by Hoff, Stacy
But the pig was too fast. Too strong. It leapt up as Colin’s hand came down and caught his arm in its mouth. The “snap” sound Colin heard was the sound of his bone breaking.
Chapter 30
“Time for his show,” Ana announced a week later.
“I’m ready. I think. It’ll be on in a few minutes. Press ‘record’ and let’s get on with this. I don’t know if I can bear to watch anymore, but I’m going to try anyway.”
“I know. Watching this show has been like a bad car accident. You’re horrified, but can’t look away. Thankfully, it’s almost done. Considering how bad the last episode was, I brought over something better than movie munchies.” Ana pulled out a bottle of Vodka from her oversized purse and proudly showed it off.
Stephanie laughed, despite her twisted stomach. “The whole bottle is for me, right?”
“If you need all of it, sure,” Ana said, laughing along with her. “Vodka worked for you last week, so I thought I’d bring some along. I got you a chocolate bar, too. The good stuff—Hershey’s Special Dark. If you don’t like that, there’s a Nestle Crunch in my bag, too.”
“Looks like you came prepared. You’ve got everything you need to deal with the drama of the TV show, and the drama of dealing with me.”
“Vodka and chocolate eliminates all drama. It’s a recipe for instant happiness.”
“Who am I to argue?” Stephanie picked up the bottle and poured out shots for Ana and herself. “Excuse me,” Stephanie added, upon hearing her cell phone ring. “Hello?”
“Uh, Stephanie? Hi, it’s Adrienne.”
“What?”
“Yeah, look. I wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t know the guy I was talking to at your party was your boyfriend. Of course, now that Colin’s on TV, who wouldn’t know him, right?”
Stephanie didn’t answer. Not that she could with her teeth clamped together.
“Brian and Greg told me you two broke up because of me. Is that true?” Adrienne asked.
“Yup. Not that you care.”
“I do care! Because if you’re not seeing him anymore, can you give me his phone number? I think he and I would really hit it off if we just had another chan—”
Stephanie hit ‘end’ and dropped her phone as if it were on fire.
“You okay?” Ana asked.
“Fine, fine. Looks like I’ll need a bigger glass for that vodka, though,” she muttered.
“Who called?”
“Nobody. Just my cousin Adrienne. A real piece of work, that one.”
“No offense, but duh.”
“Yeah. I know.” Taking a slug of the liquid fire, Stephanie almost spat it out in a coughing fit.
“Sorry.” Ana laughed harder. “I can’t afford the good stuff. Mark’s been threatening to cut our salaries.”
“Speaking of pieces of work.”
“Sadly, the world’s full of them.” Ana shook her head, but didn’t seem sad at all. With her back straight and shoulders broadened, it looked more like she was getting ready for battle. “The whole administrative staff is going to fight back. Colin’s show is a big hit, in case you haven’t noticed. The show’s raking in a ton of money. We’re actually going to demand an increase. I’m leading the charge.”
“Glad to hear it,” Stephanie said, handing Ana a chunk of the Special Dark bar. “Here, take a chunk of happiness.”
Ana took the chocolate wedge, half-closing her eyes in apparent ecstasy as she chomped away.
“You know,” Stephanie said, stuffing a chunk of chocolate in her own mouth, “Maybe afta I geth this yob I kin hir you.”
“Can you please swallow and then talk to me?”
“I said,” Stephanie replied after a hard gulp, “maybe after I get this job I can hire you. They just offered me the position and it looks like I’m taking it.”
“That’s wonderful! I’m excited for you.”
“Thanks. But what about you? Would you leave Teleworld?”
“To work for you again? In a heartbeat. And I’m not just saying that because your replacement is a real pain-in-the-ass.” Ana grimaced. “The new guy they hired is demanding and condescending. As you know, those are not my favorite traits. But don’t take the job just to help me out. I can survive this newbie, no problem. Make sure working for Global is something both you and Colin want.”
Stephanie nodded, but didn’t answer. The show was about to begin. They watched in silence, fast-forwarding through the commercials as fast they could. With only five minutes left, Ana pressed ‘play’ to watch it in normal speed.
They watched, eyes wide, as Colin clambered up a tree with only his tiny knife to aid him. They watched as the hog jumped up. Watched as Colin jumped down. And then saw Colin’s arm go right into the massive beast’s gaping, tusked, mouth. Then they heard the crunching sound of the hog biting down on Colin’s bone.
The old adage was true. He did see stars circling around him from the pain. Being eaten alive would probably feel worse, though. The hog still had a death grip on his left forearm. And it wasn’t letting go.
Luckily, he’d still managed to hold onto the blade in his right hand. With the handle shorted up until Colin held it like a dagger, he shoved the blade into the pig’s eye with all of his might. Warm blood rushed out of the ripped open eyeball, matting Colin’s clothes and hair. But the great beast let go. It howled and stepped backward, falling flat on its rear.
Without pausing, Colin bent down and snatched up a sharp piece of stone, and with another hard blow, he rammed it into the hog’s head. He heard its teeth snap. To avoid its uncontrolled jaws, he came up behind it, ignoring the searing heat in his left arm. There was no time to wallow in pain. An injured, angry, four hundred pound hog was nothing to take for granted.
The hog’s massive head suddenly snapped around and nearly bit him on the chest. Colin thrust himself backward, avoiding the razor sharp tusks by millimeters. Howling, the hog lifted itself on its hindquarters and sprang, toppling Colin over. Completely covering him.
Its huge porcine head loomed large over his own, blood and drool dripping. Then the hog bent its head over him, ready to give the fatal bite. Colin’s muscles were loosing strength. His broken arm lifeless, and with searing, shooting pain. The hog was bearing down on him. Wearing him out. Winning.
Trying to keep his thoughts together, he did his last-chance calculations to destroy the great beast. The pig had to be getting tired, too. If both of them went down, what would be the point of that? Rules of engagement 101—one of them had to make it out alive. And the victor was always the one with the bigger reason to live.
Suddenly, a mental image of his reason to live appeared before him. A vision. The vision had beautiful reddish hair, like a fox in the sun. She had a will to fight all her own. He was getting back to her. This little piggy was going down!
The pig snorted, loud and angry. It cocked its head and opened its jaw. Colin lifted up his right arm, yanked the blade out of the eye socket, and thrust it into the pig’s neck. The hog immediately went into death throws, howling like a wolf. When at last it stopped moving, Colin collapsed on the ground, his chest heaving.
Exhausted, dazed, and in pain, he managed to turn his head to the camera and utter his last words before he passed out. “Pork. It’s what’s for dinner.”
Chapter 31
Ana and Stephanie stared at the television screen in silence. A drop of sweat beaded off Stephanie’s forehead and splattered onto her black yoga pants. Her thigh muscle flinched from the splash, though her mind was disconnected from it.
The voice of the television came on, shattering the room’s momentary silence.
“Next week is the last episode of The Evergladiator. Parental discretion is advised. There will be no altering or editing to what happens to Colin Brandt, so be
prepared for anything. Even if ‘anything’ happens to be the worst thing ever.” Dramatic pause. “Colin Brandt, America’s cheering you on!”
“Holy. Freakin’. Moly,” Ana yelled.
“I can’t believe this,” Stephanie uttered slowly. “He does make it out of this contest okay, doesn’t he?”
“I’m sure he does. I mean, I would have heard if something really bad happened to him. Right?”
“I don’t know, Ana. I just don’t know. I feel sick, like I’m going to throw up again or something. I’ve never heard of a reality show trying to restrict its audience before. Yet the announcer said parental discretion is advised.”
“Could they be saying it for reverse psychology purposes? You know, telling people they shouldn’t watch to make them curious enough to tune in?”
“No idea. At this point, I’m scared. I’m going to call Mark to find out. I’ve still got his cell phone number,” she said, reaching over to the cocktail table to grab her phone.
“Wait, Steph, I don’t think you should do that.”
“I can’t help it,” she answered softly. “I’ve got to know what’s happened to him.”
“Remember Jenny, the receptionist?”
“Yeah, but what’s she got to do with anything?”
“She told Mark you and Colin were dating.”
“She what? How do you know?”
“Because she told me and everyone else, too, that’s why. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to upset you.” Ana swallowed hard. “Mark wasn’t sure whether to believe her.”
The blood in Stephanie’s veins pounded, her head throbbed.
Ana, brows furrowed, continued. “He let her keep her job, but docked her a week’s pay for potentially creating negative gossip about his moneymaking show. Nobody at Teleworld wants the public to think Colin had a hand up from the former producer. That would be cheating.”
“Yeah,” Stephanie spat. “Cheating would be terrible. Nothing Teleworld would stand for.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ana said gently, “I told Jennifer she was a jealous, lying cow, who couldn’t get a date if she paid the guy.”
“So that leaves me not knowing what’s happened to Colin. And if he does win, whether Teleworld will even pay him out the million-dollar prize money.” A wave of nausea washed over her. “I really think I’m going to be sick.”
Mmm. Roasted pork. He’d skinned, gutted, and de-boned the enormous animal. A butcher with proper tools would need hours to pull off the job. Colin had only makeshift tools and use of one arm. After a whole day of painful labor, he looked over his impromptu spit with a grin and deep satisfaction.
He’d set up three fire pits. A large one for spit-roasting the carcass. Another smaller one to smoke excess meat. A third one under a wooden pail he’d hollowed for boiling water. All this work needed to happen. The tools had to be perfectly clean, the pig thoroughly cooked. Having stomach problems from eating tainted food was not a good idea. In addition to feeling crampy and nauseous, there was no toilet paper around. He grimaced, and then broke into a laugh. Heck, if America wanted to see him like that, they’d have to pay him more.
The enormous animal had been a real challenge to skewer up. So had creating the spit itself. Doing this with two working arms would have been exhausting work. Especially after his epic beast battle. But doing the work with one arm in splint was a whole new kind a challenge. A sucky one. The pain was dull and constant. Ditto the swelling. At least he had it under control. As best as possible anyway. He’d been able to concoct a splint by using a flat piece of wood tied with palm frond rope. Broadleaf plant leaves and peat moss wrapped his arm, covering the teeth-bitten wounds, protecting against infection. Stringing up his splint had been an almost impossible task, since tying rope with only one hand was Devil’s work. He eventually rigged a twist-tie closure using a strong twig as the handle.
It was a good thing he’d had extra stripped palm leaves around. Rope was the one thing every soldier knew he needed for emergency situations. The rough-hewn rope was surprisingly strong when multiple strips of leaves were woven together.
Not only had the “rope” held together for the splint, it successfully tied the large wooden slats of his spit together for his pig-roast. He’d gathered two strong branches that formed a natural “V” shape and shoved them upright into the ground. A perpendicular slab of wood latched into the “V” slats, forming a bridge. The horizontal piece could be rotated to allow for even cooking. The pig was on it. Headless. Skewered all the way through.
Off to the side, strips of pig flesh were hung up on a rack of similar structure. This was the smoke pit area, where the fire was not much more than embers. Over time, white waves of smoke would cure the flesh dangling from palm frond rope. Once he regained his strength, he’d explain to his audience he’d merely copied ancient Native Americans. Smoking was a way to preserve food without refrigeration. Right now, all he wanted to do was eat and sleep.
Getting the head off the body had been the messiest, trickiest, most exhausting part. Not to mention disgusting. Sightless eyes goggled at him. The tusks threatened to cut him. The pig snout, hairy and warty, seemed to be a life form of its own. Its gelatinous form wiggled as he sawed through. The nose looked like it was still trying to smell him out. The raw flesh hadn’t smelled so good. Breathing through his mouth, he’d kept in mind the smell of cooked pig was much, much better.
He’d done all this work naked so the blood was easier to clean off. Leaving bloody remains behind was not the greatest idea in this area. He’d thought ahead, putting water in a few more buckets and setting them aside before he butchered.
When he was done severing, he’d spilled the water far away from the campsite. The head and guts he’d put even farther away, walking at least a mile. A swampier section was picked to discard it. The alligators would eat as well as he would tonight. At least nothing would go to waste.
Certainly he’d be eating his fair share. The roasting smell had been tantalizing him for hours. The sky was pitch black now, the only light came from the three fires. Too bad one of the flames would probably be going out soon. He got up, taking his boiled-clean knife with him. Standing off to the side of the pig, he leaned forward and thrust in the blade. If the blade came out sluggish, the meat was still underdone.
But the brown, glazed skin crackled as the blade punctured it. The flesh easily gave way when the blade pulled out. Clear liquid dripped out, hissing as it hit the fire below. The smell of roasted pork wafted even stronger and Colin breathed in deeply. His stomach rumbled in response. It had been hours—no, days—since he’d properly eaten. When all this was over, and he could finally put real clothes back on, his old garments would loom large over his diminished frame. How much weight he’d lost, he had no idea. Ten pounds, maybe. More? His ribs stuck out a bit. Unconsciously he let out a laugh. Would Stephanie even recognize him? Better yet, when he finally got to look in a mirror, would he recognize himself? His beard had grown in pretty thick. At this point, anyone who would happen to walk by when he was standing on a rock would mistake him for Sasquatch. He wiggled his toes as he thrust the blade into the pig again. Could his size twelve feet be mistaken for Big Foot’s? Probably not, but still, he did look pretty bad. Not sure how he smelled, either.
Well, who cared? The divine scent of roasted meat was all that mattered anyway. A chunk of it was successfully torn off. Colin bit into it with haste, almost taking off one of his fingertips in the process. He closed his eyes and savored the flavorful taste. Hot juice dripped down his throat. Bliss.
An entire strip of meat was devoured instantly. His stomach clenched for more, his mouth salivated. He took a bucket of water to extinguish the flames, wrestled with the pig carcass to stay on its skewer, and helped himself to a serving of ribs. No spices. No barbeque sauce. No Weber grill. But definitely the
best he’d ever eaten.
Satiated, he put the remaining meat into a pit he’d carved out and lined with palm fronds. He placed more palm fronds over that, then rocks, until everything was covered. The flames doused, he fell into a deep sleep by the side of the pit. If an animal was going to attack his bounty, he’d know it.
Somehow, though, he knew it wasn’t going to happen. Teleworld was done with their tricks. He was sure of it. Each time after they’d unleash an animal, they’d upgrade to one more ferocious. But nothing could top this. It had been their grand finale. Tomorrow was Day Eleven. The crew would pick him up at dawn of Day Twelve.
He was almost done. Almost the winner of the million-dollar prize. Almost back to New York. Back to Stephanie. He was so close, he could taste all this, more powerfully than he tasted the dinner lingering in his mouth.
Ah, New York. So close, yet so far. He’d be starting a new life just as soon as they let him out of their stupid sequester. Maybe he’d stay with television work. TV wasn’t all that bad. He could star in commercials. Be the next spokesperson for his favorite ad campaign: “Pork. The other white meat.” He laughed out loud. Nah.
Chapter 32
Colin awoke with a full belly but an aching head. Pain was shooting everywhere, in fact. Tentatively he uncurled himself from the protective circle he’d formed around his food storage pit. The muscles of his low back twitched in protest as he straightened out, still flat on the ground. Each leg straightened and stretched in turn, too. The muscle spasms here seemed to be more from relief than protest. Encouraged, he gingerly stretched himself out. Ahhhh.
