In Laymon's Terms

“Folks, I just spoke with Roland, who spoke with the network. The game will continue. This is a temperate zone, and it’s been subject to a lot of rain recently. Obviously, this is the track of some wild animal, distorted by the weather patterns and the drying mud. No further discussion. We are back in game, starting now.”

Troy yanked his arm free and turned on the cameraman. “Ask Roland and the executives how much crack they smoked today.”

The other contestants gasped.

“You know the rules! That’s grounds for immediate forfeit.”

“Man, fuck you and fuck the game! Have you seen tracks like these before?”

The cave smelled fetid. Shonette and Heather crept forward, past several branching tunnels. The two crewmen shuffled along behind.

“Can we leave now?” Heather whispered. “There’s nothing in here.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know,” Heather replied, nudging her with an elbow. “Seriously, we need to get back. If you want to explore it more, we can come back tomorrow.”

“Maybe I’ll bring Antoine with us.”

“See,” Heather accused with a grin. “I knew you wanted this for a love nest!”

Their giggles echoed off the cavern walls—

—and continued after they’d stopped. A soft, dry laughter seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

The cameraman turned the light back the way they had come. “What the he—”

The throaty laughter turned into a brittle hiss.

There was someone behind them. Several someones.

The light flashed on something white and slick, with skin like the belly of a dead fish. A snouted, brown-haired face scowled, then opened its mouth and snarled.

The girls screamed, scrambling backward. The cameraman watched through the lens as a powerful hand swiped downward. He noted in amazed detachment the black, curved talons on each finger as they swung toward him, and then he knew no more.

The camera shattered against the stone floor. The light went out, plunging them into darkness.

The thing pounced.

“This has got to be part of the show,” Larry scoffed. “Think about it. They scare us and film our reactions. Makes for great drama back home.”

“That’s no special effect!” Troy pointed to the muddy print.

“So what,” Marcy exclaimed, “you think it’s Bigfoot?”

“I don’t know what the hell it is,” he admitted, “but I don’t like the looks of that footprint. Claws like that could rip us apart.”

A soft whimper escaped Becka’s throat. Jerry put his arm around her. “It’s okay.” He squeezed her waist. “Larry’s right. The whole thing is a hoax. This is just some new twist on the game. Anything for ratings.”

A savage, screaming howl answered him from deep within the jungle. “Then what the fuck was that?” Troy shouted.

“Look,” the lead cameraman said, all pretense of playing the game put aside. “Let’s all go back to the beach, find the other players, and I’ll radio back to the ship and see what they say.”

“Permission to speak?” Antoine asked him.

“Go ahead. The game is halted.”

“Can you radio the crew that went out with Heather and Shonette? I think we’d all feel better knowing they’re okay.”

“Sure,” he nodded, pulling the radio off his belt. “Team One, this is Three. Do you copy?”

There was a shrill burst of static, then a grunting sound.

His brow furrowed. “Team One, I didn’t get that. Say again.”

Heather’s scream ripped through the speaker, followed by a wet, slapping sound.

“OH GOD! OH GOD, IT HURTS! SOMEBODY HELP US! PLEASE HELP MEEE—” Her scream turned into a high, keening wail that cut off abruptly. This was followed by a barking growl.

The radio went dead.

Another howl erupted from the trees, followed by several more. Something crashed through the foliage toward them.

“Everybody back to the beach!” the lead cameraman screamed.

The branches parted and a massive, hairy creature lunged forth. It looked like a mutant ape; its body was covered in thick brown hair, except for the belly and chest, which were white and hairless. It was snouted like a pig, and the beady eyes looked all too human, flashing with malevolent intelligence. It sprang onto the lead cameraman’s back, and he collapsed under its weight.

Troy ran. Jerry seized Becka’s hand and pulled her along. The three remaining crewmen split up, equipment forgotten. One ran with the contestants. The other two held their ground.

“GO!” Antoine screamed, shoving Larry and Marcy, who stood frozen, watching the cameraman being torn asunder by one of the raving monsters. Its sharp claws shredded his clothes and flesh. The creature growled in wicked delight and pulled forth a gray, ropy prize from his abdomen. It began to eat.

The bushes rustled as five more sprang forth.

Larry shoved Marcy out of the way and dashed into the jungle. She fell to the ground, unmoving.

Antoine put himself between her and the advancing creatures, and drew his knife.

“C’mon, you ugly muthas!”

The first thing ignored his taunts, its snout buried deep inside its victim’s chest.

The others bore down upon them.

“Home Base, Home Base do you copy?”