Day 313 - Survivalist Story

Survivalist Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

It had been reported survivalist guru Conner Donner was developing a new reality series where he would take a team of survivalists and environmentalists on a six month journey deep into the Amazon rainforest. Their experience would be documented twenty-four hours a day as the group struggled to survive in previously uncharted stretches of the jungle.

It was less reported when the project was shelved. Reasons were unclear, but a studio representative cited rising costs, concerns regarding safety issues after insurance problems occurred and scheduling conflicts amongst crew and talent.

Conner Donner could not be reached for comment.

Charles M. Benjamin sat in the room patiently while waiting for his hosts. Charles had been many things, but mostly what he was and what he did was accept large sums of money to do very dangerous jobs that no else could do or know about. He had worked for armies, countries, businesses and men. He believed in discretion and client confidentiality. He waited patiently. He was a patient man.

Three men in suits met with Charles. They didn’t give their names or the name of their client. He didn’t need to know. They had paid him enough to listen. He could give them their privacy if it made them feel safer that way.

“Have you heard of the survivalist Conner Donner?”

Charles hadn’t. He didn’t watch television and he told them as much.

They told him the story of the planned film crew excursion into the jungle. They told him about the cancellation of the television series. Charles was beginning to wonder why they were telling him about a television show, when they finally began to tell him the truth about what happened. Conner had taken his film crew and his team of survivalists into the rainforest. For ten days they had been in contact with the studio back home. They sent raw footage and communicated about unforeseen events and challenges. But all in all, for ten days the filming was going well. Then the communications stopped. The studio lost all contact with Conner’s team. Six days later one additional message was sent. It was from Conner and the contents of the message had been intercepted. When Charles asked what the message said, he was told after some small deliberation amongst the suits that the message was considered classified.

“So you want me to go find out what happened and see if your man is still alive.”

The third suit quickly interjected. “He’s not our man.”

“You’re not with the studio? It’s not your show?”

The three suits looked and each other and then turned to Charles. The first suit said, “No,” offering no further explanation.

Interesting, thought Charles. That was one twist he hadn’t expected.

“So it’s not a rescue?”

This time the second suit responded. “We don’t care if Conner is dead. In fact we rather prefer it.”

They were silent and let that last bit just linger in the air for a little while. Charles knew what it meant. He had heard that silence before. They were asking him to kill Conner, but they didn’t want to say it, as if not saying it made them somehow less culpable for what happened.

“So how many men have you sent in before you came to me?”

The question surprised the suits. Maybe they hadn’t thought anyone would ask that. Maybe no one before him had. Maybe the suits assumed Charles was as foolish as the rest of them.

Finally after a short private aside, the suits answered him.

“You’re number seven.”

“Seven individuals or seven teams?”

Again, they didn’t like that Charles had so many questions.

“Your team will be team number seven.”

“So you’ve had maybe thirty men all disappear and die on you?”

“Thirty-seven.”

“Thirty-seven. Plus Conner’s crew. And your solution is to send in another small team. Is this really your best solution?”

“You’re asking if we have thought of alternatives. Of course we have. They are not an option.”

“Okay. So I go in and kill anyone who’s left down there and cover up whatever it is that you want me to cover up. What’s to stop your jungle creature from killing me and my men?”

The first suit smiled. “That’s your responsibility.”

“And I’m guessing I can’t kill it.”

“We refuse to admit that there is something there, but if there is, we prefer you capture it if at all reasonably possible.”

“Reasonably possible. Of course.”

“I assume I’ll be provided with anything I require.”

“Of course,” said the first suit.

“Within reason,” interrupted the second.

They all three agreed, “Within reason.”

Bureaucrats, Charles chuckled to himself. It’s always unlimited, within reason, with no appreciation of what they’re asking me to do.

The suits waited and when they got tired of waiting for Charles to speak, they finally asked him what he intended to do.

Charles intended to take their money. That was what he intended to do. He also planned to do as little as possible to earn that money. If they were telling him this much it meant the job was ten times more dangerous than they were letting on. He would cover the tracks of everyone else that had gone down there and hide whatever evidence they wanted hidden, but certainly had no plans on traipsing off into the jungle to be killed by whatever mess they had created down there. He wasn’t about to head off on some suicide mission. Not that they needed to know that yet. He was a capitalist after all, as well as a survivor, but he was no fool.