**Day 7 – Elimination Night**
**Time: 21:15 – 02:45**
The campfire pit glowed like a small angry sun trapped against the black mirror of the lake.
Sparks drifted upward and died quickly in the cool night air.
Chris McLean stood at the center of the circle of logs, arms spread wide, the tray of marshmallows balanced in one hand like a sacred offering. His grin was wide, practiced, predatory.
"Killer Bass," he announced, letting the words hang in the silence, "you lost the talent show. That means tonight… one of you is going home. You've all cast your votes in the little ballot box of doom. Let's find out who the team has chosen to ride the Boat of Losers."
Ten campers sat in a tense half-circle.
No one spoke.
The only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the distant call of a loon somewhere across the water.
Duncan lounged back on his log, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bouncing restlessly.
He looked smug. Confident.
Every few seconds his eyes flicked toward Eva, then toward Harold — the two people he was absolutely certain had been targeted.
He even allowed himself a small, mean smirk when he caught Harold nervously adjusting his glasses.
Courtney sat like a statue carved from marble — back straight, chin lifted, hands folded neatly in her lap.
Ezekiel sat right beside her, elbows resting on his knees, expression calm and almost sleepy.
To anyone watching, he looked like he didn't have a single worry in the world.
Chris reached into the tray with theatrical slowness.
"First marshmallow goes to… Courtney. Safe."
Courtney didn't move. Didn't blink.
Only the tiniest tightening of her lips betrayed anything at all.
"Ezekiel. Safe."
Duncan's smirk flickered — just for a second.
"Izzy. Safe."
Izzy lunged forward, snatched the marshmallow out of the air with her teeth, bit it in half, and gave Chris a wild thumbs-up.
A few nervous laughs escaped from Geoff and Tyler.
"Bridgette. Safe."
Bridgette let out a small, relieved breath and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
"Harold. Safe."
Harold's entire body jerked like he'd been electrocuted.
He caught the marshmallow with shaking fingers, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and a slow, trembling smile spread across his face — the smile of someone who had waited months for this exact moment.
"Eva. Safe."
Eva gave one curt nod.
No expression. No celebration. Just acceptance.
"DJ. Safe."
DJ looked down at the white pillow in his huge hands like he couldn't quite believe it belonged to him.
"Geoff. Safe."
Geoff flashed a double peace sign and whispered "sweet" under his breath.
"Tyler. Safe."
Tyler blinked rapidly, mouth opening and closing like a fish.
He had clearly expected to hear his own name called.
Chris held the very last marshmallow between thumb and forefinger, turning it slowly in the firelight.
"And the final marshmallow goes to…"
He let the silence stretch until it hurt.
"…nobody."
He looked straight at Duncan.
"Duncan, you've been voted off the island."
Duncan shot to his feet so fast the log rocked backward.
"WHAT?!"
The rest of the Killer Bass stayed completely still.
No gasps. No shouts. No protests.
Just eight pairs of eyes watching him — calm, cold, finished.
Duncan spun toward Eva first.
"You?! You voted me out?!"
Eva crossed her arms.
Her voice was flat.
"Someone had to."
Duncan whirled toward Harold.
"You little four-eyed freak—!"
Harold's voice came out high and shaky — but clear.
"You've been stealing my num-yos, tripping me during drills, calling me 'nerd-lord' and 'loser' every single day since we got here. You threw my backpack in the lake last week. This—" he held up the marshmallow like a trophy, "—this is karma."
Duncan's gaze snapped to Bridgette.
"Surf princess? You too?!"
Bridgette looked down at her hands, twisting the hem of her hoodie.
"You threw my surfboard in the water yesterday. Just to laugh. Just to prove you could. I don't like bullies, Duncan. I never have."
Duncan barked a short, ugly laugh.
"You're all pathetic. This team is gonna fall apart without me. You'll be begging me to come back in two days."
Courtney spoke then — voice calm, precise, surgical.
"Six votes, Duncan. That's not falling apart. That's a correction."
Duncan's head whipped toward her.
"You two."
His finger jabbed first at Courtney, then at Ezekiel.
"This was you. You planned this."
Ezekiel shrugged one shoulder, voice low and even.
"You made enemies, eh. Simple math."
Chris clapped his hands once — bright, cheerful, completely unbothered by the tension.
"Well, that's that! Duncan, grab your torch and head down to the Dock of Shame. The Boat of Losers waits for no punk-rocker."
Duncan snatched his torch from the stand.
He kicked a shower of dirt into the fire — hard enough that embers flew into the night like dying fireflies.
Then he stormed down the path, torchlight swinging wildly, curses echoing back until he disappeared around the bend.
The Killer Bass sat in perfect silence for almost thirty seconds after he was gone.
Then Courtney let out a long, slow breath.
She turned to Ezekiel, slipped her small hand into his larger one, and laced their fingers together.
No one said anything.
They didn't need to.
### Flashback – The Afternoon Campaign
**3:40 PM – Lakeside rocks**
Courtney found Bridgette sitting alone, knees drawn up, staring at the water.
"Bridgette."
The blonde girl startled.
"Courtney… hi."
"We need to talk."
Bridgette's shoulders tensed.
"If this is about voting—"
"It is. Duncan."
Bridgette sighed and rubbed her arms.
"He's… intense. And kind of mean sometimes. But—"
"He threw your board in the lake yesterday. In front of everyone. Just to get a reaction. He undermines anyone who tries to lead. He disrespects people. If he stays, he'll keep fracturing the team. We cannot afford fractures right now."
Bridgette chewed her bottom lip.
"I hate confrontation…"
"You don't have to confront him. You don't have to say anything to his face. Just one vote. Quiet. In the box. Done."
Bridgette stared at the water for a very long time.
Finally she whispered:
"He really hurt my feelings yesterday. And… he's mean to Harold. And to you. And to Ezekiel."
Courtney waited.
Bridgette nodded once.
"Okay. I'm in."
Courtney allowed the smallest, most controlled smile.
"Thank you."
**4:15 PM – Weight area behind the cabin**
Izzy bounced up to Eva while the taller girl was doing slow, perfect one-handed push-ups.
"Hey muscle-mountain! Quick question!"
Eva didn't break rhythm.
"What."
"Wanna vote Duncan off tonight?"
Eva paused — halfway up — and slowly lowered herself.
"Why."
Izzy crouched down so they were eye-to-eye, grinning like a gremlin.
"Because yesterday he called you 'roid-rage' behind your back. And he keeps flexing and strutting around like he's stronger than you. Which is hilarious, because you could literally fold him in half like a lawn chair."
Eva stood up. Slowly.
Her face didn't change.
"He said 'roid-rage'?"
"Yup. Word for word. To Geoff. And Geoff laughed."
Eva stared at Izzy for a full seven seconds.
Then she gave one single, sharp nod.
"Good."
Izzy clapped her hands together once.
"YES! See you at the campfire, big girl!"
**Harold**
No conversation was necessary.
Duncan had spent the last six days making Harold's life miserable — stealing num-yos, mocking his beatboxing, tripping him during drills, calling him every variation of "loser" he could think of.
When Courtney had slipped him a tiny folded note during lunch that simply read:
"Duncan tonight?"
Harold had almost dropped his tray.
His hands shook so badly he could barely unfold the paper.
When he looked up again, Courtney was already walking away.
He had folded the note carefully, tucked it into his pocket, and spent the rest of the day quietly vibrating with joy.
### 01:50 – The Boathouse
The camp was dark and quiet.
Courtney slipped barefoot out of the girls' cabin wearing only a thin black camisole and matching sleep shorts.
She crossed the grass without a sound, opened the boys' cabin door, stepped inside.
Ezekiel was already sitting on the edge of his bunk, elbows on knees, waiting.
She didn't speak.
She walked straight to him, grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands, and yanked him to his feet.
"Come with me."
She pulled him out the back door, down the narrow dirt path, past the showers, to the old boathouse.
Inside it smelled of damp wood, lake water, pine resin, and years of old rope.
Courtney kicked the door shut behind them.
Locked it.
Then she turned and shoved Ezekiel back against the rough wooden wall.
She kissed him like she wanted to devour him — hard, claiming, desperate.
Teeth clashed. Tongues fought.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders.
When she finally pulled back, both of them were breathing hard.
"I had to sit there and smile while he thought he was untouchable," she hissed. "I had to pretend I wasn't furious. I'm still furious. And I need you — right now — to remind me exactly who runs this island."
Ezekiel's hands settled low on her hips.
"You do."
"Prove it."
She dragged his shirt over his head in one rough motion.
Her nails raked down his chest — hard enough to leave angry red trails that burned in the dim moonlight coming through the small window.
She pushed him backward until he half-fell, half-sat on a pile of old boat cushions and canvas tarps.
Courtney climbed on top, straddling his waist.
"You don't move until I say."
Her voice was low, dangerous, velvet steel.
"You don't speak unless it's my name."
Ezekiel nodded once — pupils blown wide.
She leaned down and bit the side of his neck — sharp enough to sting, not quite enough to break skin.
Then she slid lower, dragging his sweatpants down his thighs.
When she took him into her mouth it was slow — torturously slow.
She teased him with long, deliberate strokes of her tongue until he was shaking, hips jerking involuntarily.
Every time he got close she pulled back, letting him throb painfully in the cool air.
When his breathing had turned ragged and pleading, she crawled back up his body and sank down onto him in one hard, sudden motion.
Both of them groaned — loud, raw.
Courtney rode him with ruthless, possessive rhythm — fast, deep, controlling every angle, every speed.
Her nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to leave half-moon marks.
Her head fell back; dark hair spilled over her shoulders like ink.
"Say it," she demanded.
"You're my queen."
"Again."
"You're my queen, Courtney."
She clenched around him deliberately — hard.
"Louder."
"You're my queen!"
She kissed him then — messy, frantic, teeth and tongue — and sped up until the old boathouse walls seemed to tremble with every thrust.
When she came she buried her face in the crook of his neck and bit down hard to muffle the sharp, triumphant cry.
Ezekiel followed almost instantly — hips bucking, spilling deep inside her with a low, broken groan.
They stayed locked together, chests heaving, sweat slicking their skin.
Courtney lifted her head.
Her eyes were still dark, still possessive.
"You belong to me."
Ezekiel lifted a hand and gently brushed sweat-damp hair from her cheek.
"Always have."
She kissed him again — slower this time, softer.
Then she slid off him, fixed her shorts, and stood.
"Sleep. We have work tomorrow."
At the door she paused.
"And don't let anyone — especially not Gwen — forget who wears the crown here."
She slipped out into the night.
### Outside – The Big Pine Above the Boathouse
Izzy sat cross-legged on a thick branch, a comically oversized plastic bowl of popcorn balanced in her lap.
Gwen had climbed up beside her about ten minutes earlier — face already flaming red.
She was still red.
Izzy offered the bowl without taking her eyes off the small boathouse window.
"Popcorn?"
Gwen stared at her in horrified disbelief.
"You… you watched the whole thing?"
Izzy shrugged, popping a kernel into her mouth.
"Best show on the island tonight. Hands down. Want some?"
Gwen's face somehow turned even redder.
"You're unbelievable."
But after a long moment of internal struggle… she reached over and took a small handful.
They sat in silence for a while, munching popcorn, listening to the lake and the crickets.
Izzy whispered — barely audible:
"Courtney's scary when she's happy."
Gwen nodded very slowly.
"Yeah.
She really is."
The moon slid behind a thick cloud.
The island kept its secrets.