Virgo's Vice

by Trish Jackson

  “I’m sure there’s all that sort of stuff in with the supplies,” Mark says. “We just have to locate the bags.”

  “In the meantime, why don’t you go over there?” Trip says, pointing to the group of people gathering under a copse of tall, spreading shade trees a little way off. “It’s gonna get hot soon, so I think we’ll need the shade. I’ll see if I can find the cargo bags.”

  The nurse says something to the injured guy in Spanish again and helps him up. He grimaces as he stands with one arm on her shoulder and his damaged leg held up behind him.

  “Here, let me help,” the cowboy says. “Hold on to my shoulder.”

  Rafael Rodriguez gritted his teeth and sighed heavily as he gripped the cowboy’s shoulder and heaved himself up awkwardly. He couldn’t believe he had twisted his ankle. The nurse said she could tape it up, but he wondered if there were any painkillers in the first-aid kit. It really hurt and he didn’t know how he was going to be able to compete. He didn’t want to be the one they had to casevac out due to injury. He’d never live that one down with his friends. He looked at his suit. He had paid a lot of money for it, especially for the show, and now it would be ruined. He should have thought more carefully about what to wear to the briefing party. He had been so eager to impress everyone. If he had thought about it, he should have guessed there would be some sort of twist like leaving directly from there and not being allowed to change clothes. They had done that before in reality shows he had watched.

  He shook his head and clicked his tongue. He wanted the money so badly. He had already found the ranch he would buy, and the cattle he would stock on it. He had to make the change. His back wasn’t gonna take many more months of construction work, and what else was he qualified to do? The kids and Angelina were banking on it. He had to be able to support them.

  It was probably a good thing he didn’t have any half-decent dress shoes and had worn his work boots to the party. They did give his ankles a little support. The trouble was, the injured ankle wasn’t gonna fit back into a boot with all the swelling. He smoothed his hair back. He hoped they would hurry up finding the cargo. He needed the bandages and painkillers and he was also thirsty.

  “Wait for me,” the guy with the glasses said, as he tread gingerly on his bare feet.

  I stare after the four of them as they head toward the others.

  “I count seven people already over there where they’re heading, plus those four and the three of us,” Trip says. “That accounts for everyone. Do you have any ideas about locating the cargo bags?”

  “I saw them being thrown out,” Mark says. “There are two of them. I tried to make a point of marking the area in my mind because I knew it would be important.” He scans the landscape. “See that rocky hill over there?”

  Trip and I both nod.

  “It was over that way, on the other side of that copse of big trees in front of it. I’m pretty sure of that.”

  I gaze in the direction he’s pointing and take in the scenery for the first time. We’re on a grassy plain that seems to go on forever, with rolling hills and clumps of trees. There are also some scraggy outcroppings of granite boulders, and that one boulder-strewn hill that sticks up like a pimple. I turn my gaze into the sky and once again I think about how blue it is.

  All around me, I hear strange bird calls, and insects that sound like crickets or cicadas, or maybe both. The air is not too humid, but Trip is right, it is getting hot out here in the sun. It smells of sunshine, crushed grass and freshly disturbed earth. There’s no sign of the herd of animals that I saw running away when I was coming down in the parachute.

  “I think you’re right,” Trip says. “They would be back that way.”

  I glance over at him. How could life have done this to me? I had been so sure he was gone, I mean, really gone—forever.

  “You coming, Lex?” Mark says.

  “Sure.” I know I don’t want to go back there where all the others are gathering. I’ll have to mix with them eventually, but the longer I can put it off the better.

  I follow Trip and Mark down a narrow trail.

  “I wish I could be sure we’re heading in the right direction,” Trip mutters, from up front.

  “Me too,” Mark says. “But we need everything that’s in the bags. The Old Man—that is, Allan Dockery—said he would only be back in three days.”

  Mark glances back at me and lowers his voice, “He’s totally dropped us in the crap,” he says. “I mean, this is crazy. There’s nobody to tell those dudes what they’re supposed to be doing. Are they all supposed to compete in this show as individuals, or will they be in teams first, like Survivor?”

  “What about leaving Jake with us?” I say, leaning down to pat him. Jake is sticking with me. Maybe it’s because I always pet him when we’re taking a break back home at the studios in Los Angeles. I love dogs and they seem to know it. Dogs are one of the reasons I’m out here. I want to get a dog of my own, but I’m not allowed pets in my one-bedroom studio apartment in Glendale.

  Mark has turned his attention back to following Trip. He doesn’t know I’ve been searching for a farm cottage forever, but whenever I found one I was too scared to do anything about it. I really, really want to move out into the country and get a dog, but the thought of living in a cottage without any neighbors on the other side of the walls scares me. A lot of things scare me and that’s why I volunteered for this gig, out here in Africa. Things have been spiraling out of control, and I had to force myself to do this, even though it’s totally out of my element.

  It’s not really my fault that I have the panic attacks. It’s his fault. Trip. After he left, my aunt took me to see a shrink. He said I have a type of PTSD, the same thing soldiers get when they’ve been in a war and been involved in things no decent human being should have to deal with. Like what I went through. I’ve spent a lot of time on the Internet studying anxiety disorders and what causes them. I didn’t need a shrink to tell me what’s wrong with me, but once I started on the Zoloft, I couldn’t do without it, and I have to keep seeing the shrink to get a prescription. Sometimes it doesn’t work and I take more than I’m supposed to. I have to. I couldn’t handle life without it.

  Then the hand tremors started and my shrink told me it’s a side effect and they could be permanent. That scared me even more. I tried to go off the meds but I kept having panic attacks. I call them my vice. But what could I do? I just had to keep taking it. I don’t want to end up with hands that shake like an old person’s.

  Every time I read my horoscope—I’m a Virgo—it said something about how I need to take control of my life and do something to change it. I tried to ignore it, but the same advice just kept coming up, even when I checked out multiple horoscope sites. I know in my heart of hearts that I am the only person who can heal me. That’s why I’m here, and now I think I must have been totally out of it when I made the decision not to bring any of my meds with me. Dumb, dumb, dumb! I guess I didn’t really appreciate how remote this place would be. I kind of thought I might be able to hitch a ride into the nearest town and see a doctor there and get a new prescription if I really couldn’t handle it.

  I’ll never know if it would have worked or not now. He’s spoiled it all. Again.

  I move up closer behind Mark. “This is all totally insane. I still can’t believe the Old Man pushed me like that. I’m still mad at him for doing that. I could have been killed. And what does three days really mean? Do they start today, or does he only start counting tomorrow?”

  We fall silent and I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. It’s Sunday today so the Old Man could get here on Wednesday or would it be Thursday? Meantime, what does he expect me and Mark to do? He was so frikking secretive about it all. I guess he thought Mark and I would leak it to the press or something, so he didn’t tell us anything. As soon as he
arrives I’m quitting and leaving this place. Maybe I should tell Mark about Trip—but then I would have to tell him about . . . it. My past. I can’t do that. I can’t ever tell anyone and Trip knows it.

  It’s getting hot and I’m beginning to sweat. The terrain is hilly and there are blue, hazy mountains in the distance. I notice sweat marks on the guys’ shirts. I remember then, that this is Africa and I check around me nervously. “Do you think there are any dangerous wild animals here? I saw some when I was up there.” I point to the sky.

  Mark doesn’t answer for a few seconds. “Nah. I don’t think that crazy old man would have put us in that kind of danger. He’s got to know something about this area.”

  I’m not as confident as him, and I shudder.

  “We know from the airport where we landed that we’re in a country called Zimbabwe,” Mark continues.

  “I always thought Africa was just one big jungle, but it doesn’t feel as hot as I would have thought.”

  “Apparently although it’s tropical, it’s cooler here because we’re close to the mountains,” Mark says. “There shouldn’t be too many bugs at the moment because it’s fall, and they’ll been gone during winter. It even gets frosty up here because it’s high in elevation.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “I did some reading up on the Internet.”

  Mark always seems to know everything. It’s weird that this is fall. April is in the springtime at home.

  Trip stops and turns to face us. “Look,” he says, “why don’t we separate and each of us go and check in a different direction? We have more chance of finding the bags that way.”

  Go out there alone? In the African wilderness? Not me. Not even with Jake by my side. “I have a better idea,” I say. “Why don’t we go get some of the others to help?”

  “Okay,” Trip says. “Go and call them.” He starts walking again.

  Mark gives me the look. I stare back at him. I sigh loudly and shrug my shoulders. “Okay, but if anything gets me it’ll be on you. Come on, Jake.” I turn around and hurry back along the narrow pathway we’ve made in the grass. I hear Jake padding behind me and that helps, but my heart is still beating much too fast.

  The others are all together in the shade of a clump of tall trees. I’m breathing hard by the time I reach them. “Trip, the dude in the khaki’s,” I pant, “asked if anyone wants to help locate the cargo bags.”

  I turn to show them where Trip and Mark are. My foot hooks on something and I crash to the ground and bite the dust, hard. This is the kind of dumb thing I always seem to do when I’m with people.

  Chapter 3

  “You okay?”

  Billy Murphy is peering into my face. He has a worried look on his, and he grabs my arm. “Let me help you up,” he says. Jake is standing over me, whining. “It’s okay, buddy,” Billy says to him, and pats him on his head, and then cocks an eyebrow at me.

  “I’m fine,” I scramble to my feet with Billy’s help, and feel my face going red. Billy is still holding onto my arm and everyone is staring at me and I want to shrivel up and crawl into a hole. “Really, I’m just clumsy.” I dust off my clothes and bend forward to check out what’s making my knee sting.

  Billy lets go of my arm and crouches down to examine my knee more closely. He touches me, and I jerk away.

  “Ouch!”

  He glances up at me. “Sorry. It’s a scrape. There’s a little blood. It made a hole in your jeans. If I had something to clean it with, I would. Hold on.” He takes his bandanna off from around his neck and spits on it, and before I know what he’s planning, he wipes it gently over where it hurts. He looks up into my eyes again. “That’s the best I can do.”

  “Th—Thank you.” I’m going red again. I can feel the heat in my face. “I’ll be fine. Someone needs to go search for the supplies.” There’s something sexy about the way he did that. I squint at his face while he’s not looking. He’s really cute.

  “I’ll go. Name’s Andy Riggs.” The other cute guy bends to stroke Jake. His perfectly fitting navy blue lightweight suit and a long sleeve, fancy striped cream and gold shirt are totally out of place. I glance down at his shiny black leather shoes and wonder how long they’ll stay like that.

  “Me too,” Billy says.

  They both stare at me and I realize they expect me to show them the way. Me. The one who has panic attacks just thinking about making a move out of my one-bedroom apartment in the city. I take a deep breath, grab Jake’s collar, and head down the trail, hoping I won’t lose it. As long as I keep that hill in sight I should be able to find my way. My knee is still stinging a little, but not enough to make me limp or anything like that.

  I let go of Jake once I’m sure he’s gonna stay with me, and I think about the Old Man while I walk. I can hear Andy and Billy talking softly to each other behind me. I’ve always known the Old Man’s a little crazy, so I why did I expect anything to be ‘normal’ with this reality show? I was dumb to think he would be here with the crew, and instruct them to set up some tents, a little ways away from the contestants, that would be our headquarters. I even believed a cook would prepare our meals, and they would build some sort of ablution places, with a shower. I knew there wouldn’t be flush toilets, but I figured they would bring chemical potties or something like that. For someone like me, who has never, ever been camping, that would be roughing it, and I was proud of myself for daring to even think about joining the crew on this shoot.

  I should have known something wasn’t right. No other crew members came with us on the long flight in the jumbo from Washington DC all the way to Africa, and I didn’t see any of them at the airport before we boarded the small airplane that we jumped out of. What did the pilot say about it? He wasn’t supposed to take more than twelve passengers at a time, but he made an exception. We all fitted on those two benches. I think he said it was a Cessna Caravan something.

  I thought the crew were following on another flight. Maybe they are on their way, and they’ll get here later today, without the Old Man. Yeah. That must be it. He must be sending Anthony Evans, the AP—Assistant Producer—to direct until he gets here in three days, probably with Jacquie his exec assistant. I wish he’d told us, but it’s okay. He never does anything the normal, logical way. Anthony will bring a couple of techies and a grip. We’ll need a grip some of the time.

  What about the word going around the studio that the Old Man is broke and this is his last chance? It can’t be true, or he wouldn’t have been able to fund this show.

  I heave a sigh of relief when I see the sun glinting off Mark’s camera, and we’ve caught up with him and Trip. Trip gives instructions, and I wait until he has moved away from us before I say to Mark, “Let me know if you need me to take over for a while.” I point at the camera.

  Mark shakes his head. “I’m okay.”

  “Do you think there’ll be food and water in one of the bags?” I ask him. “I mean, for us. We’re not supposed to have to survive like them.”

  Mark shakes his head and draws his eyebrows together. “I wish I could say yes, but I’m beginning to wonder if that old man was crazier than we thought.”

  I don’t like the way he says that. “Anthony and the rest of the crew will get here later today. That makes the most sense, right?”

  Mark scratches his chin. “Maybe, but we’re talking radically eccentric old man here, so I wouldn’t count on it. If they were coming today they would have been on the jumbo with us, and he wouldn’t have made such a big thing about the sat phone that’s packed with the other supplies. He was quite serious when he was talking about that. He said at least we’d be able to communicate. I think he meant if anyone gets badly injured, like if that Mexican dude can’t go on with his leg like that.”

  “I just hope there’s some food for Jake, too.” As soon as we have the phone
I’ll be able to call and tell the Old Man I quit. He’ll have time to get another camera operator to come with him in three days’ time, when he gets here. “And we need the solar chargers and spare batteries for the cameras. My battery’s running down.” Now that I think about it, there doesn’t seem to be any place where an airplane could land. So does that mean the Old Man will have to come in a chopper? I’m getting thirsty. Jake is panting.

  I am beginning to think we aren’t gonna find either bag, when Billy lets out a yell. “Yeehaw,” he shouts. “Over here.”

  Chapter 4

  Billy Murphy reflected on the situation while he followed behind the camera girl.

  She was the best thing about him being a contestant in this reality show so far. She was real cute. Everything about her was cute. The way her hair floated around her face, a pretty color, too—kind of brown with lighter bits in it. Her eyes were that deep blue color and he got lost in them when she smiled. He liked watching her ass in front of him. It was tight and round. The lawyer dude, Andy Riggs, who was following behind him coughed, and he wondered if he was also watching it and thinking the same thing. He smiled to himself. The dude had to be getting hot in that suit, and his fancy shoes were gonna get ruined.

  Billy was glad he had a hat. It might be fall here, but the sun was hot and getting hotter all the time. His boots were comfortable and well worn-in.

  The dude in khaki’s seemed to have taken a leadership position. It didn’t bother Billy one way or the other. He knew he was a lot better prepared for these kinds of conditions than any of the others. He had been riding the range and camping out with Pa and his brothers since, well, Mom died. Except for the time he was locked up in juvie, but that was only for over a year. Why was he thinking about that? He had to forget about it.