ruffling the microphone. “The reason for this is twofold. Firstly, it is to give you the last taste of comfort before what will be the most traumatic and difficult task you have ever undertaken. The second reason is to give you a taste of what could be, to give you a glimpse of the life you could have if you should win. The eight of you are the elite, the season one island contestants. I’m sure you will make for great television, and for one of you, live out the life you always wanted. Hopefully I’ll see you all in a few days. Congratulations again from everyone here at the Lomar Corporation.”
The screen went dark and the lights came back on. There was a heavy silence in the room as the eight people inside came to terms with what they had just heard. Chase, too, was reeling. His day had started as a simple application drop off and had ended with him getting a pale on the show. As the door opened and Lomar’s staff entered with said application forms and waivers, Chase’s mind turned to his wife, and how he was going to tell her that not only had he gone through with posting his application, but was now a part of the deadliest show in the world.
LOMAR
THE SEA STAR
ATLANTIC OCEAN
MARCH 5 th 2044
Chase stood on the deck of the boat, eyes half closed against the breeze as they cut through the water. It was cold, but he didn’t mind. This was the first real ocean he had seen, and certainly the first that was blue instead of the garbage-filled brown of New York where he had lived all his life.
Of the eight of them who had been chosen to take part in the show, two had failed to return. Chase wondered if the couple in army fatigues were the wisest of all for taking the opportunity to back out. For a time, his return to the Lomar building had also been in doubt. He had gone back and told Ashley the news, and although he had expected her to be angry, he didn’t anticipate the outright rage. She had screamed at him, eyes full of fear and betrayal. He let her vent, taking it in and soaking it up, his penance for putting her in such an impossible position. Reason was no longer an option. She knew as well as he did that it was really happening. Eventually she calmed enough to stop screaming, but still she didn’t speak to him, nor did she look at him. He knew why. The sooner she prepared for his death the better, and if that meant ignoring him in what could conceivably be the last days of his life, then she was prepared to do it. He thought she would come around, at least show her support eventually, but even with his bags packed and standing by the door on the morning he was due to leave, she still ignored him. Eyes down, not wanting to look, not wanting to acknowledge. He had gone into Elsie’s room, but like she was most days, she was sleeping, skeletal and frail, breathing wet and ragged. He didn’t want to wake her. Instead, he kissed her on the forehead, committing the image to memory as a reminder of why he was about to put himself through hell. Grabbing his bag by the door, he looked to Ashley, hoping she would at least look at him, or tell him she loved him, but she simply stared out of the window, eyes raw, cheeks wet. With nothing more to be said, he had left their apartment, possibly for the last time, and set out for whatever awaited him.
“Cold up here.”
Chase blinked, and glanced towards the man. It was the African American man who had nodded at Chase when he had first arrived in the meeting room. His hair was a black and white shortly cropped afro, his beard trimmed into a goatee and sporting the same colour scheme. He had kind eyes, the crow’s feet at the corners giving him a warm, fatherly appearance. Although it felt odd making small talk with a man who he might have to murder, Chase saw no harm in at least being polite.
“I don’t mind it,” he said, turning towards the man. “It feels good.”
Chase looked at the man’s shirt. Each of them had been given the same
The screen went dark and the lights came back on. There was a heavy silence in the room as the eight people inside came to terms with what they had just heard. Chase, too, was reeling. His day had started as a simple application drop off and had ended with him getting a pale on the show. As the door opened and Lomar’s staff entered with said application forms and waivers, Chase’s mind turned to his wife, and how he was going to tell her that not only had he gone through with posting his application, but was now a part of the deadliest show in the world.
LOMAR
THE SEA STAR
ATLANTIC OCEAN
MARCH 5 th 2044
Chase stood on the deck of the boat, eyes half closed against the breeze as they cut through the water. It was cold, but he didn’t mind. This was the first real ocean he had seen, and certainly the first that was blue instead of the garbage-filled brown of New York where he had lived all his life.
Of the eight of them who had been chosen to take part in the show, two had failed to return. Chase wondered if the couple in army fatigues were the wisest of all for taking the opportunity to back out. For a time, his return to the Lomar building had also been in doubt. He had gone back and told Ashley the news, and although he had expected her to be angry, he didn’t anticipate the outright rage. She had screamed at him, eyes full of fear and betrayal. He let her vent, taking it in and soaking it up, his penance for putting her in such an impossible position. Reason was no longer an option. She knew as well as he did that it was really happening. Eventually she calmed enough to stop screaming, but still she didn’t speak to him, nor did she look at him. He knew why. The sooner she prepared for his death the better, and if that meant ignoring him in what could conceivably be the last days of his life, then she was prepared to do it. He thought she would come around, at least show her support eventually, but even with his bags packed and standing by the door on the morning he was due to leave, she still ignored him. Eyes down, not wanting to look, not wanting to acknowledge. He had gone into Elsie’s room, but like she was most days, she was sleeping, skeletal and frail, breathing wet and ragged. He didn’t want to wake her. Instead, he kissed her on the forehead, committing the image to memory as a reminder of why he was about to put himself through hell. Grabbing his bag by the door, he looked to Ashley, hoping she would at least look at him, or tell him she loved him, but she simply stared out of the window, eyes raw, cheeks wet. With nothing more to be said, he had left their apartment, possibly for the last time, and set out for whatever awaited him.
“Cold up here.”
Chase blinked, and glanced towards the man. It was the African American man who had nodded at Chase when he had first arrived in the meeting room. His hair was a black and white shortly cropped afro, his beard trimmed into a goatee and sporting the same colour scheme. He had kind eyes, the crow’s feet at the corners giving him a warm, fatherly appearance. Although it felt odd making small talk with a man who he might have to murder, Chase saw no harm in at least being polite.
“I don’t mind it,” he said, turning towards the man. “It feels good.”
Chase looked at the man’s shirt. Each of them had been given the same
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