“What, like a maid or your own personal chef?”
“I just didn’t imagine myself playing Tarzan and swinging from trees to get my nourishment.”
I looked over at one of the cameramen who was eagerly waiting to record my untimely demise.
“Do you know if these are edible?” I asked him.
The dude shrugged noncommittally from behind the lens. Seriously? I realized they weren’t allowed to talk to us, but still, this was sort of a life or death situation.
“I am going to eat this,” I articulated each word slowly and clearly. “Do you think I will die?”
The cameraman made another vague motion with his shoulders.
I gaped at him and his obvious lack of concern for my life and then turned my attention back to Kenzie. “Well, you heard him. We’re good.”
As I raised the fruit to my mouth, her eyes glazed over in uncertainty then grew double in size, and they were already pretty damn big to begin with.
“Stop. You’re making me nervous,” I protested.
“I can’t help it. This feels like the scene from that movieBlue Lagoonwhere the couple eats the poisonous berries.”
I’d never seenBlue Lagoon, nor had I even heard of it, but all of the sudden, its plot points seemed over-the-top important to me.
“What happened?” I asked with wide, uneasy eyes.
“Honestly, I can’t remember.”
I lowered the fruit and glowered at her. “Well, that really doesn’t help me at all,” I grumbled. “You probably could have omitted that particularly unhelpful piece of information.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have prolonged your life any longer than necessary. Continue.”
“Your concern for me is really touching,” I said. Then, without further hesitation, I sank my teeth into the fruit while glaring defiantly into the camera. If the dickhead was going to film my death I, at least, wanted to look tough on my way out.
I seesawed my way through the firm, fleshy meat and was chewing for an uncomfortably long time before I managed to swallow the first unappetizing mouthful. I gagged a bit. The fruit had an unsavory taste and texture, but it filled my empty stomach and, as my dad always said, ‘Beggars can’t be choosers.’ And today, I was definitely a beggar.
Kenzie had wisely given me ample time to keel over and die before she finally deemed the fruit safe and ate one of her own. We devoured two more each before shoving the rest into our pockets for Dale and Marsha.
As we got up to leave, I turned to the cameraman and said, “Thanks for nothing, asshole.”
I swear I saw him smile.
* * *
That afternoon, while I was gathering wood for a fire we didn’t have, Aisha popped up from behind some trees, startling me.
“Whatcha doing?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she answered, looking nervous.
I knew that expression. She was searching for the immunity idol. Dammit! Dale and I needed to find it before Gene’s crew did, or we would be completely screwed come the first elimination ceremony. I decided then and there to stay by her side to prevent her from continuing her search.
“I’m gathering wood, if you want to help…”
“Yeah, sure,” she said quickly, and bent down to collect some of her own.
Aisha and I chatted our way back to the camp. Up to that point she hadn’t said a word to me, preferring to hide behind the other members of Gene’s group. I found her to be friendly and easy to talk to but also a bit jumpy, as if she were concerned to be seen with me. I could only assume Gene wouldn’t take kindly to her fraternizing with the enemy.
Once back at the shelter, I noticed Gene and Carl were not in camp. Aisha did too, and she instantly relaxed.
