In the Tasmanian bush contestants battle it out to win $250,000. Six contestants compete. Only five finish.
In Bass Strait the Blue Gazelle yacht tackles fierce winds, high waves and a phantom vessel in its race to win the Tattersall Cup. A terrifying race and an absence of culprits.
In London a fashion designer learns about a Belarussian scientist possibly involved with a deadly technology.
In Hobart a search party is launched for a missing sailor.
At the centre of the investigations are two feisty sleuths, Galina Ivanov and Charlotte Harmon, looking for clues which could save their partners and stop the spread of a devastating weapon.
Can they find them before all hope is lost?
In the Tasmanian bush contestants battle it out to win $250,000. Six contestants compete. Only five finish.
In Bass Strait the Blue Gazelle yacht tackles fierce winds, high waves and a phantom vessel in its race to win the Tattersall Cup. A terrifying race and an absence of culprits.
In London a fashion designer learns about a Belarussian scientist possibly involved with a deadly technology.
In Hobart a search party is launched for a missing sailor.
At the centre of the investigations are two feisty sleuths, Galina Ivanov and Charlotte Harmon, looking for clues which could save their partners and stop the spread of a devastating weapon.
Can they find them before all hope is lost?
Miranda’s screams were peeling paint from the walls of the birthing suite at St Christophers in London, or so Mason thought, while Scott’s cries to hold tight could barely be heard above the thunder and lightning, as the yacht dipped and tilted in the ever-growing maelstrom in the stretch of water that separates Tasmania from mainland Australian. But it was the Tasmanian devil’s manic screeches, in the deep bush of Western Tasmania, that were the most chilling of all, sounding like someone crying out from the dead.
One hundred days earlier
Brisbane, 15 September
‘Are you sure mate?’ Scott asked, as Seb scuffed the ground in front of him with his toe. ‘You’re taking a mighty big risk. It’s highly unlikely you’ll make it back in time for the yacht race briefing on the twentieth of December.’
‘I’ve done my research and most contestants are out after forty days. In rare circumstances they make it through to sixty. I’m sure I’ll be done by eighty, giving me twenty days to rest and recover before I need to turn up. This is a doddle. The chance to win $250,000 can’t be ignored, Scott. I’ve gotta do it.’
‘If you’re not back by the twentieth we’ll get someone else. That’s as long as we can wait.’
‘Understood.’
Alone Day 1
There was commotion at the coordination point. It was easy to spot the other contestants by their nervous laughter and scruffy backpacks. Seb suspected that by the time the competition was over there’d be a change in relationships, maybe not exactly friends per se, but perhaps more comrades, having shared a common, crappy experience.
‘Over here. Come on. Gather round.’ The tall, wiry man with an English accent was treating them as if they were chickens. His business shirt and jacket were incongruous in this bush setting, as was his silver name badge with the words ‘Nelson Farnsworthy’ engraved in a serious font. Seb looked at him wryly, then his eyes flickered across to an enchanting, impossibly-thin woman with gravity-defying, jet-black, spiked hair. Each strand seemed to exude untamed energy, reflecting a wild spirit. Her porcelain skin was adorned with vivid tattoos depicting slithering snakes. They were intertwined around her arms and travelled up her neck, suggesting a dangerous nature. Their sinuous forms seemed to come alive as she moved. He was fascinated. Clasped between her fingers was a cigarette she’d rolled herself. The smouldering tip seemed to illuminate her features, casting a haze around her, like a veil of rebellion. The curious punk looked back at him, observing his sleeve of green and blue peacock tattoos. and gave the barest of approving smiles.
‘OK,’ continued Farnsworthy, ‘this is what will happen. First, you’ll have a medical. If you pass, you’ll undertake the orientation test to ensure you’ve the physical stamina and wherewithal to be in the bush, by yourself. Finally, you’ll be asked a number of questions to give us a sense of your psychological disposition. It’s a bit like the Hunger Games, in that only six of the twenty here will be selected. Any questions?’ No one said a thing as their eyes darted around their competitors. ‘Good.’
For two hours, the twenty participants lifted, pushed and grunted their way through a series of physically demanding obstacles, which also tested their mental limits. After one hour, six contenders had called it a day, one weeping unconsolably as they left. Three sustained injuries, including a twisted ankle, bruised tailbone and a broken nose, which were considered too serious to allow the contestant to be left unaccompanied in the bush. Two others started fighting when one accidentally kicked the other in the head as they crawled through a mud trench. And one person passed out after the ice bath.
The final stage was the psychological assessment, which resulted in the removal of a further two candidates. Questions asked included:
Who are you?
What are your strengths?
What are you most afraid of in the bush?
How do you relax?
Why have you entered this competition?
Sebastian listened intently to the other surviving candidates’ responses.
Archie: ‘Twenty years of age. Jackaroo from the Northern Territory, from Dagoman land. I’m not a great talker. More than a little nervous. My strengths? Well, my history, my culture. I have bush skills, although in drier situations than here. And I know how to avoid trouble. To relax, I spend time in the bush, on country. I entered this competition, well, because I have the time – and because of the money.’
Janelle or Nellie as she quickly introduced herself: ‘Forty-six. Retired captain from the military after losing half a leg in Afghanistan’. (She tapped her leg as if to prove that what she’d said was true). ‘After what I’ve been through, this should be a cake walk. And a chance to recharge. I don’t know what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. Maybe I’ll figure it out here. My strengths – I’ve been in plenty of tough situations and survived. What am I afraid of? Snakes generally and the poisonous varieties particularly.’ (She was staring at the wiry female competitor standing opposite as she made this remark). ‘I know they’re not that interested in humans, but I wish I was staying in a tent lined with gauze. I relax by spending time with friends. I’ve entered this competition as I’ve time on my hands and need to figure out what I’ll do next, you know, with my life. Winning will give me options and bags of confidence. I’m well placed to survive in the bush given my time in more hostile places.’Â
Raj: ‘Sixty-five. Chef. Retired chef. My children have all married and moved away and my wife has returned to Mumbai to visit her sister. I’ve no one to cook for. I think this is a wonderful opportunity for meditation and a little bit of intermittent fasting.’
Valda: ‘Thirty. I’m Irish originally and now an Aussie citizen. I’ve taken unpaid leave from work as an environmental officer as I’m on the other side of a bloody, messy divorce. I know how to find edible foods in the wilderness so won’t starve. I’ve entered because I’ve just lost half my assets.’
Galina-Elizabeta Ivanof. ‘Thirty-six. You are unlikely to remember my name so you can call me Betty. My mother is Estonian, my father was Australian. He died. What are my strengths?’ She spat on the ground. ‘I’ve killed a bear. Does that count? Yes, the bear was protected but my dog was not. I’ve spent many nights in the forest in Estonia. I think that will be useful. There are few things that frighten me. To relax I smoke. When I can’t smoke, I play the drums. I’ve entered this game because, well, why not?’
Seb was enchanted. Confident. Tough as nails. She’d have no trouble surviving in the bush except perhaps for the not smoking.
And then Seb introduced himself.
Seb: ‘Thirty-two. Part-time sailor, part-time adventure tour operator – until the business went bust during COVID. Originally from New Zealand but my accent has faded given the twenty years I’ve been here. My strengths – I’m pretty good at catching fish. Most afraid of? Hoping not to bump into a grumpy tassie devil. I relax by going fishing or playing drums – and never at the same time.’ (Everyone laughed). ‘I’ve come here cause I’ve a hundred days free until my next job, and winning this Robinson Crusoe experience would set me up nicely, thank you very much.’
‘Very well,’ Farnsworthy said. ‘Here are the rules of the competition.
•  Your tracker must be kept on your wrist at all times.
•  You must film for at least five hours each day, and no footage can be deleted
•  No killing of bandicoots, Tasmanian devils, platypuses or eastern quolls. Avoid killing any snake, even the poisonous ones, unless your life is threatened.
•  Position timelapse and motion-activated cameras next to any traps, to prove no protected species have been injured.
•  Do not travel further than one kilometre from your point of arrival. This will make it easier for us to extract you if necessary.
•  Do not attempt to make contact with other contestants. Doing so will result in immediate disqualification.
•  There will be periodic medical checks. If our doctor believes you are at risk from malnutrition or psychological distress, you will be extracted. No negotiation.
•  When you want to leave, call and say I’m tapping out.
•  You are not allowed to speak to anyone about your experience in the bush unless permission is given. All stories and media attention will be owned and managed by Channel 13.
•  All contestants will attend the wrap up session in Hobart, most likely in January, where the winner will receive their cheque. This will be a live broadcast event.’  Â
‘Now. Backpack inspection.’
Two of his staff, dressed anonymously in blue jeans and black Channel-13-branded t-shirts approached the finalists. All backpacks were upturned and inspected to ensure nothing beyond the minimum specified clothing and first aid kit would be taken into the wilderness. Three chocolate bars were removed from Valda’s inside jacket pocket, while a dozen cigarettes were found inside a false tube of toothpaste in Galina’s toilet bag. Valda kicked the dirt, keeping her eyes low while Galina shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.
‘Now, gather round. You’ve the opportunity to select a further ten items. These will support your comfort and safety, so choose wisely.’
Seb was surprised and a little delighted when Galina stood beside him in the circle surrounding the cache of camping and hunting tools. Each contestant in turn was asked which ten items they would take with them. Galina selected the following:
1. knife with belt carrier
2. lighter
3. water container
4. blanket
5. sleeping bag
6. cooking pot
7. head lamp
8. tarp
9. snare wire
10.  paracord (rope)
Seb’s selection was much the same, except he took an axe instead of paracord, a saw instead of a small blanket (he was curious at her choice here), and a fishing line and hooks instead of snare wire.
‘Good,’ she said softly. Seb shook his head, and wondered at the meaning of her remark.
As they carried their chattels to the water’s edge, where two boats were waiting to transport the contestants to their Alone location, Galina whispered to him, ‘They’re lazy. There’s no way we’ll be far apart. They’ve been too insistent in saying we are a long way from each other, which means they’re lying. We can help each other, OK?’
Seb nodded. ‘But we have trackers to wear, all the time,’ he whispered.
‘No talking,’ Farnsworthy growled. Galina raised her eyebrows, looked at Seb and mouthed ‘easy’. Seb realised that together they’d have a wider selection of survival tools than if they were on their own. The thought of being in the wild with someone who seemed more than a little wild themselves, intrigued him.
One by one the contestants were transported by boat to their respective sites on the water’s edge. Seb had googled maps of the area prior to departure and knew it was vast, dense and largely uninhabited by humans. There were no roads, with transportation by boat or helicopter the only options. Given the time between the departure of the boat with a contestant and their return it seemed clear that Galina’s assumptions were correct. The contestants’ locations could not be that far away from each other. But distance of course was only one measure. The denseness of the terrain could mean that it was difficult to move far by foot and then they could be located, on opposite sides of the water way, without a boat.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon when the boat left Seb on the muddy shore of a large inlet. It was a forbidding location, surrounded by high mountains, with thick bushland behind him and a large lake in front, where many trees had died, a testament to the damming of the river at some point in the past. Still, he reasoned, he had plenty of fresh water, there was good tree canopy coverage and he still had four hours of daylight left to make a basic dwelling. This was his priority.
He chopped down a dozen saplings, and created a square structure. Given the time of year he knew there was potential for torrential rain, so building a shelter off the ground was critical. As the light was fading, he was pleased he’d created a framework with a tarp top. It was basic but it’d do for a first night’s accommodation. He was already hungry and decided to try fishing. Scavenging through nearby foliage he found a cricket and threw out a line between two dead trees, crossing his fingers he’d have early success. Just as the kindling ignited in his fireplace, a splash sent Seb rushing for the shoreline. There was something on his line. It was impossible to pull the fish in, as it had done a runner, looping several times around a dead tree. He shoved his tongue into his cheek and considered his options.
Option 1. Strip and swim out to the tree to untangle the line and grab the fish. The water was cold, dark and decidedly uninviting. Still, there was unlikely to be anything nefarious in there. Not like swimming in the ocean with the prospect of sharks.
Option 2. Do nothing. He wasn’t that hungry, yet. The fish might still be there in the morning, significantly weaker after a night spent trying to escape. Easier to catch. But a larger fish might have eaten it by then.
Seb chose the harder option. Indeed, this was unlikely to be the most daunting thing he’d have to do if he was to outlast everyone else. He considered the safety of a night swim, stripped down to his socks and jocks and grabbed the camera.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said awkwardly, facing the camera in what would be the first of many video diary entries. ‘Just about to go for a dip to get my dinner. Thought I should film the retrieval, just in case something goes amiss, and I disappear without a trace.’ Seb chuckled nervously and walked tentatively into the water, the headlamp revealing a moonscape-like surface in the shallows. At waist deep, he sank into the water and slowly breast stroked out to the dead tree. Reaching down to find the fishing line, his hand stroked something soft and unfamiliar. Seb swore as a frightened platypus broke the surface of the water and swam away. Calming his breathing, he again reached down for the fishing line. It was knotted around a branch. Holding his breath, he sank below the water surface, untangled the knot and gently pulled the fish toward him. Resistance from the fish was low with a bite mark near the caudal fin revealing just how close Seb had come to losing his dinner. He roared with delight as he emerged from the water, holding the medium-sized trout high, disturbing two wallabies that could be heard thumping away through the bush.
Galina
Galina surveyed her surroundings. It would do. In fact, it would do very well. She moved her pack and camera equipment to higher ground and immediately scanned for a tree suitable for the first night’s sleep. An old eucalyptus with three thick branches would be ideal. Using the rope and blanket she created a hammock high enough in the tree to avoid any grumpy Tasmanian devils or the slithering, ground-dwelling serpents that would shortly emerge from winter hibernation. Having established the first night’s accommodation, she scanned the area in search of scats from pademelons or possums. A game trail was identified and she mentally listed what would be required to set a trap the next day. A fireplace was built and lit near a large rock that served as a perfect seat. She sighed, sat down and removed her boots. Pulling out her knife, she dislodged the heel from her left boot, revealing a stash of cigarettes. She sighed as she took her first drag. Using the knife on the right boot, she extracted a plastic bag of beef jerky. Dinner was ready.
Valda
Valda was excited and exhausted as she moved her camera equipment to a small clearing close to the water. This wasn’t an ideal location, with widow-maker tree branches in evidence in nearby towering gums. A circumnavigation of the area identified two nestling boulders that would provide shelter from the wind. Looking skyward, she assessed that there was little chance of rain, so this would be an adequate campsite for the first night. She moved her pack and equipment and created two fires, one on each side of her sleeping bag. It felt safer. The air was crisp, carrying the earthy scent of dried leaves, rich soil and the faint aroma of Huon pines. Snuggling down, she smiled as she listened to the crackling of the fire, the gentle rustling of leaves and the night cries of currently unidentified nocturnal marsupials.
Raj
Raj was in good spirits as he watched the bubbling stream, close by to where he’d been deposited. There was a large flat rock sitting on top of a group of smaller round rocks, whose shape had been developed by years of fast-flowing water. It’d probably flood during a downpour, so he’d need to camp on higher ground. However, when the sun was out it would be the most perfect spot for fishing and meditating. He set up his camera, sat on the flat rock and declared that he had arrived in paradise.
Janelle
Nellie’s first impressions were positive. Amidst the dense, untamed wilderness of the bush, the sun’s rays filtered through the thick canopy, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of eucalyptus. The former army captain stood at the edge of a small clearing, gazing intently into the vast expanse of grey and green. With her binoculars fine-tuned, she scanned the area, ever vigilant for signs of danger or potential resources. A bees nest was spotted and the location recorded in her notebook.
The dense foliage and unfamiliar terrain presented a challenge, but she remained focused and was able to identify natural mint that she could use for tea. Delighted, she shoved a handful of leaves in the top pocket of her dark green, camo-coloured shirt. Moving further into the bush she identified a venomous snake, coiled on a sunny spot on a log. It moved off before she needed to retreat. The hum of insects filled the air. She sighed and smiled, pleased that she had managed her first encounter well. Several minutes later she discovered a small stream winding through the undergrowth. She knelt beside it, cupping her hands in the cool water to wash her face but resisted the urge to taste it. It was too risky. All water needed to be boiled, particularly given the increasing presence of animal tracks. She drew a rough map of the area in her notepad and returned to where she’d left the camera equipment and her belongings to establish a temporary camp. With the fireplace flaring, she boiled water in the cooking pot, made mint tea and turned on her camera.
‘Campsite established, serpent avoided and first food source identified. It’s a bees’ nest so extraction will have challenges but I’m confident these can be overcome. Additionally, I’ve discovered a mint bush so am enjoying a soothing beverage before I settle down for the night. Nothing else of consequence to report.’
Archie
Archie loved the feel of the mushy ground under his bare feet.
‘I’d wear shoes if I were you,’ the black-t-shirt-clad assistant called out as he pushed the motorboat back out into deeper water. Archie waved and ran into the bush, eager to explore this place that he knew he’d come to know intimately. Using the bushcraft skills his grandfather had taught him, he located several bush tomato plants. A dozen of the ripest fruit were selected. He smiled as he listened to the melodious call of the black currawong. Several dusky robins, darting around lower tree branches, were a sign that insects were present. Pausing to listen for the distinctive sound as they rubbed their leathery front wings together, he identified and pocketed a dozen crickets. With enough snacks in hand, he returned to an area, not far from the water’s edge where a tree had landed between the fork of another. He knew it was a perfect site for making a humpy, a traditional shelter used by his ancestors.
Archie cleared the ground of debris and spent the next hour gathering long, sturdy branches, flexible vines, and bundles of tall grass. Branches were arranged in a circular shape around the fallen tree, forming the foundation of the humpy while the vines were threaded around the branches, binding them together. Tall grass then filled the gaps between the branches, providing insulation and a natural camouflage.
Archie threaded two of the crickets on fishing hooks, cast out and tied the lines to a dead tree. Maybe there’d be fish for breakfast? He wasn’t worried. He already had a backup plan based on the scats he’d observed. Roasted cricket was one of his favourite meals and he knew that there’d be spectators, high in nearby trees, now that darkness had fallen. The bush tomatoes were sitting on a flat rock that served as a plate. He ate them one at a time between each crunchy cricket. When the fire died down, he moved into his humpy, leaving four tomatoes on the plate, wondering how long it would take for them to disappear into the night.
If you've watched "Survivor" on TV, you will be immediately drawn in by this book. Starting off as a survival type story that is being filmed for television, the story takes us to the almost mundane lives of people next . Then you are put into a spy type story where there are high stakes and an almost murder of someone who becomes an inportant asset for goverments, and finally finished off with a happy type ending.
I enjoyed reading this story with the unusal title, and the story was well developed and brought to a conclussion. It's by no means perfect, but it is an enjoyable read for those who like adventure/mystery type genres. It starts of as a "survivor" type book and follows the lives of six contestants that vie for a prize. After the event is almost over, it then jumps to the lives of normal people and their ongoings. After that we go a bit more into the mystery part and get a happy ending for our characters.
While I intitially enjoyed the "diary" type of entries that served as chapters, it got a bit boring at some point. The lull in between was fine, but where I felt there were some plot holes is where the mystery/spy stuff came in. It's not too glaring, but I did notice it. The ending felt a bit abrupt, but was still satisfactory. The mystery was solved too quickly. The action was mild, but was done well enough to keep me reading. At no point did I feel scared, but I was compelled enough to keep moving forward with the story.
Overall I would recommend the book to anyone that likes adventure and mystery type genres. The characters were all developed well enough, but maybe if the writer dove a little more into the psyche of some of them, it would have created more conflict. It's not a bad book by any means, but it's not a "can't put it down" type of book either. It's more of a relaxed type of read on a rainy Sunday afternoon - worth your time, and money if you are into this type of genre.