THE CAPTURED

CHAPTER 3

Certainly not the overworked police detective who had taken down Allixon's information, then said there wasn't much he could do on a missing person report unless there was some evidence of foul play.

"Guys, guys, guys. The rule -- the only rule -- is that you are never to talk to the cameramen, never ever talk to them. Take them as a wind. A non-existent creature.”

Logan continued. “If you disobey this instruction, there will be serious consequences. We talk about the huge price here and the big exposure you surely want.”

The group exchanged a look, and a young woman raised her hand timidly.

"What kind of consequences?"

Logan fixed a piercing look in her direction. "And you are...? You look unfamiliar.”

"Miranda. Miranda Cole." She reminded Allixon of a Manga character, with her short, spiky hairstyle, big eyes, and her delicate, heart-shaped face. And pure white skin with freckles on her cheeks.”

"Well, Miranda, break this rule and you'll be off the show, sent home and forfeit the chance of winning the prize money." He paused while the group digested this information. It seemed to Allixon

that he was making rather a big deal about what would really be nothing more than an outtake that would never make the final edit. She wondered if

Seems like he didn’t state all the consequences.

Fishy smells are going around the conference room but no one’s noticed.

Gwenieth had disobeyed this prime directive and been thrown off the show before the taping had even really begun. Gwenieth's approach to rules had

always been to see how far she could bend them before they snapped.

Gwenieth, on the other hand, should be sent home if she breaks the rules. She, but she never sees her sister, not even a single shadow of her.

"Looks like everybodyclear on the rules?" Logan said, pausing for any additional comments and continuing when there were none.

“Fine. If you encounter a problem you should try to solve it yourself. Or enlist the help of one of your

fellow contestants." He looked around the room.

"Don't even bother asking where your zone of privacy is; you don't have one. Cameras are everywhere; you may pee on the grass, change clothes in the woods, and take a bath in the sea naked or not."

“And a friendly reminder.” Logan said with a smile on his face, “NEVER TRUST ANYONE. EVEN THE KINDEST CONTESTANT CAN MAKE YOU DROP.”

A few people murmured nervously, and his voice became more clipped.

"If any of you were introverts, you wouldn't have auditioned for a reality TV adventure, now would you? You've all seen these programs. The human

psyche is stripped bare, and the audience eats it up. This is not about naked body but prepared for that.”

There was a giggle. The girl who had introduced herself as Miranda spoke up

"How much else is going to be bare to your cameras, Mr. Logan?"

"Just call me Logan or maybe call me Damn Logan. I don’t care, I am open minded. The cameras will be on you 24-7. Of course, most of what goes on at the Island ends up on the cutting room floor. Rest assured, no one is interested in seeing you squat down in the woods and pee."

A quiet voice in the back of the room spoke up. "I think the young lady was really asking about sex."

Miranda giggled once again, her cheeks flushing slightly. In the room, there was more uneasy laughing.

"Yes, s*x, of course. I'm so glad you ask that question. Let's just get it all out on the table. Our audience expects to be titillated. In essence, they are peeping Toms, getting their weekly fix by looking through the electronic keyhole at all of you.

But would you accept seeing you naked? If not, we can kick your ass out of here now.” He said politely.

"They're watching for glimpses of you ladies in various states of undress, hoping to see some wet clothes clinging to your body as you walk through

the surf. You get the picture. And our female viewers are expecting to see ordinary men responding to extraordinary circumstances and flexing their muscles, preferably with their shirts off."

Allixon, who had chosen a seat strategically located near the center of the room, glanced around at her fellow applicants. She believed herself immune to people flexing muscles after years of working in and then managing a gym club. Yes, she was more flexible to her sister. Her body is more bent on survival than her sister's, who is more interested in acting.

Still, under other circumstances, there were a few men in the room she wouldn't mind seeing work up a bit of a sweat. She’s not afraid of them. She was hungry to know the truth.

"Remember," Logan continued, "you're the first of what I hope will be a long series of contestants on Reality Island, so we'll be experimenting a bit. The idea, though, is to use the typical TV drama series as my barometer for decency in broadcasting. Look, don't be too competitive at first since you also need to enjoy the show.”

The laughter that echoed across the room had become less jittery and more comfortable. Allixon, on the other hand, felt the strain in her gut tighten into a heated fist. Why does he claim that this is the first audition group? What happened to my sister, anyway?

By the time he began the final interviews, about half the candidates had started up conversations in small groups, while the rest remained apart, eying each other suspiciously, probably worried that some casual comment would be overheard and used to eliminate them. They all want the money, but Allixon only wants the truth to win. And she promises that if her sister vanishes because of the show, They will pay for it.

Allixon had come here hoping that by posing as a contestant she could get the director alone and question him about Gwenieth. But Logan's total denial that there even was an earlier taping had her heart pounding as she stepped into the small interview room. Suppose, once she revealed her real purpose, he continued to deny it, and demanded that she leave? She'd have nothing she could take to the authorities, and nowhere else to turn.

There was only one solution. If Logan wouldn't talk, then maybe someone else on the production staff would. But to find them, she had to get to Reality Island herself, and the only way to do that was by actually becoming a contestant.

She sat down in the chair and looked across the table at the director. She didn't try to hide either her nerves or her determination - she figured a little hint of desperation showing through the desire to be selected could work in her favor. He looked up from her application.

"Not a lot of information here."

She shrugged. "Not much to say."

She'd put a phony last name on the application, listed a reference in New York who would back her up, and written "fitness instructor" under

occupation.

"Where are you working now? I don't see it here."

"I'm sort of in between jobs right now." When he didn't comment, she continued, expanding on what she'd written on the application.

"I've been doing a little fill-in work teaching exercise classes. But what I really want to do is start my own business."

"Really." He paused.

“And you have the capital needed for a venture like that?"

"No. That's why I'm working at some clubs now, just trying to figure out what it's like out here, maybe lining up a financial backer. I don't want to spend the rest of my life working for other people."

He tapped his pen on the application a few moments and looked it over again.

"So, Allixon, why don't you tell me why you answered the ad?"

He seemed to be buying her statement about the health club, so she figured she could use that to convince him she'd be a competitive contestant if he chose her.

"Well," Allixon said, "it's not cheap starting a business. Even if I had the money to rent the space, I'd still need to buy equipment, pay for advertising. I'm tired of waiting, and the prize money on the show would go a long way toward the start-up funds I need. The exposure wouldn't hurt either.