To The Death

Zacky wakes up to the sound of puking. His first few waking moments are so fraught with confusion that it takes several minutes for him to realize that he’s not actually the one puking. He lifts his head slowly from the pillow, feeling the seeds of a headache jostling around in his skull, and peers at the darkened room. The shape of several sinks materializes in front of him; from the corner of his eye he recognizes the row of showers to his right. A vague recollection of last night’s events comes to him—Matt and Brian arguing over who can drink the most beer; Johnny suggesting a contest, and all of them enthusiastically participating until they passed out. He groans and sits up, wondering how in the hell he ended up sleeping on the bathroom floor. His gaze travels in the direction of the puking noise and is unsurprised to see Jimmy hunched over the toilet, gifting it with the unwanted contents of his stomach.

“Dude,” Zacky ventures, “You okay?”

“Fuck you.”

“All right then. Talk to you later.”

Zacky hauls himself off of the floor, grabs the pillow that lay inexplicably beneath his face, and heads back to his cabin. When he pushes on the door there’s heavy resistance, so he pushes harder until the obstruction gives way slightly. The lack of light inside enables him to see only an indistinct outline of what appears to be Brian’s legs, sprawled in front of the doorway. He rolls his eyes and squeezes into the room. Another figure, so short it can only be Johnny, is also sleeping on the floor, lying facedown under the window. Zacky attempts to locate his suitcase and change clothes in the dark, and he ends up slamming his hand into the side of the night table. Cursing, he tugs the chain hanging from the nearest lamp.

Brian and Johnny make displeased noises. Zacky chuckles at their misfortune, finishes dressing, and starts to leave. He’s stepping over Brian when, thanks to the recent addition of light, something catches his eye.

“Dude, what the fuck happened to your hair?”

“What?” Brian mumbles. “Nothing…go away…”

Zacky bites his lip to keep from laughing.

“Um, you should probably see this.”

“See what?”

“Your hair…”

Brian’s hands go to his head. His eyes fly open as he springs into a sitting position.

“What the— WHAT THE FUCK?”

From the other side of the room, there’s a quiet “Oh, shit,” from Johnny.

“Did you have something to do with this?” demands Brian.

Johnny curls himself into a ball. “I’m sorry! It was a dare!”

“YOU CUT MY FUCKING HAIR, SHORT SHIT?”

“Matt dared me!”

“WHAT THE FUCK! I’M GOING TO RIP YOUR FUCKING BALLS OFF!”

Johnny yelps and scrambles to his feet, jumping away as Brian charges at him. A chase around the cabin’s interior ensues. Zacky watches the proceedings, entertained, for several moments before his attention goes to the rumbling in his stomach. He leaves the cabin door cracked open so Johnny’s screams can be heard if Brian’s anger escalates any further, and makes his way along the trail to the main pavilion. There’s a similar setup to the one at dinner last night, with various tables spread out around the food table and groups of people wandering around. Everyone appears to still be dragging from the time change between here and their various hometowns, but for the most part, people look alert and anxious to see what the day will bring.

Zacky grabs some pancakes and a miniature mountain of bacon strips and glances around for a seat. The first familiar face he sees is Lennox, sitting by herself and peering miserably into a bowl of cereal. She’s got her hair tied up in a ponytail and is wearing a Resident Evil t-shirt and ripped jeans, He grins, walks over, and takes the seat next to her. She looks up, puzzled.

“Hey,” Zacky says. “What’s up?”

“Um, nothing.”

“Why are you sitting by yourself?”

She sighs. “I don’t really know anyone except for my siblings and you guys, and I’m not comfortable enough to sit with the band even if they were actually here, and I also don’t want to sit with Kinglsey and Robyn because then it’ll seem like I’m just sitting with them because they’re family and I don’t have anywhere else to—” She breaks off, looking embarrassed. “Why am I telling you this? You don’t care about my problems.”

“Well, they’re a welcome distraction from mine.” Zacky bites into a bacon strip and motions to Lennox’s cereal with the remaining length. “Are those chocolate Cheerios?”

She nods.

“Nice.”

“Yeah.”

Zacky watches her out of the corner of his eye as he eats his food. She seems to be the only person on the pavilion who’s not the slightest bit hungover, which strikes him as weird since he faintly remembers seeing her siblings drinking themselves silly last night.

“So, do you like…not drink, or something?”

“I don’t like to, no.”

“What’s not to like?” he asks incredulously. “Besides the obvious hangover. But if you drink enough water you can pretty much avoid the worst of it. I’m just usually too trashed to remember that tip.”

Lennox laughs, and Zacky gets the feeling that she doesn’t laugh often. It suits her, though—her brown eyes crinkle pleasantly up at the corners and her lips part to display a mouthful of perfect teeth.

“I’m not really a fan of not being in complete control of myself. Plus, the last time I went drinking, I ended up so completely wasted that I almost married a Jack Black lookalike in one of those cheesy Las Vegas chapels.”

“Oh. You have a good reason, then.”

Spearing the last bit of pancake with his fork, Zacky runs through various conversational routes in his mind, trying to determine which would be the most successful in getting Lennox to lower her boundaries. He’s already gotten the impression that she’s shy and not likely to talk unless spoken to first. He also gets the feeling that he makes her nervous, but he hasn’t yet figured out if it’s good-nervous or bad-nervous, so he doesn’t know if that’ll work to his advantage. He’s just settled for asking about her shirt, hoping that’ll get her talking some more, when Val slides into the seat across from him.

“Well, Zacky, it’s good to see you’re not acting like a PMSing sixteen year old anymore.”

Zacky rolls his eyes. Val sips her orange juice and turns her attention elsewhere.

“Hey,“ she says. “Lennox, right?”

“Right,” confirms Lennox.

“Oh, good. I’m still trying to get your names straight. You all look so similar.”

“Kingsley’s the boy, and I’m the one without the red hair. It’s not too difficult. It gets easier, I promise.”

“Ah, okay. So, are you enjoying the retreat so far?”

Before she can answer, Zacky interrupts.

“We were kind of talking, here,” he says, scowling.

“What, do you own her now?” Val scowls back, then looks to Lennox. “Do you have Zacky’s name branded on your body, Lennox?”

“Um, no.”

Val turns triumphantly back to Zacky.

“Exactly. I’m just trying to get to know people.”

“Well, could you do it later or something?”

Sudden understanding dawns on Val’s face.

“Oh, I get it now. You’re upset because I interrupted your womanizing. Tough toenails, Baker. I doubt she wants to sleep with you anyway.”

Lennox whips her head toward Zacky.

“You were only talking to me so I would have sex with you?” she asks sharply.

“No! Of course not! Don’t listen to Val, she’s crazy!”

She shakes her head in disgust. “You’re an asshole.”

“But—”

Zacky’s protests are cut short by the arrival of cold milk and chocolate Cheerios on top of his head. Lennox gives him a look of utter detestation and hurries away as Val positively cracks up.

+++

Once she’s safely removed from the scene of humiliation, she helps herself to an apple and angrily crunches the fruit between her teeth as she searches for somewhere else to sit.

“Lenny!”

Robyn is waving to her from a table nearby. Reluctantly, Lennox joins her sister, who appears to be consuming only coffee for breakfast.

“Where did you go last night? We looked for you!”

“I took a shower and went to bed.”

“Lame.” Robyn rips open several packets of sugar and dumps them into her coffee. “You’re on vacation! You should be having fun. You know, drinking, dancing, maybe finally losing that virginity of yours—you are twenty-three, you know.”

“I’m not going to sleep with a random stranger. Especially not in the middle of the jungle. That’s just like asking to get a disease.”

“It doesn’t have to be a stranger! You know the Avenged guys. Take advantage of that. Only, I have this life goal of sleeping with Syn, so leave him alone.”

“Who’s Syn?”

“Brian.”

“Oh.” As Lennox is trying to remember who that is, the rest of the band strolls into the area. It takes longer than normal to recognize Brian because of his rather dramatic lack of hair.

“You’re still into him?” Lennox wonders, gesturing to Brian. “Even without the hair?”

Robyn glances over and back quickly. “Um, duh. Have you seen those cheekbones?"

Lennox shakes her head at her sister’s perseverance.

“Where’s Kingsley?”

“Kingsley,” Robyn replies disgustedly, pouring milk into her coffee and giving it a stir, “Is off being a filthy whore. He’s over there talking to some lady that’s at least ten years older than him and who also happened to sleep with Vengeance last night.”

“Vengeance?”

Robyn looks at her sister as if the answer is obvious to all the world’s inhabitants.

“Zacky.”

“Since when do they all have nicknames?”

“Since forever. And they’re stage names, actually.”

Lennox rolls her eyes, irritation from her earlier encounter with Zacky returning to her. She almost says that the names are stupid, then remembers that Robyn would probably eviscerate her for insulting her favorite band, so she quickly comes up with an alternative.

“How do you know who he slept with? Are you stalking him, now?”

“No!” Robyn looks offended. “I was hanging out with Val and the rest of the band, and Zacky came back bragging about how he just got some ass. Apparently he’s kind of a slut.”

“Yeah,” Lennox says bitterly. “So I’ve heard.”

She tells Robyn she’ll see her later and gets up to throw away the rest of her apple. There’s a sudden commotion near the front of the pavilion. A.C. appears on a small raised area, microphone in hand.

“Good morning, retreaters!”

The group returns his greeting. Lennox finds herself joining in automatically, then realizes just how creepy that is and falls silent.

“I hope you’ve all slept well and that you’re ready to jump right into your rediscovery of nature,” A.C. continues. “Today’s offered activities, like all activities you’ll experience here at NRF, will challenge you. But they’ll also give your mind a break from the fast pace of the business world, and strengthen your body so you’ll be more resistant to stress. So now, without further ado, I’d like to invite my fellow employees to line up in front of the stage.”

As a string of people wearing NRF t-shirts—purple ones this time; they seem to have one in every damn color of the rainbow—appears from behind the stage and follows A.C’s orders, he removes a sheet of paper from his pocket. He begins reading off a list of activities, pausing after each one to indicate the smiling employee who’ll lead anyone interested to the activity’s location. A ripple of chatter spreads throughout the pavilion; everyone is suddenly discussing what activity they’d like to try.

Lennox listens miserably, dreading the day more and more with each activity name falling from A.C.’s lips. All of the offerings sound equally unbearable. She glances around for Kingsley, thinking she’ll ask him for advice, only to see him grouping up with an older woman that must be the one Robyn mentioned and a few other unfamiliar people. She swallows down her rising panic—A.C. is now making his way through the crowd, making sure everyone’s signed up for something—and quickly joins a group at random.

Within a couple of minutes, her group is following their purple-shirted employee away from camp and towards the other side of the mountain. They walk at an easy pace for about an hour before stepping suddenly into what looks like some sort of treetop torture chamber. Numerous ropes with obstacles attached zigzag from eye level all the way up to the tips of the leaves overhead. Lennox briefly considers making a run for it, but just then her group’s NRF employee turns to face them.

“Welcome to the Treetop Tangle!” says the girl, beaming widely. “Today will consist of a series of ropes courses, each one more difficult than the last. Now, if you’ll form a single file line, I’ll get everyone fitted for harnesses and go over basic safety information…”

Fuck my life, Lennox thinks. A ropes course? She’s not afraid of heights, but she is wary of the retreat in general and isn’t exactly looking forward to Tarzan-ing it through the jungle on a course set up by the unsettling NRF people. But she knows she can’t get away without causing a scene, so she waits in line and allows the cheerful group leader to help her into a harness.

After a brief lesson in safety—in which they’re basically instructed to clip themselves to the safety cords above each obstacle so they don’t fall off and die—the group begins making their way through the first course. It’s set low to the ground, designed to acclimate participants to the way the harness works and give them a taste of the high-flying excitement to come. A small platform about three feet from the ground is the starting point. A line forms behind the platform as everyone waits their turn to begin. Lennox ends up somewhere in the middle and shifts her weight impatiently from foot to foot.

“Oh, hey!” says an unwelcome voice. “I do know someone doing this activity, after all.”

A quick over-the-shoulder glance informs Lennox that Zacky is behind her in line. She refrains from cursing out loud.

“Get away from me,” she barks.

“Are you still mad about earlier? Look, Val was joking—”

“You know, I don’t think she was.”

Annoyingly, Zacky continues talking, as if her back to him isn’t a clear enough indicator that she has no interest in the conversation.

“I swear she was joking.”

“I swear you’re full of shit. Leave me alone.”

He falls silent. The line moves. It isn’t until Lennox has climbed onto the platform, cleared the first obstacle—zigzagging wooden planks suspended by ropes in midair—and is waiting for the person in front of her to progress so she can move on, that he speaks again.

“Maybe we should start over. I’m Zacky,” he says, smiling and extending a hand.

“I already know your name, asshole.”

“Did you not hear me suggest that we start over?”

Lennox ignores him and quickly faces the next obstacle—a double tightrope of sorts, extending to the next platform. She places one foot on each thin cord before her, turns her feet out ballerina-style, and inches her way across. With each new platform she reaches, she glances behind her, hoping that Zacky’s somehow fallen behind. But he’s in irritatingly good shape, and travels the course right on her tail.

“Lennox?”

The course isn’t difficult, just annoying. She doesn’t appreciate the constant interruptions when trying to focus her balance.

“I’m trying to concentrate,” she snaps.

Zacky waits until they’re both stuck on the same platform. The woman in front of Lennox is having some minor issues with a variation on the first wooden plank obstacle. There is no where to run.

“So…” Zacky begins. “What have you done so far this summer?”

Lennox glares at him, realizing that she might as well talk to him to pass the time. She keeps her answers brisk.

“Graduated from college,” she responds.

“Cool. What’d you major in?”

“Astronomy and astrophysics.”

Lennox is pleased by the surprised way in which his eyes widen.

“Holy shit,” he says. “So are you like, some type of genius, then?”

“No.”

“But you obviously like math. And science.”

“I don’t really like either one. I’m just good at them.”

She doesn’t add that the double major was all her dad’s idea, that he rejected her proposal of majoring in computer science because it was too closely related to her video game hobby, or that she’d spent nearly every day of the past four years sobbing over work that would have taken her minutes if she’d actually had some desire to do it. She figures it isn’t all that important.

“What do you like, then?” wonders Zacky.

“I like it when people leave me the fuck alone,” she says, and proceeds now that the obstacle has opened up.

“Touché,” Zacky murmurs from behind her.

The introductory course culminates in a short ride on a zip line that descends to the ground. Lennox hooks her harness clips onto the required safety cords, then pushes off of the platform and enjoys the ride down. Zacky smacks into the protective foam covering the tree at the end of the line a second after she does, and his footsteps follow her as she heads for the next most difficult course.

“You’re doing a shit job of ignoring me, you know,” he shouts at her back. “I’m getting the feeling that you’re not all that angry.”

Lennox gives him the finger without turning around.

“Oh, come on. You know you want me.”

She gives him the finger with both hands, this time.

“I could be everything you ever wanted—”

She tries her best to tune him out and stands staring up at the next three available courses.

“And you look like you’re good with your hands. That could come in handy.”

At that, Lennox whips around. She pokes her finger into his chest and takes small pleasure in his slight wince.

“Listen. If you think you can get me into bed by talking to me like I’m some kind of nympho-maniacal porn star, you are tragically mistaken,” she says firmly. “I’m not interested, and I never will be. Leave. Me. Alone.”

She walks furiously in the direction of the nearest course. It happens to be the most advanced one and according to the sign on the ladder, it’s only supposed to be attempted after successful completion of every other course, but at this point, she doesn’t really give two shits.

“You’ll change your mind!” says Zacky. “They all do.”

“Go choke on a bundle of dicks,” she shouts over her shoulder.

Lennox climbs the fifteen-foot ladder up to the advanced course’s starting point. She blazes through the first few obstacles, fueled by her anger, and rapidly progresses to an impressive height. From where she stands, contemplating how to navigate through the series of enormous silver hoops suspended before her, people on the ground look vaguely ant-like. Any noise from below is swallowed up by sheer distance. She begins to feel dizzy.

“You’re not afraid of heights,” she reminds herself. “This is just…a bit higher than you’re used to. Not a problem.”

She shakes off her discomfort and steps onto the bottom of the first hoop. It wobbles uncontrollably beneath her foot, but eventually stabilizes and allows her to reach for the next one. Halfway across, once she’s become more comfortable with the obstacle, she realizes just how deserted it is at this height. The obstacles ahead of her are all empty. She supposes that maybe some people are already nearing the end, but she can’t even see where this course meets back up with the ground. Voices drift over from the point of origin, so far behind she can barely decipher the words. Ultimately, she’s on her own.

And isn’t that what you wanted? she thinks bitterly.

Lennox keeps moving, progressing more and more slowly. She now understands why this course is the hardest—not only is it practically skimming the tops of trees, but it combines obstacles from each course before it, which is especially problematic considering that she skipped the two intermediate courses. She curses loudly. As she’s making her way across an enormous midair net that sways with even the slightest breeze, her limbs start to shake from exertion. She hooks her legs through the net and hangs there for a moment, spider-like, trying to rest.

The sudden sound of metal crashing together makes her whip her head toward the direction from which she came. Swaying back and forth and clanging into each other like someone’s just rushed through them are the hoops she cleared a while ago. She squints, trying to see who managed to get through the hoops that quickly, but all the nearby platforms are empty.

“I’m officially losing my mind,” she declares, and resumes climbing the net.

She’s just stepped foot onto the next platform when there’s a rustling sound in the trees directly overhead. Leaves are shaken free and fall onto her shoulders. Obscured by the dense foliage, some sort of bird starts screeching. Branches of the trees some distance away are rapidly swept aside by something unseen. Abruptly, the bird stops its noise.

Lennox convinces herself that she’s just witnessed some sort of jungle normalcy, refuses to let her nerves upset her, and clips herself to the next obstacle. It’s a pair of zip lines, only instead of traveling toward the ground, these are designed to aid the user in descending several feet to another obstacle. Just as her feet find purchase on the platform at the end of the line, the area is inundated by a cacophony of noise. Steady, determined footsteps drop on what sounds like every platform behind her, growing more and more insistent with each second.

Fear of the unknown spurs her into motion. She hurriedly snaps her clips to the safety lines and lifts her foot to proceed without giving the obstacle a second of thought.

Someone smacks into the foam covering behind her, and, as if someone’s simply pressed a button, all of the noise stops.

Zacky peers casually around the foam. In her surprise, Lennox’s foot slips, and she teeters backwards.

There are a few terrifying seconds of ohmygod I’m going to die in which she flails her arms wildly and tries to grab hold of something. Her stomach drops to somewhere near her toes and her heart just about stops. Then, somehow, she’s in Zacky’s arms and the world rights itself.

She finds herself acutely aware of his hands on her skin where her shirt doesn’t quite meet her pants. A wave of disorientation from her near-death experience assaults her. Or at least that’s what she tells herself it is.

Lennox comes to her senses a moment later and twists out of his grasp.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she shrieks. “You can’t just go sneaking up on people like that!”

Zacky frowns slightly.

“I’ve been behind you for like half an hour. I thought you heard me and just decided to ignore my existence again…”

She studies him, waiting for some kind of shit-eating grin to betray his deception, but he seems to be telling the truth. Her eyes sweep the surrounding area. Even if she can now blame the strange noises on Zacky, something still doesn’t feel right. She still feels as if she’s being watched.

Lennox returns her focus to Zacky. She forces her next words out with great effort.

“Well, thanks,” she tells him.

“What for?”

“…You saved my life.”

Zacky shakes his head, grinning.

“No, I didn’t. You’re still connected,” he says, tugging on her harness. Her gaze follows his to where she’d clipped herself to the next obstacle’s safety cord. “You probably just would have fallen a couple of feet before the safety line kicked in.”

Lennox gapes at him. His grin widens.

“I just wanted an excuse to get close to you.”

With that, he jumps onto the second zip line in the pair. When he reaches the platform of the obstacle that’s next in succession, he turns and waves at her before moving on.

Lennox rolls her eyes and bites her tongue to stop the smile she can already feel forming.

+++

Around sunset, Lennox returns to her cabin. She’s sticky and sore from a day of obstacle-tackling—she went back and completed the two intermediate courses after the advanced one—and wants nothing more than to take an excruciatingly hot shower before heading over to the dining pavilion and stuffing her face with dinner. She stops inside to grab some clothes on her way to the bathroom, and as she’s leaving, she spots something strange in the illumination provided by the tiny light above the cabin door.

Delicate footprints are scattered in the dirt all around the path leading to the door. There’s no pattern, no sense of reasoning to the prints at all. Lennox stares at the footprints in confusion for a moment, then concludes that Robyn must have drunkenly attempted some type of tribal dance outside the night before. She shrugs, makes a mental note to keep a closer eye on her sister tonight, and hurries toward the shower she so desperately desires.

The prospect of hot water distracts her so thoroughly that she fails to notice what else the door light is illuminating—eight other sets of different-sized prints, circling the cabin in haphazard fashion, like the owners had been planning to converge before suddenly being called away.