A Most Dangerous Game, Book 2: A Most Dangerous Game, #2

By Michael John Melton

Agi always knew that evil was real. She read about it in books, and saw it in movies, but she didn't truly understand it until she saw what it could do. The shock of her loss was too much to bear. Her friends tried to distract her with school events, and a potential romance with Colin was what she always hoped for, but she had no intention of giving up. Evil was real, it had to be stopped, and when the opportunity arose, Agi would not be denied.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael John Melton
• Release date: Nov 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386558149

Michael John Melton

“A Most Dangerous Game” is based on the Black Nobility. These elite bloodlines are the foundation for every horror story ever written. They drink blood, they are cannibalistic, and their mind control capabilities are beyond imagination. If you follow me on social media, you’ll actually see me make the connection between real events, and the fictional characters in my books. My central characters are compelling and romantic. They have a dark sense of humor, and are not afraid to think outside the box. If you like film production, and music, as well as writing, you might want to follow the progress of this book series. I studied Film Production at UCLA, Business Administration at CSULB, Graphic Arts at GWC, and I don’t mind sharing what I’ve learned with others.

Book preview

Chapter 1:

More than 3 months had passed since my best friend died. It was 7:00am, and I had already been awake for two hours. Every morning was the same. I would lay in bed, stare up at the ceiling, and wonder if there was anything I could have done to save Lizzy.

Babu still blamed himself, and he felt even worse than I did. He cursed himself for leaving us to get the nurse, and he was convinced he could have helped Lizzy if he stayed. In the beginning, I would try and assure him that there was nothing he could have done, but then I realized that he needed to think he could have saved her. He needed to believe that his existence mattered.

Babu and I believed the hospital released Lizzy too early, and that is what killed her. However, it was the insurance company that refused to cover more than a 24 hour stay and was ultimately responsible for her death. 

The insurance company denied all responsibility, of course. They claimed the brain aneurysm that killed Lizzy would have happened whether she was in the hospital or not, and the outcome would have been the same. Babu and I knew the insurance company was full of crap, but we didn't know what to do about it.

I got out of bed and went to my desk and began to write to William. It was becoming a ritual. Every morning, I wrote all my disturbing thoughts down on paper, and mailed it to William. It was silly of me, but I secretly wished I could simply mail away all the thoughts that tormented me. It didn't work of course, but at least it was something.

I looked forward to William's responses. They were simple and didn't presume to judge me. Sybil was the exact opposite. She had no patience for anyone who let their emotions get in the way of their work, and when she heard that I turned down the lead role in Petrushka, she was more than disappointed, she was furious.

As far as I was concerned, I had no choice. I felt dead inside, and I wouldn't have been able to do the part justice. So, I let Tiffany have the part. Well, not me of course, but it was obvious who Miss Delhaye would give the part to.

I had to learn how to deal the dark thoughts that plagued me. They were violent and hateful, and they scared me. Even my dreams had changed. I became less of a victim, and more of a hunter. William didn't seem to be worried about them, but I was. They were disturbing, and I probably shouldn't be writing them down, but I had to do something.

Last night's dream was particularly gruesome. I was waiting, but I didn't know what for. I was starving and thirsty. My hair was dirty, and my skin was dark and leathery. It was hot, my lips were cracked, and they would bleed if I opened my mouth too wide.

In this dream, the most striking aspect of my appearance was my face. It was tattooed. The design was looked like clown makeup, except no color, just black outlines. The design gave my eyes a fiendish quality. It made my mouth look sinister, and I had single tear tattooed below my left eye. My appearance made me think about what I was becoming in my dreams.

I heard a noise, like the sound of a boot kicking a rock, and then I heard footsteps. A GZ hunting party was making its way through a dilapidated institution. It looked like a hospital, but there were bars on the windows, so I just assumed it was a nut house. The walls were cracked and dirty. The windows were broken, and the rooms were filled with rusty old hospital beds.

I was hiding in the rafters, of an empty hospital ward. I sat quietly and watched the hunting party walk beneath me. I was holding a hunting rifle. It was wrapped in rages, to obscure its silhouette. I had also hung an old canvas tarp from the rafters to obscure my perch.

They were joking and laughing, obviously not too concerned about being ambushed. They were well armed and wearing full body armor. They had heads up displays in their hunting helmets, and two mini drones were hovering over their left and right shoulders.

I watched them walk through the hospital ward. They walked past a utility cart filled with empty oxygen tanks, and a cart full of metal folding chairs.

I waited for them to walk down stairs, and it worried me when they stopped for a moment. They assumed an attack formation, flashed some hand signals at each other, and proceeded down the stairwell.

They thought Outlanders would hiding in a utility corridor, in the basement. This was obviously an early morning raid, designed to ambush them while they were sleeping.

They disgusted me. The only reason they were sneaking down the stairs was because they didn't want any Outlanders to get away. They weren't afraid of getting hurt or dying because they had the advantage. This was fun for them, like duck hunting, or any other sport that involved killing