Page 29 of Blaze of Our Lives

“Armed?” Pandora asked.

“To the teeth. There’s an obstacle course.” The road to the Higher Power just got stickier and filled with deadly potholes. Phyllis’ words echoed in my mind. Youse are gonna have a journey filled with obstacles. If youse fail one, youse is gonna have to start over at the beginnin’.

“Ropes? Mud? Bars to swing from? Walls to climb over?”

I looked down at my stomach. She wasn’t technically in my stomach, but it felt right. “Can you see?”

“No. Am I correct?”

“You are. How?”

“Gut feeling. The talking ashtray mentioned obstacles and you said we’re on an island,” she replied. “Have you seen the show Survivor?”

I wanted to kick my own ass for not watching much TV. It appeared I didn’t have to. Life was coming to kick it for me. “I’ve seen it once or twice,” I admitted.

“And you call yourself an actress?” she demanded.

“I don’t do reality TV, Shitty Whore. Plus, I like to read.”

“Whatever,” she shot back. “What do you know about the show?”

“Not much. Give me a quick rundown.”

She blew a loud raspberry. I wanted to smack her.

“Fine. On the show, the contestants travel to a remote tropical island where they have to fend for themselves and participate in challenges. They can form alliances to help each other, though, I’d advise not forming pacts with armed Demons. Whoever loses the challenge risks getting voted off the show by the other contestants. The prize goes to the last man or woman standing. It’s normally a million dollars.”

“I’m thinking this version of the show might include decapitation,” I muttered as I watched the flaming assholes wield purple fire swords.

“Most likely,” Pandora agreed. “Often times at the end of the obstacle course is a puzzle of sorts. Are you good at puzzles?”

“Pretty good.”

“I’m excellent at puzzles,” she informed me. “I shall help you solve it.”

“Why are you being so agreeable?”

She laughed. The sound was harsh. “If you think it’s because I’m growing fond of you, think again, Bitch Goddess Cecily. I despise you. If you can’t complete the mission, I’m stuck in you. That’s unacceptable. It’s to my advantage to aid you.”

“Got it,” I said flatly. It would be stupid to believe we could get along. We had the same goal at the moment, so it was a temporary truce. Once I evicted her, the ceasefire—so to speak—would end. “How long does the show last?”

“On TV, it goes for about forty days, or at least it used to. I highly doubt there’s more than one challenge here though. Do you spot Jeff Probst?”

“Jeff who?” I asked.

“You are so going to die,” she informed me. “The host of the show. He’s normally in cargo pants and a t-shirt. He’ll be wearing a large ornate necklace that will be given to the winner. Occasionally, he wears a baseball cap.”

Pandora was a Survivor fan. I might not have physical backup, but I had the Shitty Whore. Never would I have thought I’d be happy about that, but times had changed… and so had I.

“No. I don’t see anyone who fits that description. All I see is Phyllis and three Demons.”

“Interesting. Maybe we should go and look for a hidden immunity idol. It might come in handy if we lose and the Demons want to vote us dead.”

I didn’t watch the show, but I didn’t have to be a genius to surmise what a hidden immunity idol was all about. “Do we have time to search for one?”

“Probably not,” Pandora replied. “If we don’t win, there might be time before Tribal Council.”

“Let’s win.”

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