Chapter 2
It was noon, the sun blazing overhead, and the humidity in the woods was so thick it felt like you could choke on it.
Our whole family was racing down the highway, pedal slammed to the floor.
The phone signal kept cutting in and out, and the live stream was freezing nonstop.
Tyler found a flat spot and flopped down on a rock like he owned the place.
He pulled a self-heating steak kit out of his backpack, poured in the water, and got it cooking like he'd done it a thousand times.
Before long, the mouthwatering smell of steak filled the air.
Irene sat across from him on a pile of dry grass, her throat bobbing as she fought the urge to swallow.
She hadn't had a sip of water all day.
Tyler cut off a huge chunk of steak, stuffed it in his mouth, and chewed noisily, juices running down his chin.
"Man, this smells amazing. Nothing beats steak in the wild," he said, grinning.
He deliberately shoved the camera right up to his mouth, and the sound of him smacking his lips blasted through the mic, making everyone watching feel sick.
Irene watched him, her parched lips barely parting.
"Tyler, could I have a sip of your broth?" she murmured.
Tyler kept chewing, shot Irene a sideways glance, and gave a dismissive snort.
"Great-Grandma, this is some hardcore high-tech grub. Your stomach wouldn't be able to handle it.
"Besides, we're out here surviving. We should be living off nature's bounty," he said, smirking.
He set the steak aside and dug around in the rotten wood behind him.
In no time, he pulled out a fat, white, wriggling maggot.
The maggot was as thick as his thumb, squirming between his fingers and smeared with bits of decaying wood.
"Here you go, Great-Grandma. It's packed with protein, tastes just like chicken, and crispy as chips.
"Go on, have a taste. This is the real survival food," Tyler said.
He pinched the maggot and pressed it right up to Irene's mouth, practically daring her to take a bite.
Irene clamped her lips shut and leaned her head back, her face showing nothing but stubborn refusal.
"I'm not eating that," she protested.
"Cut the act," Tyler snapped.
His face turned cold, all trace of patience gone.
"Back in the famine, didn't you eat bark and bugs? Now life's been good for too long, and you've forgotten your roots, huh?
"Eat it," he ordered.
He grabbed Irene's chin and tried to shove the maggot straight into her mouth.
Someone in the chat finally snapped.
[That's disgusting. That could kill her.]
[Are you insane?]
Tyler just ignored them; all he cared about was getting more views.
Suddenly, Irene snapped her hand up.
The maggot went flying, landing on the ground with a sickening splat.
Irene was panting hard, her hand shaking as she pointed at a scraggly green plant off to the side.
"I'd eat that," Irene choked out.
Tyler froze for a second, then burst out laughing.
"Eat grass? Great-Grandma, you're really losing your mind. That's just some random weeds.
"You've got the good stuff right here, but you'd rather chew on grass? You just don't know what's good for you," he scoffed.
But someone in the chat suddenly freaked out. [Holy crap. That's the marker plant for wild ginseng. There could be real ginseng hidden right underneath.]
[Damn, the old lady's got some serious skills.]
Tyler didn't even glance at the chat. He stomped the plant flat, crushing it under his boot for good measure.
"Cut the crap. Move it," he barked.
He yanked Irene to her feet and hauled her deeper into the woods.
Up ahead was a muddy dip, covered in a thick blanket of fallen leaves. It looked solid, but underneath it was nothing but swampy sludge.
Tyler stopped, his eyes flickering with a scheming glint.
"Great-Grandma, the path ahead's a mystery. Since you're the elder, you go first.
"Gotta show some good old family values. You lead the way," he said.
He was straight-up using Irene as a guinea pig to test the path.
If she fell in, that'd be the end of her. No way her old body could handle it.
My dad was screaming his lungs out from the car, his voice raw and hoarse. "Tyler. I'm gonna kill you."
Irene stood at the edge of the muddy patch, studying it intently for a moment.
Then she calmly lifted her foot and stepped down, moving with a practiced ease.
She didn't move fast, but every step was steady and sure.
Tyler watched from behind, giving a dismissive sneer.
"Looks like it's not dangerous at all. Acting all mysterious for nothing," Tyler scoffed.
He strode forward, stepping right into the spot Irene had just sidestepped.
His leg sank in up to the knee, the stinking black muck instantly swallowing him.
Tyler lost his balance and went down face-first, looking like a complete fool.
His face and mouth were caked in slimy mud.
He scrambled to his feet, covered in filth and reeking to high heaven.
Irene was already standing on the solid ground across the mud, turning back to stare at him, stone-faced and totally unfazed.
Tyler wiped the mud off his face, then jabbed a finger at Irene, his voice shaking with fury.
"You old witch. Was that deliberate? You set me up, didn't you?
"You knew the safe path and kept it to yourself. How can you be so freaking twisted?
"Get over here, now. Clean off my shoes," Tyler snapped.
He dropped himself onto the ground and shoved his filthy, mud-covered feet right in Irene's face.
Irene stayed perfectly still.
She kept her gaze fixed on the woods, like she was tuning out everything else and listening to the wind whisper through the trees.
Tyler, furious, grabbed a rock and chucked it at Irene.
The rock grazed her forehead, leaving a bloody scratch across her skin.
Blood streamed down her face.
She didn't wipe it away.
She just ran her tongue over the blood at the corner of her mouth.
For a moment, something flashed in her cloudy eyes.