Chapter 3: The Ophelia Plot Twist

The show announced the next stage.

“The survival challenge will last three days. Day one on the beach, day two through the forest, day three climbing to the volcano crater.”

The host’s voice was ominous, like we were about to enter The Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor, right?

“For all three days, the show will not provide food or water. You must fend for yourselves.”

I saw a couple of faces pale. This was about to get real. My heart skipped a beat—time to see who’s actually got grit.

“So now, you need to solve today’s food and shelter on the beach…”

I lent the fishing rod to Harrison. “Harrison, you can borrow the rod, but I want half of whatever you catch.”

He grinned and agreed. Gave me a mock salute, like a soldier heading to battle. I liked his style.

I lent the fruit knife to Mr. Carter. “Mr. Carter, you can borrow the knife, but I need twenty palm leaves.”

He smiled wryly—he had no tools, so he accepted. He muttered something about owing me big time, but I could see he was relieved.

Tyler gave me a thumbs-up. “What do you need me to do?” He was eager, maybe trying to prove himself after the fire challenge.

“I need you to dig a funnel-shaped pit in a low spot in the bushes. Use a stick—don’t hurt your hands.”

Maybe my earlier success gave him confidence, because he dug with extra enthusiasm. He went at it like a dog after a bone, sending sand flying. I had to laugh—he was really getting into the spirit.

Meanwhile, I tore open a pad, stuffed it inside a stocking, then put a garbage bag over the top, and attached my water bottle at the bottom. I got a few raised eyebrows from the crew, but I ignored them. Survival is all about improvisation.

When Tyler finished digging, I placed the bottle at the bottom of the pit and filled the garbage bag with damp soil. He wiped sweat from his brow, eyeing my contraption with a mix of awe and confusion.

Tyler was amazed. “What are you doing?”

“Filtering fresh water. The moisture in the soil will seep down due to gravity, and after passing through the cotton pad, we’ll get drinkable water. Give it two hours—my bottle will be full.”

He whistled. “That’s genius. I never would’ve thought of that.”

The live comments exploded—

Is this really the Autumn Sinclair I remember? She’s incredible!

I thought she was a noob, but she’s a pro.

I love her—instantly converted from hater to fan!

Even the haters were switching sides. I could almost feel the internet doing a collective double-take.

Harrison really is a tough guy—not just in movies, but in real life. He’s great at fishing. He dug up some shellfish for bait, then perched on a rock to fish, while Savannah made a sunshade from palm leaves. The two of them chatted and fished leisurely. It looked like a scene from a travel commercial, complete with golden sunlight and a gentle breeze. If only survival was always this glamorous.

I led Tyler along the beach. “What are we doing?”

“Collecting trash!”

He blinked, looking at me like I’d lost my mind. But he followed anyway.

Tyler looked exasperated. I explained, “The tides wash up all sorts of things. We need to make use of whatever we find.”

He nodded, finally getting it. “Beachcombing for survival. Got it.”

Sure enough, after walking past the sandy beach to the tidal flats, we found more and more useful items.

A shiny object caught my eye. I rushed over and dug it out of the mud.

“Yes! I found a treasure—a stainless steel plate.”

I held it up like a trophy, grinning for the camera. Tyler whooped in celebration.

It was about the size of a dinner plate, with about an inch-high rim—like the trays used in barbecue joints.

“With this, we can boil water and cook food.”

Tyler, not to be outdone, soon found a green beer bottle. “Autumn, is this glass bottle useful?”

“Very! If we find wild fruit, we can smash it, stuff it in the bottle, and use a stick to mash it into juice.”

He looked at the bottle like it was a golden ticket. “Survival smoothie bar, coming right up.”

Tyler’s eyes lit up. “Right! Juice is way better than filtered water.”

After we’d scavenged everything we could, we headed back to the beach.

I watched the sunset and the changing tides, then reminded Tyler, “Let’s get our plastic bags and go tide pooling.”

“Tide pooling?”

He looked confused, but eager to learn.

“When the tide goes out, lots of fish, shrimp, and shellfish get trapped in the shallows. That’s tonight’s dinner.”

His eyes went wide. “So we’re basically shopping for seafood, island style?”

Tyler was excited, grabbing his bag and running with me to the water’s edge.

We raced down the sand, the sky painted with streaks of orange and pink. The air was electric with possibility.

The sun set. The tide receded quickly, exposing rocks thirty yards out.

We ran barefoot, chasing the waves and collecting the ocean’s gifts.

The rocks were slippery, but the thrill of the hunt kept us moving. Every shell felt like a prize.

Tyler was thrilled. “Whoa, abalone and sea cucumber!”

He held them up for the camera, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

I focused on gathering razor clams and kelp. The abalone were tiny, not enough to fill us up, but there were plenty of razor clams—plentiful and filling.

I showed Tyler how to pry them out of the sand, and soon we had a bag full. Survival food never tasted so good.

Seeing us tide pooling, Mr. Carter and Bailey joined in with their bags.

Mr. Carter, ever the expert, instructed Bailey, “Follow the waves and be quick, or the critters will crawl back into the sea!”

He was surprisingly agile, darting from rock to rock. Bailey squealed every time she caught something.

After a wild collecting spree, dinner was secured.

Our bags were heavy with shellfish, seaweed, and a few lucky finds. We high-fived, proud of our haul.

Back at the meeting point, Harrison apologized. “The water’s too shallow—no fish.”

He looked genuinely disappointed, but I could tell he was itching to cook.

We showed off our bags. “We’ve got enough for all six of us.”

Savannah’s eyes sparkled. “You guys are lifesavers!”

Maybe feeling guilty, Harrison volunteered to cook.

He rolled up his sleeves, ready to take charge. Cooking was clearly his happy place.

I handed him the stainless steel plate—he’d definitely use it as a pan.

He nodded, already planning the menu in his head.

Tyler and I built a shelter with palm leaves. This time, Tyler showed off his geometry skills, making a triangular frame between two big rocks, then covering it with palm leaves for wind and rain protection.

He measured angles with a stick, explaining his process like he was on a home improvement show. I just let him have his moment.

“Don’t forget to lay dry leaves on the ground,” I reminded him.

He was confused. “Wouldn’t sleeping on the sand be more comfortable?”

I shook my head. “Nope. The beach sand is too salty—it’ll dehydrate you. You could wake up tomorrow with heatstroke.”

He looked at the sand, then at me, and nodded. “Good call. I’ll get the leaves.”

Tyler gave me a thumbs-up. “Good thing I’m teamed with you.”

He meant it. I could see the relief on his face.

As dusk fell, he hurried off to gather dry leaves.

He came back with armfuls, humming a tune. I started to think maybe he was enjoying this.

I went to see how Harrison was handling the seafood.

He built two stone stoves—one to boil abalone and sea cucumber in the steel plate, the other to grill razor clams and scallops on a kelp-lined hot stone.

The smell was mouthwatering. Even the crew was sneaking glances at our feast.

Just as everyone was watching Harrison show off his cooking skills, a loud scream came from the bushes.

“Help! I got bitten by a snake!”

The shout cut through the night like a siren. We all froze, then bolted toward the sound.

Everyone rushed into the bushes.

Branches whipped at my face, but adrenaline kept me moving. I could hear Tyler groaning.

Tyler was clutching his leg, a clear bite mark bleeding on his calf.

His face was pale, sweat beading on his brow. He looked like he was about to pass out.

Mr. Carter froze, then calmly pulled out a tourniquet from the first aid kit, explaining as he worked, “Tie the tourniquet above the wound to stop the venom from spreading, then try to force the blood out.”

He worked quickly, his hands steady. I could tell he’d done this before—maybe too many action movies.

Bailey tried to show off for the camera. “Let me suck out the venom!”

She leaned in dramatically, but Mr. Carter blocked her.

Mr. Carter quickly stopped her. “No—if you have a mouth sore, you’ll get poisoned too.”

He gave her a stern look, and she backed off, pouting.

Savannah was frantic. “What do we do now?”

She was wringing her hands, eyes wide with panic.

Mr. Carter pursed his lips. “There are two options: call the crew to rush him to the hospital for antivenom, or cauterize the wound to destroy the venom proteins.”

He looked at me and Harrison, waiting for a decision.

Tyler was sweating, knowing the hospital might not be fast enough, and cauterizing would hurt like hell.

He gritted his teeth. “There’s a lighter in my pocket.”

His voice was shaky, but determined. I admired his guts.

Mr. Carter hesitated and looked at Harrison.

Harrison nodded firmly. “Let me do it—I can handle the tough jobs.”

He took the lighter, ready to do what needed to be done.

Just as he flicked the lighter—

“Wait! No need to burn it. That snake’s not venomous!” I shouted.

Everyone, including the cameraman, was stunned.

They stared at me like I’d grown a second head. I pointed at the bite, trying to keep my voice calm.

I walked over and pointed at the wound. “Venomous snakes usually have triangular heads and two big fangs. This bite has two rows of small teeth—classic non-venomous, like a python or a grass or water snake.”

I could see the relief flood Tyler’s face. The others just looked confused.

Tyler’s face instantly regained color. “You scared me to death.”

He let out a shaky laugh, clutching his leg.

I added, “Still needs treatment. Hang on.”

I glanced at the camera, then dashed into the bushes—even the cameraman couldn’t keep up.

A few minutes later, I emerged holding some wild fruit in one hand and a fat snake in the other.

Savannah and Bailey screamed and jumped back.

Bailey nearly climbed up a palm tree. I grinned, holding up the snake for everyone to see.

I laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s just a harmless grass snake—and it’s nice and plump.”

I wiggled it for effect, and even the camera guy stepped back.

Mr. Carter looked exasperated—so much drama for nothing.

He shook his head, but I could see a smile tugging at his lips.

No one else dared touch the snake, so I held onto it and handed the thumb-sized yellow fruit to Harrison.

“Harrison, could you squeeze the juice onto Tyler’s wound?”

He looked skeptical. “Will that help?”

I nodded. “Yep. Tannins in astringent fruit neutralize snake venom proteins. If you don’t have fruit, dandelions work too.”

He shrugged, then squeezed the juice onto Tyler’s leg. Tyler winced, but the color was coming back to his face.

Everyone stared at me in disbelief.

Mr. Carter asked, “How do you know all this?”

I shrugged. “It’s on the Discovery Channel. Don’t you guys watch TV?”

I gave them my best deadpan look, and even the crew cracked up.

Everyone: “…”

The silence was golden.

After treating the wound, Mr. Carter bandaged it up nicely with a bow.

He tied it off with a flourish, like he was wrapping a present. Tyler gave him a grateful nod.

With Harrison’s help, Tyler limped back to camp.

I asked Mr. Carter for the fruit knife, then, in front of everyone, butchered the snake—removing the gallbladder, skinning it, and cutting the meat into pieces.

I moved quickly, hands steady. The others watched in horrified fascination.

The butchering wasn’t shown live—the camera just caught my back as I methodically cut up the meat.

The comments exploded—

Is this really the delicate Autumn Sinclair? She looks like a badass!

She’s so cool catching and butchering a snake. I take back everything I said about her being fake.

I boiled the snake meat, then grilled it on the stone. The aroma wafted everywhere—even the cameraman was drooling.

I caught him licking his lips, trying to look professional.

Harrison was the first to try it, licking his fingers. “Tender, juicy, delicious!”

He gave me a thumbs-up, then went back for seconds.

Mr. Carter chimed in, “Don’t be squeamish—it’s good for your health.”

He winked at Bailey, who finally dared to try a bite.

Everyone dug in, going from cautious nibbles to a full-on feast.

Soon, the snake was gone. Even Savannah admitted it tasted like chicken.

After wild game and seafood, we were finally full.

It was the best meal I’d had in ages, and the mood around the fire was lighter than ever.

Night fell.

The stars came out, bright and sharp, and the sound of waves mixed with the crackle of the fire. For a moment, I almost forgot we were being filmed.

We sat around the campfire, under the moon and stars, listening to the sea breeze.

The air was soft and cool, and someone started humming a tune. For once, everyone was relaxed—no drama, just the simple comfort of being alive. I closed my eyes, soaking it in.

But this is still a reality show, so of course the producers had something up their sleeve.

A crew member appeared out of the darkness, holding a megaphone like he was about to announce the lottery numbers.

“Now, it’s time for the talent show! Each team will perform for the camera, and viewers will vote. The winning team gets a tent, second place gets sleeping bags, third gets emergency blankets.”

I know about emergency blankets—they’re silver, as thin as two tissues, but keep you warm and dry. If you only get that, it’s going to be a rough night. Trust me, I’ve used them before on climbing trips. You feel like a baked potato in foil.

Each team huddled up.

We whispered ideas, trying to come up with something—anything—that wouldn’t embarrass us.

Harrison and Savannah did a song-and-dance routine—Savannah sang while Harrison danced, and the comments were flooded with “legend!” They looked like they’d rehearsed for weeks. The audience loved it, and even I had to admit it was impressive.

Mr. Carter and Bailey did a dramatic recitation of “The Road Not Taken.” Their popularity got them plenty of support. Bailey put on her best stage voice, and Mr. Carter delivered every line like he was up for an Oscar. The comments were full of hearts and applause.

Tyler and I just stared at each other. Looked like we were doomed. He scratched his head, glancing at his bandaged leg. I could see the wheels turning, but nothing was clicking.

Tyler could sing and dance, but with his snake bite, dancing was out. As for me… let’s just say I’m hopeless at both. Tyler knew it too, and was scratching his head in despair.

He sighed, looking at me with puppy-dog eyes. “Got any hidden talents?”

After a while, he muttered, “Should we just forfeit?”

No way—if there’s a tent up for grabs, I’m going for it!

I squared my shoulders, determined not to freeze my butt off tonight.

“Hey, I can try acting cute for the camera. Maybe someone will like it.”

I shrugged, already bracing for the cringe.

Tyler facepalmed. “Go ahead. Whatever happens, I’ll accept it.”

He slumped next to me, ready for whatever disaster was coming.

I stood up, took a deep breath, and forced a smile at the camera.

I tried to channel every viral TikTok challenge I’d ever seen, hoping for a miracle.

“Hi, everyone. Since Tyler got bitten by a snake, we can’t sing or dance. So, how about I do some one-handed push-ups?”

I dropped to the sand, counted out ten perfect reps, and popped back up. My arms burned, but the adrenaline kept me going.

The other guests’ jaws dropped.

The production crew was stunned.

The livestream audience was speechless—

Whoever called Autumn Sinclair a delicate Ophelia, she’s stronger than me!

Sister Sinclair is all business—no nonsense.

She really is a breath of fresh air in the industry.

The votes came in, and somehow, our team won first place.

Tyler whooped and did a little victory dance, snake bite and all. I couldn’t help but laugh.

Mr. Carter’s team came in last, again.

He took it in stride, joking about being cursed on reality TV.