Alright, next not-really-chapter. I'm not sure that I'm writing Hudson's dialogue realistically - I've never written any considerable quantity of swearing before. Oh well.
Burke pulled a few small shards of glass out of his hands and brushed more glass and a large quantity of cement dust off his hair. He felt a rather sharp pain in his foot, and discovered that what seemed like half a light bulb had become embedded in it. Starting to pull on it, he felt suddenly dizzy and leaned back against the wall.
"Hudson, can you give me a hand here?" he asked once the feeling had passed somewhat. The marine, who was currently trying to get rid of the glass that had stuck into his armor, didn't look around. "Hudson? Hello?" No response was forthcoming, and Hudson moved on to the glass in his arms. Burke reached over and shook the other man's shoulder.
Hudson turned around and opened his mouth, but although it was obvious he was speaking, Burke couldn't hear anything.
"Ah. Looks like the blast's made us temporarily deaf," Burke said, hoping that perhaps Hudson could read lips. Apparently this was not the case, he decided, as the marine stared at him in confusion. With a sigh, he gestured at the large piece of glass stuck in his foot.
Hudson reached over and abruptly yanked it out. Burke yelled inaudibly and punched the marine in the shoulder, and then shut his eyes and lay back against the wall, waiting for the dizziness that had resulted from Hudson's unexpectedly hasty aid to go away, and for his hearing to come back.
A number of minutes passed before Burke became aware of a faint noise. He opened his eyes and saw that Hudson was muttering something.
"Hey," he said. The marine, who had been taking inventory of his rather scant supply of pistol ammunition, looked around.
"What was that about, man?"
"What?"
"You hit me."
"Yeah." There was a pause. Burke could just make out Hudson's words, although the marine was talking in a normal tone – he guessed that it would take quite a lot longer before the effects of the explosion wore off completely.
"Sorry," he said eventually.
"Whatever. So what're we supposed to do now? The whole fuckin' complex is totally wasted. No way was Bishop waiting around for us, man, I mean, he probably thinks we got blown up too."
"You're probably right. We should try to figure out how to get out of here ourselves. You know, there are probably other basement rooms that weren't affected by the blast either. Maybe something in one of them could help us."
Hudson nodded in agreement, but then went a funny pale color. "Hey… if there's more rooms, how do we know some of those aliens didn't make it too? Huh? What if they know we're here and they're coming to get us right now? How the fuck are we supposed to get rid of them with one gun, man? Huh?"
"Well – look, okay, let's just take it easy for a second. I don't think the xenomorphs are capable of opening doors. Of course, they could probably break through the door… Never mind. There has to be some way to transmit a distress signal. Even if the colony's long-range transmitters are broken, we ought to be able to fix them, or maybe there are backups. There might be spare parts in one of the other rooms." Burke attempted to stand up and walk decisively towards the door, but the pain in his foot caused him to collapse before he'd even managed to straighten up completely. "I need a shoe," he informed Hudson.
"Yeah, well, I'll just give you the shoe I always carry around in my pocket," the marine replied irritably.
"Can you give me one of yours?"
Hudson held up one of his feet. On the bottom of the boot there was a muck-encrusted number '6'. "I don't think they're big enough, man."
"No, they're not. You know, this is bizarre, this whole situation."
"Yeah, like I didn't know that? Fuck. What do we do?"
"Well… It seems like the colonists used the basement rooms for storage. Maybe they kept some shoes in one of them. You could go look."
"What, go out there? With aliens all over the place? I'm not stupid, man…"
"We don't know for sure that any aliens survived."
"We don't fuckin' know they didn't."
"You have a point, but unless you want to carry me all over the complex, we're going to have to find a shoe."
"I don't know, man. You were gonna sabotage the cryotubes, and you let those fuckin' alien face-things out with Ripley and the kid, why shouldn't I just leave you here? Don't have an answer for that one, huh?"
"Yes, I do, I'm just trying to figure out a way to phrase it that isn't insulting."
"What the hell're you talking about?"
"Fine, if you want me to tell you – Hudson, to put it bluntly, I'm the brains of this operation."
"Fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"No offense, but you don't have the best decision-making skills. I know you don't like me, and you know, that's okay, but if you want to get out of here you're probably going to need my help. I mean, do you even know how to fix a transmitter if we find one?"
"No, but I could figure it out. Do you know how to?"
"I don't, but a few years ago I was on a ship, the transmitter broke, and I watched the crew fix it. So, it's pretty likely I'd have a better chance than you. If we work together, we should be able to get it working. Assuming we find a transmitter."
Hudson was silent.
"Well?"
"Whatever, man." The marine sighed and stood up. "Right. I'll go… I'll go look for some."
"Thanks," Burke replied, slightly surprised that Hudson had both comprehended and agreed with his argument. "I'll lock the door behind you. When you come back, don't just knock, actually say something so I'll know it's you, okay?"
"Yeah." Hudson swallowed and unnecessarily checked his pistol to ensure it was loaded. He helped Burke over to the door and then unlocked it, taking a deep breath. He placed his hand on the door handle and then paused.
"Hang on, what about the radiation?"
"There isn't any. That wasn't a nuclear explosion, it was just the cooling systems malfunctioning. There might be a lot of smoke, but that should be all."
"Right." With no further hesitation, Hudson yanked open the door. The passage outside was deserted. Large chunks of cement from the ceiling and walls littered the floor, and the air was filled with smoke and dust. Hudson coughed and then stepped out into the passage, shutting the door behind him. Burke, who was sitting against the wall beside the door, reached up and turned the lock.
Hudson's footsteps faded into the distance, and the basement room was completely silent. It was dark as well, as Hudson had taken the flashlight with him when he departed. The only light was a small line against the floor, where the central part of the bottom of the door had pulled up slightly due to the explosion. The dim, grayish light shining from this gap glinted off a piece of broken glass on the floor.
Several minutes passed. Even though Hudson hadn't been gone very long, Burke found himself becoming rather nervous. He wished that someone more reliable had survived instead of Hudson – maybe Hicks or Vasquez. No, not them, they wouldn't require his help and would most likely have shot him on the spot. Maybe Ripley, then.
He wondered how much time had passed. Of course, there was no way to know how long it would take Hudson either to find some shoes or to give up and come back, but still. He held his breath and didn't move at all for a few moments, listening for any sort of sound outside the room – Hudson's returning footsteps or a surviving alien. There was no sound of any sort, however.
More time went by. At last, Burke heard hurried footsteps in the hallway, and then Hudson's voice, sounding hushed and nervous and oddly guilty, came from outside the room.
"It's me, man. Let me in."
Burke felt around in the dark for the lock, turning it once he located it, and the marine immediately entered the room, shutting the door hastily and locking it. He was carrying a pair of shoes and the flashlight in one hand, and the pistol in the other.
Hudson wordlessly handed the shoes to Burke, who nodded and put them on, making sure to tie up his injured foot with his remaining sock first.
"Did you find anything else? Weapons, or something we can use to send a message?"
The marine shook his head. He did not look at Burke.
"Hudson? What's going on?"
"We're out of ammo," Hudson muttered, almost too quietly to hear. For a second, Burke thought he hadn't heard correctly.
"What?"
"We're out of ammo," the marine repeated, more loudly. "I used it up. Every last goddamn bullet."
"So – wait, hang on – there are still aliens out there?"
"No."
"Then what –"
"I got a little jumpy, alright?" Hudson finally looked up. His face was flushed and his expression was somewhere between angry and embarrassed. Burke shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He really, really wanted to scream at Hudson and possibly hit the marine with his old shoe, but figured this would not be a wise idea. After all, he was fairly certain that Hudson would consider using up all the ammunition a rather less severe transgression than effectively killing a number of people by locking them behind a door along with numerous bloodthirsty aliens. Figuring that out, in addition to remembering his earlier intentions to sabotage the cryotubes and transport aliens back to Gateway inside of Ripley and Newt, and his instructing the colonists to check out the ship which had originally held the alien eggs, would probably cause Hudson to become a lot less embarrassed and a lot more angry. It was best not to remind him of it.
"Okay, why don't you just tell me what happened. From the beginning."
"I went down the hallway and checked in the rooms with open doors. There's a bunch of different shit in the rooms down here, man. I saw plumbing tools, books, canned vegetables, you name it. Most of it was pretty busted up from the explosion. I'm not gonna be able to look at spinach the same way again.
"Didn't see any shoes off this hallway, so I went down another one leading off it. I turned a corner and something moved, so I shot it, of course, what the fuck was I supposed to do? It was just a piece of cement falling off the ceiling, though. I looked in a bunch more rooms, and stuff kept moving at me, so… Found these in a room with a load of some sort of suits and shit, maybe for the outside before it was terraformed. Some of the stuff looked like it was for later on, like for making gardens or whatever. I came back, but we don't have any more ammo. I didn't see a single fuckin' gun anywhere."
"Great."
"Well what the fuck would you have done, man?" Hudson was getting defensive. "If it was aliens I wouldn't have had time to check them out, they would have gotten me if I tried to."
"Yeah, well, it doesn't take a genius to tell a falling piece of concrete from an alien." Burke knew that he was being slightly unreasonable, and also more than slightly unwise, but the fact that he and Hudson were now alone and unarmed in a complex that was quite possibly inundated with aliens was really bothering him. In fact, he thought it would not be an exaggeration to say it was actually upsetting him rather a lot.
"It was dark!" Hudson protested.
"Dark? You had a flashlight! I was sitting here the whole time you were gone, wondering whether you were coming back, or whether you'd leave without me, or whether you were dead and some xenomorph was going to break through that door. Not that I'm blaming you, of course, you've only gone through extensive training so you can stay calm in this kind of situation."
"Shut up! At least I got you your shoes, man!"
"Yeah, they're making me really thrilled right now! I don't mind dying in excruciating pain as long as I've got a pair of shoes!"
"You think you're happy? I'm fuckin' overjoyed that we don't have any weapons, 'cause all that 'extensive training' you're talking about? I don't know if you realized this, but it didn't involve giant fuckin' aliens dropping outta the ceiling!"
Burke started to reply and then abruptly stopped. He stared at the shards of glass on the floor for a while. Eventually, he said, "Hudson? This isn't working. I don't think we're getting out of here."
"Yeah, well, that makes me happy too. I haven't been this fuckin' joyous in years."
"I'm not being sarcastic. Really, I don't think we can do this. I mean, even if there aren't any aliens left, we probably won't be able to make a transmitter, at least not without killing each other."
Hudson didn't reply for a moment; then he said, "Well, maybe it's good I used up all the ammo, then."
Burke smiled faintly. "Maybe. Look, if we're not making it out of here, why don't we at least stop yelling at each other? I don't know about you, but I'd rather not spend my time arguing."
"I guess. Whatever."
"What should we do?"
"You're asking me? I thought you said that that was your job."
"I know. It was just a question. If you don't know then that's… it's fine. It's just that I don't know what to do either."
"Well." Hudson stared around the room as if hoping the walls would give him inspiration. "Why don't we look for transmitter parts?" he suggested presently. "Hey, if we're lucky, we'll find some guns on the way."
"Okay." Burke stood up, wincing slightly at the pain in his foot, and opened the door. The hallway outside was just as empty as the last time they'd seen it.
Slowly and very cautiously, the two men made their way back towards the stairs. The staircase had collapsed, but it had not blocked the stairwell. They could see a dim , colorless light filtering down through the dust and smoke that filled the air – apparently, the roof of the complex had collapsed. Hudson kicked at the broken stairs, which lay on the floor twisted out of shape by the force of the explosion, before turning around and heading the other way.
They passed the rooms Hudson had described earlier. As they continued further down the hallway, Burke found it difficult to distract himself from his foot, which was hurting quite a lot, and also his ribs, at least one of which he had decided was definitely broken. He tried mentally reciting lines of poetry and the multiplication table, but that didn't work
"So, when were you really happy, recently?" he asked Hudson. He wasn't really interested, but listening to Hudson would give him something to concentrate on.
"What?"
"Back in the room, you were being sarcastic, you said you were really happy, because of the situation? So, what was the last time you remember being especially happy?"
Hudson thought for a while. "I guess it was last mission. We went to this colony, to help sort out a dispute they were having, and there was this fuckin' awesome girl there."
"What was her name?"
"Sophie." Burke was alarmed to see the marine's eyes grow slightly misty. "Man, she was one date I'll remember for a while. I took her out to this bar, and later –"
"Er, Hudson?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't need to hear the details, thanks."
"Oh."
"She sounds really nice." This wasn't particularly the case, as Hudson had in fact said very little about the amazing Sophie, but Burke thought it was prudent to end the conversation there.
"What about you?" the marine inquired.
"What about me?"
"You know, man, when was the last time you went out with someone? Assuming you ever went out with someone."
"That was a little tactless."
"That's my middle name."
"Right. Well I went out with a woman named Angela when I was in college."
"Yeah? Where's she now?"
"She's… hang on…" Burke did some mental calculations. "Yeah, she's dead."
"Oh. Well that sucks."
"No, I mean, it wasn't unexpected or anything. We'd already ended the relationship, I was going off to a station that was pretty far away… so, I was in cryosleep for a few years, and then I went on a few more trips, so by now, if she was alive, she'd be somewhere around a hundred and eighty."
"Unless she spent some time in cryosleep too."
"I didn't think of that." Burke considered the possibilities of Hudson's theory. "I don't think so. She'd just gotten a job she was really fond of."
"Sure, but you never know."
"I guess not." He shrugged, and then pointed into a room slightly ahead and on the right side of the hallway. "Hey, look over there, is that some kind of transmitting equipment?"
Hudson stepped into the room and shone his flashlight on the dark, unidentified mound it contained. There were several long, thin shapes sticking out from it, which the marine supposed might be wires or metal poles. As the beam of the flashlight illuminated the mound, however, it became clear that this was not transmitting equipment. It was, in fact, an alien.
With a yell, Hudson automatically reached for his pistol and started firing it at the alien. As it contained no ammunition, this did not prove very helpful. The marine turned and raced off down the passage, knocking Burke over as he did so. The empty pistol dropped unheeded onto the floor.
Burke scrambled up and was about to take off after Hudson when he noticed something very unusual, given the situation: he wasn't dead yet. Earlier, back before the locked-door incident, he'd seen just how fast the aliens could move. The alien inside the room should definitely have reached him, and possibly Hudson as well, by this time.
Fighting the impulse to forget about all this information and just get away as fast as possible, Burke looked back into the room. The lighting was dim, but he could immediately see that apart from initially snarling and shifting around a bit, the alien had not moved. It was currently lurking in the back of the room, making menacing sounds and whipping its tail about violently.
"Hudson?" Burke called. The name came out as a somewhat hoarse squeak, so he cleared his throat and tried again.
There was no response for a minute, and then Hudson cautiously returned down the passageway. He was holding a long pole with what seemed to be a spigot on the end. Presumably he had gotten this from the room with the terraforming gear.
"Where's the alien, man?" he asked, his voice tense with nerves.
"It's in the room. I think it might be hurt."
Hudson peered through the doorway. "Whoah. You're right." He walked carefully closer to the alien, making sure to stay out of range of its tail. It hissed at him.
The marine put the pole with the spigot, which Burke had now deduced was supposed to plug onto the end of a hose, onto the floor. He stepped on the spigot end until it flattened, and then folded it over by kicking at it. Then he stepped on it again, creating a sharp, roughly triangular point.
"Got any ethical objections to sending this thing straight to hell?"
"Not really."
"Good, 'cause I'm gonna do it anyway."
Hudson grasped the very end of the pole and, taking careful aim, half threw and half stabbed it at the alien. The crushed spigot bent a little, but then it slid between two sections of the creature's carapace. A stream of acidic blood flowed out, sending up clouds of smoke as it burnt into the floor. Hudson retreated back to the door as the alien thrashed a few more times and then went still.
Burke expected the marine to make some victorious, most probably vulgar comment, but instead he just stood there, staring at the dead alien. Eventually, without turning around, he spoke.
"You remember when we were coming down to the planet?"
"Yeah," Burke replied, slightly nonplussed.
"I was talking to Ripley, you know, telling her about all the weapons and shit we were carrying. I said something about sharp sticks."
"Yeah…"
"Everyone that was there is dead now except you and me. Every last goddamn one of them." Hudson walked over to a large piece of cement at the edge of the room and sat down on it. He dropped the pole with the spigot and stared blankly at it as it lay on the floor. Burke really had no idea what to say.
There we are. I know that this chapter ended on a vaguely depressing note, but I am not turning this into an angst-fic. And really... Hudson-angst? I don't think so, man. Anyway. I should have the next one up within a week or two. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated, whether they be positive or negative.
