Twenty Days

 

Tara

 

Dear Tara,

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Congratulations! Your application for the inaugural Millionaire Scavenger Hunt has been accepted. The winning team will be awarded $6 million.

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To accept your position, please forward your $200,000 entry fee within 72 hours of receiving this email.

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The hunt will take place in a secret location. Please arrive at Tullamarine Airport at 9am on 6 April, at which time we will text you further instructions.

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Thank you for your interest and good luck.

 

I stood in the airport terminal reading the email for the hundredth time. When I’d received the invitation a month ago, I thoroughly investigated the details. $200,000 was a lot to invest in something that could be a lie. The money for our entry fees was held in a trust fund, and a prominent law firm held the deed for that fund. The organisation running the hunt was legitimate. Once I knew everything was above board, I had no hesitation in entering.

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I had no idea where I was going or how long my flight would be, so I wore comfy tracky dacks and a loose t-shirt. It wasn’t 9am yet. There were still two long minutes before the text would arrive. I folded the printed email and put it in my backpack. Excitement rushed through me like it had when I’d received the acceptance letter. Two hundred thousand dollars was a big risk and the thought I might lose all that money gave me a headache if I thought about it for too long. But the invitation said I could win a minimum of one million dollars. What I could do with that money outweighed the risk for me. I could run my foundation for at least five years.

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But it wasn’t just the money. I felt called to join the hunt. It was everything a scavenger hunt meant to me.

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For the past few years, life had been flat. Losing Zac changed everything. My ability to trust in life and love diminished. After Zac died, I had gotten close to someone, once. Only once. I learnt my lesson about what fate thought about life and love.

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As I went through the motions of the life I’d made for myself, every day was just like every other day. I needed to feel something, anything. The thrill of the hunt could fill that empty space. It could make me live in the moment.

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The crowd bustled around me. Any of these people could be one of my partners. The middle-aged Asian man speaking Mandarin, the most widely spoken language on the planet, would be a bonus. The old grey-haired man, getting help with his computerised check-in, could bring years of knowledge. Excited chatting beside me drew my attention to a girl in her late teens. She was animated in both voice and body language. Her enthusiasm could help drive a team. Everyone here could be of benefit and offer strength and talent. But none more than my brother Zac would have.

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A scavenger hunt would have excited Zac, more than anything.

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Memories were precious, but I needed to concentrate on the game at hand. I looked back around at the crowd. Back at the people I’d noticed earlier. What could their weaknesses be? The point of looking at weaknesses was not to be negative, but to see how others could prop them up. The man who spoke fluent Mandarin was dressed in an impeccable suit. Perhaps he was not accustomed to working outside the office environment. The old man though, his hands looked like they had seen many a day of hard work. He could help the other man adjust. That same old man who has trouble with technology could learn from the teen. And in turn, they could both settle her flightiness. Winning was about teamwork.

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I scanned the crowd further. There was a group of guys standing together laughing, joking around. If it wasn’t the first half of the year, I’d think they were from a football club and heading off for Mad Monday. Their distraction, their complete and utter manliness, would not make them good team members. It would be hard work keeping even one of them in line.

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My phone beeped, bringing me out of my reverie.

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Welcome to the game, Tara. Your ticket is attached. Please board flight 3692 to Sydney. When you arrive, a driver will take you to Hotel Cosmos to meet your partner.

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Partner. Not partners. That meant the prize would be split between two of us. I thought about what three million dollars would mean. I would use it to help vulnerable young Australians avoid Zac’s fate. It would allow me to honour the memory of the brother I loved dearly and lost too soon.