by Suzanne Cass
CHAPTER FIVE
‘The Nightrebels win exemption.’ Those four little words hung in the air, mocking Cilla. Her arms, already sore from the knockout, hung by her sides, heavy as lead. They’d lost the latest knockout, and now as punishment they’d have to vote one member of their team off the island. Cilla let her chin fall onto her chest, staring at the ground without really seeing it. This wasn’t good. Not good for her team, and especially not good for her. If the last prize and plunder knockout was anything to go by, Madison was going to blame Cilla for their loss.
She drew in a deep breath. It was an effort, but she straightened her spine, one vertebrae at a time. She needed to get her game face on and make sure she wasn’t the one on the chopping block tonight. Not let any of her desperation or apprehension show. Keep her wits about her and her senses sharp. Now wasn’t the time to fall to pieces.
‘See you at the conclave tonight, Dawnbreakers,’ said JJ, sending them one of his intense stares from beneath the brim of his black fedora.
‘Not looking forward to that, JJ,’ Glen replied, the extra skin beneath his chin wobbling as he spoke.
‘Me either,’ echoed Simon. For once he seemed to have lost his jaunty strut. They all turned and trudged single file down the path back to their campsite. Cilla’s mind was buzzing with what-ifs.
The knockout had been a game of ten-pin bowling. Simple in theory. Except this was Sea-Quest and of course it had to have a pirate bent to it. So the bowling balls were made from coconuts, but they weren’t bowled in the traditional way. No, in true Sea-Quest fashion they had to be shot out of cannons; rudely fashioned hollow logs, which the coconuts were fired through using a sling-shot contraption. The ten-pins were also wooden caricatures of a normal pin, twice the size and three times as heavy. The bowling alley had been made of rough wooden planks nailed together, with huge gaps between them, some of the planks tilted on crazy angles. Not in the slightest conducive to bowling with any degree of accuracy.
The stronger men had fared fairly well with this contraption, mainly because they’d been able to wrangle the coconut and shoot it using sheer brute strength. Most of the women had fared much worse, however. Cilla and another dark haired elfin girl from the Nightrebels team were clearly the worst bowlers of the bunch.
Cilla ground her teeth and muttered under her breath, frustration oozing from every pore. She’d never be able to look at another coconut the same way again. She’d tried her hardest to wrestle that stupid ball into submission, but every time she shot it down the cannon, instead of hurtling down the makeshift bowling alley like it should, it trickled down, always just missing the pins at the other end. The most she ever managed to knock over was four pins. She couldn’t have chosen a worse time to fail. Not right behind her loss at the food-eating knockout. People would begin to see her as the weakest link.
‘Cheer up, Cilla, we knew we couldn’t escape the conclave forever,’ Alisha said, her voice drifting up from behind. ‘And stop taking the blame for this loss. I’ve been watching you stomp up this path like you want to pound everything in sight to dust. So just stop it.’
‘My head’s on the chopping block tonight, Alisha,’ Cilla whispered back over her shoulder. ‘I don’t want to be the first Dawnbreakers member voted out.’
‘Baloney, we all played a part in that loss. It was much harder than it looked. We all need to be watching our backs tonight.’
‘I think Madison is gunning for me tonight, though. Did you hear her? She saved her worst insults for me. And I’m sure that’s exactly what she’s whispering in Paloma’s ear right now.’ Cilla indicated Madison and Paloma, walking with heads tipped together up the front of the line.
‘Maybe you’re right.’ Alisha’s frank admission sent chills running up her spine. She threw a stricken gaze back at the woman pacing quietly along behind her. Alisha gave her a quick wink in return. ‘But I’ll be damned if that nasty piece of work is going to get her way tonight. We have an alliance, Cilla, and we’re going to use it.’ Her tough words helped ease some of the panic fluttering in Cilla’s chest. Facing forward again, her tread became more determined, and she raised her chin to glare in Madison’s direction. Alisha was right, she wouldn’t let horrible Madison have her way.
They arrived back at their campsite half an hour later, none of them with much to say. It was only mid-afternoon, the sun still hot enough to make the sweat run down between Cilla’s shoulder blades. Swarms of small midges did lazy circles above the camp, making the air feel thick and claustrophobic. They still had many hours left to do their manoeuvrings. It was going to be a long afternoon.
Cilla thought she would’ve looked forward to this part of the game; the mental manipulation of other people. But now she was beginning to think she may have misjudged how much the fear of being the one voted out would affect her intellectually. She was emotionally exhausted already just thinking about all the options on the walk back to camp. She watched Simon heading down the beach for a cooling swim, with Glen hot on his heels. The jostling to be heard had begun. Who did they want to vote out tonight?
Those perplexing questions must’ve been showing clearly on Cilla’s face, because Marg said, ‘Don’t go worrying yourself too much, eh.’ She plonked herself down on the edge of the platform next to Cilla. When Cilla raised a disconcerted eyebrow, Marg laughed and said, ‘You’re as easy to read as an open book when you’re mad.’
‘Really, I didn’t realise.’ She’d have to remember to keep her feelings a lot more guarded from now on.
‘Well you are. I could see you hitting out at every poor unsuspecting shrub we walked past. Taking out your anger on the foliage, eh? Well at least that’s better than taking it out on other people, unlike some others who I won’t mention.’ Marg gave a slight tilt of her head in Madison’s direction. ‘I’m a fairly tolerant person, but she’s really starting to aggravate me. She needs to watch what she says tonight.’ Marg whispered the last few words, but it did little to conceal the spite in her tone.
Wanting to move away from prying ears, Cilla said, ‘Come on, let’s go for a swim, the ocean looks amazing.’ Marg nodded in agreement.
The water was silky and wonderfully cool. She and Marg sat in the calm shallows, the waves lapping at her collarbone. Grabbing handfuls of sand, she started to scour her skin. Sand was the only option for keeping themselves clean out here. Without the luxury of real soap they had to make do. Sand washed the dirt off and left her skin feeling buffed and smooth. Although it didn’t make her smell any better.
‘This is nice, eh? I can think clearer with a cool head.’ Marg dunked her head and then shook it, spraying water off her short hair, all over Cilla. She took a scoop of sand and rubbed it vigorously through her hair. Cilla followed suit.
‘What I wouldn’t give to have some shampoo right now,’ Cilla moaned. ‘Sea water always leaves my hair so salty and tangled.’
‘I know, that’s why I had mine cut extra short before I came out here. It used to come all the way down to my arse. Lucy doesn’t like it short. But I told her she wasn’t the one who had to live with it, so she’d just have to learn to like it!’
‘Well, it suits you,’ Cilla replied, meaning it.
‘Thanks.’ Marg gave her a cheeky grin. ‘Now, we need to decide who—’ Marg broke off and glared over Cilla’s left shoulder. ‘Simon and Glen are coming over. Follow my lead,’ she hissed out of the side of her mouth, and then plastered a welcoming smile onto her face.
‘Hiya girls.’ Simon splashed water over them in what she guessed was supposed to be a playful interaction. It just annoyed her. ‘So, who are you girls voting out tonight?’ he asked.
‘Straight to the point. No beating around the bush with you, eh?’ Marg’s voice was cool.
‘Oh come on, admit it, that must’ve been what you were discussing before we came over.’
‘No, we weren’t actually. We were talking about hair,’ Cilla replied, taking Marg’s cue and keeping her voice steady.
Giving him a fake smile, she said, ‘We’d certainly like to hear what you have to say.’ She watched the two men settle themselves into the water next to them, Simon flexing his large biceps, the dragon tattoo seeming to come to life as he rippled his chest muscles. Simon sat a tad too close, and Cilla had to use the excuse of reaching for another handful of sand to ease herself a few inches away from him. It was amusing that he was still trying to ingratiate himself with her. She didn’t want to antagonise him, so she hadn’t told him to leave her alone, but she’d done nothing to encourage him either.
Cilla’s gaze drifted over Simon’s shoulder to where Tam and Cho were sitting in the shade on the beach, chatting. Tam had removed his hat, and was running his hand through his dark hair, causing it to stand up in an unruly fashion. Funny, but his disorderly hair made him seem even more endearing. Even more gorgeous. Unconsciously, her eyes traced the line of Tam’s broad shoulders, taking in the glorious curvature of his bare chest, sweeping down over his six-pack stomach. What would it feel like to run her hands over them, feel the muscles flex beneath her fingertips?
Sucking in air over her teeth she forced her gaze back to the people in front of her. Grabbing another handful of sand she scrubbed it over her thighs with more force than was completely necessary. It’d do her no good daydreaming about Tam. She’d never allow herself to do the things she wanted to do to him. Not when he stood between her and the million dollars. It’d be too risky for her to allow him to gain a foothold in her emotions. She couldn’t allow even one tiny chink to open up in her armour. She must keep her mind focussed on the game.
‘What’re your feelings about voting Paloma off tonight?’ Cilla was dragged back to the present by Marg’s out-of-the-blue question. Keeping her surprise in check she nodded in acceptance when Glen threw her a quizzical glance. Whatever Marg was up to, Cilla was prepared to go along with it, as long as it meant she wasn’t on the chopping block tonight.
‘What if Paloma has found the golden doubloon?’ Glen asked the question that’d hovered in Cilla’s mind for days.
‘Don’t be silly, we would’ve heard if anyone had found that old thing,’ Marg replied with a wink and a cocky shake of her head. Cilla wasn’t so sure. Memories of her conversation with Paloma on the beach the other day clawed through her head, sending a shiver of panic down into her belly.
~
‘Welcome to your first conclave.’ Tam mounted the last few steps to the raised platform as JJ spoke. ‘Behind you, you will find a firebrand. Each of you take one and light it from the fire.’ He indicated the large steel fire-pit in the middle of the platform. Tam picked up the large stick, with some kind of dirty rag wrapped around the top, and dipped it towards the flames.
‘This is part of the ritual of Sea-Quest. The only way to avoid the hangman’s noose is to keep your firebrand burning bright.’ Tam knew JJ was referring to the ceremonial dousing of each contestant’s firebrand when they were voted off. They then had to walk through the hangman’s noose – a stylised rope noose as large as a doorway, hanging from a beam suspended over the conclave – before they were ejected from island. The comment made the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.
‘Take a seat everyone.’ Tam placed his now lit firebrand in one of the slots built specially into the platform just behind a row of wooden benches. Then he crammed himself onto the end of the last bench. There was only just enough room for all nine of them to take a seat. He was packed up against Marg, and he could feel the nervousness thrumming through her. She was twitching like a bird on a wire. He was surprised when her thigh rubbed up against his to find her muscles were iron bound. She was tauter than most men he knew. A solid, compact woman. She obviously worked hard on the weights to get this fit.
The same uneasy tension ran through him as well, and he was finding it hard to stop his knee from jerking up and down. Taking a calming breath, he let his gaze roam over their surroundings, wanting to drink the whole experience in. They were on a huge wooden platform, built at tree-top height. During the day the view would’ve been spectacular, but tonight inky blackness engulfed them on all sides. There was a fence guarding the edge of the platform and large metal pots scattered in the corners, set with fires deep in their bellies acting as an eerie light-source. There were sets of odd-sized wooden chests, all with gold coins and jewellery spilling out of them. Jolly Roger flags flew from poles and other pirate totems, cutlasses, tricorn hats and even a tall mast with square sails, were set haphazardly around the fringes of the platform. Very rustic and Pirates of the Caribbean.
JJ sat to the left of the group on the stump of an old tree, observing them silently. Tonight he was wearing a black, skin-tight hoodie, zipped all the way up, the silver zip shining in the firelight. He’d swapped his fedora hat for a stylish black flat-cap that made him look even more suave, if that was indeed possible. The man was a mass of contradictions. Smooth and well-dressed on the surface, with his hundred mega-watt smile. But there was a dangerous undercurrent running beneath all that sophistication. Tam wouldn’t want to come upon JJ alone in a dark alley, that much was for sure. There’d been hints in the press that their host had some dark past he preferred not to talk about, but so far nothing concrete had come to light. Now that Tam had met the man in the flesh, he was still no closer to understanding him.
JJ started talking once they were all settled on the benches. ‘Of course, as always in Sea-Quest, there’ll be a spin on the game this time around. This season there is to be a Deception Cove.’ JJ hardly paused at the audible intake of breath from all nine players. ‘Those of you who’re voted off will not automatically be sent out of the game. Instead you will go to Deception Cove. There you’ll compete with the other contestants who’ve been voted out to see who remains on Deception. At some stage one of you will be allowed back into the game.’
A collective sigh rose from everyone, as they all let go of the breath they’d been holding. ‘Team members will not get to see what’s going on at Deception Cove, or who’s left after each knockout. It’ll remain a secret until such a time as we decide to return the champion and re-instate them back into the game. This could happen at any time, and with no warning.’ JJ watched them as he delivered the news, the twinkle in his eye the only give-away he was enjoying their reactions perhaps more than he should. ‘This’ll also impact on who’ll come back as panel members later in the game, so we’re going to keep the panel’s identity hidden from you all until the last conclave as well. But …’ JJ paused for two long, drawn out seconds, ‘the panel members will still get to see all the clever antics you get up to at the conclave, because we’ll be streaming it live to them every night. So just remember, everything you do and say impacts on your time in this game.’
Holy heck, another twist to the game. Tam allowed himself a tiny smile. Where some people might find this news intimidating, he found it invigorating. This’d put a lot of people on edge, but not him. He’d take much interest in watching how this twist affected other people. That was part of his job as a psychologist, to watch and observe, take notes and make judgments on people’s mental state. That knowledge would help him on this island; any edge he could gain over the
others gave him power.
Marg was shocked by the news, it was as plain as day on her face. ‘This could be a good thing,’ she whispered to him out of the side of her mouth. He nodded his head just a fraction. How would the others in his team cope?
He searched the semi-circle of faces until he found Cilla’s slight form, right down the other end of the line. Her face was tight and drawn. The upward curve of her lips, which normally hinted at her ever-ready smile wasn’t in evidence. She was unhappy with the news. It’d upset some kind of pre-determined plan by the looks of the deep frown lines crossing her forehead. But even with the frown and sour turn of her mouth, she was still strikingly beautiful. Her dark auburn hair was pulled off her face into a plait, a few wayward tendrils escaping and floating down around her cheeks, softening her features. Firelight flickered orange, casting a warm glow over her face. The stud in her nose sparkled and flickered along with the reflection in her eyes. An impulse to go over and smooth the frown lines from her face overwhelmed him. It was an unconscious instinct, but the strength of the sentiment came as a shock.
He shook his head. He needed to get his mind back into the game. She was starting to intrude too often into his thoughts. Just this-morning after the bowling knockout, he’d noticed the way her shoulders had hunched in defence at Madison’s taunts and a quick anger had risen inside, making him react without thinking, directing a scathing comment towards Madison. At the time he’d told himself he was only looking out for the people in his alliance. But the way Marg and Cho had looked at him – with a sideways glance, awareness flickering in their eyes – had made him take a mental step backwards. He didn’t want to make it too obvious he was in an alliance with Cilla, and he definitely didn’t want anyone thinking he cared about her. But it was obvious she was taking this to heart. Combining that with the loss at the food knockout he guessed she’d be fighting back the guilt and humiliation of it all. If only she’d talk to him. It wasn’t healthy to pretend to be as self-reliant as she wanted them to believe she was.
