Predator Games

By C R Richards

Ann thought the worst part of her road trip would be spending time with the In-laws. She was wrong. After being forced off the road by a vicious inhuman killer, Ann becomes an unwilling player in a gruesome game. She quickly finds that when predators play, human flesh is the prize.
Predator Games was originally published as Episodes 1 – 18 on Kindle Vella from March 1 – April 19, 2023.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C R Richards
• Release date: Oct 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215236499

C R Richards

C. R. Richards is the award winning author of The Mutant Casebook Series. Her literary career began as a part-time columnist for a small entertainment newspaper. She wore several hats: food critic, entertainment reviewer and cranky editor. A co-author of horror and dark fantasy novels, her first book was published under the pen name Thia Myles Vincent. Her most recent literary project is the horror short story, Lost Man's Parish. Cynthia is the Publisher, Editor-in-Chief and head bottle washer for the Books and Banter Newsletter. She is an active member of EPIC and Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers.Works Available on Smashwords: Phantom Harvest, Lost Man's Parish

Book preview

Predator Games

A Scary Short

By

C.R. Richards

Copyright 2023 by C. R. Richards

Contents

Chapter 1: Ready Player One

Chapter 2: Red Rover, Send Ralph Right Over

Chapter 3: Behind the Eight Ball

Chapter 4: Ready or Not, Here We Come

Chapter 5: Ready, Set, Go!

Chapter 6: Full-court Press

Chapter 7: Passing the Baton

Chapter 8: Level Up

Chapter 9: Home-court Advantage

Chapter 10: Not It!

Chapter 11: Marco! Polo!

Chapter 12: Taking One for the Team

Chapter 13: Pinch Hitter

Chapter 14: Time Out

Chapter 15: Out of Bounds

Chapter 16: Hail Mary Pass

Chapter 17: Face Off

Chapter 18: Sudden Death Overtime

About The Author

Chapter 1: Ready Player One

Snow struck the windshield of the old Buick in constant waves of angry white. Icy flakes, captured by the blasting heater, congealed into slushy splotches on the glass. Ann’s gaze traced the shapes as they formed faces on the windshield. The tiny mouths screamed silently as the blades brushed them away.

Beyond the icy windows, miles of snow-covered pine boughs lay in a wintry blanket upon the landscape. Ann squeamishly leaned away from the view as the Buick groaned and shimmied up the mountain road.

Nibbling on the tip of her thumbnail, she scanned the horizon for the hundredth time. She hadn’t seen tracks or vehicle headlights for over an hour. Yet, despite the obvious risks, her pig-headed husband had insisted on coming this way.

It’s starting to come down harder, she said.

Glad I’m not stuck in traffic on the interstate with the rest of those idiots. Ralph shifted his massive bulk in the driver’s seat until the springs screeched for mercy. Nobody knows about this road except the locals and a few guys in my hunting club. He gifted the Buick a proud grin. My baby can handle herself.

Ralph loosened the zipper on his electric blue puffer coat, letting his jowls wiggle free. His face was sweaty under the blast of heat from the lone functional vent. Ann, in contrast, tugged her tweed blazer tighter about her body. She’d assumed they’d be taking the Lexus, but Ralph was fond of hiding his wealth – especially from his family. So, he’d hurried Ann into the beat-up old Buick instead. Her warm coat and winter boots remained in the sedan, abandoned in her haste. Ann pressed her polished penny loafer into the Buick’s threadbare rug with a disgruntled sigh. Unlike this rusty old trap, the Lexus had heated seats.

Maybe we should turn around? she asked, plucking at a stray thread on the Buick’s passenger seat. Your mother will blame me if we’re late for dinner.

Turn around? Ralph shifted incredulous eyes upon her. And sit in traffic during a snowstorm with the rest of the chumps? God, you can be stupid sometimes. He slapped her busy fingers from the fabric. Besides, nobody knows we’re coming. It’s supposed to be a surprise, remember?

Ann sunk deeper into the cracking upholstery. Another Kominsky Family get-together. Thank Heaven she had her pills. She couldn’t stand Ralph’s relatives without them. Ann squeezed her eyes shut, smoothing at the small pill bottle in her blazer pocket. She could hear Mother Kominsky’s offhand comments stabbing at her nerves already.

"My Ralphie could have married better."

And the old bat’s favorite refrain. If Ann could keep Ralphie happy, he wouldn’t stray from home so often. Those other women are a cry for help.

Ann ached to point out that Ralph was following in his father’s footsteps, but she kept her observations to herself. Mustn’t make waves. Though one visit Ann had shown a little spunk. She’d left a travel magazine with Boca Raton on the cover as a not-so-subtle dig at Ralph’s mother. The Senior Mr. Kominsky was shacked up beachside with a thirty-year-old dental hygienist named Mandy.

Now you’re going to sulk, Ralph said, breaking through her thoughts. Why don’t you relax? Pop a pill. That should make the holidays fun.

Anything to escape your mother, she murmured.

What?

I said, I hate the snow.

Well, you sure picked the wrong part of the country to settle in. Ralph wrestled his cell phone from the pocket of his oversized coat and shoved it in her hand. Here. Tell that lump you call our son that we’re heading to Mom’s house and might be a few minutes late for dinner. If he isn’t drunk or high yet, that is.

Ann smoothed a finger over the phone’s screen with a frown. She’d prefer her own, more expensive iPhone over Ralph’s cheap freebie. But unfortunately, her phone was tucked in the cozy pocket of her winter coat inside the Lexus.

No bars.

Keep trying, Ralph said. We should get a signal once we’re out of this stretch of mountains.

Ann looked out the passenger window again. I still don’t see any cars. Are you sure they haven’t closed the road?

The sun’s last rays touched the tops of the evergreens. Their wintry boughs grew thick along the road, giving Ann the sensation of going through a living tunnel. It was thrilling and suffocating at the same time.

The Buick’s balding tires hit a patch of ice and fishtailed toward the cliff’s edge. Ann shrank away from her window as the car slid closer to the precipice.

Come on, Baby. Don’t let me down, Ralph cooed at the car. We’re almost to the top of the hill.

Ann stared straight ahead