Survive or Die

by Catherine Dilts

  Justin had an error-free ride for the Wild Cats, while Ted had the speed, as usual. Neither beat Grant.

  Ellen had selected Tweet to ride for Gold Strike. Aubrey wondered at her choice. Tweet had a skater look to him with his ropey hair and ripped cargo shorts. As he roared across the starting line and took the first turn, spraying an arc of mud and gravel into the air, people began cheering. Aubrey mentally pulled him from the realm of skater and placed him in the motocross category. Maybe professional.

  The Gold Strike team cheered when he crossed the finish line after a flawless performance that landed him solidly in first place.

  “I guess I’m up.” Sotheara unfastened her thick black ponytail and pulled a helmet on.

  The accountant made it through the pole slalom and crossed the bridge. Then she drove into the swamp and spun her tires. The engine died. Two wranglers waded in to rescue her. The ATV wouldn’t budge. A dozen campers dashed across the course to help. Grant, a Pinon Pine leader, was always ready to lend a hand, but Aubrey was surprised to see Jack Bender and his son clamber into the muddy water. Chance got the ATV running, while Ted carried barefoot Sotheara to higher ground. The crowd dispersed, slogging back to the starting line. Sotheara completed the course at a turtle-like crawl.

  “Aubrey, you’re up next.” Berdie handed her a helmet.

  Aubrey tried not to think about the many heads the helmet had cradled as she adjusted the chin strap. Some of Grant’s coworkers didn’t seem terribly concerned about personal hygiene. She straddled an ATV.

  “You can’t ride without these.” Madison handed her red motorcycle-style gloves.

  Aubrey tried to tug them on, but it was no use. They wouldn’t fit over her bandages. She tried to hand them back to Madison.

  “I’ve got plenty of padding. Besides, Sotheara rode without shoes.”

  “She got lucky,” Madison said. “She could have lost a toe. You need the extra protection of gloves, especially with your injuries.”

  Madison approached the pretty female wrangler Reba. The two began flinging gear out of a large plastic bin full of helmets, kneepads, and visors.

  “Hey, Stockton’s Revenge!” Rowdy called. “Get your rider up here, or forfeit your turn.”

  “Our rider is missing a vital piece of protective gear,” Berdie said. “Give us a minute.”

  “I’m ready.” Harv Temmen raised his hand. He wore kid gloves better suited for holding a golf club. “I can go.”

  Aubrey relinquished her machine to Harv. She wondered why Jeremiah wasn’t the Gold Strike’s choice for their second contestant. He seemed like the type to own ATVs. But maybe team captain Ellen hoped Harv Temmen’s experience driving golf carts would give him an edge.

  “I hope he’s not, you know.” Madison tipped her hand, mimicking a person taking a drink.

  “Nope,” Berdie said. “Harv’s on the wagon. His brother has a job waiting for him at some fancy Florida golf course, teaching rich old farts how to swing a club. He has to prove he can stay sober before his brother will vouch for him. Giving up drinking would be an easy price to pay to escape Bender Clips.”

  Harv rolled through the first gate at a sedate pace. Madison tapped on her smart phone.

  “After Tweet’s performance,” she said, “Harv only needs to finish for his team to win.”

  Harv rolled over the bridge. He paused at the entrance to the swamp. His teammates screamed for him to go faster. Harv revved his engine and charged full speed into the swamp, his tires churning twin sprays of mud.

  His ATV bucked. The rear tires flipped forward. Aubrey held her breath as the ATV balanced on the two front tires for an agonizing moment. Harv attempted to fling himself off the machine, but it was too late. The ATV fell, crushing him into the mud.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Rowdy yelled for everyone to stay off the course. Sotheara walked across the muddy field unchallenged, confirming her invisibility. While wranglers Chance and Bud pulled the ATV upright, Dale the EMT waded into the swamp and dragged Harv out of the mud.

  “He’s alive,” Dale said.

  Sotheara edged closer. Bud tried to start the ATV.

  “Nothing doin’,” the wiry cowboy said. “Engine’s really drownded this time. We’ll have to pull her out.”

  While they wrestled with the ATV, Dale supervised placing muck-coated Harv on a stretcher.

  “We need to get him to the infirmary,” Dale said.

  Millie lifted one end of the stretcher, Dale the other. Sotheara debated following, but the battle in the mud pit was more interesting.

  “It’s hung up on something.” Chance released his grip on the ATV handlebars.

  “Put some shoulder into it,” Bud said.

  Chance ignored the cowboy and ducked, nearly submerging himself in the opaque water. Good thing he wasn’t wearing one of his fancy silk Western shirts on the course.

  “Hey!” Bud yelled. “I want out of here sometime today.”

  Chance rose with effort. His shoulders bunched as he pulled with both arms.

  “What the hell?” Bud muttered.

  “Looks like a trip wire to me.” Chance tugged a cable out of the muddy water.

  “These folks are worse than the people on the old TV show.”

  Bud waded over to Chance. He grabbed hold of the rusty cable and worked his way to the other side of the mud pit. The cable was anchored to a fence post.

  “They had to rig it up before this old boy went down,” Bud said. “Otherwise they’d all have gone ass over teakettle.”

  “A lot of people were here when that little Chinese girl got stuck,” Chance said.

  For a gay guy, he sure was insensitive. Sotheara fought the desire to correct him, and instead maintained her silence.

  Bud unfastened his end of the cable. “I’d say somebody didn’t like that fella. Darn near killed him.”

  A chill ran up Sotheara, from her muddy feet to her scalp. Bud was wrong. Harv Temmen had gone out of turn. Aubrey Sommers was supposed to be in the mud pit right after Sotheara. Harv wasn’t the intended victim.

  Someone was after Aubrey.

  After Harv was carried off the field on a stretcher, Rowdy called for the final rider.

  “I don’t want my wife getting hurt,” Grant said.

  “My wranglers cleared the obstacle,” Rowdy said. “The mudpit is safe.”

  Aubrey tugged extra-large gloves on over her bandages. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll prove it’s safe.” Rowdy hopped onto an ATV and raced through the swamp. Moments later, he pulled up to Grant and Aubrey. “See?”

  Grant wasn’t happy about it, but according to the vague and ever-shifting rules, if Aubrey forfeited her turn, her team would be heavily penalized. Sotheara had already sunk them to last place with a painfully slow time due to getting stuck in the swamp.

  Aubrey pulled on a helmet. She drove forward until her tires touched the starting line, then squeezed the accelerator with her thumb and took off. The ATV lurched forward, nearly taking out a gate. The course was a rutted mess.

  Her tires hit the bridge solidly. She was going too fast, and went airborne. The front tires touched ground first, and for a shuddering instant Aubrey thought she was going to crash. The rear tires of the ATV jolted to earth, knocking her thumb off the accelerator. The whole machine bounced once, then halted, the engine purring loudly.

  Aubrey was rattled to the core, but she had one more obstacle. She tried not to think about Harv’s disastrous spill as she approached the swamp. Rolling into the muddy water at a sedate pace, she felt the tires slipping.

  Panicked, Aubrey released her thumb from the accelerator. This was how Sotheara got stuck. Aubrey wrestled the handlebars, straightened out the ATV, then hit the accelerator. Mud sprayed and the rear end fishtailed violently, but then the tires gripped and she leapt
out of the swamp like a salmon bounding up a cascade.

  She had lost enough time. Aubrey didn’t pause when she hit solid ground. Instead, she gunned the engine, drifting in a glorious mud-splattering half-circle. Spectators scattered as she roared across the finish line. She hit the brakes, skidded to a halt, and jumped off.

  Grant grabbed Aubrey in a hug. Her helmet bounced off his shoulder, threatening to give her whiplash. She leaned back to tug it off. Her hair tumbled out in a ratty mess, nothing like Veronica’s, but Grant planted a kiss on her lips.

  Guess I showed her.

  Any expectation Stockton’s Revenge had of winning treasure chest keys was dashed, and it was mostly Sotheara’s fault. After getting stuck in the swamp, even Aubrey’s great performance couldn’t propel them to victory. Sotheara could have clued them in about Harv Temmen’s crash, but everytime she tried to speak, one of the women talked right over her. The disadvantage to being invisible.

  “I watched the wranglers pull the ATV out of the swamp,” Sotheara said when there was a pause in the conversation. “Aubrey, there’s something you need to know.”

  Before Sotheara could deliver her stunning revelation, Berdie reached the tent, pulled aside the door flap, and abruptly stopped. Madison ran into the receptionist, then Sotheara collided with Madison, and finally Aubrey smacked against Sotheara, like train cars slamming into a stopped engine.

  “Holy crap.”

  “What’s wrong?” Madison asked.

  “There’s a raccoon on your cot,” Berdie said. “Big as a German Shepherd.”

  Sotheara peered over Madison’s shoulder. A giant masked rodent glanced up, then resumed digging through Madison’s suitcase.

  “It’s eating your candy bars,” Aubrey said. “Maybe it’ll leave when it’s done.”

  “How much candy do you have in there?” Berdie asked.

  “Five boxes,” Madison said.

  “You mean bars?”

  “No,” Madison said. “Boxes. I brought enough to share, but I didn’t have the local wildlife in mind.”

  “He’s just starting on the first box,” Berdie said. “But he won’t make it to the second.”

  Berdie reached inside her jacket and pulled out a revolver.

  “No!” Sotheara hit Berdie’s arm, knocking the barrel of the gun away from the raccoon. “Don’t kill it.”

  “They carry rabies,” Berdie said, “just like squirrels.”

  Sotheara frowned. “Have you had that the whole time?” Exposure to weapons during three days of camp must have worn down the shock factor. She wasn’t scared. Just angry.

  “I always carry protection.”

  “Even at work?” Madison asked, an alarmed expression on her face.

  “You didn’t see this,” Berdie said to Madison. She glared at Sotheara. “You either.”

  “How many people in this camp have guns?” Sotheara would have run to a Safe Space, if one had existed at Survive or Die camp. “Squirrel Boy, that creepy old wrangler, Frank, Rankin, and now you.”

  “I have a permit,” Berdie said. “I’m an old lady. I have the right.”

  “We don’t have time for a Second Amendment discussion. We’ve got a more immediate problem.” Aubrey waved at the raccoon. It glared at her, a candy bar clutched in its weirdly human looking fingers. “We’ve got to get that animal out of our tent.”

  Berdie raised her hands in surrender. “You didn’t like my idea.”

  “I’ll ask Rowdy what to do,” Madison said. “Don’t shoot anything until I get back.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Aubrey said. “Sotheara, are you coming?”

  Sotheara folded her arms across her chest. “Oh, no. I’m staying right here. I can’t let anything happen to that poor animal.” She faced off with Berdie, ready to defend innocent wildlife to the bitter end.

  Jeremiah determined the location of the commotion. No surprise, it came from the Stockton’s Revenge tent. Half a dozen campers had gathered outside. The shape-shifting receptionist held a revolver, the muzzle aimed at the ground.

  Maybe they’d caught Bud peeping on them. It would serve him right if Berdie shot him. Jeremiah held his Winchester in the crook of his arm, ready to make a citizen’s arrest.

  “What’s going on?”

  “There’s a raccoon in Madison’s suitcase. This is the girl’s first camping trip. I told her about the no food in the tent rule, but she didn’t listen.” Berdie gestured with her elbow at Sotheara. “Miss Nature Girl won’t let me take care of the problem.”

  Sotheara threw her arms out, blocking entry to the tent.

  “I’m not afraid of your gun, Jeremiah Jones. You’ll have to shoot me first, before I’ll let you harm a hair on that raccoon.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed and turned her face to one side, as though anticipating a bullet. Jeremiah met Berdie’s exasperated expression with one of his own.

  First time he’d ever seen a human ready to sacrifice their life for a trash-eating pest. Jeremiah had to admit it was a tempting prospect. But animal control and hunting for meat were both far cries from killing a human. Nope, he wasn’t going there. Not his style.

  Aubrey and Madison found Rowdy lounging on the front porch of his cabin, a beer in one hand and Cowboys and Indians magazine in the other, his boots propped up on the porch railing.

  “There’s a raccoon in our tent,” Madison said.

  Rowdy pulled his feet down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the railing. “You ladies just have one problem after another.”

  “How do we evict the raccoon?” Aubrey asked.

  “You probably have food in your tent.” Rowdy focused on Madison. “Get rid of the food. It attracts animals.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Madison said. “I have a giant rodent sitting in my suitcase. And don’t tell us to shoot it, or Sotheara will have PETA on us like nobody’s business.”

  Rowdy rolled up the magazine. “I can’t help you.” He smacked the magazine into the palm of his hand. “That’s against the rules.”

  “What rules?” Aubrey asked. “I think you make this up as you go.”

  “It’s all spelled out in the official Survive or Die handbook, for sale in the gift shop. It’s against the rules for me to help a Buckaroo Crew.”

  “You offered to help Candace,” Madison said. “We heard you.”

  Rowdy’s weathered face pulled into a scowl. Aubrey took a step backward. Suddenly he didn’t seem like a bumbling has-been television host.

  “You heard wrong. I did not make any agreements with Miz Milbank.”

  “Yesterday wasn’t your only rendezvous with her,” Aubrey said. “I saw you sneak away with her this afternoon.”

  “You sure do get around.” Rowdy paused, looking from Madison to Aubrey. “I notice your Buckaroo Crew only has one treasure chest key.”

  “And we won’t win more, unless we keep our mouths shut, right? You’re bribing us?”

  “Cheaters never prosper,” Madison said.

  “The Code of the West allowed for mutually beneficial arrangements from time to time,” Rowdy said. “I’ll give you some advice about your animal control problem if you promise to keep that little incident with me and Miz Milbank to yourselves.”

  “It was two incidents,” Aubrey said, “and I’m not making any promises.”

  Madison punched her lightly on the arm. “Aubrey, please. We need to get that animal out of our tent.”

  “Okay.” Aubrey raised her bandaged hands in surrender. “I didn’t see anything.”

  Rowdy nodded. “Here’s what you do. Make some noise. That’ll scare it away. And if that doesn’t work, you can enlist the aid of another Buckaroo Crew. You’re allowed to trade goods, or,” he said with a crooked grin, “services, in exchange for help from other teams.”

  Aubrey thought
about Grant’s heated cabin with indoor plumbing and a snug bed. She’d gladly make the sacrifice of trading “services” for her husband’s help. Grant wouldn’t make a deal, though. He would think it smacked of bribery. Besides, he was too busy kissing up to his team captain.

  “We’ll have to make some noise,” Aubrey said.

  They trudged back to the tent, pushing their way through the entire Gold Strike team, half of the Belle Starrs and a couple Wild Cats.

  “Is there really a raccoon in your tent?” Shirley shivered in spite of her expensive raincoat.

  “Yes,” Aubrey said. “We invited him to join our Buckaroo Crew.”

  Berdie blocked the doorway, the canvas door flap pulled to the side.

  “He’s opening box number two.”

  “Rowdy told us to scare it away with noise,” Madison said.

  “Like you’re not already making enough racket to raise the dead?” Shirley asked.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Jeremiah could have told the women their attempt to evict the raccoon by whistling, yelling, and clapping hands would fail. They didn’t ask. He slung his Winchester across his back.

  “I’ll get him out of here.”

  Sotheara held a hand up like a traffic cop. “No guns.”

  Jeremiah spun around before he said out loud what he thought about Sotheara Sok’s demand for peaceful coexistence with vermin.

  “Hey,” Madison said. “You said you’d get it out of the tent.”

  “We don’t need his kind of help,” Sotheara said.

  Jeremiah turned to face the women. “You said Rowdy told you to make noise.” He jerked a thumb toward the fire circle. “I’m getting noise makers. Anyone care to help?”

  Madison followed him to the fire pit. Jeremiah selected a poker and a shovel from the rack of metal tools. He smacked them together. They gave a satisfactory metallic ring. Madison chose two more metal tools and trailed after Jeremiah.