Tammy slaton forehead

Season 2 Finale
“You look worried Bruce,” my producer jokes, moments before going live. “Even for you.”
This gets a chuckle from the crew.
“Quiet on the set!”
I’m already shaking in my shoes. Not a good sign. Working for the Devil is extremely stressful. And dangerous. And certainly not for the faint of heart. Why I took this gig is beyond me.
(Cue creepy music)
“Going live in five…four…three…”
I get the nod.
(Cut to camera one)
“Greetings Hell Beings and hell raisers. Welcome to the Season 2 finale of….”
(Cue the audience)
“LET’S MAKE A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL.”
I wave my arms in the air.
The audience jumps to their feet.
Someone heckles.
“Alright. Knock it off.”
I serve up my best game show-host grin. It looks as fake as this cheap Hollywood studio.
“As you probably know, my name is Bruce Davie, and I’m the host of…”
(Cue audience)
“LET’S MAKE A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL.”
There’s a disturbance in the audience. A crew member forcefully removes someone. The commotion settles, and I get the go-ahead.
“Phew! A feisty crowd tonight!”
My painted-on smile takes up the entire screen. So does my gleaming bald head.
“Now I know what you’re thinking. What’s the Devil got in store for us this evening?”
The audience rumbles.
I shrug.
“Honestly, I wish I knew!”
This is true. But I’m sure it has something to do with me spending an eternity in Hell. It’s right there in my contract, which runs out after this episode.
(Cut to camera two)
“So, without further ado, let’s bring out tonight’s contestants, shall we?”
The audience roars.
“And yes, you heard me correctly. Tonight, for the first time ever in this show’s defamatory history, we’ve got two contestants!”
Audience is on their feet, whooping and hollering.
(Cut to camera three)
(Cue music)
A middle-aged couple promenade towards the podium. They’re dressed like cowboys, and walk with a sense of purpose.
(Split screen)
“Welcome, both of you.”
More like: Welcome to your funeral.
“Tell us a wee bit about yourselves, why don’t you?”
(Cut to camera four)
The woman speaks first. Her hair is amber, her complexion as pale as light beer.
“Well, Bruce. My name is Tammy. I’m a stay-at-home mom. This here’s my partner, Tex. He owns his own gun shop. We live in Austin Texas, with three beautiful children, who are with us here tonight.”
She points.
(Cut to overhead camera)
Two tall boys and a young girl, each dressed head-to-toe in denim, stand and bow.
The audience applauds.
(Split screen)
The other contestant approaches the microphone. He’s as tall as an ivory tower, with a voice like a banjo.
“Howdy Bruce. Good to be here.”
He tilts his cowboy hat. His square jaw and rugged good looks give Chuck Norris a run for his money.
I salute them.
(Cut to camera two)
“Well then, now that we’re finished with the formalities, I do believe it’s time to…”
(Cue audience)
“BRING OUT THE DEVIL.”
(Cue creepy music)
(Cue pyrotechnics)
The stage fills with fire and brimstone. Pentagrams slice through the air. The Devil appears suddenly, dressed in a shiny new devil suit, tailored specifically for tonight’s show. It’s jet-black, and leaves little to the imagination. His pitchforked tail follows closely behind him as he approaches the podium.
(Cut to Camera five)
The Devil wraps his arms around the two contestants, kisses them both on the cheek.
Tex, clearly perturbed, winces, then grudgingly wipes his cheek.
The Devil snarls, then looks him up and down.
“Looks like everything isn’t bigger in Texas,” the Devil teases. Suddenly, he’s grown over eight-feet tall, and is looming over the tall Texan.
(Cut to camera three)
The bright lights and furious makeup make me look like a cartoon.
“What an exciting night this promises to be!”
Tammy steps forward.
“You bet it is, Bruce. We’ve watched every episode. We just love…”
(Cue the audience)
“LET’S MAKE A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL.”
(Cut to camera three)
“Of course!” Damion boasts. “This is Hell’s most popular show. And for good reason.”
He slaps the woman’s backside with his tail, then raises his eyebrows mockingly.
The cowboy puffs out his chest, fists clenched, daring him to touch his wife again.
“Woah, easy there pardner.”
Damion nudges Tex.
Tammy is flushed. “Don’t mind Tex. He’s the jealous kind.”
“Oh really?”
Damion’s tail is now shaped like a lasso. With it, he snags Tammy and pulls her close. Her face turns tomato-red.
The cowboy grunts, pulling it off with one strong swoop.
The audience boos.
The Devil snickers.
I feel sick. If this is to be my last episode (or final day on Earth), I don’t want it spoiled by this denim-clad dude whose hat is bigger than his brains, or by Damion, who seems extra feisty tonight. Even for him.
(Cut to camera one)
I clear my throat.
“Tell us, Tammy and Tex…no, tell all of Hell…what it is your beating hearts desire?”
The audience is on the edge of their seats.
(Split screen)
The Texans exchange doubtful looks.
The wife takes charge.
“Well Bruce,” Tammy says. “We don’t want anything that might get us killed. Being from Dallas, we were raised with some common sense.”
The audience hisses.
(Cut to camera five)
The husband steps up.
“That’s right, Bruce. Simply put, we want to be famous for a day. That’s it. Then we can write a book and live off the royalties.”
The audience erupts into a frenzy of catcalls.
(Cut to camera three)
The Devil’s eyebrows touch the top of his head. His voice slithers like a snake.
“Is that so?”
My heart plummets. These Texans are flirting with disaster. If they’d stuck to the script, they might be safe. They were supposed to ask for a lifetime’s supply of Super Bowl tickets. Easy-peasy. Who do these cowpokes think they are? Do they really think they can outsmart the Devil?
“Well then,” I say, shakily. “I’m sure Damion can arrange that.”
I raise my arms.
“What does the audience think?”
The audience goes ballistic.
(Cut to camera three)
The Devil, still towering over the Texans, leans into the camera.
“Famous, eh?”
His lips smack against his face. When he touches the dude’s shoulder, the cowboy swipes his arm away.
The audience boos. Someone tosses an egg onto the podium, narrowly missing the contestants.
“Woah! Easy does it!” I spurt out.
All hell breaks loose.
(Cut to overhead camera)
The crew gets busy, disposing of both the egg and the agitator.
(Cut to camera one)
I wipe my sweaty forehead.
“Tough crowd.”
The audience hoots.
The Devil sneers.
“SILENCE!”
Flames flash across the room.
People shriek, including me.
(Close up of Damion)
The Devil, boasting his gambler’s grin, turns to the contestants.
“Yes, yes. You WILL be famous. But just for one day.”
The audience roars their approval.
I shudder. Never in all my years, have I felt so much animosity from an audience. I’ll be lucky to make it out alive.
(Split screen)
“Sounds like the Devil has a plan.”
I try to sound cheerful. But cheerfulness is the opposite of how I feel.
(Cut to camera one)
“Tell us Damion…and all of Hell…what you’ve got cooked up?”
The audience leans in.
(Cut to camera three)
The Devil winks at Tammy.
“Well, I do believe it’s time for those two cowpokes to become famous. Am I correct?”
The audience jumps to their feet, chanting: “FAMOUS.… FAMOUS…. FAMOUS.…”
(Split screen)
Tammy looks pleased. Her partner, on the other hand, is showing concern. His shoulders are tense, he’s swallowed his bottom lip.
Damion dazzles the audience.
“Famous, y’all shall be.”
He snaps his fingers.
BAM.
The studio goes dark.
Someone in the audience screams.
Tammy gasps.
Tex grunts.
(Cut to camera one)
I shrug.
Is this Damion’s latest trick? Or did they finally cut the power? We give the impression that this show is hugely popular; but in truth, outside of Hell, this show is a dud. Cable and internet companies avoid us like the plague.
(Cut to overhead camera)
The contestants vanish under a cloud of fog.
A flaming pentagram floats across the stage.
“Well, isn’t that just dandy!”
The Devil points to the large screen behind the audience.
“Mister and Missus Cowpoke are about to jump the falls!”
He snaps his fingers, then he disappears.
My legs go weak. My heart is beating irregularly again. I still don’t know he does it. How any of this works. Suddenly, I’m alone on stage, shaking in my fine Italian boots, while the audience grows rowdier by the second.
Cameras mounted on drones are pointed at Tammy and Tex, who are trapped inside a large, steel barrel, with Niagara Falls looming below them.
Damion flies across the falls, lands next to Tammy and Tex. He taps the barrel.
“Ain’t she a beauty?”
The audience hurrahs.
The barrel is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Although it’s huge, and probably weighs a ton, it barely contains the two Texans, who are kicking and screaming, cursing up a storm.
“Get me the hell out of here!” Tammy’s voice rips through the noise of the falls. “NOW!”
Damion frowns.
“You wanted to be famous. Am I right?”
The audience chants, “FAMOUS…. FAMOUS.… FAMOUS….”
Tex pokes his head out of the barrel, cowboy hat and all.
“Now wait one minute, Damion. That’s unfair. We wanted fame. Not death.”
The Devil chuckles.
“The two are synonymous, am I right?”
The audience agrees.
Damion checks his watch.
“Well then…”
He slams the lid shut.
That’s the end of the Texans, as far as I’m concerned.
(Close up of Damion)
“Whatcha think? Should they jump the falls?”
The audience shouts, “JUMP…. JUMP…. JUMP….”
(Cut to camera two)
My insides are melting. I’m petrified. You’d think working with the Devil would get easier over time. You’d be dead wrong.
“Looks like the people have spoken!” I hear myself say.
The audience continues their chant.
(Cut to overhead camera)
“Excellent,” Damion says, fiddling his fingers.
He looks over the cliff, and makes a sour face.
“Wowsers. That’s a long way down!”
“JUMP…. JUMP…. JUMP….”
“And so much water!”
(Cut to camera one)
My worried-sick face appears on the screen.
I straighten up.
“Once they jump, Tam and Tex will surely be famous!”
Except of course, they won’t be famous. Not in this world anyways. They’ve been duped. Why these people sign up to die is beyond me. Perhaps we’ve reached a spectacular level of stupidity in human evolution.
(Cut to overhead camera)
Damion’s lips stretch across his reddened face, his arms flex like a weightlifter.
“I’ll give them a helping hand.”
He rolls the giant barrel to the very edge of the cliff, ignoring the banging and hollering coming from within the steel coffin.
“Tammy, Tex…” His lips stretch into a snarl. “Prepare for fame!”
The audience is on their feet.
Damion shoves the barrel over the edge.
(Split screen)
The barrel tumbles down the falls, disappearing into the fast-moving water.
The audience holds its breath.
(Cut to spy camera)
Inside the barrel, the Texans are shrieking. Their heads and arms and legs collide. Chunks of puke pour across Tammy’s sickening face, who’s calling Tex every name in the book, and it’s a big book. Meanwhile, Tex is like a frog in a blender. His face is green, his nose is broken; blood is leaking from every orifice.
There’s a loud crash as the barrel plunders underwater.
(Cut to overhead camera)
The barrel resurfaces, traveling dangerously downstream.
The audience is back on their feet, fist-pumping.
(Split screen)
What troubles me is how the pedestrians and tourists, crowding the streets, remain oblivious. To them, this is nothing out of the ordinary. Nobody watches, or even takes a pic. I’m starting to suspect foul play. Somehow, Damion is controlling this. He’s using dark magic. A spell. Maybe none of this is real. Except of course, it is real.
(Cut to camera one)
I’m trembling.
“What a jump!” my voice ricochets off the studio walls. “They’ll be famous in no time!”
The audience chants:
“FAMOUS…. FAMOUS…. FAMOUS….”
(Closeup of the Devil)
“Yes, yes. An excellent jump, I must say.”
He peaks over the edge.
“Looks like they could use some help.”
(Cut to overhead camera)
Damion flies towards the barrel, which is bouncing off rocks and debris.
(Cut to spy camera)
Blood. So much blood in such a tight space. Tammy’s hair is in disarray. Her face is beyond repair. Tex swallowed his hat. One of his eyeballs is bouncing like a Superball. His left arm is flapping nonsensically. It isn’t attached.
(Cut to camera four)
The Devil scoops up the barrel, then flies to shore. When his feet touch the ground, he shakes off the water, cat-like, then glares at the camera.
“What a jump!”
He cranks open the lip.
(Split screen)
Tammy spills out. So does Tex’s left arm.
The audience gasps.
Damion applauds.
“Such valor and swagger!”
(Cut to camera five)
Tammy is flopping fish-like, barely clinging to life. Her mouth is full of blood and brains.
The Devil puts his foot on her head.
“SAY CHEESE.”
From out of nowhere, a photographer appears.
SNAP.
Damion, looking pleased with himself, is suddenly holding a newspaper.
(Closeup of newspaper)
The headline splashes across the screen: IDIOTS JUMP THE FALLS.
(Cut to camera four)
Damion shoves the newspaper in front of her face.
“Looks like Tammy and Tex are famous.”
Tammy's eyes twitch. Clearly, she needs medical assistance. I’m surprised she’s still alive. Her husbands brains are splattered across the inside of the barrel.
The very sight of this makes me gag.
Tammy tries to speak, but fails. Her eyes are filled with rage.
Damion tosses the leftover arm into the water, then shrugs.
“Sorry about your hubby.”
(Cut to camera two)
With wobbly knees, I face the audience.
“Looks like the barrel got the best of Tex!”
The audience bellows.
I continue to talk involuntarily.
“Gosh dolly. Look at all that blood!”
“MORE BLOOD…. MORE BLOOD…. MORE BLOOD….”
I find myself chanting along.
Suddenly, my vision blurs. I clutch my chest. Maybe I’ll suffer a heart attack on live TV. Hell waits for no one, I suppose.
(Cut to camera four)
Tammy spits blood on Damion’s boot.
“Devil be damned.” I blurt.
Damion’s face twists into a ball of fury.
“Now, now, Tammy. That wasn’t very nice.”
He crushes her fingers with his boots.
Tammy yelps.
“I was gonna save your long-limbed partner over there,” he points. “Not anymore!”
The audience is bloodthirsty. Paper airplanes and rotten eggs whizz past me. I duck just in time.
(Closeup of contestant)
Tammy’s tongue is leaking from her bloodied face. She’s missing her front teeth. Damion digs his spiky heel deep into her blood-soaked abdomen.
“I reckon you’ll need medical assistance.”
He snaps his fingers.
Suddenly, they're back in the studio.
Damion is as happy as a filthy pig. Next to him is Tammy, who’s caked in blood and gore. Her corpse-of-a-husband spills from the gigantic steel barrel, taking center stage.
(Cut to overhead camera)
The contestant’s children rush the stage. They’re delirious.
The crew hurry out and drag them aside, along with Tammy, who's rushed to the hospital, where she will certainly die.
“Now that’s what I call speedy service!”
My voice appalls me. So does this job. If only I’d listened to my mother, and got into politics.
Damion snaps his finger, then disappears under a plume of dusty smoke.
(Cut to camera one)
“Well, there you have it folks. That’s the last you’ll see of Tammy and Tex. But fret not, they had their moment of fame…in Hell!”
The audience is tossing trash onto the stage.
I narrowly dodge a projectile.
“Hope you’ve enjoyed Season Two as much as I did.”
I hated it.
“And, unless the Devil strikes me down,” and he very-well might, “I hope to see you this Fall, for Season Three of…”
(Cue the audience)
“LET’S MAKE A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL.”
Season Two
Season One

Season 2 Finale
“You look worried Bruce,” my producer jokes, moments before going live. “Even for you.”
This gets a chuckle from the crew.
“Quiet on the set!”
I’m already shaking in my shoes. Not a good sign. Working for the Devil is extremely stressful. And dangerous. And certainly not for the faint of heart. Why I took this gig is beyond me.
(Cue creepy music)
“Going live in five…four…three…”
I get the nod.
(Cut to camera one)
“Greetings Hell Beings and hell raisers. Welcome to the Season 2 finale of….”
(Cue the audience)
“LET’S MAKE A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL.”
I wave my arms in the air.
The audience jumps to their feet.
Someone heckles.
“Alright. Knock it off.”
I serve up my best game show-host grin. It looks as fake as this cheap Hollywood studio.
“As you probably know, my name is Bruce Davie, and I’m the host of…”
(Cue audience)
“LET’S MAKE A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL.”
There’s a disturbance in the audience. A crew member forcefully removes someone. The commotion settles, and I get the go-ahead.
“Phew! A feisty crowd tonight!”
My painted-on smile takes up the entire screen. So does my gleaming bald head.
“Now I know what you’re thinking. What’s the Devil got in store for us this evening?”
The audience rumbles.
I shrug.
“Honestly, I wish I knew!”
This is true. But I’m sure it has something to do with me spending an eternity in Hell. It’s right there in my contract, which runs out after this episode.
(Cut to camera two)
“So, without further ado, let’s bring out tonight’s contestants, shall we?”
The audience roars.
“And yes, you heard me correctly. Tonight, for the first time ever in this show’s defamatory history, we’ve got two contestants!”
Audience is on their feet, whooping and hollering.
(Cut to camera three)
(Cue music)
A middle-aged couple promenade towards the podium. They’re dressed like cowboys, and walk with a sense of purpose.
(Split screen)
“Welcome, both of you.”
More like: Welcome to your funeral.
“Tell us a wee bit about yourselves, why don’t you?”
(Cut to camera four)
The woman speaks first. Her hair is amber, her complexion as pale as light beer.
“Well, Bruce. My name is Tammy. I’m a stay-at-home mom. This here’s my partner, Tex. He owns his own gun shop. We live in Austin Texas, with three beautiful children, who are with us here tonight.”
She points.
(Cut to overhead camera)
Two tall boys and a young girl, each dressed head-to-toe in denim, stand and bow.
The audience applauds.
(Split screen)
The other contestant approaches the microphone. He’s as tall as an ivory tower, with a voice like a banjo.
“Howdy Bruce. Good to be here.”
He tilts his cowboy hat. His square jaw and rugged good looks give Chuck Norris a run for his money.
I salute them.
(Cut to camera two)
“Well then, now that we’re finished with the formalities, I do believe it’s time to…”
(Cue audience)
“BRING OUT THE DEVIL.”
(Cue creepy music)
(Cue pyrotechnics)
The stage fills with fire and brimstone. Pentagrams slice through the air. The Devil appears suddenly, dressed in a shiny new devil suit, tailored specifically for tonight’s show. It’s jet-black, and leaves little to the imagination. His pitchforked tail follows closely behind him as he approaches the podium.
(Cut to Camera five)
The Devil wraps his arms around the two contestants, kisses them both on the cheek.
Tex, clearly perturbed, winces, then grudgingly wipes his cheek.
The Devil snarls, then looks him up and down.
“Looks like everything isn’t bigger in Texas,” the Devil teases. Suddenly, he’s grown over eight-feet tall, and is looming over the tall Texan.
(Cut to camera three)
The bright lights and furious makeup make me look like a cartoon.
“What an exciting night this promises to be!”
Tammy steps forward.
“You bet it is, Bruce. We’ve watched every episode. We just love…”
(Cue the audience)
“LET’S MAKE A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL.”
(Cut to camera three)
“Of course!” Damion boasts. “This is Hell’s most popular show. And for good reason.”
He slaps the woman’s backside with his tail, then raises his eyebrows mockingly. The cowboy puffs out his chest, fists clenched, daring him to touch his wife again.
“Woah, easy there pardner.”
Damion nudges Tex.
Tammy is flushed. “Don’t mind Tex. He’s the jealous kind.”
“Oh really?”
Damion’s tail is now shaped like a lasso. With it, he snags Tammy and pulls her close. Her face turns tomato-red.
The cowboy grunts, pulling it off with one strong swoop.
The audience boos.
The Devil snickers.
I feel sick. If this is to be my last episode (or final day on Earth), I don’t want it spoiled by this denim-clad dude whose hat is bigger than his brains, or by Damion, who seems extra feisty tonight. Even for him.
(Cut to camera one)
I clear my throat.
“Tell us, Tammy and Tex…no, tell all of Hell…what it is your beating hearts desire?”
The audience is on the edge of their seats.
(Split screen)
The Texans exchange doubtful looks.
The wife takes charge.
“Well Bruce,” Tammy says. “We don’t want anything that might get us killed. Being from Dallas, we were raised with some common sense.”
The audience hisses.
(Cut to camera five)
The husband steps up.
“That’s right, Bruce. Simply put, we want to be famous for a day. That’s it. Then we can write a book and live off the royalties.”
The audience erupts into a frenzy of catcalls.
(Cut to camera three)
The Devil’s eyebrows touch the top of his head. His voice slithers like a snake.
“Is that so?”
My heart plummets. These Texans are flirting with disaster. If they’d stuck to the script, they might be safe. They were supposed to ask for a lifetime’s supply of Super Bowl tickets. Easy-peasy. Who do these cowpokes think they are? Do they really think they can outsmart the Devil?
“Well then,” I say, shakily. “I’m sure Damion can arrange that.”
I raise my arms.
“What does the audience think?”
The audience goes ballistic.
(Cut to camera three)
The Devil, still towering over the Texans, leans into the camera.
“Famous, eh?”
His lips smack against his face. When he touches the dude’s shoulder, the cowboy swipes his arm away.
The audience boos. Someone tosses an egg onto the podium, narrowly missing the contestants.
“Woah! Easy does it!” I spurt out.
All hell breaks loose.
(Cut to overhead camera)
The crew gets busy, disposing of both the egg and the agitator.
(Cut to camera one)
I wipe my sweaty forehead.
“Tough crowd.”
The audience hoots.
The Devil sneers.
“SILENCE!”
Flames flash across the room.
People shriek, including me.
(Close up of Damion)
The Devil, boasting his gambler’s grin, turns to the contestants.
“Yes, yes. You WILL be famous. But just for one day.”
The audience roars their approval.
I shudder. Never in all my years, have I felt so much animosity from an audience. I’ll be lucky to make it out alive.
(Split screen)
“Sounds like the Devil has a plan.”
I try to sound cheerful. But cheerfulness is the opposite of how I feel.
(Cut to camera one)
“Tell us Damion…and all of Hell…what you’ve got cooked up?”
The audience leans in.
(Cut to camera three)
The Devil winks at Tammy.
“Well, I do believe it’s time for those two cowpokes to become famous. Am I correct?”
The audience jumps to their feet, chanting: “FAMOUS.… FAMOUS…. FAMOUS.…”
(Split screen)
Tammy looks pleased. Her partner, on the other hand, is showing concern. His shoulders are tense, he’s swallowed his bottom lip.
Damion dazzles the audience.
“Famous, y’all shall be.”
He snaps his fingers.
BAM.
The studio goes dark.
Someone in the audience screams.
Tammy gasps.
Tex grunts.
(Cut to camera one)
I shrug.
Is this Damion’s latest trick? Or did they finally cut the power? We give the impression that this show is hugely popular; but in truth, outside of Hell, this show is a dud. Cable and internet companies avoid us like the plague.
(Cut to overhead camera)
The contestants vanish under a cloud of fog.
A flaming pentagram floats across the stage.
“Well, isn’t that just dandy!”
The Devil points to the large screen behind the audience.
“Mister and Missus Cowpoke are about to jump the falls!”
He snaps his fingers, then he disappears.
My legs go weak. My heart is beating irregularly again. I still don’t know he does it. How any of this works. Suddenly, I’m alone on stage, shaking in my fine Italian boots, while the audience grows rowdier by the second.
Cameras mounted on drones are pointed at Tammy and Tex, who are trapped inside a large, steel barrel, with Niagara Falls looming below them.
Damion flies across the falls, lands next to Tammy and Tex.
He taps the barrel.
“Ain’t she a beauty?”
The audience hurrahs.
The barrel is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Although it’s huge, and probably weighs a ton, it barely contains the two Texans, who are kicking and screaming, cursing up a storm.
“Get me the hell out of here!” Tammy’s voice rips through the noise of the falls. “NOW!”
Damion frowns.
“You wanted to be famous. Am I right?”
The audience chants, “FAMOUS…. FAMOUS.… FAMOUS….”
Tex pokes his head out of the barrel, cowboy hat and all.
“Now wait one minute, Damion. That’s unfair. We wanted fame. Not death.”
The Devil chuckles.
“The two are synonymous, am I right?”
The audience agrees.
Damion checks his watch.
“Well then...”
He slams the lid shut.
That’s the end of the Texans, as far as I’m concerned.
(Close up of Damion)
“Whatcha think? Should they jump the falls?”
The audience shouts, “JUMP…. JUMP…. JUMP….”
(Cut to camera two)
My insides are melting. I’m petrified. You’d think working with the Devil would get easier over time. You’d be dead wrong.
“Looks like the people have spoken!” I hear myself say.
The audience continues their chant.
(Cut to overhead camera)
“Excellent,” Damion says, fiddling his fingers.
He looks over the cliff, and makes a sour face.
“Wowsers. That’s a long way down!”
“JUMP…. JUMP…. JUMP....”
“And so much water!”
(Cut to camera one)
My worried-sick face appears on the screen.
I straighten up.
“Once they jump, Tam and Tex will surely be famous!”
Except of course, they won’t be famous. Not in this world anyways. They’ve been duped. Why these people sign up to die is beyond me. Perhaps we’ve reached a spectacular level of stupidity in human evolution.
(Cut to overhead camera)
Damion’s lips stretch across his reddened face, his arms flex like a weightlifter.
“I’ll give them a helping hand.”
He rolls the giant barrel to the very edge of the cliff, ignoring the banging and hollering coming from within the steel coffin.
“Tammy, Tex…” His lips stretch into a snarl. “Prepare for fame!”
The audience is on their feet.
Damion shoves the barrel over the edge.
(Split screen)
The barrel tumbles down the falls, disappearing into the fast-moving water.
The audience holds its breath.
(Cut to spy camera)
Inside the barrel, the Texans are shrieking. Their heads and arms and legs collide. Chunks of puke pour across Tammy’s sickening face, who’s calling Tex every name in the book, and it’s a big book. Meanwhile, Tex is like a frog in a blender. His face is green, his nose is broken; blood is leaking from every orifice.
There’s a loud crash as the barrel plunders underwater.
(Cut to overhead camera)
The barrel resurfaces, traveling dangerously downstream.
The audience is back on their feet, fist-pumping.
(Split screen)
What troubles me is how the pedestrians and tourists, crowding the streets, remain oblivious. To them, this is nothing out of the ordinary. Nobody watches, or even takes a pic. I’m starting to suspect foul play. Somehow, Damion is controlling this. He’s using dark magic. A spell. Maybe none of this is real. Except of course, it is real.
(Cut to camera one)
I’m trembling.
“What a jump!” my voice ricochets off the studio walls. “They’ll be famous in no time!”
The audience chants:
“FAMOUS…. FAMOUS…. FAMOUS….”
(Closeup of the Devil)
“Yes, yes. An excellent jump, I must say.”
He peaks over the edge.
“Looks like they could use some help.”
(Cut to overhead camera)
Damion flies towards the barrel, which is bouncing off rocks and debris.
(Cut to spy camera)
Blood. So much blood in such a tight space. Tammy’s hair is in disarray. Her face is beyond repair. Tex swallowed his hat. One of his eyeballs is bouncing like a Superball. His left arm is flapping nonsensically. It isn’t attached.
(Cut to camera four)
The Devil scoops up the barrel, then flies to shore. When his feet touch the ground, he shakes off the water, cat-like, then glares at the camera.
“What a jump!”
He cranks open the lip.
(Split screen)
Tammy spills out. So does Tex’s left arm.
The audience gasps.
Damion applauds.
“Such valor and swagger!”
(Cut to camera five)
Tammy is flopping fish-like, barely clinging to life. Her mouth is full of blood and brains.
The Devil puts his foot on her head.
“SAY CHEESE.”
From out of nowhere, a photographer appears.
SNAP.
Damion, looking pleased with himself, is suddenly holding a newspaper.
(Closeup of newspaper)
The headline splashes across the screen: IDIOTS JUMP THE FALLS.
(Cut to camera four)
Damion shoves the newspaper in front of her face.
“Looks like Tammy and Tex are famous.”
Tammy's eyes twitch. Clearly, she needs medical assistance. I’m surprised she’s still alive. Her husbands brains are splattered across the inside of the barrel. The very sight of this makes me gag.
Tammy tries to speak, but fails. Her eyes are filled with rage.
Damion tosses the leftover arm into the water, then shrugs.
“Sorry about your hubby.”
(Cut to camera two)
With wobbly knees, I face the audience.
“Looks like the barrel got the best of Tex!”
The audience bellows.
I continue to talk involuntarily.
“Gosh dolly. Look at all that blood!”
“MORE BLOOD…. MORE BLOOD…. MORE BLOOD….”
I find myself chanting along.
Suddenly, my vision blurs. I clutch my chest. Maybe I’ll suffer a heart attack on live TV. Hell waits for no one, I suppose.
(Cut to camera four)
Tammy spits blood on Damion’s boot.
“Devil be damned.” I blurt.
Damion’s face twists into a ball of fury.
“Now, now, Tammy. That wasn’t very nice.”
He crushes her fingers with his boots.
Tammy yelps.
“I was gonna save your long-limbed partner over there,” he points. “Not anymore!”
The audience is bloodthirsty. Paper airplanes and rotten eggs whizz past me. I duck just in time.
(Closeup of contestant)
Tammy’s tongue is leaking from her bloodied face. She’s missing her front teeth. Damion digs his spiky heel deep into her blood-soaked abdomen.
“I reckon you’ll need medical assistance.”
He snaps his fingers.
Suddenly, they're back in the studio.
Damion is as happy as a filthy pig. Next to him is Tammy, who’s caked in blood and gore. Her corpse-of-a-husband spills from the gigantic steel barrel, taking center stage.
(Cut to overhead camera)
The contestant’s children rush the stage. They’re delirious.
The crew hurry out and drag them aside, along with Tammy, who's rushed to the hospital, where she will certainly die.
“Now that’s what I call speedy service!”
My voice appalls me. So does this job. If only I’d listened to my mother, and got into politics.
Damion snaps his finger, then disappears under a plume of dusty smoke.
(Cut to camera one)
“Well, there you have it folks. That’s the last you’ll see of Tammy and Tex. But fret not, they had their moment of fame…in Hell!”
The audience is tossing trash onto the stage.
I narrowly dodge a projectile.
“Hope you’ve enjoyed Season Two as much as I did.”
I hated it.
“And, unless the Devil strikes me down,” and he very-well might, “I hope to see you this Fall, for Season Three of…”
(Cue the audience)
“LET’S MAKE A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL.”
Season Two
Season One

You guys remember when Amber shaded Amy Slaton (or maybe it was Tammy? I forget which one) and now Amber has a failing Youtube channel and is gaining/maintaining her weight while Amy and Tammy have a reality TV show and are thinner than ever. We love a humble Gorl.

Hi all. I'm a few min behind but I'll catch up quickly.

• Chantal begins livestream in the most "fuck me" red lipstick I've seen her wear thus far. She has the remnants of glitter on her eyelids and is sucking on the shisha she previously said she'd be quitting.
• We immediately get a hint of Chantal being on the cusps of a rage. She immediately addresses the rumors regarding her recent radio silence from Youtube,
• Chantal: "My immigration status is my business because there is a lot of crazy people on the internet."
• Chantal smugly says she will be going live more often from now on. She's giving her "I'm unbothered but actually I'm about to throw a tantrum" voice.
• Chantal says that all of gorlworld should put their collective braincell together to solve a major world problem. She throws her head back in a smug fit of laughter.
• Chantal looks hamburger-eyed and high as fuck. Her bloodshot eyes shift around the screen and she laughs constantly.
• Chantal announces she has broken her fast multiple times and plans on quitting.
• Chantal returns to the blue sofa with PROOF the video was not pre-recorded. She pulls out a bag of left over food from the Cafe in a pink paper bag. She barely shows the food then quickly puts it away.
• Chantal says that if she's in the heat for more than five minutes she gets dizzy.
• Salah brings out the keyboard to play Happy Birthday for two beezers in the chat. Chantal struggles to catch a note, her eyes so small they barely look open. As if we have not been audibly assaulted enough, Salah plays a second version of the Happy Birthday song, Chantal howls to the tune (and I'm being very gracious about that) it.
• Chantal looks so visibly high that the chat asks her over and over again if she's smoking more than Shisha. She must the stream and covers her mouth to whisper to Salah, who in turn brings an "incense burner" from Salah's business. She shows off the pieces of wood soaked in oils. It's unsure why she decided to show this but after this distraction Chantal then has Salah demonstrate how to heat up the coals.
• Chantal shows off a tacky incense burner shaped like a crown like it's the home shopping network. She then lists off the various products Salah's business offers.
• Chantal says that her medication makes her feel like a zombie.
• Chantal: "Obviously you guys know I can't me a citizen here, I'm a Canadian. I just want to keep this private, there is no drama, there's no shady immigration stuff..."
• Chantal brags about making her husband dinner. She lists off fried food such as chicken patties and French fries.
• Chantal admits her and Salah bought a whole shitload of food to avoid her eating out. She snacks on yet another chocolate. She complains about being snacks, so Salah bring her a pear, she protests that she wants a peach instead and then ends up eating both.
• Chantal: "My favorite salad is cheese and French dressing."
• Chantal, who has fully been snacking the entire stream complains about being hungry and wanting to do a mukbang.
• Chantal says she is not as big as ever as she's seen people on the internet claim. She Claims she has maintained her weight since Canada. She then divulges completely, saying that her weight shouldn't even matter.
• Chantal: "If I did...or I do...go back to Canada or whatever.....um...I'm gonna go live, I'm not gonna hide it!"
• chantal tries to make a point about people always complaining, using Tammy Slaton as an example. She says that people used to shit on Tammy Slaton for not making progress in her weight loss goals and once she started losing weight....her eyes squint....well, now that she's lost weight people are nice to her. Chantal takes a second to try and connect the point she was tryin to make but ultimately gives up and says people shouldn't only be nice to people when they're losing weight.
• We revert to the same boring ass Salah and Chantal talking directly to chat routine again. It's insufferable, Salah does that annoying laugh thing and makes jokes off camera.
• As if I have not been tortured enough, Salah plays his keyboard while Chantal freestyles along completely out of tune.
• Chantal tears into a bag of chips, Salah plays a really long song on his keyboard, and Chantal finally gets off live.

Let's say Amber does get WLS and loses about 250 pounds and gets down to about 288 (at least initially). Not totally impossible since Tammy Slaton was nearly just as bad and got surgery. Will Amber still have a bad attitude or will she lighten up a bit? Will she still be a perpetual victim of "fat-phobia"? What do you think?

1. Amy Slaton Wanted To Move
2. Amy Slaton Needed Help Caring For Her Sister Tammy Slaton
3. Amy Slaton Wanted To Have Children
4. Amy Slaton Wanted To Get Married

Link to article

1. Tammy Slaton & Caleb Willingham Didn't Think Things Through
2. Caleb Willingham Pushed Tammy Slaton Into A Relationship
3. Tammy Slaton & Caleb Willingham Were Both A Matter Of Convenience
4. Tammy Slaton & Caleb Willingham Had Unrealistic Expectations
5. Tammy Slaton & Caleb Willlingham Rushed To Get Married
6. Tammy Slaton & Caleb Willingham Have Completely Different Personalities
7. Tammy Slaton & Caleb Willingham Didn't Have Much In Common
8. Tammy Slaton & Caleb Willingham Approached Their Health Differently
9. Caleb Willingham Stalked Tammy Slaton
10. Tammy Slaton Wasn't Attracted To Caleb Willingham

Link to article

I lingered beside the safety of the campfire, unsure whether to tell Tim, the volatile ex-boxer, that I’d found his wife’s wedding ring half-buried in a spool of wet intestines. While I agonized over the decision, Nance scolded him for pushing her over before.
Rather than apologize, he said, “C’mon, I’ll bet Tammy’s still close by. She might be able to hear us.”
My pulse spiked. Too much noise would only lead whatever tore her apart to us.
I rushed over and grabbed him by the arm. “You can’t.”
“And why the hell not?” he snorted.
I hesitated. I mean, how sure even was I those were Tammy’s guts? Maybe she just uncovered the gore of some predator’s fresh kill and scrambled away so fast that she dropped her ring.
“I heard…something. A voice.”
“Yeah, no shit you heard a voice. The others are still out their moron.”
“No. This sounded more like…a child.”
The others exchanged looks of confusion, then Nancy stepped forward. “You know, Darren, foxes can sound weirdly human.”
Tim shook me off. “Tell you what, if any foxes come charging out and try to nibble your ankle, I’ll protect you. TAMMMMMYYYY!”
Heart slamming against my chest, I said, “There’s something out there Tim. Think about it—why hasn’t Ulrich made it back yet? Mom and Tammy, sure, maybe they got lost, but Ulrich? He's a regular Bear Grylls.”
The big guy shouted down all the different ways I begged him to listen, then poked me in the chest, hard, and said, “Drop it already. Final warning.”
That intimidating glare poured cold water over the idea of a confession. In the end, I settled for keeping Liz by the fire, my left-hand clinging to the blade, while Tim and Nance circled the campsite, calling and calling.
Much as I wanted to get out of that damn forest, we needed to keep our wits about us. Like Mom always said. If we’d gone charging off, the wooden maze would have chewed us up and spat us out.
Each time Tim yelled his wife’s name, a pang of guilt stabbed me in the gut. He deserved to know what I’d found.
What did all this mean for Mom? She disappeared along with Tammy, after all…
Just then, her stern voice came echoing through my mind. Never mind ME, what about your sister?
Right. My emotional breakdown needed to wait. Keeping Liz safe was my main priority.
Our best chance at survival, so far as I could see, was sticking with Ulrich’s original plan: wait until dawn, then go find the cabin.
While I foraged for twigs to keep the fire alive, an anxious Liz asked, “Did you really hear a kid?”
Unsure what to say, I stared at her. “It was probably my imagination. Try and get some sleep. I’ll listen for Mom.”
All night, my nerves jumped at every shivering branch or hooting owl. What could have been the source of those voices? Maybe whatever it was didn't have physical form. Maybe it was a phantom, and that feeling of getting watched was actually invisible fingers running down my neck.
When her voice grew hoarse, Nancy joined us by the campfire. From the probing questions she asked about what happened to me out there, I suspected she knew I wasn’t being entirely truthful.
Although I trusted her, there was a risk Tim might have overheard a confession, so I kept my answers vague.
At dawn, I said to all the weary faces, “Time to go. If Ulrich was gonna make it back, he’d be here already."
Tim snorted. “Yeah, he's such a genius he got us into this fucking mess in the first place.”
“Look, whether you believe me or not, we can’t sit here until we starve. We’re on our own.”
“Just can’t wait to abandon your poor mother, can you?” he said, voice dripping with disgust.
Nancy said, “Now hold on a sec, maybe Darren’s got a point. This might be our best shot at rescuing everybody.”
“Do you even know which way it is?” Tim asked.
“Ulrich marked the map.” I unfolded the chart and pointed out a red circle highlighting the cabin.
“And how the fuck do you plan on finding the way?”
“I was in scouts for three years. It’s not rocket science.” Secretly hoping he’d stick around, I said, “You can do whatever you want, but I’m getting the fuck out of here.”
After collapsing the tents, I cannibalized Ulrich’s pack for anything useful: compass, med kit, lighter fluid. What did Mom always say about being prepared? Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it…
“Nancy, Liz, let’s go,” I said, as I strapped the knife holster around my waist. Then the three of us set off.
Less than ten steps from the clearing, Tim shouted, “Wait.”
We faced him.
“…I’m coming too.”
Damn.
An uneven trail carried us along where the foliage thinned out. We moved in uncomfortable silence, the only sounds the small cries of tiny animals. I drove everybody forward at a brutal pace, never stopping except for whenever I consulted the map. From the way Tim side-eyed me tracing it with my finger, you could tell he had zero faith we’d even set off in the right direction.
There was a mountain range Southwest of the cabin. If we could just reach that, I’d have been able to work out our rough position. However, the suffocating canopy blocked out the horizon and—most of—the sky.
Two hours into our march Nancy released a jutting branch which whipped back and hit Tim square in the mouth.
“Watch it.” He gave her a stiff shove.
The American squared up to him, her forehead barely reaching his chest. “Who the hell do you think you’re pushing?”
I rushed between the quarrelling pair and settled the dispute, but five minutes later Nance stepped into a hidden ditch and instinctively grabbed hold of the closest thing in the vicinity: Tim’s arm. Cue another pointless argument.
The way the former boxing champ spat raw fury over the slightest inconvenience made my guilt about keeping the ring secret dissolve.
By the time I’d negotiated their fifth peace treaty, I was craving a cigarette. Badly. My thoughts drifted back to Mom—to how she’d always nagged me to quit. What happens if those things kill you, Darren? You won’t be happy ‘til you’ve put me in the grave…
At midday, rain started falling, soft and steady. Wet leaves rustled as water funnelled in rivulets all around us. I hoped the fast-moving streams might wash away our tracks, no disturbed soil, no debris. That way, it’d be much harder for any potential crazy cultists living out there to follow us.
Emerging from the far side of a dense thicket, Liz skidded in a slippery patch of mud. My hands shot out and caught her at the very last second. “You okay?”
Rather than shake me off, in defiant younger sister fashion, she mumbled a weak, “Thanks.”
Stray hairs lay plastered against her forehead in sweaty tangles, and her lower half had acquired a thick coating of dirt. None of us had slept a wink in over 24-hours, and the muscles in my legs had been twanging for the past half-mile.
I sighed. “Let’s take a five-minute break.”
“Soooo generous of you,” Tim replied in a snide tone, as he collapsed against a nearby boulder.
Already half-asleep, I leaned against the closest trunk. Just a quick pitstop, that’s all we needed….
“There it is again.” Nancy’s urgent voice startled me awake. “Maybe there’s a cell tower close by? Quick, check whether you can get signal.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, confused.
“We heard a phone,” Liz said.
I joined the others in waving their mobiles overhead. No luck.
There came a faint brrring! brrriiiiiiing! It sounded like one of those indestructible Nokia bricks.
“Maybe it’s a park ranger?” Tim said, already charging across a slope engulfed with patchy grass. “IS SOMEONE THERE?”
The sun, where I could see it, was already high. And we’d been traveling slow, painfully slow. Whatever clawed Tammy apart might have been hot on our tails.
But then again, the sooner help arrived, the better.
Standing waist-deep in the foliage, Tim said, “The phones gotta be around her somewhere. Everyone spread out.”
Together, we followed him into the grove.
As my hands combed over patchy scrub, another chill ran along my spine. Once again, I felt eyes crawl all over us, yet couldn’t see anything beyond the green, unbroken canopy.
An image of a predator lurking beneath the cover slid into my brain, all razor-sharp fangs and long claws. I hovered over Liz like a cloud, despite Tim grumbling about how we’d cover more ground by splitting up. "Aww, Darren likes playing 'hero' when it's little Lizzie needing protecting. Wish I saw this courage when finding Tammy was a priority."
Ten minutes blitzed past. Twenty. Eager to press on, I pointed out how long our shadows had gotten.
Tim said, “Just fucking wait. It might ring again.”
From further into the endless forest, there came another, Brrring! Brrriiiiiiing!
A sweep of the area turned up nothing except woodlice crawling over petrified logs. Nancy and Liz agreed we should leave, however, the second we started back another ring went up, barely audible beneath the wet weather.
A dry cramp seized my throat. First the voices, now this? It all felt too convenient.
I grabbed Liz’s arm. “We’re leaving.”
“What’s wrong?” Nancy asked.
“Ignore that idiot,” the chief mutineer answered. “Come help me look.”
That ‘idiot’ remark made my already stretched-out nerves snap. I faced him. “You know what Tim, if you wanna stay here crawling around on your hands and knees, be my guest. I’m sure you’ll find the phone just as fast as you found Tammy.”
That was a mistake. The big guy marched up to me, neck veins bulging. “Wanna say that again?”
It looked like he expected me to take a swing at him. Hell, not expected—hoped. One shot from those bear paws, though, and I’d have been down for the count.
The ladies rushed to pry us apart, then Nancy said, “He’s got a point, Tim. This is getting us nowhere.”
That cooled him off some. “Fine.”
The second our journey resumed, another Brrring! Brrriiiiiiing! went up, closer than before.
“I knew we should have fucking waited,” Tim hissed.
As he disappeared into the marsh, my blood pressure climbed back down. At least now we only had monsters to worry about…
You can imagine my disappointment when, on the far side of a cluster of trees, the walking powder keg came jogging after us.
“What’s the matter, couldn’t find anything?” Nancy asked. Rather than respond, Tim shouldered past her.
Ready to unleash her full fury, she clenched her jaw tight.
Quickly I cut in with, “Please. We’ve got enough problems.”
With the faintest of nods, she followed him along the trail.
The odds of their truce holding out until we found civilization seemed low. Nerves were running high, everybody was filthy and sweaty and exhausted, and there was a long way still to go.
The forest threw up wall after wall of dense thornbushes and scratching bracken, dragging us off course until the path thinned out again. Twilight crept along so subtly I didn’t notice until visibility became limited to thirty yards ahead. In another hour we’d be feeling our way around blind.
Breathing the damp air mist, I took one final look at the map. Then, just as I contemplated climbing a pine tree for a better view, a tremendous splintering of wood rang out.
“What the hell was that?” Liz asked, her frightened eyes scanning all around.
“There,” Nancy said. Even squinting where she pointed all I could see was endless, suffocating undergrowth.
“What is it?” Liz asked.
“Ulrich, I think.”
“You sure it wasn’t a bird?” Tim asked.
As though offended by the question, she answered, “I dunno, do many birds wear fluorescent raincoats?”
“You know what—”
“I don’t like this,” I said, cutting Tim off.
“You still worried about the spooky voices?” He rolled his eyes and stepped into the dense bushes. “ULRICH!”
I grabbed Liz by the arm. “We’re leaving.”
There was thirty yards between us and Tim when Nancy screamed, “EVERYBODY STOP.”
Making her voice all soft, she said, “Now Darren, I know you’re freaked out, but I think you’ll agree our chances of surviving this mess would be much better with Ulrich, correct?”
I gave a reluctant nod.
“And Tim, regardless of whether or not you think Darren heard something last night, we can’t just run around out here until it gets so dark we can’t see past the ends of our noses, agreed?”
“…Agreed.”
“Good. So let’s check this out together. And if we haven’t found anything in fifteen minutes, we move on. Liz, what do you think?”
Liz glanced at me, back to Nancy, and then nodded.
The heavily wooded area sloped downward, and you couldn’t take five steps in any one direction without encountering another barrier of interlocked branches. Beyond that first labyrinth, Liz spotted a touch of blue off in the distance.
Tim cupped his mouth. “ULRICH SHOUT IF YOU CAN HEAR US!”
For a moment, there was only a patter of steady rain.
"Is someone there?"
“Ulrich!” everybody except me shouted. Oh sure, our guide sounded far off, but there was no mistaking that accent. “C’mon,” Tim said, as he pushed back low limbs.
A black wave of terror stabbed me in the gut. I'd seen this trick already. The previous night I could have sworn I heard Tammy, right up until I found those intestines…
But still, we’d seen Ulrich. Or his jacket, at least. I kept Liz within arm’s length, following at a short distance.
The rain tapered off as we bullied our way towards the outer edge of a huge, downward sloping gulch.
Tim said, “SAY SOMETHING YOU STUPID GERMAN PRICK.”
For a moment, the endless forest only breathed at us.
“Hello?”
Our guide sounded close. The others exchanged looks of relief, half-crying half-laughing.
“This way,” Tim said, his lower half engulfed by the greenery.
As a harsh breeze slapped my sweaty pours, pangs of unease ran along my spine. My gut knew we were in danger, even though my conscious mind hadn’t worked out why yet.
The warren of wooden fangs, claws and stingers closed like a vice grip, pressing tighter and tighter as we zigzagged further into the giant bowl.
Far below us, beyond a barrier of wooden spikes, a figure stood in place, barely visible inside a circle of trees huddled close together.
Tim said, “C’mon, the branches are too thick here. We’ll go around.”
With every step, the forest creaked in its various joints. Any of those sounds might have been a deadly creature, ready to pounce.
On the far side of a nestle of ferns, our new leader paused. The spot where Ulrich had been standing slipped beyond the point where we could see.
“Okay,” I said. “It’s been fifteen minutes. Can we please—"
A familiar voice came tumbling out of the gloom. “Tim? Is that you!”
“TAMMY.” Tim screamed, his eyes welling up with tears. “IT’S ME, WHERE ARE YOU?”
Oh fuck. Oh fuck no.
“STOP,” I screamed, loud enough that birds vacated the premises. My companions glanced around.
I swallowed a gulp. “It’s a trap.”
Tim groaned. “Not this shit again—TAMMMMMMMYYYY.”
“That’s not her.”
Confused, Liz said, “If it’s not Tammy and Ulrich, who is it?”
“Of course it’s fucking her, your brothers just a moron. TAMMY, ULRICH.”
“Then why are they so close?” I asked, keeping my voice low. For all the good it would do. “We’re miles from the campsite.”
Still trouncing further into the thicket, Tim said to the ladies, “I’ll tell you why, because Marco Polo here’s been leading us in fucking circles. We’re probably right back where we started.”
I said, “Think about it. You heard Tammy crying and charged straight into a pit, that phone kept moving further away, now this?”
“Is someone there?” Ulrich’s voice issued from within the gulch. He sounded close. Real close. We were in danger.
I rushed over and grabbed Tim by the arm. “Quiet.”
“Piss off,” he snapped, swatting me aside. “TAMMY YELL IF YOU CAN HEAR ME.”
Mom’s voice echoed through my mind. Grab your sister and run! That would have been the smart move, alright. However, watching Tim trounce along, it occurred to me the poor guy was delirious with joy over the fact he’d found his wife. Was he an asshole? No question. But he was also a loving husband in a shitty position. I couldn’t let the big guy go charging off to his own doom.
"Is someone there?"
“I’M HERE, WHERE ARE YOU?”
I clenched my fists. Here went nothing. “Tim that can’t be Tammy…because Tammy’s dead.”
All eyes landed on me. Even Tim’s. “What the FUCK are you talking about?”
Time to lay my cards out along the table. “Last night, I found her wedding ring. It was buried in a pile of guts. There was blood everywhere. I didn’t say anything because…because I didn’t want anybody freaking out.”
Nancy stepped in close. “Darren, if that’s not Tammy, who is it?”
“I don’t know,” I said, fumbling for an explanation. “Maybe it’s this place. Or somebody with a voice recorder. All I know is, we need to get the fuck out of here.”
Before I could grab Liz, Tim stepped between us, fists clenched. “Interesting theory, Darren. Now here’s mine. I don’t think you want to find the others.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to find them?” I asked. My fingertips hovered over the knife. We didn’t have time for this. If we started fighting, we’d be even more vulnerable.
“I dunno. Maybe you and your mom had another argument and you couldn’t handle it, so you did something stupid. Hell, I bet Tam saw the whole thing and you chased her off. Probably did the same to Ulrich.”
Nancy stepped in close. “Tim, listen to yoursel—"
With a single shove, he sent her careening back. Then, in the blink of an eye, he grabbed the scruff of my coat and reeled me in close. “I think you made up this bullshit story to scare us into leaving the others behind. How about it, am I close?”
For a moment, the only sound was the harsh pump of blood inside my skull. Then, almost in unison, Tim and my hands both went for the knife. His handed clamped around mine, tight. “Planning to kill me too, Darren boy?” he said with a grin.
Unable to twist free from his grasp, I threw myself at his midsection. Down the slope we went, tumbling and bouncing against the irregular sides, my hands fumbling wildly for any exposed roots.
Nancy and Liz came charging after us, screaming, “STOP.”
Directly outside the dense tree circle, Tim and I scrambled to our feet and charged at one another in a flurry of punches and kicks.
A clean shot to the left temple made my knees buckle. Through the haze, all I could see was Tim’s grinning face.
As he leaned in close, one hand clamped tight around my windpipe, the words, “You’re a rat, Darren,” echoed along as if shouted from the end of a very long tunnel. Tim’s rear fist pulled back. I squeezed my eyes shut. And when the finishing blow never arrived, I peeked my left eye open.
Nearby, my aggressor spun around with Nancy on his back biting down on his left ear, hard. Round and round they went, her nails raking across his face, back and forth.
In one smooth motion, he flipped her onto the ground. She landed with a solid thwump, then Tim droved his booted foot into her ribs, twice. The choked rasp that slid up her throat sounded a million times worse than any smoker’s cough I ever heard.
From a side angle, Liz lashed at Tim, but one flail of his giant arm sent her toppling backwards. She fell against crisscrossed branches and slid to the ground, and as she did, a gloved hand flopped out from beneath the leaves.
That called an immediate truce to the confrontation. Fighting the constant spin inside my skull, I sat up.
My sister scrambled away from the spot in reverse. Then slowly, Tim stepped over a gasping Nancy, took the largest branch in hand, and bent it up.
Beneath the leaves, propped in a T-pose by two strong branches, was Ulrich. Our tour guide was dead, very dead, and covered in dry, sticky blood. There was a huge cavity in his chest, through which you could see exposed rib, cartilage, and glistening muscle, and the legs tapered off above the knees, trailing nerves endings and bone.
Oh fuck. I was right—it was a trap. The corpse had been placed there to lure us in.
Just then, branches shivered and shook as something moved throughout the canopy, remaining unseen.
Immediately Tim barrelled towards the slope while Liz lay there, eyes locked on the corpse.
Still seeing two of everything, I forced myself up and raced over and grabbed Nancy. “C’mon, up,” I said.
“I can’t,” she sputtered, between choked rasps.
As I lifted her by the wrists, bones and joints popped. She couldn’t stand unsupported, so I threw her arm over my shoulder.
At a dazed Liz, I shouted, “COME ON.”
Her head whipped between me and Ulrich for almost five seconds before she snapped out of her trance, then the three of us thrashed for the trail, climbing the hill as fast as we possibly could.
What felt like every branch in the vicinity gouged and raked all the exposed skin they could latch onto. Meanwhile, Tim never got more than a dozen or so steps ahead, because he kept hitting dead ends which forced him to double back, unintentionally charting the course.
Each time we reached a bump or a mound, Nancy grimaced, hard. It felt like she doubled in weight every ten seconds. My lungs and throat were on fire—What did I say about those cigarettes, Darren?—but if I stopped we were dead.
Beyond the labyrinth of dead ends lay the flat stretch of ground engulfed by wild undergrowth, so dense you couldn’t see your own feet. Tim barrelled along at top speed, and he’d put thirty yards between us and him when, out of nowhere, he disappeared beneath the ocean of leaves.
As a pained howl shot up, we ground to a halt.
That howl tapered off, as though Tim was getting ripped away by a bungee cord. He resurfaced, briefly, about forty yards to our right, his face lobster red and shiny with blood. He shrieked and pleaded, arms flailing wildly, before disappearing again.
Without uttering a single word, Nancy, Liz, and I charged the opposite direction.
We were in deep trouble. Any second now, whatever got Tim and the others might have come back for us, and we wouldn’t even have seen it coming. Nancy couldn’t stand by herself.
And what’s worse, we had less than an hour of daylight left…