"This is a bad idea; we should turn back,"

Delilah, my ditzy roommate, and partner for this challenge, says.

"Relax, I know what I am doing."

I say so confidently that it even convinces me that I know what I am doing when in fact, I have no fucking clue.

"The sun's setting, and if we aren't back yet, we lose. Which means-"

"I know what it means. Will you just shut up and let me think."

She slumps her slim shoulders and silently trails me, putting her golden hair into a top knot. I fight the urge to yell at her because her bun makes us visible to anyone or anything that could be hiding in the canopy of tropical trees above us. At this point, I am too tired to care. It's been six hours since this challenge began, and no one's found their room.

Harry, the host/eyes, ears, and mouth for Emerson, send a voice message through our walkies.

"Islanders, you have an hour left; if you don't find your and your roommate's room keys, you'll have to find your own shelter tonight. But beware, the island is filled with people who want to take your place. You will be sent home if they find your room keys before you or take them from you. Good luck."

The sun sets with each step we take, and the sounds of night are starting to turn up their volume. Delilah looks like she's going to shit herself; her poor stay-at-home daughter has probably never even camped. This must be terrifying for her, but I am not here to babysit. I am here to win.

Boom

"Time's up. Now let the real games begin." Harry follows this with a maniacal laugh; my guess is for dramatic effect. But the only effect it has on me is irritation.

"We need to find this key, fast,"

And before I can say, "No shit Sherlock," she's taken off like a cheetah in heat. Sprinting towards prey that I can't see. I underestimated Delilah; she must've run track in college or something because the girl can run. I am impressed for the first time since meeting her six hours ago.

"Remmy, I think I found something."

And just like that, I am back to being annoyed. She yelled so loud that anyone within a mile radius could hear us. Painting a giant target on our desperate backs.

"I am over here."

I know she's trying to help me get to her, but for christ'sChrist sake, can she be any more oblivious. I pick up my pace, and I am panting like a fish out of water when I see her model silhouette. Man, I am out of shape. Delilah motions toward the sky, but all I can see are trees.

"no, not there. There."

I follow the tip of her pointer finger to a barely visible shiny tower. It's painted to blend in with the treetops. We would've never seen it if it weren't for the blinking red light. The key. We start to make a run for it through the pitch-black jungle. Blind leading blind. Then I hear an ear-piercing shriek and the slash of metal.

I turn around and see Delilah. Dead