Page 15 of Stream & Scream

CHAPTER TWELVE

Olivia

Saturday night.

I find them by following the sound of Lexie's voice.

She's complaining, naturally. Even here, even now, with people dying around us, she's bitching about the lighting conditions for her wrist camera like she's shooting a fucking music video instead of fighting for her life.

"This is absolutely unusable," she's saying to Tara. "Look at this footage. Look at it! I look like a corpse. My followers are going to think I'm dying."

The irony would be funny if it weren't so pathetic.

I crouch about twenty yards away, hidden behind a cluster of pine trees that provide perfect concealment while giving me a clear view of their campsite. I’ve been sitting here debating whether or not I should join them.

I can’t stop going back and forth. It could be me losing my mind out here.

I’m probably not thinking clearly considering everything I’ve seen in the last twenty-four hours.

Lack of sleep. Lack of food. Fear. It’s all adding up to one big cluster fuck inside my head.

The smarter part of me says I need to remain a lone wolf.

Being with others will only draw attention.

But the other part of me…

Makes me think being with others might be a good thing.

I’m almost certain I could outrun Lexie and Tara.

If The Hunter showed up, theoretically, I could trip one of them and take off into the woods while they’re scrambling to get back up.

They’d be the easy target. I’d take out Lexie first, then Tara later on when the time was right.

But an even smaller part of me knows he doesn’t want them.

He wants me.

Then again, these two haven't shown much evidence of functional brain cells since this nightmare began.

Tara sits across from Lexie, her hair catching the firelight as she nervously adjusts her own camera angle. "Maybe we should keep it down," she whispers, glancing toward the tree line. She's finally starting to understand that something is very wrong in these woods.

Too little, too late, but at least it's something.

"Keep it down?" Lexie's voice rises to near-shriek levels.

"Are you insane? This is for the fans, Tara. Fame. This is exactly what the people want to see. The more we do, the more airtime the producers will give us. Do you have any idea how many views this is getting? How many new followers I’m probably gaining right now? "

Views. Followers. Fame.

I watch her adjust her camera for better lighting and wonder if there's any scenario where natural selection could work fast enough to clean up this particularly poor gene pool.

"Lexie, seriously," Tara tries again, her voice tight. "Something's wrong here. This doesn’t feel right. I think I want to go home."

"It’s all fake," Lexie interrupts, rolling her eyes at her camera like Tara's the one being unreasonable. "God, you're so gullible. This is reality TV, honey. They’re not really going to let us die out here. Sure, they’ll rough us up a bit, but they won’t let anything actually happen to us."

She’s so fucking naive.

I want to grab her by her expensive fucking hair and drag her to where Maxine's body lays rotting in the woods and show her just how stupid she is.

Movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention.

The air shifts, taking on an electric charge that makes goosebumps pimple all over my body.

He emerges from the trees, watching them intently.

I've been expecting him but seeing him in person is still a shock. The array of tactical gear makes him look like something from a military nightmare. The mask hides his face, but his intent is clear as he steps into view.

Kill .

He moves with speed, positioning himself behind Lexie before she knows he’s there. The two girls are too busy arguing to notice him.

If I was a better person I’d warn them. I’d scream, throw rocks, do something that might give them a chance to run and hide, to survive the next few minutes. It would be the right thing to do, the human thing.

But I don't make a sound.

Because I want that prize money more than I want to see them live.

My thoughts should horrify me. But I’m too intrigued by The Hunter to care. He’s fucking terrifying, but that tactical gear and that mask…

I settle against the tree trunk, watching for what comes next.

Lexie is still talking into her camera, gesturing dramatically as she rambles.

His hand closes around her hair.

The movement is so fast, so sudden, that for a moment my brain can't process what I'm seeing. She's being yanked backward with enough force to lift her off the ground.

Her shriek cuts off abruptly as he tilts her head back, exposing her throat to the firelight. I recognize the angle is perfect—for the cameras, for the audience, for maximum visual impact. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Tara screams and scrambles backward, but she doesn't run. She’s frozen in place, crouching there with her mouth wide open, too shocked to move, too terrified to think.

The Hunter doesn't acknowledge Tara's terror. His entire focus is on Lexie, on the way she struggles in his grip, on the way her perfectly manicured hands claw uselessly at his tactical gloves.

It’s no use. He’s easily double her size and three times as strong as she is.

"Please," she gasps, and for the first time since I've known her, she’s not acting. "Please don't hurt me. I'll do anything you want?—"

He pulls a knife from his pocket, flipping the serrated edge open as he positions it carefully against her throat.

"Jesus," he says, his voice low and rough yet absolutely fucking captivating, "I thought you'd never shut the fuck up."

Then he drives the blade up through her chin.

The knife pierces soft tissue and bone with a squelching sound, bursting through the roof of her mouth and effectively severing her ability to speak, to scream, to do anything but gurgle blood.

Her eyes go wide with surprise. But I don’t think that look is entirely because of the pain. It’s like some part of her still can't believe this is happening and she’s confused as to why the director still hasn’t yelled "cut.”

But there is no next take. There's just blood spreading across her perfect features, running down her pierced chin to stain the stupid tracksuit.

The Hunter holds her there for a moment, supporting her weight as her body convulses and her nervous system shuts down.

It's horrible. Brutal.

My breath catches, my heart pounds, my thighs clench involuntarily as I watch him demonstrate just how powerful he is.

I'm sick. A monster disguised as a human.

But I can't look away.

Lexie's struggles slow, then stop entirely. Her hands fall to her sides, her legs stop kicking, and her eyes roll back to show nothing but white. The blood flow from her mouth slows to a trickle, then stops altogether as her heart stops.

The Hunter drops her body, letting it fall to the ground with a thud.

Tara finally finds her voice, releasing a scream that starts low and builds to a sound that probably carries for miles through the silent forest. She knows this is it. She won’t get away from him.

But she still tries.

She bolts into the trees, sprinting like her life depends on it, because her life does depend on it and she’s finally realized that.

I should run too, follow Tara's example and put as much distance as possible between myself and The Hunter while he’s distracted with her.

But I can't move.

Not because I'm paralyzed by fear, I realize.

I can't move because I don't want to miss what happens next.

The Hunter straightens slowly, wiping the blood from his knife on Lexie's tracksuit before sliding the weapon back into his pocket.

Then he turns toward where I’m hiding in the trees, making my heart stop entirely.

Even through the mask, I can feel his attention. It’s chilling. He’s chilling. He knows exactly where I am.

Heat pools low and hot in my stomach as I hold his dark gaze.

"Go on then, clickbait," he says, his voice carrying easily through the night air. "Show me how fast you can run."

Clickbait .

I'm not prey.

I'm entertainment to be savored slowly and carefully. Toyed with and made to do anything he wants.

Fire races through my veins at the thought of him playing with me.

"Run," he says again, and there's amusement in his voice now, anticipation.

So I run.

Partly from terror—my heart is pounding and my hands are shaking and my breath comes in short gasps that fog in the cold air around my face.

But I also run because he told me to run, because this is his game we're playing now.

The forest explodes into motion around me.

Branches whip across my face, roots catch my ankles, thorns tear at my tracksuit and the skin underneath as I sprint.

Behind me, I can hear him following. He's not even trying to catch me yet. This feels a lot like foreplay, the opening to what will be my demise.

The thought sends another wave of heat through me, making me lose focus and stumble over a fallen log, nearly crashing face-first into a tree trunk. My wrist camera bounces wildly, recording every clumsy movement for an audience who’s probably screaming for my death.

The forest streams past me in a kaleidoscope, every tree trunk and hanging branch another obstacle slowing me down. My lungs burn, my legs ache, my heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to escape the cage of my body.

But I keep running because stopping would feel a lot like surrender, and surrender feels like giving up in what is the darkest, most invigorating game I've ever been invited to play in.

Behind me, his footsteps maintain their steady rhythm. Not gaining ground, not falling behind, just matching my pace. He’s wearing me down, I realize.

I crash through a dense thicket and emerge into a small clearing, my vision suddenly blurred by hot tears.

I will survive this.

I will survive him .