Chapter 4: The Rules Change

“No way.” I shot down Lila’s request before she could finish. She looked at me, stunned. “Why? You’ll still get paid the same.”

I explained the route was planned for a reason—each stop had its own beauty, and it’d be a shame to skip any of it. Lila listened, then told me the group had already decided: they wanted to stay at Maple Bluff for the next two days, not budge.

She walked back to her tent, voices muffled behind nylon. Maple Bluff wasn’t set up for a "voluntary hookup"—too close to town, easy cell service, and you could walk out to a road in an hour if you wanted. The four men agreed without a second thought—so clueless it made my blood boil.

I watched from the firelight’s edge as the men just nodded, avoiding each other’s eyes. In small-town America, everyone acts tough until someone calls their bluff. The women knew what they wanted, and suddenly our plan was on shaky ground. My cousin cursed under his breath, kicking at the dirt, looking for someone to blame. I stared at my boots, feeling the ground shift beneath us, realizing we were outmatched.

“Man, guys really are pathetic.” My cousin forced a smile and called everyone over.

“Everyone, the lovely lady just said you all want to stay put. I want to confirm: are we really just camping here for the next few days?” He patted his chest, trying to sound casual. “Look, it’s my job to recommend you stick to the plan, but the final call is yours. If you want to stay, we get to chill—fine by us. Or, I can tell you what you would’ve seen if we stuck to the original route?”

He tried to keep it light, but his jaw was tight, eyes darting from face to face. Out here, guides were supposed to lead, but with one sentence, Lila flipped the script. The tourists barely looked up—some smiled politely, others scrolled through their phones by the tent.

My cousin shot me a look. I jumped in: “Tomorrow, we’d cross Maple Bluff Mountain, pass a crystal-clear spring, wander through wildflowers, then reach an ancient forest. There’s a place there called Big Rock...”

I tried to make it sound magical, but nobody cared. They just wanted more marshmallows and to hear another country song from the Bluetooth speaker. The air smelled like burnt sugar and bug spray.

“We’re not leaving. That’s final.” Lila cut me off.

I looked at the four men. Nobody spoke up. The guys shifted, glancing at each other, no one wanting to be the first to back down. I could smell the fear under all that cologne. All their big talk at the first meeting—gone in a flash.

“Since you’ve decided not to leave, let’s upgrade camp: gentlemen, can you help figure out tomorrow’s chores? Guys should handle as much of the heavy lifting as possible.”

The four men got up and followed me and my cousin to the back of our tent by the hillside. The moon hung low over the trees, silvering the tent edges. I led the men behind the canvas, breath clouding in the cool air. The fire’s glow barely reached us, and the woods pressed close.

“What are you trying to do?” My cousin’s voice was sharp. “Are you really here to hike?”

Nobody answered. The air was thick with tension.

I dropped my voice: “What are you thinking? Do you remember why we put this group together?”

The men exchanged glances and grinned. “Of course we remember.”

Their smiles didn’t reach their eyes. It was the look men give when the game’s changed and nobody wants to admit it. A chill crawled up my spine.

“Then what’s going on?”

Director Neal chuckled. “It’s exactly because we remember why we’re here that we said not to leave. They’ve all agreed—so why go anywhere?”

The last laughter from the campfire drifted over, and for the first time, I realized the rules had changed. The woods swallowed our voices, and for the first time, I realized we weren’t the hunters anymore. We were the prey—and the game was just getting started.