The Most Dangerous Game

Chapter 10 Susan Enters the Forest

Susan glanced at the GPS—thirty minutes to Vickers Forest. Every few minutes, she toggled to Facebook, thumbing through posts to see if that brat had posted an update. She was driving, sure, but who cared? She’d lived through worse.

Fifteen minutes left. Her jaw clenched. Her gums tingled. She was salivating. What the hell does that uppity, faggoty YouTuber have that I don’t? she thought. A million followers? A million-dollar smile? She spat out the window. Fuck him.

She pulled past a trailhead parking lot and clocked the black Tesla. Figures. One of the dumbasses must’ve left it behind. Susan kept driving until she found a quieter turnoff up north. The forest yawned open in front of her—feral, wet, and pulsing with unseen eyes. She parked. Killed the engine. Took a breath.

She opened the bed of the truck. Her gear was packed tight. A twelve-gauge shotgun. A box of shells. Her son’s old army-green backpack filled with MREs, a compass, a rain poncho, and a bottle of OFF! bug spray with half the label peeled off.

With care, she slid shells into the slit of the shotgun like feeding a pet. Click. Clack. Click. “Eat up, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Mommy’s got a million-dollar problem to solve.”

Locked and loaded, she took her first step into the woods. No more rent. No more bitter coffee. No more goddamn Facebook. She’d trade all of it for one clean shot.

Let the hunt begin.