I Will Survive. Samantha Connolly
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can have fishing and building rafts and all that, sure, but I’m thinking it’d be good if these things were somehow, I dunno, dangerous as well.” She looked speculative. “Are there alligators in these waters?”
“Wait a minute,” gasped Jessie. “I thought this was going to be about ordinary, practical survival. I didn’t come here for—”
“Look,” interrupted Lois brusquely, “you watch the show, right? So you’ve got a fighting chance. Anyway, it’s not important that you succeed. What matters is that we get to see you try. Even if you fall flat on your face it’ll still be great television and Nick will always be there to save the day.”
Nick decided it was time to step in. “There are no alligators in these waters, Lois, you know that, and even if there were, nobody here would be in any danger from them, I’d make sure of that. And furthermore,” he went on firmly, “fishing is life-or-death, we have to eat. So that’s what we’re going to do.” He turned to the others who were looking at him with varying degrees of gratitude and disappointment. “Now, if you watch the show, you should have some idea of what to do.” He took three bound coils of fishing line from his pocket and handed them around. “This is all I’m going to give you. You can go wherever you want and use whatever method you like and the first one to bring back a fish wins, simple as that.”
“Oh, wow,” said Malcolm, bounding off as if fired from a catapult, “I can do this.”
“Jessie?” asked Nick. “You ready?”
“Absolutely,” she said eagerly. “I know what to do. I watch the show every week. I’m a big fan.”
She walked off briskly and Nick turned to Cindi who was making an apologetic face.
“I’ll get you started,” said Nick, putting a hand on her elbow and leading her towards the shore.
It was safer than staying with Lois.
“I WATCH THE SHOW every week,” sneered Jessie. “I’m a big fan.” She cringed as another wave of embarrassment engulfed her. Could she possibly have been more ingratiating? She didn’t think so.
She tried telling herself to concentrate on the task at hand but there really wasn’t anything left for her to do. She’d put together a very respectable fishing rod in about half an hour. She’d made a lure out of a small gull feather and some sequins torn off her bag, tied together with a thread from the hem of her dress. The hook had taken longer but she’d eventually managed to splice two sharp slivers of wood together and attach them to the end of the line that Nick had supplied.
She was sitting on the end of a long promontory that jutted straight out into the sea. Her feet were dangling a few yards above the water which was so clear that she could see the sand and plant-life under the surface and she even caught the occasional glimpse of a fish as it shimmered by. Gulls wheeled overhead and sometimes one would plunge into the sea, then flap upwards with a wriggling fish clamped in its beak.
Her position also gave her a clear view of what the others were doing. Malcolm was at the other end of the beach and had left his fishing rod propped upright in the sand, while he seemed to be making something that was either a kitchen cabinet or an oddly shaped raft. Kenny was with him, recording the whole thing.
In the middle of the beach were Nick and Cindi. They were thigh-deep in the lapping waves and Nick was apparently teaching Cindi how to cast the line. Except that, even after an hour Cindi still didn’t seem to be getting the hang of it. She had taken off her chambermaid’s uniform and was now standing in her bra and panties, which Jessie could see, even from a distance, were hot pink. She watched as Cindi’s head tilted backwards as she laughed at something that Nick had said.
Jessie looked back at her fishing rod and gave it a desultory jiggle. She couldn’t stop brooding over what she’d said to Nick and the only distraction from the embarrassment was finding another new scratch or bite from the night before. The bed had been comfortable enough but when all was said and done it had still been a bed of twigs and foliage. She picked at her nails, trying to dislodge some of the dirt from under them. She just had a general feeling of grubbiness. She could feel the sand in her hair and the sticks that Nick had encouraged them to chew that morning proved a poor replacement for teeth that had been reared on soft bristles and fluoride. She reached up and scratched in annoyance at a bug bite on the back of her shoulder, shaking the line again in an effort to catch the attention of a fish, any fish.
Yup, it sure was nice to have nothing to do but sit and gaze into space while waiting for the fish to bite.
Another peal of laughter drifted over and Jessie clenched her jaw. She held off for about four seconds and then her eyes flicked down to focus on Nick and Cindi again. Just what was so funny about fishing?
Jessie sighed. She had to get this stupid jealousy under control. Cindi made her laugh sometimes and you didn’t see everyone else getting all bent out of shape about it.
What was Jessie so worried about anyway? It wasn’t like they could do anything on camera.
She shifted on the rock, rubbing her thigh to ease out a cramp. She didn’t care about winning the challenge at this stage. She just wished someone would catch something so she could give up on this lost cause. She scratched at her shoulder again and then froze, holding her breath. Had she imagined it? She held the rod steady, narrowing her eyes to try and see into the water. The sun was making shadows and reflections on the translucent surface, playing tricks with her eyes. She gasped as she felt another quick tug on the rod. The line tautened briefly, then went loose again.
“Here, fishy fish,” she whispered. “There’s a good fish.” She had emptied her bag onto the rock and now, using it as a glove, she started to pull the line in gently, winding it around the fishing rod. She was hardly daring to breathe as she felt the resistance on the line.
Praying that it wouldn’t turn out to be an old boot she continued to reel in the line, exactly as she’d seen Nick do on television.
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