Chapter 168: After Trial 12
The walk back from the beach was a silent funeral procession. No one spoke. The only sounds were the shuffle of feet through sand, then on packed earth, and the occasional choked sniff from Carmen, who walked with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The crew, now just crew again, trailed behind with their equipment, the red lights on their cameras like the eyes of patient predators.
Briv’s mind was a static roar. He kept seeing it: Nicola’s vacant eyes, the casual brutality of the crew, the way Chris had dissected it all like a biologist pinning a specimen. His competitive drive, usually a constant low hum in his blood, had flatlined. The points felt like ashes in his mouth. What was he even fighting for? A better cabin? The right to watch someone else get broken next?
He glanced at Alya walking a few feet ahead. Her shoulders were hunched, her beautiful face pale and drawn. She looked smaller. The fiery spirit that had first drawn him to her, that had made their mutual breakup feel like a battle between equals, seemed extinguished. She was just a girl trying to survive.
They reached the central clearing where the cabins fanned out. The group fragmented without a word, everyone fleeing towards their own doors, desperate for walls, for a semblance of privacy. Briv’s feet carried him to the men’s cabin he shared with Thomas, Jim, and Raze. He pushed the door open.
The inside was a jarring contrast to the beach. It was just a room. Bunks, a floor, a faint smell of sweat and cheap detergent. Thomas was already there, sitting on his bunk, meticulously cleaning under his fingernails with a toothpick. He looked up, his expression unreadable.
“Well,” Thomas said, his voice soft, almost feminine. “That was something.”
Briv didn’t answer. He went to his bunk and sat down heavily, putting his head in his hands.
“You’re upset,” Thomas observed. He didn’t sound sympathetic, just clinical. “It’s a game, Briv. A brutal, ugly, brilliant game. She knew the rules.”
“She didn’t know that rule,” Briv muttered into his palms. “Nobody knew that rule.”
“The wheel decides. That’s the only rule.” Thomas set the toothpick down. “You’re in second place, you know. Right behind your ex. You should be thinking about that, not about Nicola. Sentimentality is a luxury this game taxes heavily.”
The door banged open and Jim bounded in, his face flushed with weird excitement. “Dude. That was insane. Did you see the way that sound guy just… went for it? And the PA kid? Brutal.” He shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “Kinda hot, in a messed-up way.”
Briv lifted his head and stared at Jim. The nerd’s eyes were wide, his breathing slightly quickened. He was getting off on the memory. A cold, clean fury cut through Briv’s numbness. “Get out.”
“What?”
“Get the fuck out of here, Jim.”
Jim’s grin faltered. “It’s my cabin too, man.”
Briv stood up. He wasn’t muscular like Sean or Andre, but he was taller, and the rage in his eyes was raw. “I don’t care. Go jerk off in the jungle. I don’t want to look at you right now.”
Thomas watched, a faint smile on his lips. Jim pouted, muttered “Whatever, psycho,” and slunk back out the door.
Silence descended again, thicker now. Briv’s anger bled away, leaving the hollow feeling behind. He needed air. He couldn’t be in this box with Thomas’s calculating silence. He walked back out into the clearing.
The sun was beginning to dip, casting long, distorted shadows. He saw a figure sitting alone on a fallen log at the tree line. It was Carmen. Her long frame was curled in on itself, her face buried in her hands. He walked over, his footsteps crunching on the dry leaves.
He didn’t say anything. Just sat down beside her, leaving a foot of space between them.
After a minute, her voice came out, muffled by her hands. “She won’t talk. She just got in the shower. She’s been in there for twenty minutes. I can hear the water running.” Carmen lifted her head. Her eyes were red-raw, her pale skin blotchy. “I tried to talk to her through the door. Nothing. Just the water.”
“Give her time,” Briv said, the words feeling useless.
“Time for what?” Carmen’s voice cracked. “To forget? That’s not going to happen. I can’t… I can’t unsee it, Briv. The way they talked to her. Like she was a thing. A prop. And the others… Diletta just staring at the wall. Dariana… God.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “What are we doing here?”
Before Briv could formulate an answer that didn’t sound like a lie, a metallic screech echoed through the clearing. The main PA system, mounted on a pole in the center, crackled to life.
“All contestants to the main beach. Immediately. Failure to appear results in automatic point forfeiture.”
Chris’s voice. Brisk. No nonsense.
Carmen let out a shuddering breath. “We’re not even allowed to breathe.”
“Come on,” Briv said, standing. He offered her a hand. She looked at it for a second, then took it, her grip cold and weak.
They weren’t the last to arrive. The group reassembled on the same stretch of sand, now washed clean by the tide. The physical evidence was gone, but the atmosphere was stained. People stood apart, avoiding eye contact. Nicola was there, flanked by Bianca and Emilia. She wore clean clothes, her hair damp. She looked at nothing, her face a smooth, empty mask. Bianca had an arm around her shoulders, whispering steadily in her ear. Emilia watched the others, her dark eyes sharp, missing nothing.
Chris stood before them, hands on his hips. He looked refreshed, as if he’d just enjoyed a nice nap. “Welcome back. I know it’s been an emotionally taxing afternoon. A true test of mettle. But the game, as they say, must go on. The wheel challenges are concluded. The cabin deficit, while not fully erased, has been… meaningfully addressed.”
He let that hang, his gaze sweeping over them, pausing for a micro-second on Nicola. She didn’t flinch.
“Now,” he continued, pulling out his tablet. “It’s time for a reckoning. A snapshot of where you all stand. The points have been tallied, incorporating all performances, alliances, and penalties up to and including today’s events. This is your hierarchy. This is your reality.”
He tapped the screen and a large, holographic display flickered to life in the air beside him, glowing in the twilight.
1ST - ALYA - 240P
A soft murmur rippled through the group. Alya’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. She didn’t look triumphant. She looked like someone had just painted a target on her back. Briv felt a familiar, ugly twist in his gut—jealousy, sharp and immediate. She was beating him. After everything.
2ND - BRIV - 233P
Seven points. He was seven points behind her. His jaw tightened. Thomas’s words echoed: You should be thinking about that.
3RD - BIANCA - 195P
Bianca gave a small, tight nod, her psychologist’s mask firmly in place. A strategic distance behind the leaders. A safe, observant position.
4TH - THOMAS - 180P
Thomas smiled, a subtle, self-satisfied curl of his lips. He caught Briv’s eye and gave a little shrug, as if to say, See?
5TH - JIM - 179P
Jim, who had slunk back into the group, let out a loud, “Whoa! Top five!” He pumped a fist, entirely oblivious to the disgusted looks shot his way.
The list continued, a relentless scroll of names and numbers that quantified their worth in this broken economy.
6TH - DARIANA - 172P
7TH - ELENA - 168P
8TH - KOFI - 167P - Kofi smirked, flexing a bicep.
9TH - NICOLETA - 165P - Nicoleta, the goth influencer, just stared ahead, her expression unreadable.
10TH - DILETTA - 164P - Diletta was looking at her own name as if it belonged to a stranger.
11TH - RAZE - 160P
12TH - JOAQUIN - 157P - Joaquin winked at Patricia.
13TH - PATRICIA - 155P
14TH - FATIMA - 154P
15TH - KIM - 149P - Kim offered Elena a sympathetic smile. She didn’t return it.
16TH - SEAN, ANDRE - 136P - Sean grunted. Andre just stared, his massive arms crossed.
17TH - CARMEN - 123P - Carmen bit her lip.
18TH - VALENTINA - 120P - Valentina looked furious, her eyes darting around as she calculated who she could gossip about to climb.
19TH - EMILIA - 119P - Emilia’s placid expression didn’t change, but Briv saw her fingers twitch once.
20TH - NASEER - 116P - Naseer scowled, his rich-guy arrogance bruised by the low ranking.
21ST - LOGAN - 111P - The older man’s face was like granite. No reaction.
22ND - NICOLA - 95P
A forty-point chasm between her and the next person. Dead last. The number was a public brand. Nicola didn’t move. She just kept staring straight through the hologram, her soul seemingly elsewhere.
“There you have it,” Chris said, silencing the whispers. “The landscape. For those at the top, a reminder that every eye is on you, and every hand is reaching for your perch. For those at the bottom…” He glanced at Nicola. “…a clear illustration of the cost of failure. Tomorrow brings a new phase. Alliances will be critical. Choices will have permanent consequences.”
He smiled, his charismatic host’s grin back in full force. “Sleep well. Dream of points.”
The display flickered out. The group dissolved again, faster this time, driven by the new data infecting their brains. Briv stood rooted, watching Alya. She was already walking away, flanked by Kim and Raze, who were offering what looked like consolation. His jealousy curdled, mixing with the residual horror from the afternoon.
She was winning. She was moving on. And he was stuck here, his mind a toxic stew of pity for Nicola and a burning need to catch up, to beat her, to prove something.
He looked over at the women’s cabin. Nicola was gone, already inside. Bianca and Emilia were talking urgently by the door, their heads close together. Strategizing.
The game hadn’t paused. It had just absorbed the trauma and recalibrated. The wheel was done, but the temptation was everywhere, woven into the very points that defined them. Briv took a deep breath of the salty, evening air. The hollow feeling was being crowded out by something older, more familiar, and far more dangerous.
The need to win was coming back. And it felt a lot like hate.