by Becky Wicks
‘The person so close, and yet just a little too far from winning this season of Deserted is…’
He pauses, of course.
‘Stephanie. I’m sorry Stephanie, would you come down here please.’
Punk grabs my shoulder. ‘You’re kidding me? Thank you man,’ he says, pushing his new glasses back up on his sweaty nose. ‘Thank you!’
‘Wasn’t all me,’ I tell him distractedly. My voice surprises me. It doesn't even sound like my own.
‘Any final words before you leave what’s been your home for almost two entire months?’ Ed says in front of us as Alyssa continues to sniff and I continue to force my head not to turn in her direction.
‘I’ve had a truly awesome time here,’ Stephanie answers. ‘Truly, Ed, I’ve done things I never thought I’d do… I mean, you guys have given me the confidence to do things I never thought I’d do. Light fires, pluck chickens…’
Sleep with a guy, I think suddenly, although didn’t Jaxx say she was still a virgin? ‘Only just,’ at least?
‘Stephanie,’ Ed says, ‘you’ll get to join your fellow evictees tonight for a night of decent food and sleep, before coming back tomorrow to help us decide on the winner. Any ideas at this point, who you think that should be?’
I look up, see her folding her arms across her tiny body. ‘In all honesty, all three of these people are good people, Ed,’ she says tactfully. ‘We’ve all played a good game.’ She smiles slightly as she says it. ‘But if anyone’s going to win this now, it’s got to be Punk, right?’
Punk laughs and part of me does, too. Good for him. He’s a nice kid. I know Alyssa would have left him in on purpose, because she hopes she’ll be able to knock him out tomorrow, but that’s the way it goes. I know they’re friends by now, no matter what.
I run my hand over my head, feel the dirt in my fingers. For everything that’s predictable about this show, there’s been a million things I could never have predicted at all. Like that kiss. Or how just the thought of it and what it meant or broke could rattle through me like an earthquake.
‘Joshua, Punk and Alyssa, congratulations!’
The cameras find us and Stephanie heads off the pitch, out of the game. ‘You’ll be participating in the final challenge tomorrow! It’s going to be a nerve-wracking night. Joshua, back to Asylum Island, get your strength up. And get some sleep, all of you. Tomorrow, all of this will be worth it, we promise. At least for the one of you who’ll be speeding out of here with a million dollars - the winner of season twenty-three of Deserted.’
38
Alyssa
I know Joshua knows they’re dramatizing everything they can to make us weak, suspicious, paranoid. But I know he’s a master at guarding his heart, too. No wonder, dealing with what he’s dealt with alone. I can’t sleep, knowing he’s seen me kissing Sebastian and none of the other crap that went along with it… and I need sleep. I have a game to play.
I just don’t feel like playing.
Is that stupid kiss all they’ll show at home? I can imagine it going out as a teaser between some dog food commercial and an ad for some vacation in paradise. It’s probably on every celebrity blog site known to man.
‘Punk, I need to tell you something,’ I say. He turns to me in the shelter. It’s bigger than it’s ever been with just the two of us inside. The light of the moon is shining through the thinning leaves and bamboo. It’s hard to believe it’s our last night here. He reaches for his new glasses, puts them on, perches on his elbow.
‘What’s on your mind, Double G? Let me guess, Joshua?’
‘I need to go see him but they’ve got guards now. It’s ridiculous.’
‘Can’t it wait? We’ll all be out of here one way or another tomorrow.’
‘He’s sick, Punk,’ I say. I feel sick myself just saying it.
‘What do you mean, sick?’ he asks now, scrunching up his face, leaning closer. I tell him what I know and he turns pale.
‘Damn, are you sure? I mean, maybe he’s a plant, like Journey. Maybe Joshua’s messing with you? He’s a smart guy.’
‘He’s not,’ I say. ‘I mean, yes, he’s very smart, but he’s not messing with me.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I just know, Punk. Some things are real.’ The tears behind my eyes trickle down inside me and burn my throat and then my heart. Just talking about it makes it too real. ‘You’re the only one who gets what we’ve been through here,’ I say, rolling to my back and ramming my hands through my damp hair. ‘Once we get out of here, if Joshua even talks to me again after tonight, he might not even… God, Punk, I don’t know how bad it is. I don’t know how long we have.’
‘You don’t know anything,’ Punk says, calmly. He squeezes my hand from his sand bed, across the leaves. I’m making him feel awkward, I can tell, but I can’t stop the tears flowing now. I got turned away again last night when I tried to get to Joshua. Nothing I said would even make that damn guy answer me, let alone let me past him to the waterfall.
I keep replaying moments in my head - moments Joshua would zone out, forget things we’d said or done, or change the subject. He hid it well though; acted like silence was a blessing in his world and not a curse; like solitude to regroup and gather our thoughts was something we all should enjoy, not something he needed himself in order to avoid discussing the whirlwind in his head.
‘I can’t lose him,’ I say.
‘You can’t think about that right now.’ Punk sits up, all business. ‘Listen to yourself, Alyssa, worrying about what you can’t control. The only thing you can control is how you perform in that challenge tomorrow. Then, when you get out of here, you need to get all the facts. You don’t know what Sebastian’s told you is even true.’
‘It makes sense!’
‘But you don’t know the whole story, Alyssa. Keep your head in the game. You’re just as smart as him, don’t lose it over some guy. You’re better than that.’
‘He’s not just some guy.’
‘Please. We’re all just some guy.’
I sit up, reach out and hug him. He freezes in surprise, squashed against me. ‘How come you’re always so nice?’ I ask him, squeezing him harder.
‘Because I’m… nice,’ he says simply, awkwardly, and I can’t help letting out a laugh against his smelly sweater.
‘Someone’s going to lose it over you, too, when you get out of here, trust me,’ I tell him, smacking my lips against his newly shaved head.
*
Keep your head in the game. That’s all I’m telling myself right now, standing on the edge of my giant spinning wheel. My head will stay in this game, even if my head’s about to be dunked into a pool of water twenty thousand times.
I’m watching Joshua being strapped onto his own giant wheel, right across the pitch from me. His ripped body looks strong, if a little thinner; his calf muscles stand out against the dark wooden panels, even with his tan. He’s so dark now that you can barely make out the lion on his bicep. Poor, white Punk looks like he might die.
‘The aim of the game is to fill that glass,’ Ed tells us, pointing to the glasses we all have beside our wheels. They’re stuck to wooden posts. ‘As your head lowers to the water, gather up as much as you can in your mouth and spit it out. The first two to reach the watermark on their glass go through to judgment jury. Easy.’
Ed Bernstein’s shirt today is white. White for freedom perhaps. A guy comes over to help me onto my wheel and I allow my wrists and ankles to be tied with leather straps. I think back to the bird in my dream all those weeks ago. I found freedom from a few things out here, for sure, but the snake was more poignant - telling me not to trust a damn thing.
Head in the game.
‘Alyssa, Joshua, Punk. When you’re ready. Mouths open, take your water, fill your glasses. Go.’
Ed steps away. The wheel spins. I’m upside down before I know it, sucking up water from the pool as my entire head goes under. I splutter, almost choke, spit a load out and miss my
glass.
‘Keep it in your mouth Double G! Spit, don’t swallow for once in your life!’ It’s Shan. He’s on the bench with the others, yelling at me. I almost laugh with the insanity of it all. My head goes under again. This time I keep the water in; spit it out almost instantly right into the glass. As I come upwards I hear Punk spluttering. I think back to him in the water, going after Shan, almost drowning all of us. This must be his worst nightmare.
Head in the game.
More water in my mouth. The guy who strapped me in is spinning me. ‘Faster!’ I tell him as I hear Joshua yelling the same thing. Mike, Journey, Karin, Mia, Shan, Jaxx and Stephanie are all here, cheering us on from the side lines. There’s never been more noise on this pitch. I’ve never looked so stupid in public.
‘Alyssa, getting that water in the glass, nice work, keep going,’ Ed comments, moving around me.
More water in my mouth. More spitting. More sounds that sound like Punk drowning. I feel so bad for him. Adrenaline pumps through me. When I’m upright I notice Stephanie and Jaxx aren’t sitting next to each other, but Shan’s wearing a shirt with my nickname on it, if that’s even allowed.
‘Punk, struggling to keep his water in,’ Ed says, pacing around him and walking over to me again. ‘Alyssa, glass almost full. We knew you were that kind of girl!’
I hear Mike let out a wolf whistle alongside Jaxx. They’re all yelling now. ‘Joshua, almost there, maybe one, maybe two more mouthfuls. Punk, two mouthfuls in a row in the glass, good job, getting the hang of it. Speeding up now, let’s keep going…’
I see Chloe’s face in my mind, yelling at the giant TV in Noah’s living room in Chelsea. I wonder if Sebastian’s back there already; if he tells them all how he couldn’t resist screwing with things. I wonder if he got in any trouble; if Noah defended me, if Jack and Chloe did.
Head in the game.
‘YES!’ I hear Shan yell as I deposit another mouthful into my glass. ‘Way to go slutty-pants!’ My head is spinning now, I’m drenched and my wheel stops as Ed hurries over and a camera is pointed both at me and my full glass. ‘I did it?’ I manage, looking at him upside down through my hair.
‘Alyssa, your glass is full! Go sit down, congratulations, you’re in the final two!’ Ed high fives a hand I can’t actually move, thanks to my straps. My guy works quickly to untie me. It takes a moment before I can walk to the bench, where Shan engulfs me in the biggest hug that smells like cologne and not jungle sweat.
I sit down heavily and he keeps his arms around me, jumping up and down with his butt still on the bench. His leg is still bandaged. ‘I have so much gossip for you,’ he says. My head’s still spinning. His T-shirt says Greek Goddess and the O in Goddess is my face. Creepy.
‘Punk! Glass full, congratulations!’ Ed yells suddenly as everyone stands up and goes crazy. My eyes are swept back to the scene. What?
‘Holy shit, what?’ Shan repeats out loud beside me, pulling me up as we watch Ed holding Punk’s arm in the air, champion pose. Shan reaches into his pocket for a cell that isn’t there and curses, wobbling on one leg. ‘This isn’t happening. Is this real?’ He pinches me and I pull my arm away, wincing. ‘Punk’s in the final?’
‘I’m sorry, Joshua,’ Ed says now, hurrying over to him as he’s untied quickly from his wheel. He sinks to the sand on his knees, brings his head to his hands, doesn’t move. ‘So close, great work. But I’m afraid you’re out of the game. Please, buddy, take a seat on the bench. Your Deserted journey ends here.’
‘Is he OK?’ I say out loud. My heart’s hammering as Ed leans over him, says something to him off-mic that I can’t catch. Joshua nods, gets to his feet, stumbles. Something went wrong. I go to run to him on impulse but Shan holds me back. ‘Easy there, Forrest Gump. He’s just dizzy!’
I know better. An assistant is beside Joshua now. I notice Punk looking at him in concern, even as he coughs like a maniac, but Punk’s being led to a separate stand and my name’s being called.
I’m shaking. My legs are jello. Joshua looks drawn, his face is white. He meets my eyes for a moment as we cross paths in the sand but his expression just looks pained. What the hell happened? Did his pills not work? Did he black out in the water, halfway through, being spun upside down? How could they do this to him?
I’m shivering with pure adrenaline and nerves as I take the stand next to Punk, but the pitch falls silent and the lights come on. Punk loops his arm through mine.
‘What just happened?’ he asks me quietly over the top of his glasses. ‘Is Joshua OK?’ His eyes are questioning. All I can do is shake my head at him. All the cameras are pointed at us now.
‘Punk and Alyssa,’ Ed says. I squeeze out my hair, force myself to stand up straight. His face is the only thing I can make out, thanks to the lights. ‘Good job with the challenge; your last one ever. One of you will be walking away the solo survivor of Deserted season twenty-three in a matter of minutes. How do you feel?’
‘Honestly, I’m in a state of shock,’ Punk says.
‘I’m… wet,’ I follow and I hear everyone laugh. It wasn’t supposed to be a joke. For once I have no words. My eyes search for Joshua but the lights in my face are too bright.
‘Castaways of the jury,’ Ed says, ‘each of you will go to the booth, where you will now write the name of who you want to go home today as your winner. Punk here, or Alyssa? I’m sure you’ve all formed your own opinions over the weeks about who deserves this most, but just in case you’re in any doubt, here’s a recap of both their highlights.’
My eyes turn to the screen that flickers on beside us. We’re shown all the stupid things we’ve both done since we got here, but I’m only half taking it in. This is all so surreal. I’m here, in the final, with Punk; with Joshua hurting somewhere in the blackness. I need to see him, soon as this is over.
Time stands still and my life for the past insane eight weeks flashes again before my eyes, even after the montage ends. I have no clue how this will go. Punk’s a great guy; plus everyone loves when an underdog wins. I’ve been good entertainment… Sebastian said people love me out there. What they love me for exactly, I still don’t know. The thought makes me want to be sick.
Eventually, Ed appears again like some kind of saint in the lights. ‘The votes are in,’ he tells us in a low, serious voice. ‘It’s been one hell of a ride, guys. It’s been a world of emotions. You’ve given us and yourselves memories to last a lifetime out here, deserted in the Coral Triangle. But the winner of season twenty-three, the solo survivor who’s proved their worth against all odds, is…’
The lights are so bright in my face. Sweat trickles down my forehead and Punk’s fingers in my mine are making my own turn numb. Even if I lose, I’ve come so far. I’m quitting that job, I’m seeing the world. I’m going to be with Joshua, no matter what, or where, or how…
‘Alyssa! Congratulations, Alyssa!’
What?
Shan’s first up on the stand, arms around me. Jaxx is lifting me up as I’m handed the giant cheesy check with the improbable amount of $1,000,000 written on it in black marker, right next to the skull and palm tree logo that will haunt me forever. ‘Oh my god! Oh my god! Really?’
My eyes blur with tears. I can barely breathe as everyone screams and the cameras zoom in and Ed Bernstein talks a hundred miles an hour about what just happened and what happens next. ‘I knew you could do it!’ Shan yells, ‘Oh my holy ball-sacks, Double G, you’re a superstar! You did it!’
‘Congratulations,’ Punk tells me sincerely as Mike slaps me on the back, stinging my suntan.
‘You’re a star, even if you don’t want to be,’ Stephanie smiles through glossy lips. Journey’s got her arm around Karin’s shoulder. Mike’s high-fiving Punk. Mia’s coming in for a giant hug with Shan again.
‘Where’s Joshua,’ I say, breaking out of the mob. I slip from the stand and reach for the producer, who’s talking into her headpiece. I scan the surroundings, blinking against the lights. ‘Where’s Jos
hua?’ I ask her again, panic coursing through me suddenly.
‘We called him the boat after the votes,’ she replies, putting a hand to my shoulder. ‘Sorry honey, he really had to go.’
39
Alyssa
Two weeks later
‘Want to go check out the Natural History Museum?’ Chloe says, leaning over the balcony next to me with her sweater hood pulled over her head. She hands me a martini and grins. ‘There’s a wildlife photography exhibition. You might recognize some of the animals.’
I take the cocktail, turn back to Manhattan swirling below us. I shrug, pulling my scarf tighter. It’s cold, everywhere. I wasn’t prepared for winter. ‘I feel like I’m in some parallel universe, still,’ I tell her.
Every time I stand here and see the skyscrapers towering on the horizon instead of the ocean, I feel the crash of my two worlds colliding. I still don’t know what’s real. I wake up thinking I’m in that shelter, resting my head on my blazer, reaching for Joshua. Then I smell coffee and bacon and hear Noah’s guitar, Chloe’s laughter. What’s reality and what’s a dream? The two got confused weeks ago.
I flew straight here instead of going home, made Chloe show me every episode of the show, talked her ear off, made her tell me everything. It’s still not enough. I’m so out of the loop. I just want to turn back time and be there, before it all went wrong.
Noah walks out through the double doors, wraps an arm around Chloe from behind. He rests his head on the top of hers and looks at me, sipping his martini. He winces straight away. ‘Man, I made these strong, sorry.’
‘She needs it,’ Chloe tells him. ‘Have you heard from him yet?’
I swallow the lump that appears in my throat, shake my head. ‘Nothing,’ I say.
I don’t know what happened in that final challenge but I can’t shake the look I saw in Joshua’s eyes before we crossed on that path. He looked like the world was ending. After a night in a hotel on the mainland, during which no one from the show would tell me anything helpful other than that he’d flown to L.A early, I was forced to accept he wanted to leave without saying goodbye.
