Disclaimer - I don't own the Predator franchise, but I do own this oneshot.
I couldn't resist the title of this one because I felt it fit in. Most of this oneshot was written with the help of the Predator 2 novelisation which is well worth the read. Please leave feedback.
They'll be Back.
Dutch relaxed as best as he could in the driving seat of his stolen car despite the health problems he had been suffering since he had been blasted with that dose of radiation caused by that alien, that predator's, bomb when he had critically injured it during that fight in the jungles of Val Verde, but if he had known the motherfucker had that type of weapon, then he would never have hesitated to use that rock he'd picked up after hearing its weak trilling after the log crushed it to smash the alien's head to pulp instead of seeing it bleeding pathetically, wounded. Dutch had dropped the rock, feeling pity for the creature who had murdered his men who were his friends after going through hell and back many times over the years. Truthfully he had dropped the rock because he had wanted the bastard creature who had hunted his men, skinned Hopper and two of his men while it took trophies from the bodies of the others (he was only making guesses about what had happened, of course; but the whole point of a hunter was to gather trophies when they were on safari, and the belief was only strengthened when he recalled what Anna had said when she confessed knowing something about the alien and what it did to its victims) to die slowly and painfully for all it had done, though truthfully Dutch had wondered if he was allowing the thing more mercy than it had shown to his men.
As he drove the car - he knew he'd have to find a way to ditch it at some point; the owner was bound to know the license plate registration, and the police would be hot on his trail, but he would keep his eyes open for some way of avoiding them though he didn't know at the moment what he was planning on doing, though he knew with his distinctive size and appearance it wouldn't be long before they tried to trace him before they got a result - Dutch reflected on everything that had happened to him.
It all seemed like a hideous nightmare, really; while he had been furious when he had learnt Dillon had set him and his men up, possibly to die, just so he could get some intel, the work had been admittedly routine, though even that had been thrown out of the window quickly when he and his men had found the skinned remains of Hopper and two of his men, and there was no trace of the others. Billy's confusion about their fate since he hadn't been able to find a track, never mind the obvious signs of an ambush; footprints, crushed leaves, broken twigs, snapped branches, and spent bullet shells which would point to an ambush had been pushed aside, despite the Indian's obvious worries there was something not right in the jungle.
And then came the deaths. Hawkin's death was the first, quickly followed by Blaine, and their deaths had numbed everyone in the unit, who considered each other as brothers. Mac had been driven close to madness because of Blaine's death, and it wasn't until after the big soldier's body had been removed from the campsite they had layered with trip wires and flares to warn them in case the guerrillas that were still prowling around and whoever was killing them so viciously and yet so quickly even levelling a small plot of jungle with machine gun fire had done nothing more than making the alien bleed, but no more than that, but that wasn't a surprise given the epiphany Dutch had later the thing was using the trees to travel, which explained why he hadn't been seen (was it a he? he asked himself, though he didn't know enough about the species to tell if it was female or male), and how he was able to snatch a corpse without tripping up the wires.
Dutch sighed and he concentrated on driving, but it was hard, especially since not long after Blaine's body was snatched in the middle of the night, all but he and Anna were left alive; Poncho had been injured by accident, and Mac had gone berserk and went after the Predator, and Dillon had followed - only the sound of Dillon's blood-curdling scream to reach the ears of Dutch, Billy, and Anna, though fuck knew how it happened, though he didn't want to know, just like he didn't want to know how the alien monster had managed to kill Billy so quickly, Dutch only hoped Billy's death was quick before the fucker murdered Poncho. Dutch had managed to get the things attention away from Anna, who made the mistake of picking up that machine gun, but nothing major had happened before the Predator had fired its weapon, and chased him through the jungle only for him to fall into that river, it was only by luck he discovered cold mud could stop the alien from seeing him.
Dutch remembered working many hours to set up traps and weapons; he had made a bomb, used what was left of his shells to make some small bombs with the gunpowder inside, made a bow and some arrows, and a spear with his knife. When he was ready he covered himself with a fresh layer of cold mud and let out a battle cry, hoping the Predator was nearby to hear. Dutch remembered how he had smeared the mud over his face, like warpaint, reminding himself of his friends and fellow soldiers who had been murdered by the Predator because it saw them as trophies, trophies to collect.
The sudden sound of a car horn brought Dutch back into the present and he quickly looked around, and spotted a second car in the rearview mirror, from the frustrated face of the driver Dutch must have been veering off or something like that. He didn't really care, but he let the other driver pass, not even shouting out a retort or bothering to make a rude hand signal when the driver made one at him.
Once he was sure he was alone again, though really after what he had been enduring in the jungle and what had been happening since, a driver was not going to worry him that much, Dutch's mind could not help but drift back in time so he remembered the fight with the alien. He had been a tough sonofabitch to fight, and he had learnt quickly during the fight.
Some could say he had beaten the thing, and he had but only to a point. The log had not really been his ultimate weapon in the fight, he had hoped to impale the bastard after what he'd done to Dillon, Poncho, Billy, Mac, Blaine, Hawkins, Hopper, and fuck knows how many others, but he'd been no match for the creature when the mud had been washed off, it was so strong, and it had grabbed him by the neck and held him above the ground!
Dutch took a quick glance into the sky as if he were trying to see the thing's home planet, and he was left wondering is it worth it?
When the alien had committed suicide, Dutch had been shocked by everything that had taken place; the loss of his friends and soldiers, the long and brutal fight with the Predator after devising traps after discovering the bastard's weakness of only being able to hunt by seeing the heat of the body, but he had recovered quickly, thankful for his strong constitution which seemed to be the only thing stopping the radiation poisoning from truly setting in, though Dutch was unsure how long he had.
He was just relieved there was so much evidence to corroborate his story; Anna had helped by providing her interrogators with a near identical story to hers. The alien had not gone after her because she hadn't been armed (her picking up that machine gun hadn't counted, not after it had been kicked out of her hand), so she'd been able to get to the chopper, and the people on it had seen the explosion which was clearly some kind of nuclear device, and while intelligence services were never one hundred per cent brilliant, even they would be aware of nukes if the guerrillas had them; hell, no-one had told him anything outright, but Dutch was experienced enough to tell they themselves were shocked, especially since if the guerrillas had them, they would have used them.
Dutch was sure there was other proof, but no-one had told him. Not even that Keyes guy had told him; that was the problem with Feds, they loved asking questions, they just didn't like answering them.
Dutch sighed, the arrival of Keyes weeks after his ordeal had done it, it had made him focus on everything he had gone through. Keyes had been fascinated by the alien, what it had done, and what its habits were. But Keyes had told him very little about what was going on, much to Dutch's annoyance though truthfully he was not sure, in this case, if ignorance was indeed bliss.
And finally…. events had led to this.
Dutch had become so tired of being interned in that fucking hospital even if the care he'd been receiving had been top-notch, but if he was to die, he would rather be on his feet. It hadn't been difficult to escape; everyone knew he was suffering from radiation poisoning after being so close to the blast by the self-destruct device, so there was little security around him. It had been easy to rip off the tubes out of his arms and overpower any orderly or guard stupid enough to get in his way; he regretted going too far, but he had needed to get out.
Once in the car park, Dutch had grabbed this car and he had left, and if he had his way no-one would ever see him again. He regretted the necessity of leaving without saying goodbye to Anna, but because he didn't know where she was he had no way of telling if she was okay or not, though he did hold out hope she was okay.
In the meantime, he was prepared to think.
Dutch had no idea where he was going to go from here. He had no desire to be caught, which meant, if he were more healthy, he would have to move from town to town, city to city, but he didn't want to live like that. If he was going to do, he would want to do it in his own way rather than be stuck in a bed in some hospital where his only visitors would be federal agents.
As he drove, his mind went to the Predators.
There were more of them out there; he had given Keyes and his buddies enough clues to know what to look for to help them enough to find a pattern to the Predators actions, and he had told them what the aliens did; how they skinned bodies, and, from what Anna had described, took trophies in a gruesome manner. One thing was for sure.
They would be back.
It was just a matter of time.
Until the next time...