Seagulls scream above as the boat's motor rips through the tide. I take a seat and squint against the glare. The sun burns overhead, and the wind slaps saltwater against my face.
"Well, this blows," I mutter. "I was told I 'won,' but where the hell am I even going?"
My suitcase sits at my feet, the only thing keeping me company. I glance toward the small cabin at the front of the boat, but the windows are blacked out. No view inside. No answers either.
I lean forward, resting my head on my lap. The swaying of the boat, the hiss of the sea, the random sprays of water—it's a fight to relax. But eventually, I lose that fight and drift off.
When I open my eyes, I'm home.
My room looks exactly the same. Bed in the corner, TV on the wall, my computer humming in front of me.
"DING-DONG."
The doorbell rings.
I stand up and call out, "Enid! Get that!" The words come out lazy, almost slurred.
No response.
I hesitate. 'Guess I'll go myself.'
Dragging my feet down the stairs, I reach the front hall just as my sister pulls the door open.
"So you did hear me," I start to say—
—and the doorway flashes white. An endless nothing.
I jerk awake.
"BWAAAAAAAAAAAAHP."
A ship's horn blares, shaking the air. Rain's pouring down now. Cold. Violent.
"Where... am I?" I whisper. My clothes are damp, and my skin's clammy.
I glance around. The boat's stopped at a wooden dock. No one in sight.
"Perfect," I sigh. "Fell asleep on the way, and now..?"
My suitcase. It's Still here but, barely dry. I grab it and start moving. The dock creaks under my steps, and a dirt path stretches ahead, winding through trees and fog.
The further I go, the heavier the rain hits. My shoes squelch in the mud, but eventually, a shape rises through the mist. A large wooden building.
Warm light spills from the cracks in the shutters. I quicken my pace, soaked through, and knock.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
For a moment, I hear voices. Then silence. Just the rain.
Finally, the door opens a crack.
A guy about my age stands there. Messy brown hair. Glasses fogged up. He looks me over, unimpressed.
"Let me guess," he says flatly. "You were brought here too?"
I nod once.
He sighs, moves aside. I step in. Warm air hits my skin, and the smell of damp wood fills my nose.
"Ahhhhhh," I mutter, closing my eyes. "That's better."
I stand near the door, warming up, and glance around. The place looks like a cafeteria. There are about ten others here. Plus me makes eleven.
A few people look my way, but their interest dies fast. All except one.
She's sitting alone at a corner table. Short, straight black hair. Sharp posture. She looks too composed for a place like this. Her eyes meet mine, cold and steady, until they twist into a glare and she looks away.
"Okay… weird," I mutter, still dripping onto the floor.
That doesn't last long.
From the back room, a tall figure walks out. Slender, deliberate steps. Before I can react, they scoop me up and throw me over their shoulder.
"Wait. Hey, what-"
I can barely form words. Everyone in the room freezes. No one moves. No one says anything. Just a bunch of wide eyes following me out.
The figure carries me into what looks like a kitchen. When I finally get set down, I realize it's a woman. She's wearing a chef's uniform, a paper bag over her head with a badly drawn spatula on it, and a chef hat tilted over the top.
I have no idea what just happened, but… I'm dry. My clothes, my hair. Everything. Like I'd never been in the rain at all.
She gestures toward the door without a word.
"Uh… thanks?" I mumble, stepping out.
Back in the cafeteria, the energy's changed. People are talking, laughing nervously, trying to act normal. Must've been gone longer than I thought.
I find a seat at an empty table. There are definitely more people now.
"Oh hey, look. He's alive."
The voice is soft, playful. I turn and see a burst of color. Blonde hair, pastel sweater, big paw print on the front. She's all softness and warmth in a room full of tension.
She gets up from what's clearly the "popular" table and walks straight to me.
"Are you okay? What did they do to you? Why'd they take you?"
She fires off her questions in rapid succession.
She seems friendly. But before I can answer any of them, she apologizes.
"Sorry if I'm talking too much." She scratches her head. "My name's Lily. What's yours?" Her voice is soft.
"Oh, uh… I'm Rei. Nice to meet you, Lily."
After that, time kind of slips away. She keeps talking, and somehow I start talking too. Between her chatter and the noise around us, I manage to pick up a few names — Jax, Selene, Chaos, Elara, Noah, Ryder, Cass, Orion, Brock, and Sera.
Everyone looks so different, like they were dragged here from different worlds. Some are laughing, some are whispering, and a few just stare into the distance.
And me? I just sit there. Trying to figure out where the hell here even is.
"Wait, where even are we?"
Everyone stops and turns toward the voice.
Lily's cheerful energy collapses under the weight of all those eyes.
"I-I… uh… I don't know. Sorry," she murmurs, voice shrinking.
Someone else speaks up, calm and composed.
"Where we are is still unknown. But what I do know is that we've all been chosen for a reality TV show. The description made that pretty clear."
Seraphine Duvall.
I remember the name because she says it right after, like she's reading my thoughts.
"Seraphine Duvall, for those of you who don't already know."
The others look at her with quiet resentment. No one likes feeling outsmarted, especially when the room's full of strangers. But she's right. None of us know what the hell's going on.
"I got an email telling me I'd been accepted for a new show," someone else says. "At first, I thought it was spam. But then I got another. They knew everything about me. Sent me a portfolio of my life. What I do, where I go, who I talk to. Everything."
I didn't catch his name. Doesn't matter. Soon, everyone's sharing their own stories, fake contest wins, fake offers, mysterious invites. All bait.
Some say they won lottery tickets. Some say they got recruited for movies. Some say they just… woke up here.
Then a voice cuts through the noise.
Loud. Confident. Condescending.
"No survival instinct from any of you," he says.
"You get random mail, junk delivered to your door, and you all just believed it?"
That voice belongs to Jax.
The resident jock. The muscle-brained idiot.
I was expecting something useful to come out of his mouth. Won't make that mistake again.
Before anyone can answer, static bursts through two speakers mounted in opposite corners of the cafeteria.
"Ah, what the" I cover my ears.
The interference fades, replaced by a warped, overly cheerful male voice.
[AttentioN campeRS. Could you pleasE make your way down to the docKS. Please and thanK yoU.]
The room freezes.
Silence stretches.
Then the voice comes back, sharp and impatient.
[AheM. Chop chop, peoplE. We're on a tight schedULE.]
That gets everyone moving.
No one wants to find out what happens if we don't listen. Except for one straggler who's dumb enough to lag behind.
The rain hasn't stopped. It's hell. Mud everywhere. The sound of people slipping and cursing echoes down the path. Some came prepared. Raincoats, boots. Most didn't.
When we finally reach the dock, he's there.
A man in a dark green raincoat and boots. His face is hidden beneath the hood, but we can feel his eyes on us. He's counting heads.
Then he shouts over the wind:
[ALRIGHT, CAMPERS. THERE ARE TWENTY-TWO OF YOU. TO-DAY MARKS THE BEGINNING OF YOUR NEW LIVES. SOME OF YOU WILL BE UNDER CON-STANT SUR-VEILL-ANCE, DEPENDING ON HOW MUCH THE VIEW-ERS LIKE YOU.]
He pauses.
[NOW FOR THE RULES. YOUR TIME HERE IS IN-DEFINITE. YOU'LL BE CALLED WHENEVER I FEEL LIKE IT, TO DO A CHALLENGE OF SORTS. THE NIGHT AFTER EACH CHALLENGE, YOU'LL CAST AN ANONYMOUS VOTE. THAT VOTE DECIDES WHO STAYS AND WHO GOES. BUT THE VIEWERS HAVE THE FINAL SAY. THEY DECIDE WHAT HAPPENS TO THE VOTED ONE. DON'T WORRY — IT'S REALITY TV. YOU DON'T NEED TO ACT TO SURVIVE. JUST BE YOURSELF. YOU'LL LOVE, YOU'LL HATE, YOU'LL BREAK.]
He lets out a laugh that cuts through the storm.
[MY NAME IS FINN HOLLOWAY. I'LL BE YOUR HOST. IF YOU NEED ANYTHING, CALL FOR "MEDIC." SHE DOES EVERYTHING HERE. YOU'VE ALREADY MET HER.]
Even through the rain, I can feel him looking directly at me.
[ANYWAY, IT'S TIME FOR THE VIE-WERS TO MAKE THEIR FIRST DECISION. WHO'S STAYING IN WHICH CABIN?]
The words shouldn't sound threatening. But they do.
Maybe it's the way he says them.
Maybe it's this place.
Finn lowers a small device, checks it, then pockets it again.
[ALRIGHT, KIDS. BACK TO THE CAFETERIA.]
He makes his way past us and walks away, leaving us in the storm. Silent, soaked, and already regretting we ever chosen for this.