by Suzanne Cass
The misappropriation of her grandmother’s house was the last straw on an enormous pile of hurt Wayde had inflicted on his small family over the years. Cilla had often wondered how she could possibly have been born of his flesh and blood. They had nothing in common. He’d always had a problem with alcohol, spending most of the meagre money he earned on booze. That’s why Cilla had spent her early years living with her grandmother; Wayde had palmed her off when he could no longer afford to buy her the most basic of commodities, such as food, or even clothing. He always seemed to keep one step away from living on the street though, instead crashing on a couch at a friend’s house, or renting a tiny room in some dingy dive of a house where drugs and drinking were part of the nightly ritual. At some stage his drinking had slowly but surely escalated to include high-stakes gambling.
If only her mother were still alive, maybe she might’ve been able to pull him into line. According to her grandmother, Cilla’s mother, Lily, was the only woman Wayde had ever listened to. But Lily died giving birth to Cilla. And from that moment on Wayde started down the slippery slope of booze and gambling. In his drunken rages he’d often become violent, and Cilla learned very quickly how to avoid him, keeping out of reach of his unsteady punches and kicks.
Even so, it was still a huge blow to find out the extent of his deviousness, and a small part of her still wondered how he could possibly do that to his own family?
Keeping her stare out on the ocean, she didn’t answer Alisha, only waited for Tam to resurface.
Alisha gave her a shrewd glance, and said, ‘Some of the others have already started making their alliances. It’s obvious Simon and Madison have been talking to each other. And if two people were ever made for each other, it’s those two.’ She let out a most un-lady-like snort. Cilla had noticed that they’d been giving each other furtive glances across the campfire the other night, and she agreed with the older woman’s observations.
‘And I’ll admit that I’ve already been approached by Glen and Paloma on different occasions, but both of them make my blood run cold.’ Now that was a surprising bit of information. But when Cilla thought about it, Alisha would be most people’s first choice. She was mothering, loyal, but still ultra tough.
‘But you two, well I think I can trust you two. As far as you can trust anyone in this game anyhow.’
‘Thank you, Alisha. And I believe I can trust you too,’ Cilla replied. ‘What about Marg? Should we include her?’
‘Mmm, I’ve thought of that too. I think we’d be better off with a small core of three to start with. We could always bring Marg in later.’ Again, what Alisha said was spot-on, but Cilla still hesitated. When it came to Tam, her emotions were conflicted. If she admitted what she’d felt only minutes ago was real, then could she form an alliance with someone she was attracted to? Would that be fair to either of them and would it alter her ability to think logically?
Then again, she was a strong-willed, determined woman who could control a few simple hormonal urges. What did she have to lose?
‘Okay, let’s do it,’ Cilla said. Alisha’s face split with a grin and she stuck out her hand to shake on the agreement.
As if on cue, Tam surfaced close to the rock and gave a shout of glee. ‘Another lobster.’ He shook his head like a dog, water droplets splashing all over them. His dark hair stood up in spikes, a smile of pure pleasure making him seem more carefree than she’d ever seen before.
‘You did well for a first timer,’ said Cilla.
‘Thanks,’ he replied as he hauled himself up onto the rock.
‘Tam, we have a question for you.’ Alisha cocked her head to one side, staring at him. ‘We want to know if you’d like to join our alliance?’
The beaming smile vanished from Tam’s face.
~
‘I’m sorry, JJ, I can’t do it,’ Cilla said, placing the offending item with great care back on the table. Tam was dumfounded. She couldn’t really mean that, she never gave up. Did she?
‘Come on, Cilla, you can do this. Don’t think about it, just close your eyes and chew,’ Marg shouted encouragement. Tam wanted to shout a similar reinforcement, but something in Cilla’s haunted eyes made him stop.
‘You’ll lose a point for Dawnbreakers if you don’t eat this, Cilla,’ JJ said with quiet authority. There was no pity on his face, just certainty.
‘I know, JJ. I … I just can’t do it, I’m sorry.’
‘No need to apologise. You did your best. If Jason from Nightrebels can eat the chicken then they’ll be ahead by one point.’ JJ pointed to Jason, who was chomping his way through this so-called island epicurean knockout battle. Tam couldn’t tear his gaze from Cilla, who stood staring at the ground, shoulders hunched. He knew by the cheering that Jason had completed his round successfully.
Cilla walked away from the table in the centre of the clearing to join the rest of them on the mat. Alisha gave her a quick hug, and said, ‘Don’t worry girl, just look at them.’ She gestured towards the other team. ‘There’s no way that geeky bald guy with the glasses is going to be able to finish this round. Then we’ll be tied again.’ Alisha gave her a huge grin, but Cilla didn’t smile back. Tam could hear other muttered comments that weren’t nearly as helpful as Alisha’s and he saw Cilla flinch at their unkind observations. She was taking this hard. Up until now she’d seemed almost unbreakable. Her skills, knowledge of survival and resilience under pressure were worn like a coat of armour. But this knockout had cracked her thick fortification wide open.
At least this knockout was for prize and plunder and not an exemption battle. Still, it’d be nice to be the proud owners of the large tarpaulin, four blankets and four cushions on display off to the side of the clearing.
In this Sea-Quest island epicurean knockout, the meals on offer were supposed to consist of certain island delicacies, but in reality the food was just plain disgusting. Designed to make them retch and heave and refuse to eat it. Each Dawnbreakers team member was paired off against a Nightrebels member and if they ate their repulsive food item, then they received a point. The team with the most points at the end of eight rounds was the winner.
Tam’s food had been some kind of fermented fish. Supposedly a local delicacy, but in reality it’d been ghastly. He’d held his nose and tipped the slimy, stinking mess down his gullet in one quick gulp, swilling a whole canteen of water down afterwards to wash away the taste. At least he’d kept his fish down, just. But so had his counterpart.
So far, Cilla was the only person not to complete her round. Her gross food had been a twenty-one day old chick, cooked while still in the egg. She had to peel the shell off and then eat the thing whole, beak, feet, head, everything. Tam had watched her raise it to her mouth, and even put it to her lips, but then she’d dry retched so violently he thought she might actually vomit.
Looking around he saw Cilla was no longer standing on the mat. She was sitting on the ground under some shrubs a few metres away, hugging her knees to her chest. He couldn’t leave her there, looking so tortured, so isolated. After all, they were in an alliance now.
‘You okay?’
‘Leave me alone, Tam. I’m sure you hate me as much as the rest of the team.’
‘We don’t hate you, Cilla. I don’t hate you. Everyone is human after all.’
‘Not in this game. You have to be more than human if you want to win.’ It sounded like some kind of mantra. He ignored the venom in her voice, understanding it was directed inwards, at herself, not at him.
‘What happened? Why couldn’t you eat it?’
I’m a vegetarian,’ Cilla said, her words slow and grim. She was licking her lips, as if she could still taste the tiny feathers in her mouth.
‘But you ate the lobsters and crabs we caught this morning, didn’t you?’ Tam was confused.
‘Yes, but I caught those, and I killed them. I know how they lived and how they died.’
‘So you don’t eat meat for moral reasons. Okay, I get it.’
; ‘Oh God. What if I lost the knockout for us?’ Her face was a picture of misery.
‘Cilla, it’s okay, I’m sure everyone will—’
‘You stupid bitch, what the hell do you think you were up to?’ Madison’s face was nearly purple with rage, her blue eyes screwed-up and piggish. Tam was instantly on guard, moving to intercept her before she got too close to where Cilla sat, huddled on the ground.
‘Just hang on a minute, Madison, you don’t know the whole story,’ he said, shooting a quick glance back at Cilla to make sure she was okay.
‘Oh, I see how it is now. Are you actually going to defend her? All she had to do was eat one stupid little chicken. It was dead. It would’ve been some much needed protein for her.’ Madison pushed Tam backwards, trying to get at Cilla. His protective instinct kicked up a notch and he stood his ground, squaring off against Madison.
‘Shit, if only I’d been chosen to eat that one. I would’ve gobbled it up and asked for more.’ Madison’s beautiful face was contorted with fury. Tam could hear Cilla dry retch behind him, the thought of having to eat that baby chicken whole still tormenting her. He didn’t turn around, keeping Madison firmly in his sights. ‘Everyone else ate whatever was given to them. I ate those disgusting cockroaches, even though those bloody things terrify the hell out of me.’ She peered around Tam, trying to spear Cilla with her words. ‘We lost a point because of you. You failed the team, you loser.’ Madison spat the last words through clenched teeth and stormed off to join the rest of the team, who were all cheering on Cho. It looked like he had to drink a glass of animal’s blood. Every time he took a swig, he was almost heaving the whole thing back up again.
Tam sent him a silent entreaty. Just keep it down Cho. Whatever you do, don’t throw it up.
He unclenched his fists. He wouldn’t have hit Madison, even though she deserved it.
In the end he managed to coax Cilla back to where the rest of the team were yelling for Cho to skull the last bit of blood in the bottom of his glass. Cho succeeded, although his face was going a rather interesting shade of green. Tam gave Cilla an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder, and she offered him a weak smile.
This alliance thing had him a little rattled, and when Alisha first suggested it he’d been lost for words. It was a logical proposition, however, and when he’d had a chance to gather his wits he’d agreed. He just wished he knew for sure whether it was logic that drove the choice, or the chance to get closer to Cilla. He knew romances weren’t a good idea out here. But it wouldn’t hurt to have some strong, loyal friends around, would it? Even if he was incredibly drawn to one of those friends, he was mentally tough enough not to act on his urges.
‘Cho wins this round,’ JJ yelled, his animated voice bringing Tam back from his thoughts. ‘Sally-Anne you didn’t keep your drink down long enough before you threw it back up. That gives Dawnbreakers and Nightrebels seven points each.’ They were back to a tie. Thank God. Tam looked over towards the knockout table. Sally-Anne looked like a Barbie Doll wannabe. Fortyish, long blonde hair and tight clothes. Her face was smeared with blood. It dripped down her chin where she’d vomited it all over the sand. Poor woman. He didn’t envy her one little bit. Just looking at her was making Cho’s face go even greener.
This was the first time they’d seen team Nightrebels since they’d been to the conclave the other night. Tam didn’t remember the names of all the other people, but JJ told them as they’d come in for the knockout this morning, that team Nightrebels had voted out someone called Phoebe. He thought he could recall a plump girl who spoke very loudly. The loss didn’t affect him; he felt not even the slightest pang of guilt or dismay at her being the first person voted out of this season’s Sea-Quest. Better her than one of their team. He hoped their luck continued to hold and they kept winning.
~
White sand crunched beneath her bare feet. Footprints fanned out behind Cilla in a wandering line, following the crash and roll of the waves as they broke on the shoreline. She was a long way from the camp now. Experience told her it wasn’t good to isolate yourself, even for small amounts of time, in this game. But she just had to have this precious half hour to herself.
A deep frown creased her forehead. They were probably all talking about her right now back at camp, but it couldn’t be helped. She needed time to regroup and re-adjust to the new paradigm in the team. One where she was found wanting by the other team members. What hurt even more was the fact their disappointment was warranted.
She’d let them all down.
They’d lost the prize and plunder knockout. Nightrebels got to take home the blankets and the tarp, which would keep them warmer and a heck of a lot drier. Dawnbreakers would just have to cope with their leaking roof and use each other to keep warm at night. And Cilla was partly to blame for their loss. Paloma had also failed to eat her disgusting dish of fish eyes, which had been crawling with flies. But everyone seemed to be blaming Cilla.
It wasn’t like she’d been physically unable to complete the knockout. It was definitely a mind-over-matter thing. But when she’d seen that poor little chick, all curled up, fully formed, her heart had lurched into her mouth. Anguish, disgust and rage had warred equally in her chest. But in the end anguish won. Tears had sprung, uncalled for as she’d stared at the tiny thing in her hands, feathers folded neatly down over its body and eyes closed, as if merely asleep, awaiting the right time to hatch out into the world. She’d squeezed the tears away, closing her eyes, as if shutting out the sight of the poor thing would help. But nothing was going to make her force that baby animal through her lips. Not even the thought of losing one million dollars.
The revelation shocked her.
She wasn’t used to failing. She’d made damn sure she was always self-reliant, strong and capable. Her ex, Marco, had once called her the ice-queen, but he’d been drunk when he said it. At the time his comment had stung. Maybe that was how other people perceived her. Part of it was a veneer she put up to protect herself. Marco had never bothered to try and break through that veneer, he’d never truly understood her. Marco had been drunk nearly every night towards the end, just before she left him. Drunk and mean, just like her dad. How had she managed to fall for a guy so similar to her father? She still wasn’t sure. But at least she had the guts to leave him in the end. She’d abandoned him in Townsville, sailed her boat out of the harbour while he’d been ashore one morning, and never looked back.
She hadn’t figured on this exact knockout catching her out, though. The game was throwing her a curve ball and somehow she had to try and recover. Sea-Quest was renowned for placing twists and turns in contestants’ paths to keep everyone guessing, but she’d been sure her survival skills and knowledge of the islands would get her through. At least this had only been a plunder knockout for reward, and they were not now heading off to the conclave to vote someone out.
She blew a breath out between pursed lips. It was time to turn around and go back to camp. Time to put on the brave face again and act as if Madison’s taunts didn’t cut her to the bone.
As she turned around she brought her head up for the first time since she’d left camp. The curve of a small beach stretched before her, cut by the blunt edges of a limestone cliff, forcing its way out to sea and forming a small headland. The beach was pristine. Pure white sand, surrounded by the halo of green fringing the back edge and crystalline aqua blue water on the other. A bird calling from within the depths of the jungle competed with the sound of gently breaking waves to form a natural symphony
The late afternoon was peaceful and serene. Some of the tranquillity pierced her soul and it was easier to shake off a little of her self-recrimination.
She should search underneath some of those larger trees looming over the edges of the headland. The elusive doubloon could be hidden in their crevices or buried beneath their roots. If she found it then destiny would definitely weigh a lot lighter.
Her feet found the flat spots between the rocks as she worked her way up
a small sloping rock face. A cliff of at least thirty feet high reared upwards further back, but the rocks around the foot of the cliff were low, scoured by the pounding surf. In these flat spaces, trees had managed to find a root-hold in the sparse sand. She made her way into the shade of the cliff, poking around underneath the draping branches and wide, spreading roots of a large fig tree. It’d be a good place to hide a doubloon, well away from the rising tide.
Cilla backed out onto the rocks a few minutes later. Nothing. She’d found nothing in there.
‘Hi, Cilla, whatcha doing?’ Cilla jerked her head around. It was Paloma. What was she doing so far down the beach? Paloma had a friendly grin plastered on her face, but there was a certain tightness around her eyes, putting Cilla on edge.
‘Just poking around, checking for crabs, you know.’ The lie didn’t come easily to Cilla’s lips.
‘Huh? You were looking for the doubloon, weren’t you?’
‘Um …’ Cilla didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected such a direct question, especially from Paloma, who was always smiling and talking about her four kids. This was a different Paloma, one who was suddenly centred on the game. Paloma ran an impatient hand over her dark hair.
‘Of course you were. We all are, we just don’t want to admit it,’ Paloma replied. Uncomfortable, Cilla remained silent. ‘I’ve been searching for it.’ Paloma’s Latino accent became more pronounced with the anxiety of the admission. ‘And if I’ve been searching, then so has everyone else.’
The unanswered question hung between them. Had either of them found it?
‘It’d be a great advantage to have, if we ever go to the conclave. No?’
‘Yes, it would,’ Cilla admitted. ‘Shall we head back now?’ She started walking towards camp, not waiting to see if Paloma followed her. The frankness of the conversation had rattled her. Up until now the spectre of the hidden doubloon hadn’t figured too much in her plans. But now the idea Paloma was searching for it – and perhaps had already found it – changed everything. Cilla needed to get her head back into the game and start looking for the doubloon in earnest. It could be the difference between staying here and going home.
