Disclaimer: No, I don't own any of the Dark Castle characters or references in this story, nor do I own any rights to the Survivor game show. Do I LOOK like Mark Burnett to you? No! Didn't think so!
A/N: Whew, nice to get some friendly reviews. Thanks Magdalena, Queen of Ice, AliceProspero, and all of my other reviewers, you have no idea how much those reviews mean to me…you're the reason I keep going on this chapter as I redo it time after time after time. I think I've finally got it right. This is really the last introduction chapter. After this, it's going to be like a real episode of Survivor, with it skipping around constantly and not going in depth a whole lot, only showing what needs to be shown.
On a separate note, I myself watched Survivor All-Stars for the sheer hell of it and I am very glad Amber won. She deserved it. And now, on to the next installment of Dark Castle Survivor!
Chapter 3: Making Camp
Kalina Oretzia slogged along in the soft sand, taking up the rear of the procession that was now the red tribe. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, casting brilliant shades of pink and gold over the sky and bringing with it the warmth of the day to come. Still, Kalina gave an involuntary shiver.
As she gazed at the group of people in front of her and thought about the prospect of living with them all for the next god-knows-how long, she was definitely daunted. Daunted, but not discouraged. Maggie, the Kriticos' nanny, had been put on her team, and kept darting sharp looks in Kalina's direction, obviously remembering Kalina's double-crossing back in the glass house. But Kalina smirked back at her, knowing well that Maggie was just as scared and alone as she was.
Kalina knew she should be thinking about alliances. Cyrus was on the other team, thank heavens, but there was that blonde man and his older friend, who seemed to know each other very well. They would be hard to separate and would stick together – at least for the first little while. And then there was the middle-aged man in the suit, who appeared to want to be left alone. One of the women, a blonde in a red shirt, kept looking at him strangely. Then there was that brown-haired man, the good-looking one, up in the front of the line with the map. He looked like he preferred to work on his own; Kalina presumed all his alliances ended the way hers and Cyrus' had. Although he had seemed rather attached to that woman in the red dress, who was now on the other tribe.
What Kalina really needed was someone to depend on, someone who would take care of her. She liked the look of the two blonde women on the team. They seemed to know each other, and were whispering to each other. Putting on a burst of speed, Kalina came up behind them and smiled when they turned to look at her.
"Hey," she said, a hesitant half-smile in place. The perfect cute, shy look.
The shorter of the two, who wore a short skirt and a fur-trimmed cardigan, looked Kalina up and down, then smiled back.
"Hey," she responded, "I'm Melissa Marr. And you are...?"
"Kalina Oretzia."
Kalina stuck out her hand and shook with Melissa, then turned to her companion.
"Sara Wolfe," the woman said with a semi-sincere smile. She had long blonde hair and was wearing a torn, bloodied red shirt and suit pants.
Kalina shook hands with Sara and dropped into step between the two women.
"So," Kalina chirped, "You two look like you've been through the mill. What's your story? Bet it doesn't beat mine."
The two blondes looked at each other and each breathed a sigh. They turned back to Kalina and Sara grinned.
'You're on," she said grimly.
Evelyn Price yawned widely as the first rays of sun warmed the sand at her feet. Her pale, flowing dress, covered in blood, dragged in the sand and slowed her progress as the black tribe made their way toward their soon-to-be camp.
Evelyn hated camping. She wasn't what you'd call an outdoorsy type of girl. She preferred bubble baths and pedicures to hiking and campfires. And now that old witch Hekasha expected her to spend an undetermined amount of time camping on a deserted island with a bunch of strangers with her murderous husband only a few miles away?
Not a chance.
The only other person she knew on this tribe was that little worm Watson Pritchett, the owner of the old house which had just trapped her. She had nothing to say to him, which was fine because Watson wasn't paying any attention to her. It galled her a bit that anyone could just ignore her. She was, after all, Evelyn Price! But she couldn't imagine herself warming up to Watson anytime soon, so she let it slide.
The Italian broad muttered to herself a few feet away, trying to free her heeled shoe from a wet patch of sand. Now this was a kindred spirit, someone who was definitely not suited to the outdoor life.
Evelyn crossed to her, bent, and yanked on the distraught woman's ankle. The heel popped out of the sand with a wet squelch, making both women wrinkle their noses.
"Thank you," the Italian woman said with a heavy accent, "I am, ah, overdressed for zee occasion, no?"
Evelyn smiled grimly.
"That makes two of us," she replied, gesturing to her own full-length gown.
There was a pause, and then Evelyn extended her delicate, perfectly manicured hand in greeting.
"Hi. I'm Evelyn. Evelyn Price."
"Francesca."
They continued on, following the holders of the map, that butch-looking woman and the creepy-looking little girl in the blue dress.
"So Francesca – can I call you Fran? – what brings you here to this fantasy island?" Evelyn asked in a mocking tone.
Francesca smirked. "It is a long, strange story."
The corners of Evelyn's mouth turned up at that one. "Hah! No story's longer or stranger than mine."
"Oh, I teenk it is…"
Jack Ferriman looked up from the map he was reading, glancing at the trees to both sides of a small inlet. The sand sloped up in a gradual incline to join with the dark forested hills at the island's center. According to the map, this was their new home.
Jack let a smirk play on his lips as he surveyed the area and waited for his team members to catch up. He wasn't quite sure when he had started thinking of the red team as 'his team', but he had.
Jack wasn't worried about the game. As far as he was concerned, it was only a matter of time before he was back to stealing souls. He didn't know who this Hekasha chick was, but she didn't sound like she had a hell of a lot of power in the paranormal hierarchy. Jack was positive that, given a few days, Management would show up and bail him out. And if somehow Hekasha could deal with the paperwork and shit involved in keeping him here, Jack had the game in the bag. Not because he was an expert manipulator, which he was, but because he had a major advantage over all the other contestants: he couldn't die.
By this time, Jack heard footsteps trudging up behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the young black woman rounding the corner into view around some large rocks.
Jack smiled in greeting, figuring that he may as well put the old charm on, just in case he was here longer than expected.
The young woman glared at him for a moment, but didn't return the smile. Understandable; Jack had seen how attached she had been to that guy she had been hanging around earlier, and now they had been separated. Too bad, so sad.
Next around the bend was a group of chattering women. He caught the tail end of their conversation, something about calling off a bet by default, then something about scary old houses and crazy old men.
They all looked up at him then and smiled shyly, like they didn't know what to expect from him. Nonetheless, they made their way over to him.
"Hey," yelled a blonde in a ripped shirt, "Is this the place?"
"I think so," Jack said, not letting any of his true nature leak through in his words.
Another blonde in a skirt and furry sweater and a ditzy-looking brunette wearing a leather vest came up behind the first woman.
The brunette was the first to come forward.
"Hi," she introduced herself, "I'm Kalina."
Jack smiled his most charming smile at her, and he could almost see her melting. This would be far too easy. Next, Jack was introduced to Melissa and Sara.
After shaking their hands, he looked over their shoulders and saw the newest arrival, Steven Price. Jack had talked briefly with Steven on the way to camp before the other man had broken off, obviously to do some deep thinking. Jack had to admire Price. Not only did the man dress like an eighties-style pimp, he completed the look with the stupidest-looking little moustache Jack had ever seen! Price wasn't going to be much of a problem. How could he be when nobody could even take the guy seriously?
Price surveyed the beach and selected a log over by the forest to sit and 'think' some more. Jack caught the looks of distaste on the faces of the three women around him and smirked. Some bad blood there. Good. It would be easy to convince them to vote Price out when the time came. Then again, he noticed that Kalina was staring at him. It shouldn't be hard for him to convince HER to do anything.
The final arrivals came around the rocks, spotted Jack, and snarled. Who else but Jack's two latest kills, Murphy and Dodge? It was clear from their expressions that they wanted nothing to do with Jack or the rest of the tribe.
"Well," Jack said with a smile, "Seems like it's up to us to set up camp. I spotted some crates of supplies up near the forest. Let's see what's in them."
Katie Harwood dropped the last load of firewood beside the space that had been cleared for a fire pit. Maureen Epps sat in the sand beside Katie, using a small axe to chop bits of bamboo into workable pieces.
Behind Katie were three men who had introduced themselves as Dennis Rafkin, Arthur Kriticos and Watson Pritchett. Katie and Epps had spoken to the three men on the way to camp, and the five of them had traded stories. Katie had thought she had a strange life – and afterlife – until she had met these people. Glass houses and insane old men, twelve deranged ghosts, psychics, mental institutions, mad doctors and shadow creatures! How frightening!
Dennis and Watson stepped forward to grab some bamboo logs from Epps, dragging them over toward where Arthur was beginning the foundations of their shelter.
The fivesome had opened the three supply crates left for them and had discovered three large sacks of rice, one large spear and a pair of diving fins, two large cleavers and an axe, a metal skillet, an iron cauldron, eight water canteens, a small knife, a small wilderness survival guide, a large pack of matches, a map to a nearby water source, and about fifty meters of rough twine.
They had agreed that Epps would certainly know the most about roughing it, and after a quick consultation of the wilderness survival book they had settled on a simple one-floor bamboo shelter with a thatched palm roof. None of their other teammates had wanted to help.
By this time, the sun had filly risen and the air was warm and fragrant. The shelter seemed to be coming along nicely, but that was still to be seen. The decision had been made that, in order to maintain a positive reputation in the game, they would have to make the shelter big enough to accommodate all eight members of the tribe, including that dreadful old hag Francesca and her new friend, Evelyn, and the scary old man known as Cyrus.
Katie knew she could count on Maureen for an alliance, and she was pretty sure these other three were good guys as well. For now, she figured she had better stay close to Maureen. She had a feeling Francesca may be hatching a plot to get one of them voted out.
Watson Pritchett couldn't believe what a shitty couple of days he was having. First he got trapped in the old Vanacutt place, despite his every effort to avoid it. Then he spent a harrowing night running from his certain doom, then as if that wasn't enough he actually DID die! Then before he knew it he was stuck on this stupid island with all these people he didn't know, to begin another harrowing fight for his life. Talk about stress!
And there was Evelyn Price, sitting like the friggin' Queen of Sheeba up by the trees. She had always had an attracting allure, even if she had the personality of an electric eel. And sitting next to her, fanning herself with a delicate hand, was that Italian broad with the huge knockers.
With effort, Watson stopped his drooling and got back to the task at hand. He had been assigned to look for palm fronds that would be suitable for their shelter, and since he had limited experience with palm fronds he took this to mean that any palm frond would do. So he had combed the beach and the surrounding jungle, always keeping within sight of camp .There was a bad feeling he got from the deeper jungle, something about this whole island. It reminded him of the feeling he had gotten in the Vanacutt place as a kid, before he knew it was haunted.
An involuntary shiver rolled down his spine in the baking afternoon sun as he deposited the palm fronds by the shelter, which was starting to come together thanks to Arthur and Dennis.
Thinking about his strategy, he figured he could count on these four people - Epps, Katie, Arthur and Dennis - to protect him, and he would watch their backs. They all seemed like decent people, and Watson prided himself on being an excellent judge of character.
Content for the moment to concentrate on making shelter, Watson wordlessly set out to get more fronds.
Melissa Marr wiped the sweat from her brow and continued hacking away at the bamboo poles. The mid afternoon sun beat down on her back, and though she had stripped down to her camisole she was still wilting in the heat.
Nearby, Sara and Kalina worked at roping together the bamboo she had cut for a shelter at Jack's orders. Jack himself was off in the woods, collecting firewood and building materials. Maggie had also got involved after an hour or so, and was now scraping out an area for their fire pit.
Melissa wasn't what you'd call an outdoors type of gal, but she had been camping before and knew the basics. She hoped that would make her of some use to the tribe, because that might determine how long she stayed alive on this island.
Melissa stopped for a minute to stretch her back and take a short swig from the water canteen she had selected from their crate earlier. Glancing down the beach she caught sight of Murphy and Dodge, who were still refusing to do dick shit while Jack was around. The pair sat on a log, their heads bent together in speech.
And then there was the elusive eighth member of the red tribe, Steven Price, who kept mostly to himself, lurking in the shadows of the jungle. Melissa hadn't seen him for a couple of hours, and hoped it would stay that way. She hadn't liked that worthless prick the first time she had dealt with him, and didn't like him any better now that Sara had filled her in on what else had happened in the Vanacutt house.
Melissa wasn't quite sure, you never could be, but she was pretty certain that the four of them – Jack, Kalina, Sara and herself – had an alliance so far. It was early in the game, but there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between them. And for that she was greatful.
Just then, Jack came out onto the beach hauling a load of dried brush and wood in his arms. The man had taken his shirt off, which nobody of Jack's physique should be allowed to do when a girl is holding a machete. Melissa tried not to drop the thing on her foot as Jack laboured down the short hill to the fire pit and dropped the load at Maggie's feet. Even from here, Melissa could see Maggie's eyes widen before she tried to hide her expression.
Ducking her own head and pretending to find the log of bamboo very interesting, Melissa bit back the grin she could feel coming on. This was going to be a very interesting camping trip, indeed.