A drone descends on us, and I lift my hand to her face, brushing a strand of hair off her bandage and tucking it behind her ear. I can almost feel the drone zooming in on the slight contact.
“You sure you’ll be okay over here?” I ask.
Her long brown eyelashes flick upward, giving me a glimpse of her warm hazel eyes that shine bright in the afternoon sun. “Mm-hmm.”
Her soft hum nestles deep inside me. “And if you weren’t okay, you’d tell me, right?”
“Mm-hmm,” she repeats.
“Liar.”
Missy smiles sweetly in response, causing a pool of new and confusing emotions to rise inside me just like they did two days ago in the middle of the jungle. When I saw Missy alone in the darkness, when I heard her guttural screams for her mama, when she held onto me like no one ever had before—something changed. At that moment, I didn’t care about my image or my stupid wager or even this game. All I wanted was for Missy to be okay. To be happy and healed. To be with her. To be there for her.
A unified noise sounds from our watches. The sudden beeps signal the start of the ten-minute game.
In a panic, Missy places her hands on my shoulders, and I wrap mine around her waist, lifting her up into the crook of a tree branch. “You got it?”
“Yeah. You go. I’ve got everything covered here,” she says, scooting farther onto the branch.
“I know you do.” I toss her face mask and marker to her, which she catches. Then I place my face mask over my head and watch as Missy does the same, her puffy blonde braid spilling out from one side.
“Colton,” Missy says, her words slightly muffled by her mask. She pulls the pump handle on her paintball marker, cocking it. “Light ’em up.”
With the game clock counting down, I sprint through trees and bushes, keeping my eyes alert with my marker cocked and held at the ready.
The rules of the game are simple. We all have ten minutes to shoot as many of our team-colored paintballs at the opposing teams as we can. As long as we stay within the roped-off parameters, we are free to roam. The team that gets struck with the most paintballs automatically loses, bringing them one step closer to elimination from the show.
It all sounds easy enough, but when I factor in that each contestant only has ten paintballs, I know I need to be smart with my ammo. When I get closer to the center of the playing field, I crouch low as I continue forward, feeling a small thrill as I remember the many summer nights I spent shooting paintballs and BB guns with Will in my cousin’s backyard as a kid. They were the moments I’d lived for growing up. The type of carefree adventure that is too few and far between these days.
A slight rustle of leaves stops me in my tracks, and I take cover behind a bush, holding my marker at eye level. I aim in the direction of the sound, but when I spot an amber bandana and gray hair, I pause.
Bill must see me, too, because his head rises slightly above the greenery he’s behind, and he puts a finger to his mask in a quiet gesture, then points to my three o’clock. Following his signal, I spot Legend, who’s walking openly through the trees with zero tactical prowess. Bill raises three fingers, and I start mentally counting down. I lift my marker, as does Bill, and aim at Legend. I almost feel bad for shooting at someone who looks like they went down the wrong aisle of a supermarket and can’t seem to find the Triscuits. But then I remember that Legend is Team Fuchsia, and when my counting reaches zero, Bill and I hit our mark.
Teal- and amber-colored paintballs splatter across Legend’s jacket, lighting him up like the Fourth of July. Legend squeals and frantically shoots in a circle, pumping out nine of his ten paintballs. Not only is he an easy target, but he’s a loud one.
I’ve used two paintballs on Legend already, and Bill has used three. I’m debating using one more when I see a flash of fuchsia blaze through the trees and slam into Legend. Silver’s body hits her brother with so much force that she and Legend go flying to the ground, concealed by a row of voluminous ferns.
“What are you doing?” Silver hisses.
“I hate paintball,” Legend growls.
“Yeah, you’re terrible at it, too. You trying to get us out of the game?”
“Get off me.”
The leaves surrounding the pair start to rustle, and Bill and I make eye contact. Together, we creep toward the tussling siblings to take them from both sides, but like a snake springing toward her prey, Silver pops out of the ferns with surprising speed. She’s got both her and Legend’s markers in hand, like she’s Black Widow fromThe Avengers. Both barrels are aimed point-blank at me and Bill.
Silver shoots, and her paintball nearly nicks Bill’s thigh before I feel a bruising pressure against my shoulder. Fuchsia paint explodes across my jacket and face mask. I can almost taste the paint fumes. Missy might have been joking when she mentioned Silver being part of the Mafia, but now that theory holds weight.
Silver tosses Legend’s gun back to him as soon as he gets to his feet, and Bill and I quickly set our markers for the pair, but when Legend realizes his marker is out of paintballs, he chucks it into the bushes and sprints farther into the trees. Silver shoots several more paintballs in our direction, which nearly hit us every time, but thankfully, never make contact. Then she bolts off after her brother. Both Bill and I lose a paintball to the jungle before Legend and Silver disappear entirely from view.
In a conversation that is more movement than words, Bill and I go back to back, scanning our surroundings for any hidden opponents behind the dozens of trees and scattered bushes.
And that was all we’d needed to solidify our partnership, which brought our opposing teams down to just two—Team Fuchsia and Ruby.
I think of Team Lime. Joseph and Tyrone had been the real finders of the pilot’s wings game booster, making them exempt from this paintball battle, as well as tonight’s Black Box Elimination. And since they’d won yesterday’s Reward Challenge, Team Lime was also reaping the benefits of a food reward at this very moment. Last time I’d seen Joseph and Tyrone was back at base camp, where they’d been delivered a large cheesy pizza as the rest of us were herded into the jungle for Mayday Challenge Three.
Just the thought of pizza has my mouth watering. I know with certainty that for the remainder of this show, tasty, cheesy, yeasty bread will be starring in my dreams.
