Pt 2

The clock on the dressing table told Elizabeth she had just under thirty minutes to be ready and down at the dock. Like the rest of the crew, she has flown to the nearest city to the Dolcett Islands the day before and spent the night there. A small chartered boat would be taking them the rest of the way. She sat and dried her thick red hair with the hair-dryer, a towel wrapped around her chest and barely falling lower than her hips. Not that it mattered much now, of course.

Once her hair was dry, she rubbed a little moisturiser on her skin like she did after every shower and applied a little antiperspirant. It was a strange feeling, preparing to meet a group of people to whom she was going to be given as food but this is what she had agreed to after all!

She wrangled her impressive breasts into a sturdy bra, lamenting that she had been unable to wear anything cute and lacy since she was fifteen, and pulled on her panties. Her outfit had been chosen to be camera-friendly as well as comfortable of course, since the whole journey would form part of the eventual documentary, so it consisted of tight khaki shorts, a button-down shirt designed to be tied at the front revealing her midriff and long socks under hiking boots. All she needed, she giggled to herself as she looked in the mirror, was one of those funny hats and she’d look just like an explorer out of a 1950s comic strip! Although, she realised, that was probably the point as they often seemed to end up in a cannibal’s pot!

The pretty young redhead had no idea how she would be cooked, assuming they even accepted her which she somehow felt sure that they would, and that idea was very exciting. Her boss had taught her a few key words and phrases in the language of the islanders but she was far from fluent. Not that it really mattered as she was sure nobody expected meat to be especially chatty!

After one final glance around the room to check she’d not forgotten anything, Elizabeth slung her bag over her shoulder and headed down to the lobby where she found a few of the camera and sound crew milling around. They seemed happy to see her and gave a friendly wave. She went to join them and a few minutes later, her boss emerged from the elevator and greeted them all in the warm, fatherly voice that he was known for. Each carrying a couple of bags, the small party headed out and down to the dock where the rest of the crew were waiting with the heavier equipment. It was not long before the boat arrived and they were all helped safely aboard.

The view was lovely as they made the three-hour crossing to the island but Elizabeth felt restless. It was not her impending death that bothered her, she had made her peace with that long ago and was rather looking forward to it, but rather it was the strange feeling of having nothing to do. As an intern, she was used to having to run around after everyone else, making notes, fetching coffee, running this or that errand on demand but on this journey she had no role. She had come along as, essentially, a prop and, as such, had no jobs other than to look pretty and eventually get eaten!

Eventually, the boat docked and all the equipment was unloaded. A young man, clearly more comfortable with mainlanders than many of his fellows and wearing a pair of shorts was standing ready to greet them. He and the famous documentarian exchanged shallow bows then shook hands, clearly having met before. He worked his way around the crew and introduced himself in almost perfect English spoken, to Elizabeth’s amusement, with a slight American accent as if he had learned it mostly from TV.