Treasure Island, 72 Hr Contest Entry

TREASURE ISLAND

A small yacht dropped the ten contestants and their gear off on the beach of the remote deserted island at sunrise. Each man was given a knife and a boomerang, along with instructions on how to build a fire and two bottles of water. They watched silently as the boat sped away, its bow bobbing gently in the aqua waves.

Although he knew it wasn’t going far, just to the ship anchored off the opposite side of the tropical isle, Jason still felt uneasy as he watched the wake disappear. When it was gone he licked his lips and swallowed hard, looking at the group of men he would spend the next thirty days getting to know intimately. He had a sinking feeling that this contest would be harder to win than he had initially thought. One of the other contestants was over 7 feet tall and looked like he would be right at home as a defensive end for the San Diego Chargers. Another guy wore a coonskin hat, leather moccasins and what appeared to be a vest made of rabbit skin.

Regret began to settle into him, and he chewed his lower lip for a minute, recalling the circumstances that had led him to this unlikely destination. Mickey, his agent, had assured him this job could really help his acting career. If he won, it might even rocket him to stardom! Treasure Island was the newest sensation in a series of reality TV shows that put contestants into difficult situations at exotic locations, and then filmed their experiences. Since he had no other prospects at the moment and he hadn’t worked in six months he accepted the job. OK, if he was being honest with himself it wasn’t really a ‘job’. It was a reality show gig and he wouldn’t even get paid if he didn’t last four days. What he would get is plenty of exposure time on prime time television and that was worth a lot to an actor who was living on macaroni and cheese and Kool Aid.

“Hi, I’m Jason Strong,” he said with a smile, stepping forward to introduce himself to the others. He tried to project friendliness and confidence. There were hidden cameras everywhere and he needed to look like a winner at all times. Besides, in shows like this it always came down to popularity. The more friends he had, the more he would be on camera, and the more chance that he would be picked for a real on screen role instead of this reality show. He was an actor; he could play the congenial guy next door. “I understand the producers will be back in the morning with our first challenge. What do you think it will be?”

A slight red-haired man with freckles and large horn rimmed glasses shook his hand, and introduced himself as Kevin. He was a biologist from New Hampshire and he was dressed more typically than the Daniel Boone guy, in a T-shirt, shorts and tennis shoes. “I’ve watched a lot of these shows and what they normally do is break the contestants up into teams and have them fight it out until the end. But this is a new show, so it’s a whole different ballgame,” he added.

“Does anyone have a cigarette?” A tanned man in his sixties with a beard and a graying ponytail asked the question loudly, his eyes darting wildly from face to face. “I mean, I don’t smoke, but I used to, and I’m getting really nervous and I think it would relax me. Or a joint … I would be OK with that too. Anything to...um…help calm me down a little.” One of his eyes was twitching and he was twisting his feet into the sand like he wanted to bury them. He crossed his arms and hugged himself tightly before raising his head to to the sky and letting loose a bloodcurdling howl..

Startled, Jason stepped back and tripped over something in the sand. He fell and one knee landed on a hard object. Cursing, he reached down to see what it was and pulled a wooden cross from the sand. About three inches wide, by six inches long, it was tied together with silver wire and turquoise blue stones were mounted along the sides. It was quite beautiful and he quickly shoved it into his backpack while the others watched the howling guy make a fool of himself.

A muscular guy in his mid-thirties, wearing camouflage and a red bandanna strode forward and slapped the hysterical dude hard across his face. The howling stopped and Ponytail Man sat down abruptly on the sand, covering his face with his hands, and crying softly. It looked like there would only be nine of them after tomorrow because Jason was pretty sure this guy wouldn’t last another day.

“All right, men, my name’s Sergeant Carter. You can call me Sarge if you want. I suggest we get busy finding a good location to make camp and build a fire.” Carter spoke with authority and his voice carried over the sound of the surf and the shrieking seagulls. “ I was in the Marine Corps for ten years and I served two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan, so you people are lucky I am here to look after you. If you do what I tell you, we’ll have food and shelter by nightfall. If you turn into pussies like this guy, you might not last the night. There are scorpions and poisonous snakes on this island. We’ll have to work together to survive.”

He looked down at Ponytail Man and snarled. “I don’t give a shit about your feelings, asshole. If you want to hang out with us you’re gonna have to do your fair share. So shut up, get up and get moving or you’re gonna spend the night on this beach ALONE.”

Carter turned and walked toward the line of trees, and the rest of the contestants, including Jason, fell into step behind him. The sobs of Ponytail Man grew faint as they entered the jungle. Jason decided then and there that he would have to take out Sergeant Carter first.

The roar of the surf was barely audible when they stopped at a clearing and Carter began issuing orders. Jason and Kevin were assigned the task of collecting saplings so they headed off into the jungle together.

“I think we should form an alliance,” said Kevin. They had been hacking at trees with their knives for hours. Sweat dripped from their brows and drenched their shirts. If Jason had to guess he would say it was past noon and the temperature in the steamy jungle was probably 110 degrees.

He sat down on the jungle floor, ignoring the mosquito bites covering his legs. Then he took a long swig from his second water bottle. He had drunk the first bottle in one long thirsty gulp this morning. He hadn’t been worried at the time because the producers assured them each contestant would be given two bottles of water per day. Now, though, he was a little concerned. There was no fresh water on this island and tomorrow morning seemed very far away. Working this hard was going to dehydrate them fairly quickly and two pints of water didn’t seem like it would last very long under these conditions.

He swished a mouthful of water around in his mouth, savoring it before he swallowed. “I agree,” he said. “If we find the treasure we’ll split it fifty-fifty.”  Kevin sat a few feet away, picking at the blisters on his palms with his knife. His glasses were steamed and his hair had ballooned into two fuzzy clouds, one on each side of his head while the top of his head gleamed like a huge pale mushroom. He looked a little like Ronald McDonald, and Jason wondered if there were cameras in the area. He had been so infuriated by Sergeant Carter and his quick takeover of the situation that he hadn’t thought about his acting career all morning. He probably looked like shit.

When they returned to the clearing with their wood, Carter assigned them to a building crew. Even with everyone working, the sun was creeping down to the horizon by the time they had two rough sheds constructed from saplings and twine. The men were exhausted so sleep came quickly. Carter had built a fire in the middle of the clearing and Jason drifted off, dreaming of cool, clean water, while he watched the orange flames dance.

Somewhere a bell was ringing and he knew he was dreaming but it was one of those dreams you can’t wake up from. He was back in Nebraska when he was a little boy, probably around five or six years old. He thought it was Christmas Eve because there was a huge sparkling Christmas tree in front of a picture window and it was loaded with glass bulbs like the ones his mom always liked. He was sitting in front of the tree in his pajamas and thinking about the new bicycle he had seen in the garage, when a face appeared at the window behind the tree. The young Jason wasn’t surprised or upset at the sight of this ghostly face.

Tiny cotton balls floated around the head and Jason realized they were snowflakes. The man had to be freezing. He wasn’t wearing a coat, or even a shirt. The face gradually came into focus through the fog of his dream. At first he thought it might be Santa Claus because the man appeared very old and he had a white beard. In the dream, young Jason rose slowly and walked to the front door. The door whined as he opened it and invited the ancient peeping Tom inside.

Young Jason offered him cookies and milk, but the man ignored his offer. Instead he stood on the threshold and said in a high creaky voice, “Seven times seven is fifty. You will need courage. Isn’t that nifty? Things aren’t always what they seem. Others just might have a scheme. To win the game and find the gold, you’ll need to locate something cold.” Then the wrinkly little guy, who Jason knew was at least a hundred years old, opened his toothless mouth and coughed and gagged. His eyes watered and his crooked little fingers clawed at his throat. Jason thought he was going to die right there in his living room. He thought about getting his mom, but before he could move the visitor spit a huge snowball out of his mouth. It landed with a thump on the rug in front of the boy, who cringed at a piece of saliva hanging from it.

“Gross!” he cried in the dream.

He awoke abruptly to the sounds of laughter. Sitting up on his bedroll, he stretched and rubbed his eyes, then tried to crack his aching neck. He wasn’t used to sleeping without a pillow and he wasn’t used to cutting trees with a knife all day. If he ever got out of here he would kill Mickey

It was still early. The sun was low in the eastern sky and hadn’t penetrated the dense jungle foliage, so the air was still mild, yet humid. Kevin was still asleep, so he shook him awake. “Kevin, something’s going on. You better get up.” They were the only ones still in their bedrolls.

The others were standing at the edge of the clearing watching Carter demonstrate how to use a boomerang. He heard a few guffaws, followed by a sharp scream. Pulling on his boots, he decided he needed to see what was going on. There was another scream; it definitely wasn’t human. “Come on, Kevin, Sarge in Charge is throwing his boomerang around. It sounds like he hit an animal.”

Kevin stood up and put on his glasses. “That guy scares me,” he said, with a grimace.

Now the men were clapping and a few were cheering and whistling. Jason and Kevin walked wearily toward the group, arriving just in time to see Carter emerge from the jungle. The burly soldier was wearing a huge grin and his chamo pants, He hadn’t bothered to put his shirt on yet. Carter raised one muscular, tatooed arm in triumph to reveal the lifeless body hanging from his hand.  “Monkey meat for breakfast,” he cried and shoved his boomerang into his pack.

Jason had an eerie feeling he was in a Rambo movie. Although he was pretty sure Rambo had never killed defenseless monkeys with a boomerang. He just killed other guys. “I am not eating that,” he said to Kevin.

“Me neither. I’ll wait and see what the producers bring today. I think we get a bag of rice.”

Suddenly the jungle erupted in an angry cacophony of chattering. Jason watched in disbelief as a coconut smashed into Carter’s forehead from above. His eyes rolled back, and the monkey fell from his hand as he collapsed to the ground. Another coconut came hurtling from a different tree and the giant dropped to his knees, blood pouring from his nose.

“I am out of here, Jason,” Kevin cried and he ran back to the shelter with Jason close behind. More coconuts were launched from the trees and the noise of the monkeys grew to a deafening roar. The two men cowered in the lean-to and watched in horror as the group of men were surrounded by monkeys and bombarded with coconuts and monkey feces.

“I think we need to go back to the beach,” said Jason. “I have a feeling we’re next if we don’t get away from here NOW.”

The raucous screams of the infuriated monkeys drowned out the cries of their victims as Jason and Kevin scrambled down the path toward the beach. It was dark and the path was barely visible. Vines whipped their faces and they stumbled over roots as they stumbled down the incline.

They arrived at the beach a few minutes later, breathless but glad to be alive. “I changed my mind, Kevin. I am not staying on this island. I don’t care how much gold is buried here. It’s not worth it,” said Jason.

Kevin was panting and he spoke in short bursts. “I am with you. This show is a piece of shit. No pun intended. I want a bottle of water. I want a bacon sandwich. Then I want to go back to work. I want to enjoy my life. I don’t need to be rich. I don’t need an army guy telling me what to do. I just need my old life back.”

Jason sat down on the beach. His legs were quivering and his mouth was dry and tasted like eggs. He laid down, put his hands behind his head and rested his head on his pack. “I’m with you. My old life is fine. I’m craving mac and cheese,” he said. Their frantic trek through the jungle had left him exhausted and all he wanted to do was close his eyes and rest for a minute. The sun was warm now, not blistering hot. It was pleasant here on the beach and he could almost pretend the carnage at the camp hadn’t really happened. The breaking waves were soothing and rhythmic. His last thought before he fell asleep was that the boat would be here soon and this nightmare would be over.

He awoke suddenly to a crushing weight on his chest. Slowly he opened his eyes. Sweat beaded on his upper lip and the egg taste was still in his mouth. He would give anything for a glass of water. The cerulean sky was serene and stratus clouds stretched across it like layers of cotton candy.

When he lowered his gaze he realized there was a large red balloon sitting on his chest.

“Daddy, daddy, wake up!” Shiloh giggled. “Look what I made! A sand balloon!”  His daughter jumped up and grabbed the balloon, running to the surf on her sturdy tanned legs.

He watched the small figure for a moment, dazed. Then he turned to Angie, stretched out beside him on the Maui beach. Her golden skin glistened in the sunlight, her expression cool and remote behind her large pink sunglasses.

He leaned forward and put his head between his legs. “I just had a nightmare about that script Mickey gave me last night. I am NOT going to do that movie,” he said. “I need to brush my teeth. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Brad Pitt rose and walked carefully up the path to their villa, shaking off the remnants of his nightmare. He was not going to drink tequila on an empty stomach again.

2,800 words

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2,800 words For A Unique  Prompt Contest

  Setting:

                  A small, deserted, tropical island.



                  Plot:

                  The characters are involved in a reality TV show searching for a hidden chest of gold

                  but a monkey causes major havoc and Brad Pitt shows up unexpectedly.



                  Characters:

                  All the characters are male. There are no females in the story whatsoever. One of the

                  characters is 100 years old and another character is 7 feet tall.



                  Items:

                  The following items must be in your story but don't have to pertain to the plot nor highlighted:

                            - a boomerang, a snowball, a wooden cross, a red balloon, and a decorated Christmas tree.