Chapter 14: Last Round
The sour taste of Joaquin’s near-kiss lingered on Nicola’s skin like cheap perfume. She scrubbed her cheekbone raw with the heel of her hand, ignoring his furious glare. Across the digging zone, Bianca wept silently into the sand, ignored by everyone except Carmen, who knelt beside her, murmuring useless comforts. Sean spat into the surf, his broad back radiating disgust. Briv couldn’t tear his eyes from Alya. She stood frozen near the palm trees, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring blankly at the spot where Revan had whispered his vile promise. Revan himself leaned against a driftwood log, idly tracing a tattoo on his forearm, his dark eyes flicking occasionally to Alya with predatory amusement.
Chris McLean clapped his hands, the sharp sound cutting through the fractured atmosphere. "Alright, Islanders! Settle down! We’ve got sparks flying, tears flowing, and points piling up!" His grin was a slash of white against his tanned face. "But Round Two is done. Dust yourselves off – metaphorically, or literally, Bianca darling – because it’s time for the MAIN EVENT! The final showdown of the day!"
He strode into the center of the freshly raked sand pit, flanked by crew members holding shovels. "For the last challenge… we’re digging deep! Literally!" He gestured expansively at three marked rectangles in the sand, each about six feet long and three feet wide. "Three pits. Three teams. One goal: Dig down and be the first pair to retrieve the flag buried at the bottom! Tools?" He paused dramatically. "These!" He grabbed a shovel from a crew member and tossed it aside dismissively. "Just your hands! Sweat! Grit! And teamwork!"
A collective groan mingled with sharp intakes of breath. Hands. Sand. Deep pits. Proximity. Briv felt Dariana shift beside him, her athlete’s focus snapping onto the nearest pit. Her jaw was set. Nicola’s eyes narrowed, calculating the task, deliberately avoiding looking at Joaquin. Alya flinched visibly, her knuckles whitening where she gripped her own elbows. Digging. Trapped in a hole. With him.
Chris pointed, his finger stabbing the air. "The contenders for glory… and a MAJOR advantage in tomorrow’s trial… are the pairs who qualified! First: Revan and Alya!" Revan pushed off the driftwood, a slow, predatory smile spreading as he sauntered towards Alya. She didn’t move until he was almost upon her, then walked stiffly towards Pit One, her gaze fixed on the sand.
"Second: Briv and Dariana!" Dariana was already moving, heading for Pit Two. Briv followed, his eyes darting between Dariana’s determined stride and Alya’s terrified posture as Revan closed in beside her. "Third: Joaquin and Nicola!" Joaquin swaggered towards Pit Three, flashing Nicola a challenging smirk. "Time to get dirty, preciosa," he called. Nicola walked past him without a word, positioning herself at one end of their pit, her back rigid.
"Positions!" Chris yelled. Crew members scurried to place small red flags at the bottom of pre-dug starter holes in each pit, then quickly covered them with a thin layer of sand. "Dig only within your marked area! First pair to pull that flag high wins it all! Ready…"
Revan stood at the edge of Pit One, looking down at Alya. "You take that end," he ordered, pointing to the far corner. "Start shallow. I’ll handle the deep work." His tone brooked no argument. Alya knelt without a word, plunging her hands into the cool, damp sand, scraping frantically at the surface layer. Revan dropped to his knees beside her, his movements powerful and efficient, gouging deep handfuls near the center where the flag lay buried.
In Pit Two, Dariana was already a whirlwind. "Briv! Focus!" she snapped, her hands a blur as sand flew behind her. "Start wide, shallow scoops here! I’ll go deep center!" Briv knelt, mimicking her motions, but his attention kept drifting to Pit One. He saw Revan’s shoulder bump Alya’s deliberately, making her flinch and lose her rhythm. He saw Revan lean close, murmuring something lost in the grunts and scraping sounds, saw Alya shrink away.
"BRIV!" Dariana’s shout was sharp as a whip crack. "Your end is piling up! Move it!" Sand sprayed from her furious digging, coating her tanned arms. Briv shook his head, refocusing on the patch in front of him, clawing at the sand with renewed, angry vigor.
In Pit Three, Joaquin was digging like a man possessed, muscles straining, sweat already darkening his tank top. "Faster, Nicola! Deeper!" he commanded, flinging heavy loads of sand towards the edge. Nicola worked with fierce, controlled efficiency on her side, her blonde hair sticking to her temples. "Stop ordering me," she retorted coldly, her voice tight. "Dig your own section." She angled her body away from him, creating a small barrier of flying sand whenever he glanced her way.
The pits deepened quickly. Knees sank into the cool, yielding sand. Shoulders bumped. Breath came in ragged gasps mingled with the gritty rasp of skin against granules. Revan’s hole was noticeably deeper than Alya’s. He paused, chest heaving, and wiped sweat from his brow with a grimy forearm. "Getting tired, sweetheart?" he taunted Alya, his gaze dropping pointedly to her trembling hands. "Maybe you should conserve your energy… for later." He grinned, a flash of white teeth in his dirt-streaked face. "Ten points buys a lot, remember?"
Alya froze, her hands buried in the sand. Her eyes, wide and terrified, met his. Briv saw it. Saw the paralyzing fear. Rage surged through him, hot and blinding. "Hey!" he yelled across the gap between pits, his voice cracking. "Leave her alone, you creep!"
Revan laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Jealous, twig? Worry about your own pit!" He turned back, deliberately shoving Alya aside with his hip to access the spot she’d been digging. She stumbled back against the sandy wall, a small cry escaping her lips.
Dariana didn’t look up. "Shut up and DIG, Briv!" she snarled, her own pit now waist-deep. "Or we lose!" She plunged her hands down again, hitting something solid near the center. "Flag! Almost!"
Joaquin, hearing Dariana’s shout, roared in Pit Three. "¡VAMOS!" He redoubled his efforts, sand flying like a geyser. Nicola, seeing his frantic pace focused solely on the center, shifted her own digging slightly. Instead of flinging sand straight out, she began subtly undermining the wall near Joaquin’s feet, creating a small, hidden cavity.
The flags were close. Dariana’s fingers scrabbled against the smooth plastic pole buried deep. Briv, fueled by fury and adrenaline, tore at the sand beside her, helping to expose it. Joaquin’s fingertips brushed the top of his flag. "¡Sí!" he gasped triumphantly.
In Pit One, Revan’s hand plunged deep into the moist darkness. "Got it!" he bellowed, his fingers closing around the shaft. He started to wrench it free.
Simultaneously, three things happened.
Dariana grasped her flag firmly and yanked it free, thrusting it high into the air. "YES!" she shouted, her voice raw.
Joaquin gripped his flag and pulled, but as he did, the sand Nicola had undermined beneath his knees gave way. He lurched sideways with a startled curse, his grip faltering. The flag slipped from his fingers, vanishing back into the churned sand.
And Revan, pulling his flag upwards, found Alya’s hand clamped desperately over his wrist. She hadn’t planned it. Pure, panicked instinct. Her eyes were wide, desperate pools of brown. "No," she whispered, her voice trembling but audible. "Please. Don't win."
Revan stared at her, stunned for a fraction of a second by the sheer defiance in her terror. Then fury contorted his features. "Get OFF!" He wrenched his arm violently, breaking her weak grip and sending her sprawling backwards into the sand. He ripped the flag free, holding it aloft, dirt raining down. "WE WON!" he roared, his voice thick with rage and triumph.
Silence descended, broken only by heavy breathing. Dariana stood tall in her pit, flag held high, her expression fierce but devoid of celebration. Briv stared, horrified, at Alya crumpled in the bottom of Pit One, sand clinging to her tears. Nicola watched impassively as Joaquin frantically scrabbled in the collapsed sand where his flag had disappeared.
Chris McLean bounded forward, microphone ready, his face alight with manufactured drama. "AND WE HAVE OUR WINNERS! BY A HAIR... REVAN AND ALYA!" He gestured grandly towards Pit One. Revan climbed out, waving the flag like a battle standard, ignoring Alya struggling to rise behind him. "What a finish! Pure passion! Pure determination!"
He turned to the cameras, beaming. "Revan and Alya, congratulations! Your victory today secures you a SIGNIFICANT advantage in tomorrow's trial! A little... head start, shall we say?" He winked. "Rest up, winners! You've earned it! For everyone else... well, let's just say tomorrow just got a whole lot tougher!"
Revan threw an arm around Alya’s shoulders as she finally emerged, pale and shaking. He pulled her tight against his sweaty side, his grip punishing. "Told you we'd win, sweetheart," he murmured, loud enough for nearby mics to catch. His eyes locked onto Briv’s furious stare across the pits. "Ten points," he mouthed silently, his grin widening into something feral. "Pay up." Alya closed her eyes, a single tear tracing a clean path through the grime on her cheek. The flag in Revan’s hand looked less like victory and more like a warrant.
===
The flag in Revan’s hand looked less like victory and more like a warrant. His fingers tightened on the fabric as Chris McLean strode forward, microphone ready, beaming. "What a display!" Chris boomed, the sound sharp against the ragged breathing and distant surf. "Passion! Grit! Sand in places sand should never be!" He clapped Revan hard on the back, ignoring how Alya flinched at the contact. "Revan and Alya, folks! Our dig pit dominators! That head start tomorrow is yours. Use it wisely... or not!" He winked conspiratorially at the cameras.
Revan’s arm remained a steel bar across Alya’s shoulders, pulling her rigid frame tight against his sweat-slicked side. Sand clung to her tear-tracked cheek. Briv surged forward from the edge of Pit Two, fists clenched, Dariana’s warning grip on his arm the only anchor. "Get your hands off her!" Briv’s shout was raw, cracking.
"Problem, twig?" Revan sneered, not looking at Briv, his gaze raking possessively over Alya’s terrified profile. "She's my partner. We won. Right, sweetheart?" He gave her a small, vicious shake. Alya squeezed her eyes shut, a tiny whimper escaping her. Dariana yanked Briv back harder. "Stop. You lose us points, you idiot. Not helping."
Chris, reveling in the crackle of hostility, smoothly stepped between them, arms spread wide. "Alright, lovebirds, simmer down! Before we send our winners off to bask in their glory... let's see how the land lies!" He gestured grandly towards the large scoreboard screen flickering to life near the production tent. "Time for the DAY TWO STANDINGS!"
The group’s attention snapped towards the glowing display. Murmurs rippled through the contestants still covered in grit. Kim muttered under his breath in Korean. Logan crossed his massive arms, frowning. Nicoleta, still spotless in her goth attire, rolled her dark eyes.
"Claiming the top spot," Chris announced, voice dripping with faux suspense, "with an impressive eleven points... Carmen and Joaquin!"
A smattering of forced applause. Carmen managed a weak, wobbly smile, her tall frame seeming to fold in on itself slightly. Joaquin, however, puffed out his chest, the earlier humiliation in the pit seemingly forgotten. He shot Nicola, brushing sand off her toned legs nearby, a triumphant, gloating look. "Eleven, mi flor," he taunted, low and audible. Nicola ignored him, her jaw set, eyes fixed coldly on the scoreboard.
"In second place," Chris continued, "holding strong with five points... Valentina and Naseer!" Valentina preened, tossing her long brown hair, while Naseer beside her simply nodded once, his bald head gleaming, expression unreadable but radiating smug satisfaction. Valentina whispered something to Bianca, who was being supported by Diletta, her ankle clearly swollen; Bianca just shook her head miserably.
"Now, sharing third place with one point each," Chris scanned the list, "we have... Revan! Alya! Thomas! Raze! Diletta! Briv! Dariana! Nicola! Sean! And Bianca!"
Each name felt like a condemnation. Briv’s single point felt like ash. Dariana let out a sharp, frustrated breath beside him. One point. For that. Sean just grunted, staring at the sand. Raze looked disgusted, shooting Diletta a sidelinear glare she coolly returned. Thomas fluttered a hand near his chest. "Oh, one is a start, darling, a start!"
"And bringing up the rear," Chris’s tone shifted to playful pity, "with zero points... Kim, Fatima, Kofi, Elena, Andre, Patricia, Jim, Emilia, Logan, and Nicoleta! Oof. Gotta step it up, people! Tomorrow is a new day... for some." His gaze lingered meaningfully on Revan and Alya.
Revan’s grin widened. He leaned down, his lips brushing Alya’s ear again, his voice a gravelly whisper that somehow cut through the low chatter. "Hear that, sweetheart? We’re tied." His hand, still clamped on her shoulder, slid down, fingers digging possessively into the soft skin just above her hip bone, low enough to be intimate, hard enough to hurt. "That head start tomorrow... gives me plenty of time. Ten points. You owe me."