Page 92 of Alien Jeopardy

And I don’t have my partner with me.

“Competitors, you have now been in the labyrinth for thirty minutes.” Ken’s voice booms out, and I wince. Even the giant mosquitoes seem offended. “Your difficulty level will scale up every thirty minutes. Once you find each other, or the middle of the maze, your challenge is completed.”

“Shit.” Every thirty minutes? I’m doomed.

Cubicle life and a steady of diet of Girl Scout cookies and chips has not prepared me well for this moment.

“The good news is I’ll be out fast. The bad news is, this is going to hurt.” The mosquitoes don’t seem to care about this announcement.

“You will each be provided a weapon with which to protect yourself.”

“Damn, Ken, you don’t have to sound so happy about it.” The fucker sounds positively gleeful at the idea of us having to be armed. Good grief.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a reality show in which the contestants were armed for PROTECTION. I sigh, glaring at the nearest mosquito.

“I will shoot you,” I tell it pathetically.

The ground rumbles, and I hold back a yawn.

It’s a close call. I’m both tired physically and tired of Ken’s drama. Still, I have a feeling I don’t want the AI to think I’m bored. The last thing I want is more drama because I made a bad choice to pick at the sentient space station system software.

“Two wrongs don’t make a right,” I say primly.

The mosquitoes remain unimpressed.

I stand there for a little longer, wondering if Ken’s done giving his enthusiastic doom-and-gloom instructions, then tug at my leg in an attempt to get myself unstuck from the thick mud.

Finally, with a loud squelch, my foot comes free—but not before I’m splattered in the sticky, foul stuff.

The ground rumbles again, and I glance around because now I know that means Ken is changing something up here in alien reality TV hell. Sure enough, a thunderous noise fills my head, and I clap my hands over my ears reflexively.

Pumpkin shit pie, I need that weapon, and I need it now, because whatever is making that noise must be fucking huge.

And I sincerely doubt that noise is saying, “I want to be friends, come out and play!”

Well, maybe it is, but if that is what that noise means, it’s lying.

I do not like this, nope, I do not like this at all.

“Weapon, weapon, I need a weapon,” I chant, like that’s going to make one magically appear.

No sooner has that thought flitted in and out of my head than something rockets to the ground in front of me, sending more thick mud splattering all over me.

A clump slides down my face, and I approach the object cautiously because I wouldn’t put it past Ken to just drop a giant hungry ant right in front of me.

Today’s theme: killer bugs.

I regret thinking that immediately. I don’t think Ken can read my mind… but also… maybe he can. Who’s to say?

Certainly not I.

Trepidatious, I finally get close enough to see the object sinking into the disgusting muck.

“Oooh,” I breathe, thrilled for a beat, at least until I remember that I’m going to have to actually use it, and accurately, at that.

It’s a bow and a quiver full of arrows.

Sure, I haven’t practiced archery since I was about thirteen, but I wasn’t the blue-ribbon winner that summer for nothing.