Author's Note

In celebration of Amazon Prime Video's newest series Panic, I am thrilled to be teaming up with Amazon Prime Video and Wattpad to write this exclusive chapter that puts my characters from this story into the world of Panic!

I hope this chapter intrigues and inspires you to learn more about Panic. Visit the #PanicWritingContest on Wattpad for the chance to put your creative writing chops to the test and learn more about the show!

To find out more about the contest, prizes, and how to enter, check out the #PanicWritingContest here: wattpad.com/AmazonPrimeVideo

Don't forget to watch the series premiere on May 28th, only on Amazon Prime Video, here: http://primevideo.com/

--

~2 months earlier~

Part of being demoted meant being assigned stories no one else wanted.

Like a story about teenagers, an urban legend, and oh yeah, teenagers.

Martinez had emailed Zeke the assignment. Smart on her part, because the electronic communication meant he couldn't tell her off to her face. Not that he would've. But he would've at least imagined doing so while nodding and smiling.

He didn't complain openly about the assignment because it meant leaving Tampa for awhile. Which is what he needed right about now.

Presently, he questioned a pimpled boy for more details. They were outside a Cook Out, a fast-food joint advertised as "Cheap and Delicious." After making the mistake of eating dinner there the night before, Zeke had learned it was more like "Cheap and Diarrhea."

It was Zeke's first time in Texas, and he hoped his last. The sprawling dry, desert landscape was hotter than his beloved Florida swampland.

At least in Florida, there was a nice ocean breeze. Here, it was just hot. And rather empty.

The kid represented so much about the small town of Carp, Texas: jeans, plaid shirt, beat up trucker hat, lack of ambition hanging about. No wonder the youth here had to pass around ridiculousness like a Hunger-Games-like contest worth thousands of dollars. It was their only form of entertainment. Plus, if they were stuck in this town, having a magical out was the sort of hope they needed to survive.

"Where's this kick-off at again?"

"I'll tell you." The boy sipped on his milkshake, then resumed speaking. "After you give me somethin'."

"Oh, yeah, no problem." Some colleagues frowned upon greasing details with cash, but Zeke had no such scruples. He reached in his wallet, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill.

"Not money!"

Zeke raised a brow, slipping the note back in his wallet. "Okay, then what?"

"A promise to leave my name outta this."

Zeke rattled off the source confidentiality monologue he had memorized his first year on the beat. It never failed to impress, and after he was done, the youth seemed sufficiently placated.

"If I can ask, why do you want your name left out?"

Zeke was curious because, for most stories full of untruths, interviewees spelled their names out. Caren with a C. Tamarra with two R's. This pimply-faced Texan preferred anonymity. It meant, potentially, that there was something to this urban legend.

The teen traced imaginary circles in the sidewalk with his boot. "When people start dying, it ain't nothin' to sniff at. Still, my dad raised me to face things, and tell the truth, even if it means talkin' to the Lame Stream media."

Zeke took the slight without batting an eyelid. He had heard it more than once.

As for the dead-teenagers thing, it didn't surprise him either. It had been in Martinez's email:

Teens challenge one another to commit dangerous acts. Whoever completes all the challenges wins thousands of dollars. Last year, apparently, two teens died trying to win, but the coroner did not indicate cause of death was anything other than accidental.

The teen deaths were an unconfirmed detail that had spawned the entire investigation. The fact that this kid was repeating it was not a confirmation, but it was interesting.

"So, where's this game start?"

"Panic is no game. They call it that sometimes, but it's not. And it starts at the cliff bluffs," the teen pointed to the dark hills behind the parking lot of Cook Out, "over there."

Zeke suppressed an eyeroll, as he had for most of his trip.

Panic.

Even the name of the game was lame.

~*~

The gathering crowd was sizable. Zeke was beginning to doubt the need for more sources. He might've noticed the lights and noise while driving around the small town on his own. Then again, the cliffs were tucked away in layers of densely packed trees. Rushing water glittered below the rock face, reflecting moonlight and spotlights erected around the area.

A few outcroppings held about twenty or so youths. Some had on swimsuits, some just t-shirts and shorts. Zeke craned to see them from what had been dubbed the "Spectator Area," several hundred feet below the cliffs.

He couldn't fathom why anyone would complete a challenge like this. Even for a couple thousand dollars, the risk was not worth the reward.

Before entering the Spectator Area, he had donned a gallon hat, jeans, and had put his notebook away. He grasped a can of Natty Ice and staggered around, half-smile on his lips. This allowed him to blend, which in turn led to comfortable conversations taking place around him. Eavesdropping was one of his specialties.

He overhead several numbers, such as 100 points, 25 points, and 50,000. Apparently, players (or the boneheads milling around at the top of the cliffs) got an automatic 100 points for entering the game. Entering the game amounted to jumping. If jumping from one of the higher outcroppings, or High Jump, they received an extra 25 points. If they jumped from the highest point, or Suicide Leap, they received 100 points or could opt for immunity in a later challenge. After completing several challenges successfully, the winner received $50,000 dollars.

I know Martinez demoted you, but this is too much, August remarked in his head.

Zeke more than agreed.

He had once covered corruption stories, vamp segregation (not his choice), and sex rings. Now, he was watching a group of desperate teens vie for the number one contender spot just so they could maybe win some money. It was painful, for him, and he imagined it was painful for the contestants.

The crowd quieted. Zeke stopped staggering and looked up. The first bikini-clad contestant stood back from the ledge. She charged, arms swinging, and leapt from the High Jump.

The splash of her body hitting the water was deafening. Feet first, she had been swallowed up by the dark waters. Five seconds, then ten. No one spoke. A blond head emerged from the water, the girl sputtering and flailing. Then the crowd erupted into cheers, with only a few spectators pausing to see if she was alright.

Zeke had to admit, the spectacle was exciting. Particularly since it happened that same way again and again, and again.

~*~

By the end of the challenge, some had leapt from the High Jump, fewer from Suicide Leap, and a handful had decided not to jump at all. They were often coughing, shaking, and some cursing as they re-surfaced. One boy had blood running down his face, a nosebleed due to the impact with the water. On all of their faces, Zeke recognized a brazen determination, mixed with fear. A pang of pity rushed through him, but he kicked it down into the depths of his feelings where it belonged. So what if these kids were afraid? They should be.

When all the youths had either been retrieved from the water or had gone home in shame, Zeke stayed to eavesdrop on the remaining spectators.

Though another challenge was not formally announced, he knew from listening that it was in a few days time, and it was called The Plank. In tight-rope fashion, the contestants were to walk across boards haphazardly placed between two water towers.

This would net them more points to advance to the next challenge. Or, presumably, some might die in the attempt.

"And yadda yadda yadda."

The pause on the other end of the line meant that he had:

1. Convinced Martinez the story was crap

2. She needed more convincing

It was probably that she needed more convincing, so Zeke continued with, "It's my recommendation that this story features unsubstantiated claims not worth pursuing, as its premise is not within the scope of the paper."

His standard diatribe whenever a story was lacking, or whenever he wanted a vacation.

"I hear you," Martinez started, and he knew what was coming next, "but you can still give me a write up."

"I'll give you a write up after I board the plane back to Tampa."

Martinez sighed. "Sounds fair. But I want a write-up, to include the unsubstantiated claims, noted as myth, with your eyewitness accounts of said stupidity."

"Ma'am, I can do that."

Having just negotiated a ticket home and out of this teen-hellscape, Zeke would've agreed to a lot more.

~*~