behind him, Bo wasn’t that bothered about it at all.
For me and Lexi there was too much at stake to be excited. If either of us got sent home it was going to make it a lot harder to discover what Cruul was up to. I figured I was the likeliest to face the vote. Bo was one of the most obnoxious people I had ever met, but everyone knew he had a massive fan base. My fan base was basically my parents.
“Everything OK?” Lexi asked as we reached the chamber. I still hadn’t found a moment to tell her what I’d seen.
“Let’s find Milo,” I said.
I immediately spotted him beside the stage, talking to Betty Black. I caught his eye and motioned for him to meet us at the back of the chamber next to a bunch of crates, away from the cameras.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“Fine,” Milo said.
“Is that it?” I’d expected a bit more about his first day on Team Cruul.
Milo raised his eyebrows and gave his head a little scratch. Of course, the mics! I quickly ran a hand through my own hair and clicked the button on the Time-Out. We looked back towards the stage, where the techs were now fussing over the cameras.
“So has Cruul done anything strange yet?” I asked.
Milo shook his head. “I’ve been watching him like a hawk but actually he’s been quite … well, nice.”
I screwed up my face. “Nice?”
“I know!” said Milo. “I was as surprised as anyone.”
“Well, it’s an act, obviously,” said Lexi. “For the cameras.”
“Yeah. I’ll keep my eyes peeled.” Milo nodded. “I’m sure he’ll show his real self sooner or later.”
I told them about what I had seen during the night.
“Interesting,” said Milo, rubbing his chin. “But I don’t think it was Cruul. We’re sharing a tent and I’m a pretty light sleeper. I think I would have heard him get up. Worth investigating, though.”
“Tonight,” said Lexi firmly. “We’ll sneak out once everyone’s asleep.”
“Right,” I agreed, before realizing we were overlooking one pretty important factor. “Hang on, what if one of us gets eliminated?”
A knowing smirk appeared on Lexi’s face. “We won’t.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“Just something Bo told me while you were in the diary shed,” she said. “Trust me, we’re good.”
“What about me?” asked Milo.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “Unless you’ve gone out of your way to be offensive, the public aren’t going to pick you. You’re too popular.”
Milo squirmed a little at this.
“I wonder what they have planned for these challenges anyway,” I said, changing the subject.
“I hope that’s not any indication,” said Milo, pointing to one of the crates. The lid was half open and inside was an odd assortment of medical supplies, clocks and what looked like…
“Are those tranquilizer darts?” said Lexi.
“I think so. I wonder what…” Milo’s voice trailed off as a cheer went up from the other end of the chamber. It looked like the cameras were back up and running.
“Can everyone take their seats,” shouted Karen, looking stressed. “We go live in a few minutes. That’s if nothing else goes wrong.”
“That was a pretty mean trick they pulled with those boxes yesterday,” said Milo as we headed to join the others.
“So you guys carried them all back too?” I said, feeling a rush of relief.
His face flushed a little. “Er…”
Before he could finish, Karen had grabbed him and led him to his seat. Not willing to incur her wrath, I sat down just as Ronald and Donald took to the stage.
A screen came down behind them and a video started to play, showing highlights from the first day. It started with footage of our team lugging a crate across the island, then cut to Milo’s team opening their boxes first. Next we saw Milo’s team get both of their crates to their campsite in a single trip. They then spent the rest of the day setting up their tents, cooking a meal, paddling in the water (not Milo obviously), talking, laughing and generally having a great time. Every so often it would cut back to our team, still lugging crates. All the while a clock in the bottom of the screen made it painfully clear just how long it took us. The whole thing ended on me accidentally dropping a crate on my foot.
While Milo’s team couldn’t move for laughing, our team squirmed in their seats through the whole thing. Apart from Bo, of course, who joined in the laughter. But that wasn’t the worst of it. In among the footage there was a sequence that bothered me more than anything else. It only lasted a couple of seconds, a blink and you’d miss it thing really, but it was there. Milo’s team sitting around a campfire as Cruul told a story. Though you couldn’t hear what was being said, everyone was listening intently and laughing as Cruul delivered his punchline. Milo included. Milo then must have said something funny himself as Cruul burst into laughter, giving him a jovial slap on the back. I wasn’t really sure what to make of it. Milo wasn’t buying into the Nice Guy Nigel act, was he?
“All right, so a very good day for one team, a not so good day for the other,” said Ronald once the video had ended.
“An important lesson to be learned there,” said Donald.
“Definitely,” agreed Ronald. “It’s like my mum used to tell me: if you’re ever asked to carry four huge crates across an island on a reality TV show, check what’s inside them first.”
“Your mum is so wise,” said Donald.
“She is,” agreed Ronald. “OK, so as well as moving boxes we also gave the two teams the task of coming up with a name. Sam, what are you guys going to be called?”
“How about The Transporters?” suggested Donald, to more laughter from the other team.
“Um … no,” I said. We had eventually settled on a team name but now as the word formed in my mouth, I realized how rubbish it was. “Ellipsis.”
There was a brief but awkward silence punctured by some tittering from Milo’s team. “You mean like dot-dot-dot?” asked Ronald.
“We think it sounds a bit mystical,” said Zizi.
“And we like the way it ends sentences on a note of suspense,” said Bo. “That’s like us – we plan on keeping people guessing.”
I nodded. “Yep. What they said.”
“That’s rubbish!” shouted Joe Bruiser.
“Oh yeah?” said Bo. “And what are you lot called, then?”
“We’re Team Accelerate,” replied Bruiser.
“See, I told you we should have gone with that!” Zizi pouted.
“All right, all right,” said Ronald. “So we have Team … Ellipsis – see what I did there? – and Team Accelerate. Excellent. Now we come to the exciting bit. Revealing which of you have been chosen by the public to take part in the first ELIMINATION CHALLENGE!”
A gust of air swept through the cave, blowing out most of the candles. Spooky purple and red lights shot up from the stagw floor, illuminating Ronald and Donald’s faces.
“The public have voted,” said Donald, putting on a sombre voice. “The results have been verified. The first member of Team Ellipsis to face elimination is…”
“Bo!” shouted Ronald.
I turned to Lexi. She grinned back at me.
Suddenly Bo was lit up by a spotlight. To say he looked surprised was an understatement. “Well, obviously there must be some mistake,” he said, laughing nervously. “I specifically instructed all my fans to vote for me. There’s millions of them.”
The chamber fell into an awkward silence. “Sorry,” said Betty Black. “Did you say you’ve been asking people to vote for you?”
“Of course,” said Bo. “Mobili
zing the Bo Brigade to vote to save me.”
“It’s a vote to nominate you, you mug!” Joe Bruiser cackled.
Bo’s jaw hit the floor. “What? But I thought… Oh no! Wait, can we have a do-over on this one? There’s been a huge misunderstanding.”
“No second chances, I’m afraid,” said Donald. “Now, our second contestant to face the Elimination Challenge, from Team Accelerate…”
“It’s Nigel,” said Ronald.
Another spotlight fell on Cruul. Unlike Bo, he took the news far better, smiling and nodding as if he’d been expecting it. Joe gave him a friendly slap on the back. But thankfully it appeared that the public wasn’t buying Cruul’s act, at least for now.
“So if we could have the two contestants join us onstage,” said Ronald.
As Bo and Cruul made their way up, a table and two stools were brought on by a couple of crew members. A red and white checked cloth was then draped over the table and a small vase containing a single orange flower was placed in the centre.
Ronald and Donald were now wearing berets with stuck-on oversized moustaches. “Mes amis, if you pleeze, take a seat,” said Ronald, putting on a terrible French accent.
“Oui, be our guests,” said Donald, whose effort was somehow even worse.
Bo and Cruul took their places, their eyes locked on each other.
“Now, ze first challenge,” said Ronald, “it iz an eezy one. All you have to do iz be ze first to finish a special meelkshake and a nice boor-ger.”
“A what?” asked Bo.
“A meelkshake,” repeated Ronald. “And a boor-ger.”
A crew member appeared with a silver tray and put down two large glasses in front of Bo and Cruul. Inside each was a pink-y, green-y, grey-y concoction with gross chunky bits throughout. Next to these he placed plates with lids on.
“Now zees meelkshake iz a leetle bit different to meelkshakes you’ve probably ’ad before, no?” said Donald.
Cruul looked repulsed but not nearly as much as Bo did.
“You’re not expecting us to drink that?” he asked, even though it was pretty obvious that’s exactly what was expected.
“Oui,” said Ronald.
“Will you drop that stupid act and talk normally?” Bo snapped.
“Er … yeah, OK then,” said Ronald.
Bo sniffed the top of his glass, before making a face like he was going to throw up. “What’s in it?”
“I’m glad you asked,” said Donald, removing a piece of paper from his pocket. “All natural ingredients, of course. Let’s see… There’s cockroaches, maggots, worms, crickets, dung beetles, actual dung, vomit fruit, fish eyes, fish guts, haggis, ants and kale.”
“Not kale?” said Cruul, making a retching sound.
“I can’t drink that,” said Bo.
“Why?” asked Ronald.
Bo looked around the chamber, scrambling for an answer.
“Because he’s a vegetarian,” sniggered Lexi.
“Yes, that’s right, I am!” he shouted.
The video screen flickered into life again, playing footage of Bo tucking into a big greasy burger. The chamber erupted in laughter. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him, though.
“Fine,” he whispered. He pointed at his plate. “And what’s in there?”
“Oh, just another burger,” said Ronald innocently. “The milkshake’s to wash it down.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad, I guess,” said Bo.
“Sorry, did I say burger?” said Ronald, slapping his forehead. “What I meant to say was TARANTULA BURGER!”
He pulled the lids off the plates to reveal two large buns. They looked like normal burgers, apart from the teeny-tiny difference of there being eight legs sticking out of the sides.
“Oh, come on!” Bo groaned. “Are they at least cooked?”
“Of course,” assured Donald. “Cooked to perfection. Now the rules are exactly what you’d expect. The first to finish wins. Any more questions? Nope? We’ll count down from three. You guys ready?”
Cruul nodded. With a grimace, Bo did the same.
“OK,” said Ronald. “Three … two … one… Go!”
Cruul picked up his burger and took a huge bite. He gave a brief nod to indicate it wasn’t that bad.
Bo wasn’t quite as quick to get stuck in. Eventually he took a deep breath, picked up the burger and held it close to his mouth. For a moment it looked like that might have been as far as he’d go but then he started to extend his tongue tentatively towards the edge of the burger. He was only a few millimetres away from touching it when it happened. The burger touched him.
A single leg flicked up, landing on the tip of Bo’s tongue. For a few seconds he froze as if unable to believe it had just happened.
The burger had moved – and in fact was still moving.
“AAAAAAARRRGGGHH!”
Bo flung the burger as far as he could. It sailed over our heads, landing with a thud. We watched as the tarantula wriggled free from the bun and dashed out of the cave to freedom.
Bo turned accusingly to Ronald and Donald.
“Don’t look at us,” said Ronald. “We didn’t cook the thing.”
“Neither did anyone else by the looks of things,” Donald pointed out.
“Mine was cooked,” said Cruul. “Medium rare, just the way I like it.”
“I can still taste it on my tongue!” wailed Bo. He grabbed the milkshake and took a huge gulp.
That was a mistake. Bo started projectile-vomiting all over Ronald and Donald. Cruul, on the other hand, calmly drank the entire contents of his glass as though it were nothing more than a regular milkshake.
Cruul had won. Bo was gone.
Voice: Hello, Sam. Could you talk us through the challenge?
Sam: Why? Don’t you have it on tape?
Voice: Of course. But you know reality shows, half the time’s taken up by people just recapping what everyone’s already seen.
Sam: Right. Well, Bo lost. I hope he’s all right. I suppose some of his colour had come back when they were carrying him away on the stretcher…
Voice: And what did you make of Nigel’s effort?
Sam: I guess I shouldn’t be surprised he won. I know he’s got the stomach for much worse. But the way he won… He didn’t even flinch. He drank that thing like it was a normal milkshake. Are we sure it wasn’t a normal milkshake?
Voice: What are you suggesting?
Sam: Like … there wasn’t maybe a mix-up with the glasses or something?
Voice: [Serious] No.
I decided that there probably wasn’t a lot to be gained from openly calling Nigel a cheat, so I left the diary room and returned to our camp.
“What’s that?” I asked as I spotted my remaining teammates sitting on a log reading a sheet of paper.
“It’s our punishment,” said Lexi.
“For losing the Elimination Challenge,” said Zizi, handing me the note. “They’ve cut our rations.”
I think we can admit that was a bit of a flub,
And as punishment for losing, we’ve nicked all your grub.
So now if you scurvy lot are wanting your tea,
You’ll need to go forage in the woods or the sea!
Not having to put up with Bo any more had felt like a reward in itself so the news didn’t come as a huge surprise. Still, the closest I’d come to sourcing my own food was going to the chip shop for Gran.
Zizi, Pierre and Lexi went off into the jungle in search of fruit. I decided to go and fish.
Not having fishing equipment was a problem. I brought along a spare T-shirt, thinking I could use it as a makeshift net, and a pointy stick I found on the way down to the water to serve as a spear.
I spent about an hour throwing the stick into the sea. I didn’t dare to venture out too far in case the shark came back. After all, the goal was for me to catch fish, not the other way round. There were plenty of fish to be caught, of every shape and size, but unfortunately there was a shortage of
people equipped to catch them. The one time I did actually hit something the stick bumped off it and whacked me in the face.
After a while I switched to using the T-shirt. And then I saw it. A fish big enough to feed both teams, swimming lazily through the water. I positioned my “net” and held my breath as the monster fish continued blindly towards it.
“Gotcha!”
Gripping the “net” tightly in both hands, with all my strength I scooped it out of the water. But just as I raised it up, the fish sprang forwards and headbutted me, sending me flying backwards into the sea.
Coughing and spluttering, I rubbed the salt water from my eyes as the fish casually swam away.
Defeated, I decided to return to camp. With the sun beginning to set, my eyes drifted towards the huge mountain in the distance. It dominated the island, like a hulking bully having barged and shoved its way past the other kids to get to the best spot.
When I arrived back I couldn’t believe my eyes. Lexi and Zizi were sitting in front of a massive pile of coconuts, bananas, mangoes, oranges, watermelons and tons of other mouth-watering fruits.
“Will that do?” asked Zizi, fetching me a towel.
There was enough there to last us weeks. “I think we’ll be OK.” I grinned.
When it was time for bed, Lexi and I entered our tents as normal and waited for Zizi to fall asleep before making our move. As I now had the tent to myself, I decided to leave the front unzipped as I waited for Lexi.
I gave a huge yawn. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too long.
There was a rustling noise. I sat up and watched as the zip on the girls’ tent started to pull up. It had only moved a couple of centimetres when Pierre started barking his tiny head off.
“Pierre!” said Zizi from inside the tent. “What is it, sweetums? Lexi, is everything OK?”
The zip was pulled back down and I could hear Lexi getting back into her sleeping bag. “Yep, all good,” she said. “Thought I heard something. Nothing there, though.”
