On day 7, we held our first competition. The prize was the most important of the season: a machete, flint, and a few protein bars. I was surprised by the amount of energy the contestants exerted during the challenge. Up until then, they seemed almost in a haze, barely able to lift a hand. As soon as the producer waved a figurative carrot in front of their noses, they went nuts. They managed to score high enough to win all the prizes, which, strangely enough, seemed to irritate the producer.
That night, the contestants were finally able to build a fire and drink uncontaminated water for the first time since their arrival. They split the protein bars into equal portions and shared them, hunted for crabs, and enjoyed a fine meal. A semblance of hope was starting to make its way into their eyes.
My schedule changed to the night shift on day 9. I didn’t mind the switch: the temperature was much more pleasant after sunset, and the castaways tended to stay huddled in their shelter, making my job a lot easier. I thought I’d have some peace and quiet, but when I arrived at Camp A, I found the contestants screaming their lungs out. From what I gathered, the machete had gone missing. Everyone was blaming everyone else.
“YOU dropped it in the woods!” screamed one.
“You had it last!” shouted another.
They went at it for hours, throwing unwarranted accusations to one another. I asked Patrick if he knew where the machete had gone. He’d been filming all day, so if anyone had seen what happened to it, he would have.
“I don’t know, man,” he whispered to me, “I hope they find it, because this is getting out of control.”
They didn’t find the machete.
It was a little over two weeks into filming when contestants started acting a little odd. Every so often, I’d find one of them standing in the forest, looking off into space. They wouldn’t even react to my footsteps, though perhaps they’d just gotten used to the camera’s presence by that point. This couldn’t be healthy. I could see the wear on their bodies. Their skin sagged like an old lady’s neckline and their feet were covered in blisters. Hadn’t the producer checked with medical personnel to make sure they could survive so long on such a poor diet?
Then one night, I was filming an establishing shot in the jungle, I overheard one of the contestants talking to the confessional camera we’d set up behind camp. They usually shared their day-to-day experience or left messages for their families, even though those messages likely wouldn’t make final cut. The man had this weird, glazed-over look on his face.
“I’ve been … hearing these howls at night … in the woods,” he said.
The way he said it made my skin crawl. There were no predators on the island; the producer wasn’t insane enough to put people in active danger. The only explanation was that the castaway was having auditory hallucinations. I hoped it wouldn’t spread to the other contestants.
It was time to confront the producer. Something had to be done for the sake of the 10 individuals still in the competition. I headed straight to his RV and knocked on the door.
“I’m busy. Go away,” he shouted.
My cheeks burning red with anger, I knocked again.
“Go away!” screamed the producer.
I pushed open the trailer door, and saw him sitting in front of the TV screens. The look of delight on his face, as he watched a pair of contestants fighting over scraps of food, made me extremely uncomfortable.
“Sir, this is inhumane,” I scolded. “One guy’s hearing things. Everyone’s losing way too much weight. It’s not safe. They need to eat!”
He huffed dismissively. “They knew what they were getting into.”
“Look, at least give them a new machete. I think one of the crew members stole theirs,” I reasoned. If the contestants could at least go hunting, they’d be in way better shape, I figured.
“Pfft. Fine, they can trade today’s reward for a machete,” he decided.
Satisfied, I left his RV. The sun was already rising on day 14, so I had very little time to get some shut-eye before the competition. I needed to be there to make sure the producer kept true to his word. Unfortunately, I overslept, but arrived just in time to see the three winners lethargically pass the finish line of an elaborate obstacle course. I saw the producer walk over to the host and whisper something in his ear.
The host smiled and waved his hands to get everyone’s attention, “It has come to my attention that you’ve lost your machete. As you already know, in the wild, to get something, you have to give something up. We’ve got three protein bars here for the winners. If you can collectively agree to give up your reward, a new machete will be provided to you. How does that sound?”
Sparkles of hope appeared in the contestants’ eyes. The losers turned towards the winners, nodding and smiling to encourage them to make the small sacrifice. Giving up one tiny protein bar shouldn’t have been that big of an issue, not when the machete came with the promise of hunting for more food. To my shock and disbelief, the three winners snarled and greedily pocketed the energy bars. I was absolutely appalled by their selfishness. I don’t know what I would have done if I had been in their shoes, but I’d like to think that I would have been the first to give up my reward for the good of my team.
There was a lot of drama to film at camp that night, and, like a vulture, I was there to capture it all. No, I was worse than a vulture. I wasn’t hovering over miserable creatures for my own survival: I was doing it purely to entertain the hearts and minds of bored people halfway across the world. They weren’t going to learn anything from this show. Heck, they’d probably just point and judge everyone’s behavior, without knowing just how hard it was for the contestants. They’d likely coin a villain and a hero, though I had no idea who would fit which role. I guessed I’d find out after the show was edited down to a few awful quotes and seemingly one-sided arguments. In reality, hunger made everyone look and act terrible.
The week leading up to the next competition was difficult to watch. There was a great deal of animosity surrounding the three contestants that refused to trade their rewards. They were alienated from the main group, and had even been kicked out of the shelter they’d helped build. At night, I’d follow them as they quietly walked around camp, secretly sabotaging the others. They’d hide firewood, break things, and even steal what little food had been collected that day. It was like an unending vortex of retaliation.
The competition on day 21 didn’t go well. The castaways had to wrestle on a moving beam over a mud pit. I saw grown men and women bite, hit below the belt, and scream the unholiest of profanities — all in the hopes of beating their competitors. By the end of it, a few of the contestants had broken teeth and missing nails.
“Congratulations to the winners!” announced the host, holding out a few packs of protein bars, “We’ve got another offer for you today. If ONE of you decides to forgo their prize, you can have a machete.”
Thank god, I thought. Surely, one of the three winners would be selfless enough to give up their meal.
I was wrong.
They ran to the host, ripping the bars from his hands. One even laughed, glaring at the previous competition’s winners as she ate her bar, satisfied of her victory over them. Needless to say, it caused more drama at camp that night.
I continued my nighttime shifts, watching as morale dropped to an all-time low. Where they had once been sharing ghost stories around the fireplace, they were now refusing to speak to one another. It was almost pointless to videotape them. Every night was the same: a few would sit by the beach, others would sit in the shelter, and the rest would explore the forest mindlessly. For hours, all I could hear were waves gently licking the shore, and wind blowing through the trees. Every now and again; however, I would hear something else. Something like a growl in the distance. Maybe that guy hadn’t been hallucinating after all. Maybe I was hallucinating. Still, I couldn’t help the feeling that I was being watched, and not just by the cameras I had set up in the trees.
