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MAVERICK

Maverick geared up, the image of Angeline unconscious, bound, seared into his brain. That feeling of powerlessness, helplessness that he had when his mom was dying swelled and expanded inside him, pushing the air from his lungs. He wanted to run.

“Where is she , Hector?” he asked again, shouldering his pack.

“The hotel?” he answered. “On the video, it looked like it could be the lower level of the hotel.”

Hector was hunched over his keyboard, tapping. The power was out, but they still had battery life on the laptops, the cellular hot spot on the phone. Angeline’s PopMap locator was off, so Hector was trying Find My Device, where all the company phones and laptops were registered. Nothing.

On the other screen, Maverick could see Malinka, Cody, and Adele, their tracker dots pulsing—even though he’d promised them that they wouldn’t be tracked unless necessary. Their dots all went in different directions. It didn’t matter now, when an hour ago the challenge was the only thing on his mind. All that concerned him now was Angeline.

“Oh, my God,” said Hector. “The cameras I set up. I had them set to Record. Maybe they caught something before they went dark.”

He rolled his chair over to the other monitor and tapped on the keyboard.

Maverick stood behind Hector as he fast-forwarded through recorded footage. Hector setting up the camera, looking comically into the lens, his fingers huge as he adjusted the camera like a boomer on Zoom.

“There,” said Hector after another minute of scrolling. “There she is.”

On the grainy video footage, Angeline was standing on the path, looking at someone off camera, her hands up, eyes wide. Maverick watched as someone came up behind her, unidentifiable in the dark. Then the dollface mask filled the screen, and the picture went black.

“Where is that camera?” asked Maverick.

Hector pointed to the survey they had open on the table near the computers. It was a proper command center inside the trailer, except that they’d lost all control of the game.

“Here,” Hector said, pointing to the spot where the path veered in two directions, one trail leading to the casitas, the other leading to Enchantments.

“Okay. I’m heading out.”

“I’m coming with you,” Hector said rising.

“No. Stay here, Hec.” He tried to be gentle with his tone. But he could not be dragging a quivering, out-of-shape Hector down into Enchantments. Tavo, even Alex would be an asset. But Hector’s skills kept him in the chair. Out in the field, he’d just get hurt. “I’m going live. Stay with me that way. If things go bad, get help.”

“How?” Hector said, sounding slightly panicked. “Who do you think is going to help us now, Mav?”

But Maverick was already out in the storm, heading to the hotel.

Outside, on the edge of the path, he hesitated.

The Range Rover stood off to the right of the campsite, gleaming in the rain. The keys were in his pocket, hard and cold. The duffel bags were in the back.

He glanced at the line of soldiers, still standing in the rain. They didn’t seem real, like a mirage or projected CGI.

“Hey,” he yelled, his voice faint in the storm. “Hey, we’re in serious trouble here. My girlfriend—someone’s taken her. Can we get a little help?”

Not one of them moved or even looked at him.

He looked back at the SUV.

Could he just start driving, smash through that line of soldiers with the big black vehicle? Get to the jet. Wait there until the storm cleared, then head…anywhere. If Tavo hadn’t taken the wrong Rover, Maverick and Angeline would already be gone. It had been their last chance to escape.

He glanced down the dark path, covered now with debris, that would lead him to Enchantments.

The day his mother died, Maverick had left her.

Don’t go , the hospice nurse had said. She doesn’t have much time .

His aunt had been there. Her best friend Pauline. They’d been quietly taking care of her and Mav for days. Reading to his mom from the paper, bringing him food even when he said he wasn’t hungry. Playing the podcasts she loved, talking to her about news events. She wasn’t alone. He remembered the light in that room, a kind of buttery yellow though the drapes. The sound of her monitors. The hospital smell—antiseptic and illness. The scent of sadness.

There was an interview scheduled, a big network morning show to promote the upcoming challenge. It mattered in the way things like that mattered, and he knew if his mother was conscious, she’d tell him to go. She wouldn’t want him sitting there crying, waiting for her to die. She would consider it a waste of time. After all, without her there would be no Extreme, there would be no Maverick Dillan. It was through the lens of her camera, her tireless efforts, that he had become everything that he was now.

He’d sat beside her a moment, held her hand, put it to his lips. He touched her wispy blond hair. She looked ancient, though she was just fifty.

Mom , he said silently. I’ll be right back. Just…stay awhile longer.

Live your life, Maverick. He thought that’s what she’d say if he asked her what he should do. Go.

And so, he’d left. The waiting Lincoln Town Car took him into the city. He sat in the greenroom, thinking about his mother, going through the motions. The interview—it had taken approximately four minutes—was a blur in his memory, bright lights, an impossibly made-up and coiffed interviewer, giant cameras like robots surrounding a faux living room set.

Lots of people saw it, posted about it, said all the things they always say when he was on television or in the paper for his challenges or his charity work. That he was a hero, a sellout, an angel; that he only did the good things he did for more money and more views; that he was hot, or a fat ass. His WeWatch followers jumped ten percent; a pop star tweeted that she was a fan. It was, by all accounts, a huge success and one of the things that took Extreme to the next level. Like a prize he found on Red World , something that shuttled him to the next layer of play.

And then in the car on the way back to the hospital, he felt the universe shift. To this day, he’d swear to it. The sun went behind the clouds, and the driver had the radio on, and his mom’s favorite Stevie Nicks song started playing. And he knew.

He didn’t cry.

Then, moments later, his aunt texted him.

She’s gone, Mav. It was peaceful. She loved you more than she loved anything in this world.

What she didn’t say: And you weren’t here.

Maverick didn’t cry, didn’t make a sound. Didn’t call a soul.

He just sat with it, listening to Stevie croon about her fear of change.

Back at the hospital, he sat in the room with his mom in that yellow light, the monitors finally quiet. One by one, the guys arrived. Alex, then Tavo, then Hector. They stood around him, a hand on his shoulder, a voice in his ear.

I’m sorry, man.

She was a good mom.

The best.

They each said their goodbyes, Hector blubbering like a girl. Then they just sat with him as afternoon turned to evening. Alex perched on the foot of the bed. Hector sat by the window, looking out. Tavo stood directly behind Maverick, a heavy hand on his shoulder.

Once the tears subsided, they started chatting, joking—the way you do when death comes. Because it feels like the end of the world for a while until you realize it isn’t, not for you, not yet. If his mom could hear them, she would have laughed along with them because she always loved his stupid, crazy friends. They all stayed with her until the nurse told him it was time to take her body away.

And now standing on this path in the storm, he felt as he had then.

Afraid, alone, powerless. Like the world was too big, too complicated, and he was too small, not up to the forces working against him. His whole life was a battle against that feeling. And every wave, or jump, or climb, or obstacle course he’d faced was just an allegory for that struggle. Sometimes he won. More often he lost.

The only time he didn’t feel that way was when he was with Angeline. When she looked at him the way his mom used to, seeing him, all of him, and loving him anyway.

He wasn’t going to leave this time.

He broke into a jog toward Enchantments, wind so powerful he had to push against it, debris flying across his path, lightning flashing on the giant dark structure, illuminating it weirdly, light pooling in dark spaces, only to disappear again. Thunder like a freight train.

Inside the grand entrance, he thought things would get quieter. Instead, the wind whipped through all the open places, whined and moaned, slapped at his pants, his jacket.

“Angeline!” he yelled. “Angeline!”

His voice was taken by the noise. He spun in a panicked circle, and then he saw down the elevator shaft maybe the slightest hint of light leaking up from below.

He took out his phone and went live.

“Hey, guys,” he said to the camera. “I’m live from inside Enchantments. And let me tell you what. It is scary AF. But I’ve got to find Angeline and then the other hiders. You can probably hear that the storm is raging. We’re trapped here, and someone has Ange. This was supposed to be fun and games, but it’s real now. Too real.”

He propped his phone up against some debris, then he took his rope and fastened it around a pillar, checking its stability once, twice, three times, pulling hard.

“I think she’s in the belly of the beast. That’s right. Down this empty elevator shaft somewhere in the basement of Enchantments. I can already hear water running, lots of it. So I hope it’s not flooded down there. I’ll go live again when I get down. Wish me luck.”

He ended the live, stowed his phone.

Then without thought, he rappelled down into the darkness.

Surf3rDud3: Oh, my god. Mav you are a wild man.

KillerCraig: What a tool. Ur gonna die.

Mavericksbride: I love you so much. I wish you were coming to rescue me.

Fr$4dsterNinja : This is so fake.

Sk4techick666: When’s the next challenge, Mav?

More comments, fade out.