In the lobby, I introduced Imogen to Helena Malloy, the ambitious new Aussie producer. If Clem had been a cuckoo, Helena was a great white with French tips. Barnes had buttered her up every day at breakfast, so I wasn’t surprised he and I were together on Team Purple, with Arjun opposite us on Orange. Imogen, however,wason my team. “Guess the show had to break the three of us up,” she reasoned, but I only stewed behind the sunglasses Barnes had bought me in the hotel gift shop, in no mood to point out we’d already broken ourselves up.
After avoiding Arjun while we filmed the opening credits, our first Tribulation came at sunset. It was a brute force “Capture the Flag,” the show’s violence amped up by the ruthless Helena. “Time to do what you do best, footballer,” she smugly directed me.
When did the war officially begin? Perhaps when I saw Arjun nuzzling the ear of his brunette (“RebeccaR.,” lest she be confused with fellow newbie “RebeccaK.”), his eyes aimed directly at me? Maybe when I kissed Barnes on the lips after scoring the point that tied the game? Or when I body checked Arjun, who shoved me back and called me “an immature child desperate for screen time”? I didn’t respond; Barnes was already rushing to my defense. Instead I watched Imogen, who exhaled raggedly, as if she had been the target of Arjun’s remark. Personally, I’d argue that was the moment. Wars don’t start until the innocent bystander must choose a side.
24
2015
SEASON 20, EPISODE 5:
“Im-ferno”
The flight attendants kept saying ‘Yeehaw!’ like we’re all just dumb American cowboys,” Solana complained, prompting Jiamin to stride numbly across baggage claim.
“They were saying ‘Nihao,’ which is Mandarin for ‘hello.’ You complete twit,” PB muttered grouchily, a Cubs baseball cap tucked low. He’d been virtually catatonic since leaving Cortona, likely because he’d been paired with Greta. Shawn had lucked out with Melange, and Fortune and Erika seemed content together. The rest was a mixed bag that split up the factions: Jiamin and Aspen; Royce and Solana; Camdon and Tati.
Imogen huddled with Camdon and Royce by the bathrooms, continuing to ignore me, as she’d done since our pilgrimage to China began. I prayed she wouldn’t quit the show, especially when she knew what was at stake for me. Hopefully splitting that mammoth cash prize was motivation enough for even Imogen Cuthbert to endure being my partner.
Our bus left the airport for Zhujiajiao, a small village outside ofsprawling Shanghai. “They aren’t unpacking the luggage,” Erika observed as we disembarked, no doubt meaning a Tribulation lay ahead.
We’d changed film crews with the location switch, and the only constants in the production team would be Troy and Zara. Once again we were surrounded by hardworking folks whom we were forbidden from addressing and who would soon vanish before our eyes, puppeteers behind marionettes. Zara greeted us by four walled pop-up tents on the edge of a gravel lot where the crew was unpacking equipment, and she distributed our new team uniforms, each pair a different color. Apparently Imogen and I would be riding in black, which suited her funereal mood.
Zhujiajiao was a minor Venice, wide canals weaving through white buildings with bloodred balconies and gently swooping eaves. Staircases descended straight into the water, as if one could keep walking until submerged below the placid glass. The stone moon bridges astounded me, triangles whose curving supports formed such pristine crescents that their reflections married with them to make perfect circles. We followed Zara through the side streets past fleets of local merchants. Shawn could have marveled at their myriad wares for days—crickets chirping in miniature wooden pagodas, baby turtles the length of a pinky floating in shallow bowls—but we were due at the dock where Ecklund waited. “Welcome to Zhujiajiao!” he declared jovially.
“Drew, go again without butchering the name of the town.”
“This is why I request a dialect coach, Zara…”
Seven takes later, Zara begged him to simply gesture to Jiamin, who flatly supplied the name. I doubted the pronunciation was normally punctuated by so many exasperated sighs.
Ecklund indicated an armada of small boats tied at the dock below. “For today’s Tribulation, you’ll row these traditional sampansblindfolded! Ladies, you’ll direct your partners through the winding canals of… this quaint Chinese hamlet. And, gents, if you remove the blindfold, your team is automatically disqualified. The first-place team wins immunity from the next Trial, and you didn’t come all the way to Asia to go home now.”
Imogen fled to the bathroom while a local PA roughly blindfolded me. I sat in our sampan, PB and Greta already sniping nearby, the whiff of grass and gasoline drifting through my itchy blindfold, until the boat eventually rocked with someone boarding. “Imogen?”
“You good up there?”
“I guess… Should we talk strategy? Maybe codes for right or left?”
“Why do we need codes?”
“Well, the other voices might distract me,” I answered sheepishly.
“Luke, if you can’t recognize my voice by now, I don’t know what to tell you.”
I sighed, resigning myself to silence until the horn sounded out of nowhere. Just as I’d expected, instant chaos followed and I fought to discern Imogen through the din.
“Paddle straight! Luke, it’s a bottleneck…”
“I can’t hear you, Im!”
“Opening at the bridge… We have to beat…”
I lost her instructions amid the ubiquitous splashes, oars swatting for supremacy. Another boat plowed into ours, and a screech that sounded like Solana pierced my eardrum. Something else collided against our stern, propelling us forward, almost as if a shark had grabbed us from underneath. Even blindfolded, I sensed the sun vanish when we entered a cool shadow, acoustics changing as Imogen’s cries crystalized. “Not THAT way! You’re hitting the bridge!” was the last plea I heard before we capsized.
The fact that Tatianna had been able to successfully guide Camdon through the canals was less a testament to prowess and more to how poorly the rest of us had done.
“Camdon and Tati are safe from tomorrow’s Trial!” Ecklund reminded our drenched assembly. “Everyone else: get your communication under control, because a new era means new rules… You’ll vote as individuals which team goes in, butwhoever gets selectedwill pick their opponent from the losers. So choose wisely.”
