The Most Dangerous Game
Chapter 12 Greg's Nightmare
Greg woke up in a hotel room at night. Only light came in from the bottom of the door. The A.C. must have gone out because the room felt humid. The blankets stuck to Greg’s skin. His underwear was developing a serious swamp crotch. He threw off the covers in frustration but didn’t realize someone lay next to him — a woman.
She lay on her side, shirtless, completely exposed. In fact, she didn’t even have underwear on, and Greg could see the crack of her ass peeking from the sheet he had kicked off. Her butt was huge. It curved like an upside-down heart. The shape was so smooth it looked sculpted. She had a sinewy, muscular back. Smooth skin — the kind that demanded to be touched. A bundle of blonde hair spilled over the pillow.
His mouth watering, Greg crawled toward this fine feminine specimen. He wrapped his arm around her waist, running his hand over her skin, which felt like the top of a polished piano. He didn’t care. He let his hand slip between her thighs.
She quivered like harp strings. He moved the hair from her face and kissed what he couldn’t yet see. She was wet — but was it from him or the humidity? He didn’t know. She didn’t moan. Oh well, Greg thought, not everyone could be pleased. That’s not the point.
Greg kissed her mouth — but recoiled. Her lips were dry. And something moved on his tongue. He spat into his hand.
A maggot.
Its white body squirmed against his palm.
Panicked, Greg looked at his other hand — also crawling with maggots. He swept the blonde hair from her face and saw her skin teeming with them, snow-white and writhing.
He gagged.
More maggots covered the sheets. Then — a gasp.
She was alive. Barely. She struggled to breathe, suffocating under the swarm.
Her breath turned to a screech. A high-pitched, splitting scream that filled his skull. A banshee cry. Greg’s ears throbbed. His arms erupted in gooseflesh.
He jolted awake.
Tree bark pressed into his cheek. But the scream hadn’t stopped.
He looked around — it was Sean.
Sean was slapping at his body and shrieking. “What the fuck happened?” Greg shouted, scrambling upright.
“Maggots, bro!” Sean screamed. “They were on me. I think one got in my fucking mouth!”
Greg stood, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “We’ll find another spot tomorrow night,” he muttered.
“I wanna get the fuck out of here,” Sean said, breathing hard.
Greg’s tone sharpened. “We can’t leave. We’re shooting this video, and I need y’all.”
Sean snapped back, “Then just bring a tripod. You don’t need us.”
“It’s your job to catch me in the fucking action,” Greg shot back, stepping closer. “Especially if you want your own channel to keep growing. Would be a shame if I posted a video about our little secret.”
Sean’s eyes widened. His breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what Greg had — the texts? The bloopers? The wrong footage? Whatever it was, something Greg said stirred something in him. Something he’d buried since they started working together:
Hatred.
“Now,” Greg barked, “turn the fucking camera on.”
Sean reached into his bag, pulled out the camera, and hit record.
Instantly, Greg transformed.
“Day 2, baby,” he announced with a dazzling grin. “We didn’t bring much food due to logistical errors. But that’s why we’re gonna fish today and show you how to make a fire. Happy hunting.”
Click. Recording stopped. Mask off.
Greg clapped once. “Let’s get fish for breakfast.”
Sean didn’t respond. Just followed — a prisoner of content.
A few feet away, Greg knelt beside the black Starlink case, flipped it open, and powered it up. Once connected, he opened his banking app.
$38.40.
He stared. Jaw tight. Lips drawn.
Fuck.
He had promised a million dollars to whoever found him. He didn’t even have enough for lunch.
He stood there in the dirt, still and blank. This video couldn’t just be good. It had to hit like lightning. Viral. Addictive. Unmissable. He needed the algorithm to lift him out of the mud and into something legendary.
He wasn’t just out here to catch fish.
He was out here to catch a whale.
Just as he stood up, Sean cleared his throat. “Hey, when you’re done with the Starlink, mind if I use it for a sec?”
Greg turned to him slowly, as if the question were offensive. “What for?”
Sean shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just wanna check something real quick. Won’t take long.”
Greg stared at him for a long second. Then scoffed. “Make it fast.”
He walked away, muttering something under his breath.
Sean waited until he was out of sight. His fingers hovered over the screen. Then he pulled up a contact marked “R” and started typing.
