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JP: Survivor Intro & Day 1
By Stryderman
SURVIVOR
Isla Nublar
By R M Hare
Introduction
Well, I guess now would be a good time to explain everything. Not that there’s much to explain, or that it will take too much time to explain. Just a little introduction, so that you understand what’s going on, who’s involved, and so on, before the detailed overview.
A good way to explain it to you is to grab examples and put them together. You know Survivor? Everyone does; it’s the father of all reality TV shows, and puts 16 ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances. They bicker, they fight, they vote each other out, and in the end, one of them wins a million American dollars. Which is a lot of money. Well, now you know Survivor, have you heard of Isla Nublar? You probably have heard of it, just under a different name. If you haven’t heard of it, I won’t tell you anything, because it’ll kind of spoil the oncoming plot. I’ll tell you more about it later.
The idea was to put Survivor on Isla Nublar. I don’t know whose idea it was. It probably seemed great at the time. It was probably to introduce a new height of adventure, daring, and horror. And let me tell you, it sure did.
Don’t ask me why I’m writing all this down. It could have been any of the Survivors. But I think the others are still in shock—both at who won, and at their experience. I think I’m writing all this down so I don’t lose it. It’s something I don’t want to forget—even after what happened. But my memory is pretty sharp. I have a photographic memory, and a knack for remembering speeches and conversations. I’m not sure if that’s a gift or a curse. Even so, I want to record all of it, so that everyone knows. And I also kept a diary the whole time I was there, my only luxury item. I’ve drawn some stuff from that. I’m still not sure about all this, but still, I’m writing it all down, hoping that someone will someday read this.
I applied for the series soon after I became an American citizen. I moved over to the US from Australia to pursue career options, but now I’ve decided that I’ve neglected my homeland. Anyway, there was an ad on the TV—I’ve only seen one in my entire life—during a current affairs programme late at night. I immediately dialled up the number, and was sent out the survey sheet.
The rest is history. I sent in my audition tape. I got interviewed. Then I got flown way down to South America somewhere. The whole thing was airtight. So confidential, I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t know whom I was going with. I didn’t know much. When I checked in at the fancypants hotel, I was given a blindfold and asked not to leave my room until the next day. It was lucky, really, that my room had an en-suite bathroom.
I won’t tell you any more now. But I will tell you that what I went through wasn’t ordinary. It had all the stress and worries of normal Survivor, but it had a lot more fear. I’ll never be scared again, I think. I experienced new levels of terror on that island. So extreme, I think, that, unless I find something more horrifying, I’ll never be frightened again. Now I’m not scared of snakes, spiders, creepy-crawlies, ghosts, the Moon crashing into the Earth, even Death. It’s weird. The part of my brain that reacts spontaneously to a dangerous situation, that releases adrenalin, that immediately sharpens the senses and blocks out conscious thought, only reacts to the most explicitly horrific scenarios.
If you want to know how that came to be, read on. If not, drop this book and have a cold shower.
You have been warned.
Episode 1
Day 1
All my life I've been searching for something
Something never comes never leads to nothing
Nothing satisfies but I'm getting close
Closer to the prize at the end of the rope
All night long I dream of the day
When it comes around and it's taken away
Leaves me with the feeling that I feel the most
Feel it come to life when I see your ghost
--The Foo Fighters
I looked blindly out the window of the transport plane. The whole time—from boarding the plane till where I was now—I’d been blindfolded. The only reassuring stimuli were the gentle rumbling of the small plane and the slight trembling from turbulence. I had no sense of sight, just the inside of the black fabric.
My stomach felt like it was flying. Inside my body, I mean. Doing sickening aerobatics inside me and then settling down to watch my reaction. I was really nervous. Looking forward to the experience heaps, but still nervous. I kept calming myself, but it didn’t help. I started sweating after a while. But I still couldn’t wait.
I was in Survivor. The greatest reality show on Earth. The first of them all. And I was in it! It felt so great. I felt light and fluffy as we bumped along. It was exhilarating.
Someone, a man, said ‘All right, Survivors, listen up. We’re nearly there. In a few minutes, I’ll tap eight of you on the shoulder. Those eight, be ready to leave the plane. You will be given a number. You will be leaving the plane in that order.’
I felt elated. We were almost there! Sure enough, the plane started descending. I could hear numbers being called out. It was happening really slowly, though. I wished they could hurry. I was busting to go to the toilet. I really was that nervous. But it dragged on. The man started at eight and slowly came down. It was excruciating. I waited, hoping to hell that maybe, just perhaps, I could be one of the first few out the plane. Someone tapped my shoulder and said, ‘One.’
I couldn’t believe it. I nearly exploded. I breathed out slowly in anticipation, a smile flowering across my face. I didn’t know why we had to leave in some kind of order, but I was just happy to be first. Hell yeah, I remember thinking. So I stood up as the plane levelled out. The bumps decreased. It was really great. The plane slowed down a bit, and someone coughed. I guessed the plane was readying to land. Someone helped me put my backpack—with all my stuff—on; you wouldn’t believe how hard that is to do when you’re blind.
The same person gently steered me towards the back of the cargo plane, which had a large opening ramp to let people down. The person grabbed hold of the back of my blindfold. At that moment I experienced a passing moment of unease. A bit like punctuating moment in the middle of my bubble of excitement. Something was not right. But it slipped quickly away as the man behind me pushed me—hard—forward, still holding onto my blindfold. The blindfold came away and my eyes were filled with a brilliant light. The plane was no longer under my feet. It was really quiet, eerily so. I felt weightless. I thought I’d fainted. But my eyes suddenly adjusted to the brightness and I screamed.
In a rush of information, I saw stretched out below me a green mountain surrounded by green forests, valleys and mists. Blue rivers snaked their way through the jungles and woods. An immense pressure was beating heavily into my eardrums.
Suddenly, the picture of beauty was overcome by unstoppable fear. I realised that I’d been pushed out of the back of the plane, and I flailed about helplessly. The plane had disappeared around a mountain-ridge, but I could just see ten or so shapes falling above me. I realised for a wild second that I had no way of slowing down. I was dead. I felt terror. I felt helplessness. I felt fear. I felt heaps of things. Just then three of the shapes above me exploded. I nearly fainted in horror.
I let out a short squeal before realising that the objects were actually blossoming into cream-coloured canvases. Parachutes. I looked around myself and found a cord tucked into my belt. I pulled on it. A second later I was yanked upwards, a red parachute exploding above me.
The rush of pure terror seemed to decrease as my speed decreased. I felt utter relief and calm. I was still shaken, but I would live. That was possibly the most interesting start to Survivor ever. Pushing innocent people out of the back of a plane. I was still wondering how in the hell they’d got a parachute into my backpack without my knowing. But, amazingly, I was alive and breathing.
I fell, slowly. I was like a snowflake; drifting slowly down to earth from the heavens. And what a view I got! The island was huge and thick with jungles. On one side, the island was coated with rough-looking mountains, covered with broccoli-top green trees. And it wasn’t just green; it was deep, rich green. The browns weren’t brown; they were deep, rich brown. It was amazing. Such heavy colours, it gave off a primeval feel. And then, I passed through the treetops.
Shafts of golden light stabbed down and permeated the gloomy atmosphere. It was cool, but somewhat humid down there. I fell at least fifty feet more before lightly colliding with the ground. The parachute collapsed silently behind me.
I looked around. Not a single flower in sight. Just deep brown trunks and rich green ferns and cycads and things I didn’t really know. There were heaps of vines too. Everything seemed thick. The air, the vines, the trees …
Someone landed sprawled on the ground near me. A stocky sort of man with close-cut brown hair and a grey t-shirt. He stood up quickly and extended his hand, smiling.
‘Name’s Robert Thorne,’ he said quickly, shaking my hand. He looked as excited as I felt.
‘Katie Marshall,’ I said, returning the goofy grin of unbelief. He had a strong grip and muscular arms. But he was gentle. Someone else landed, on his or her feet. She looked around a bit, then said, quietly, ‘Hello.’
‘Hi, I’m Katie.’
‘Robert.’
‘Helen,’ she said. She was older than Robert. In fact, she looked older than me and Robert put together. She was freckly and had greying hair and a kind, weathered face. I jumped suddenly when a flash caught my eye. A feeling of being watched slammed into me like a tidal wave. I could just feel a watching presence, waiting, in the jungle.
I looked wildly about—and found a camera poking out of the thick jungle into our tiny clearing. Well, it wasn’t really a clearing because it had a canopy-roof. I sighed in relief. Just a camera. I laughed happily. Anyway, that was my first experience with a camera. It was slightly unnerving, to tell the truth. But I shoved it out of my mind as two more people arrived.
April and John, their names were. A cameraman landed next, followed by a man called Angelo, then Matthew and Sandy. Two more cameramen landed and neatly folded up their chutes. I dragged my parachute over to one edge of the clearing and put it under a tree.
I dropped my pack there too, and started fishing around in it for my shorts. It was empty. Hell, I realised, it wasn’t even my own pack. I stared blankly for a second. That explained it. They’d switched my backpack with a parachute pack up on the plane. That meant I didn’t have any additional clothes, just my jeans and white t-shirt. I didn’t have anything. But I still had my pocket diary, tucked, of all places, in my pocket. And, in my other pocket, a pen. That was really lucky. But, without my pack, full of precious items like shorts and other warm-weather gear, I felt alone, and helpless.
‘Hey, guys,’ I called out to the other seven people, ‘Have any of you got your packs? Mine got switched.’
‘Hot damn,’ said Robert, inspecting his pack, ‘Mine too. Damn it.’
It turned out that no one had their packs. That was a miserable discovery.
I walked back into the clearing with everyone else. I looked around at their excited, full faces, expecting some serious adventure. ‘Well,’ I said. ‘We’re here now.’
‘Wherever “here” is,’ replied Matthew.
‘So,’ I continued, ‘I think we should get to it. Let’s make a shelter, how about. We have eight parachutes, surely we could sling them to trees and have them hanging above head height to block out the rain. A sort of tent. And then we could have the sides draping down, so we can just walk in and out of it. Sound good?’
There was a pause. Then, ‘Where are you from, Katie?’
I closed my eyes briefly. ‘Australia.’
‘Australia!’ exclaimed Angelo, ‘All right!’
‘Okay, let’s get to it,’ said Sandy. ‘Good thinking, Katie, was it?’
So everyone went to get their parachutes. They all began tying them to trees, then, holding one edge, running to another tree and tying it up there. As the parachutes went up, I walked around, inspecting the clearing. Then I talked to each person.
I started with John Jones, because he was nearest. He had sort of dusty-blonde hair and a short brown beard. It turned out he was thirty-five years old and was an IT trainer. He spoke with the long drawl I’d expect to find in Texas. He was pretty outgoing. He had two kids and a wife, and was pretty happy. Satisfied, I moved on to Sandy.
Her last name was Marcus, and she came from Kentucky. I had no clue where that was. Or whether it was a state or a town. I just smiled politely. She was nearly thirty, and a full-time mum of four children. She was quite a kind person, a quiet, almost introspective, person. Then she said ‘Excuse me, I need to finish putting my chute up.’
Next was Angelo Bridges. Great guy. He liked to talk about whatever, he knew heaps, and he was just a nice guy. He wasn’t afraid to listen. He had a thick moustache and black hair. He was from New York, and he owned some kind of firm. He wasn’t married (which surprised me) but wasn’t looking for love. He said he needed to go to the loo and moved off.
I marched on over to Matthew McManus. He was only twenty-three, but he was a TV presenter. He hosted an American game show, apparently. He seemed like a nice guy. Bit of a smartarse, but still nice. He had a crooked nose and fluffy brown hair. He smiled as I walked to the next person.
April Briggs. She was pretty and had a small nose. She seemed kind of shallow and superficial. She was thirty-two (she looked twenty-five) and was married with five kids. Unsurprising, really, seeing as she was a complete knockout. Apparently she was an art consultant. She seemed so contrived that I couldn’t imagine her commenting on deep and meaningful art. I moved on quickly, shaking my head.
To Helen Miller, the old lady. She was very kindly. She was fifty-one and had a great smile. You could really tell she meant it, too. She was a teacher, and had a slow, logical niceness about her that I really enjoyed. But sometimes she seemed a bit slow, and she was being a bit clunky with the shelter, almost clumsy.
Last but not least (that is so corny) was Robert Thorne. He was from Mississippi, he was twenty-six, and he was a low ranking army member.
‘Cool,’ I said. ‘You ever shoot anyone?’
He laughed, a dead look in his eyes. He looked around awkwardly a bit before asking, ‘What about you? Where you from?’
I was surprised. He was the first person to ask about me. The only person, actually. ‘I come from Western Australia. I’m twenty-one and I’m sort of going to hopefully become a psychiatrist.’
‘That’s why you moved to America?’ he said.
‘Yeah, it is. Thanks for asking,’ I said, and moved off again.
That evening, I sat back and admired our shelter. It was awesome. All the parachutes criss-crossed each other, forming one roof. In some places, some material was hanging over the edge of the roof. We used these as doors, or entry points.
I thought about the day. It had been bloody hot. We’d made our shelter, and dug a latrine a few hundred metres away in the bush. And I’d recorded my personal diary-thing, where you narrate and explain what happened during the day. I’d also met the other seven people, but I’d ignored the cameramen, hovering around like idiots. The other seven—I realised they were my tribe—seemed a nice bunch. We’d each been given a red bandana. I guess we were the red tribe.
Now, while the bright, full moon was on the rise, I sat outside of our little shelter. I was smiling serenely. Everyone else was in the shelter, talking loudly and casting eerie shadows on the ‘walls.’ Someone (I’m not sure who) had managed to start a fire, and now it was roaring merrily. I’d decided, a few minutes ago, just before the fire had been lit, that I’d go and have some alone time. I had written a bit in my diary, before watching all of the others.
I could hear the wind whistling serenely through the trees, slowly raising their fronds. It was somehow peaceful, the moon’s blue light covering everything. But I had an awful sense of foreboding that I couldn’t shake. The place had a really brooding sense about it. Its greenery-covered mountains were shadowed in mist, even at night. The rich-coloured scenery seemed to lull one into a false sense of security, but the very atmosphere contradicted the feeling. It was severely uncanny.
Anyway, I got sick of hearing the others’ garbled happiness. We didn’t have any food. And I was hungry. So off I went, by myself, into the jungle, alone (except for one cameraman).
I couldn’t find any flowering (and therefore fruiting) plants. I went round in a big circle, searching the perimeter of our camp. Then, as the voices in the camp died down, I heard a noise. Running water! I walked in the direction of the water. After a few minutes of serious bush-bashing, I found myself a stream.
It wasn’t too deep, so I rushed forward and (thirsty as hell) began to drink deeply. When I was done, I surveyed the river. It was wide and shallow, and, on the other side, I could see a massive hamper. My mouth began to water at the contents. It had all sorts of foods: a couple of chooks, lots of vegetables, soy and agama beans, and lots of fresh fruit. It also had big bottles of water, wine and empty canteens. Behind it was a big red flag with the Survivor logo on it. I laughed out loud in a release of frustration. I ran back towards the camp, the out-of-shape cameraman bouncing along behind me like a balloon on a string.
I burst into the clearing. It looked exactly the same as it had before. Golden light stretched out with stabbing fingers into the moonlit gloom. I walked into the Chute Room. The stench of smoke nearly bowled me over. The low-hanging roof had trapped all the smoke. None of the smoke had drifted out the sides of the shelter, apparently.
‘Jesus, guys,’ I choked, ‘Put that fire out.’
‘Yeah,’ said Robert, who was coughing and heaving heavily. ‘I can’t breathe.’
‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘You’ll never guess what I found.’
‘The meaning of life!’ shouted Matt as he bent over the fire, chucking sand onto it.
The others—except for a couple of them—roared with laughter. ‘Okay. Robert, come with me. And Helen, too.’ Helen was the other one who hadn’t laughed. I couldn’t be bothered persuading the others that this was more important that lying around suffocating.
Helen and Robert followed me out of the shelter. They both breathed deeply. I led them in the general direction of the stream. We soon found it, but it had been a battle to get there. Robert whooped with joy and Helen clapped and laughed happily. Robert leapt into the air before coughing badly. We crossed the fast-flowing but thankfully shallow creek. We each carried two basketsful back across the stream. We decided to hide it all in a hollow tree near our camp, just to piss the others off.
We deposited them before rushing back to the river to collect the remaining two baskets of stuff. When I was there, I thought I could see, through the trees, some moving shapes. As the other two hurried of with the supplies and the flag, I remained, watching curiously.
The shapes were silent, but they sure were moving. I gazed fretfully through the gaps in the trees, trying to get a better glimpse. But the shapes were gone. I heard some crashing in the distance. I turned to run back to camp and found a cameraman in my face. I gave him a well-deserved finger and ran as fast as I could. It’s hard to explain why I was so scared. I am a grown person, and I’m not (usually) afraid of the dark. But those shapes didn’t belong. My bubble of excitement was now well and truly popped.
I exploded into the clearing to find everyone out of the shelter. They were clustered around a fire. As if it were cold or something.
‘You guys!’ I panted. Robert and Helen emerged from the direction of the hollow tree, looking innocent. Everyone was listening; I must have looked really scared. Perhaps as scared and weird as I felt.
‘Looks like you’ve seen a ghost, Katie,’ said Angelo, standing concernedly. ‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted for the first time. ‘I … I think I saw shapes through the trees.’
‘Where?’ asked Robert.
‘Near the river.’
‘What, exactly, did you see?’ said Matt. He was actually being serious.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I looked through the trees, and I saw moonlight shining off something. Something moving. It could have been anything, I guess. A cameraman, the other tribe or something. But I don’t think so. Looked big.’
‘There you go,’ said April. ‘It was a cameraman. Big deal. You got us all excited, too, Katie. Shameful.’ She was saying that so that the others would laugh at my expense.
My face burned in shame and anger and glared at her. I looked fiercely at Robert and Helen. ‘You believe me, don’t you? Don’t you?’
‘I’m sorry, Katie,’ said Robert, ‘But it seems unlikely. What is there here that you could have seen?’
‘Well,’ said Angelo, moustache bristling, ‘I’ll go check it out anyway. Anyone want to come?’
‘I’ll go,’ said Robert at length. ‘I’m curious to explain this thing properly.’
‘Me, too,’ said Sandy. She stood up and said curiously, ‘I believe you.’ Her large eyes shone like haunted opals in the firelight. What did she believe, anyway? Did she believe in phantoms?
The three moved off in the direction of the river, leaving me to confront my tribe. There was a moment of silence. Then Matt said, ‘I’ll go too. Beats sitting on my ass with you guys.’
The others laughed. I didn’t. Matt smiled and asked, ‘You coming, Katie?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. Why not?
We found the river easily. And we could hear the other three crashing through the undergrowth. They turned up on the far side of the wide river. They stood near the chickens, which no one had bothered moving. They just stood in their little wooden pen, pecking at the ground. Robert shook his head as he came across the river, towards Matt and me.
‘Nothing moved,’ Robert informed us, ‘But we found a mighty big game trail. Like, ten feet across. Like a tunnel through the forest.’
Angelo and Sandy were silently contemplated what they’d seen. Then Robert continued, saying ‘We found some big puddles, too. Don’t know how they got there.’
He leaned in closer. ‘Listen,’ he said in a low voice, ‘Angelo, Sandy and I have formed an alliance.’
I nearly stepped back in surprise. Already? Crikey, I remember thinking. ‘Do you and … your friend want to join?’
Matt had listened in. He nodded. So did I. Why not? Those were the people I liked and trusted most—except perhaps for Helen. She was a tough old bird. But I wasn’t sure about Matt. I made a mental note to talk to Robert about Matt.
‘All right,’ I sighed. ‘I probably just saw the game that made that trail. Let’s head back to camp.’ It was a quickly-formed, shaky, problem-ridden alliance. But at least I was in it.
That night we hardly slept. Everyone was silent, but we still didn’t sleep. The ground was rough and unflat. If that’s a word. I remember trying to think of a solution all night, before falling to sleep as light crept into the sky to my right.
3/2/2004 3:41:31 AM
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