The Tower — Ch 12

(Access all available chapters in the publication The Tower Book)

Monica, Vivienne and Sheryl made their way to a table in the hall. A timer on the screen counted down to the start of the run.

Excited chatter drifted among their fellow contestants, and Vivienne grinned as they discussed the man about to run his tower.

“The mood is so different from last week,” Sheryl observed.

“Clint Masterson is running today,” Vivienne explained.

“Clint Masterson?”

Vivienne nodded as she set down her plate. “I only met him once before he moved to support training, but he’s been a fan favorite the past few months. He’s expected to escape, and is currently sitting on a sixty-five percent.”

“Currently?” Monica asked.

Vivienne tapped her lips with her index finger. “When he came in it was at thirty-five. But he worked hard and it came up, and it came up even more as he gained fans. He’s such a lovable guy.”

“Ok,” Sheryl sighed. “Fill me in.”

“Oh, yeah…” Vivienne mused. She was quiet for a few minutes then began. “So Masterson is at the upper age range for contestants. He’s in his mid-fifties, but in great shape. He’s a widower, and has several adult children. I think there’s a grandchild on the way too.”

“Ok…” Sheryl replied.

“I think one of the reasons he became such a favorite right away was because he quickly adopted the role of contestant dad,” Vivienne laughed. “Most of the contestants are around the same ages as his children, so fatherly advice followed him everywhere. That and dad jokes, in all the coverage it was never clear if one would get advice or a dad joke.”

Sheryl smiled.

“His dad jokes were the worst,” Monica complained. “Every one was a groaner.”

“Aren’t all dad jokes bad?” Vivienne argued.

“Point,” Monica conceded.

“G’morning ladies,” a warm male voice said. “May I join you again?”

Sheryl looked up to see Siyabonga standing beside the table. She nodded and saw that both Monica and Vivienne were shifting to make room.

Siyabonga set his plate on the table then smiled at Monica.

“I met Sheryl and Vivienne last week, but you seem a new face. Siyabonga Naidoo,” he said, offering a hand.

Monica seemed hesitant before finally returning the gesture. “M… Monica. Monica Gutierrez.”

He blinked a couple times before responding. “It’s a pleasure.” He then turned to his food and knelt his head in prayer.

There was a moment of silence around the table before Monica shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe I should go…”

Siyabonga looked up. “Is something wrong?”

“I… umm…” she looked away. “I just don’t want to make anybody uncomfortable.”

Siyabonga blinked. “Who’s uncomfortable?”

Monica blushed slightly. “You seem religious, and while people in the US and Europe are more comfortable with people like me, I know that many people in other countries aren’t yet… especially the devout.”

Siyabonga’s eyes widened. He reached out and placed a comforting hand on Monica’s wrist. He shook his head. “Stay child. I assure you that you’re causing me no discomfort.”

“You… don’t disapprove?” she asked timidly.

He shook his head again. “I believe in the Lord, and that he makes no mistakes. Some might interpret his divinity another way, but I believe that he created you with your unique challenges in mind. If I were disapprove of you as a person I would be disapproving of the Lord’s work.”

Monica softened visibly. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “Now that that’s settled, how are you adjusting to life on the island?”

Monica smiled shyly. “It’s been surreal.”

Siyabonga laughed. “That feeling never goes away, at least it hasn’t for me.”

A chuckle passed over the table, then the sound system came alive with the theme music.

They turned to the screen, as the camera panned in to where Clay Grayson stood next to the man Sheryl assumed was Clint Masterson.

“Clint Masterson!” Clay exclaimed. “You’ve quickly become a fan favorite, and today’s your big day. Do you have anything to say?”

Clint grinned. “Clay, I’ve been terrified of elevators all my life.”

Half the hall groaned in anticipation.

“Luckily I won’t have to take great steps to avoid them today,” he concluded.

The other half of the hall finished the groan.

Clay chuckled. “Good to hear Clint. So who is here on your support team?”

Clint introduced his very pregnant daughter, his best friend from college and somebody he’d worked with.

Clay was leading Clint to the helicopter when the man stopped.

“Is something wrong?” Clay asked, and the hall fell silent.

“I think there’s something in my shoe,” Clint replied, then followed immediately with. “Oh, nevermind, it’s just a foot!”

Another groan then he boarded the helicopter.

Clint’s entry timer started as soon as the helicopter had completed one full circuit of his tower. The walls rose to a point, and his entry was a hole on one of the slopes. He checked his gear, climbed down a ladder lowered from the helicopter and managed to wriggle into the hole in decent time. He quickly figured out the rest of the entry, and was then inside, faced immediately with what appeared to be a maze level.

Clint grinned, pulled out a gun, told another corny joke then started moving.

“We’re trying to figure out how much time he’ll have left when he escapes,” Siyabonga said, turning to Vivienne. “What do you think?”

“Clint will play it safe,” Vivienne replied. “At least from what I’ve seen. Also, he’s said his goal isn’t money for him, but for his family and grandchildren. So I don’t think he’ll takes risks with time. If he can find a good timer I think at least half an hour. If he finds no extensions I’ll say he’ll leave ten minutes on the clock so he can be safely free of the fall-zone.”

Siyabonga nodded and turned to Monica. “What do you think?”

Monica hummed. “I agree. I think he’s out with at least five minutes left.”

“Sheryl?” Siyabonga asked.

Sheryl shook her head. “Sorry… I just don’t know enough about him to hazard a guess.”

Siyabonga nodded and turned his attention to the screen. “The island will feel different without him. He’s been a role model for so many. He’s kept his spirits up, even when the odds had him failing.”

“Speaking of things being different,” Vivienne said. “Rumor has it that you’ve been assigned your run date as well.”

Siyabonga nodded. “Assuming I’m not injured, I will run in three weeks.”

“Wow…” Sheryl breathed. “So soon?”

He nodded. “I’ll have been here five months by that time. It’s a relatively normal training period.”

Sheryl sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Sorry, still catching up on so many things.”

He smiled. “I can’t imagine how hard it is.”

She smiled and was about to say something when a cheer went through the hall. Clint had cleared the floor with time to spare.

Siyabonga once again mingled after breakfast, and several other contestants stopped by their table to chat.

Monica slowly opened up, realizing that the thing that bound them together as contestants was stronger than preconceived notions that might have forced her to the sidelines before. By the time lunch started she’d started laughing and smiling with genuine emotion.

Clint had been in the tower for five hours when he found a two-hour timer extension. A cheer filled the room. He had already been ahead of the pace, and the extension allowed him to slow down and find more money and prizes for his family.

Another competitor was at the table and smiled. “I remember something Clint said when we were at the shooting range together,” the middle-aged woman said. “He said that even if you walked away from the tower without a single dollar or prize, you’d still be well-off for the rest of your life. Endorsements, appearances, your life story, your image… they’re all commodities that a contestant who survives walks away with. It looks like he took it to heart.”

Vivienne laughed. “To be fair, he’s picked up his share of money vouchers and prizes.”

The woman nodded. “True, but he’s spent a fraction of the time searching for them when compared with others. He didn’t get greedy in the moment, and he’s going to survive.”

Vivienne nodded. “The only thing that’ll keep him from escaping now is a major injury.”

The hall stayed full, everybody’s attention glued to the screen as Clint methodically descended the levels. He spent more time hunting for money and prizes but regularly checked in with his support team for time remaining, and told them to let him know if he spent too much time on any single level.

Everybody knew that he was practically assured of escape when he found a half-hour extension on the fourth floor with almost two hours left on the clock.

Clint sauntered out, grin on his face, with twenty minutes left. As soon as a cart pulled in front of the support building he jumped off and ran to his daughter. He hugged her, reached into his run bag and removed a necklace. He put it on her, while a chyron listed the retail value in the tens of thousands of dollars. He then retrieved a baby outfit he’d snagged on another floor and draped it over her stomach, making her laugh even as another chyron set the tiny dress at luxury clothing prices.

The contestants in the hall whooped and hollered their approval.

“He talked all the time about the new grandbaby,” Vivienne explained. “But refused to tell anybody the gender. He said he’d announce it after he escaped.”

Sheryl smiled, then held her fist to her mouth as she thought of Benny and how excited Jonathan had been when he’d done something similar with the boy’s first outfit.

“You ok?” Monica asked.

Sheryl squeezed her eyes and nodded. “I… uh…”

A tear rolled down Sheryl’s cheek.

She was moving, Vivienne’s voice behind her pushing the chair. Then they were in the lobby outside the hall.

Vivienne knelt in front of Sheryl and handed her a kerchief. Monica looked worried and stood several feet away.

“Is it ok I got you out of there?” Vivienne asked quietly.

Sheryl nodded. “Thank you. I… Benny!” Sheryl started sobbing.

Vivienne stood and wrapped her arms around Sheryl’s shoulders. Monica took a few cautious steps closer then laid her hand on Sheryl’s shoulder.

“I called a cart,” Vivienne said after a minute. “I’ve heard there will be a party tonight, but I have the feeling you’re not up for it.”

Sheryl nodded. “Thank you.”

Vivienne hugged her again. “Anything for my friends.”