Author's Note: First….Thank you SO MUCH to all that have reviewed so far! Honestly, I've never had that many reviews for the first chapter—heck, I barely had a little more for an entire story I did some time ago! Hugs to all! Hehe.
This chapter is a little longer and a little more amusing than the first. I hope I don't disappoint—this story is really starting to grow on me now; I just like the way it's a little different than my normal fiction. I'm sure you'll be like "what?" when you read this part compared to my nicely depressing first chapter. More reviews welcome!
And just for a head's up, it might take me some time to get things posted because I am a college student and this week is so hectic with tests and papers - The only reason I was bad and got this up tonight was because you've all been so wonderful to praise me -)
Thank you!
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2.
Eight months have passed. My nightmares haven't really stopped, but the graphics aren't as bad as they had been originally. I still see Sebastian plastered against a stone wall in the pyramid, covered with disgusting slime. I still see his pained face and hear his warnings to not let them reach the surface. I can hear the gunshot even in my dreams. It haunts me. Part of me feels I didn't murder him and I was showing him mercy, releasing him of pain.
I tried hiding the spear the elder predator gave me, but I had learned one thing from those hunters—honor. So out it came and mounted on my wall. That was the last thing I did to try to forget. My life started to piece itself back together. I headed back out for my research and trained people to climb and so forth. I spent another month in Colorado and headed up the Rockies with some old friends of my dad's.
Everything slowed down—even the nightmares. Maybe all I needed to do was get back out there. Yet that's not all; a new guy that started working for us asked me out. Twice. His name is Steven. We've been seeing each other for about three weeks now. I guess I like him. He treats me well—spoils me is more like it.
Life seemed good. The Antarctica trip seemed in the distant past and I had nothing to worry about.
I spoke too soon.
I had just come home from a trip to Chile with a team of mountaineers and scientists. We had a four day trip in the Andes. I half expected to see Steven waiting for me on the front steps of my apartment building, but thank the heavens he wasn't.
As I made my way up the three flights of stairs, I had this odd feeling that I was being followed. I had turned around to see no one.
My heart jumped out of my chest, though, when I opened my door and started to go inside. Usually I swing the door closed when I pass it upon entering, but somehow it made a banging noise—like it hit something—and flew back open. My cat, Sophie, was sitting on the top of the couch; otherwise I would've thought it was her, although, the bang was too loud for hitting a small cat.
I ignored the incident when I figured it was my imagination and carried my suitcase to my bedroom. At first I was going to unpack right then and there, but it was late and I was much too tired. What I needed was a hot shower and something warm to drink.
I went back into the living room, which is open to the kitchen, to find Sophie on the floor, her fur standing on end, ears back, and teeth showing and hissing.
"What's gotten into you?" I asked as I moved into the kitchen. I heard something that sounded like a boot hitting my hard-wood floor in the living room. It was faint, but I still heard it. Sophie squealed violently and ran out of the room, tail between her legs.
Someone was in my apartment. I could feel it. The closest thing to me was a stainless steel candlestick. I picked it up and held it firmly in both hands. Slowly, I moved around the counter, my eyes scanning the rooms for any sign of movement.
"All right, I know you're there, asshole," I spat. "Come out now and face me."
At first I wondered what had gotten into me; there was no one there. Until my eyes focused to the side next to the door—the space seemed almost distorted. I watched as the distortion moved along. I heard a soft been and a shape began to materialize next to the couch right in front of me. My fingers tightened around the candlestick as I watched, wide-eyed, at a man, nearly eight feet tall, appearing in my living room.
My heart stopped. It wasn't a man—it was one of those alien hunters from the pyramid. Tall and extremely muscular, the hunter could easily take me down with one swing. I still remember the bone-breaking kick one delivered to me right after Max Stafford had been brutally murdered.
He wore the same metal plated armor I remember, along with a black mesh on his yellowish body, which could be seen where the metal didn't cover—thighs and abdomen sides. Although I couldn't see his face since it was covered with the metal mask, I could tell he was staring me down.
It took me a moment to find my voice, but finally I asked, "What do you want?" For a second I had this strange feeling he'd point to me and take me back to his people; after all, I did kill aliens and I'm sure everyone on that massive spaceship knew about it.
But there wasn't a reply to my question. He just continued to stare me down, his head cocked ever so slightly. I put the candlestick down, knowing that even if he did attack me, I'd have hope of defending myself. He had a dagger strapped to his right leg, a spear on his back, a shoulder gun strapped to his left shoulder blade, and several shuriken—the mechanized throwing disks—hanging from his belt. He was fully equipped; I didn't even own a steak knife as big as his dagger.
After another moment passed, he started looking around my living quarters. Slowly he walked around, examining the space with his eyes. I watched in silence. He reminded me of Scar—he had the same equipment and the same "T" like marking on his helmet. Then again, I noticed that the ones taking him back to the spaceship had the same aspects.
He turned back to me and made a soft yet scratchy noise with his throat. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" I asked again.
He came closer to me. I had to tilt my head back a hair so I could keep my eyes on his face. His head inclined more to the right, thick strands of rubbery-looking hair, dreadlocks, if you will, falling over his shoulder. I stood semi-calmly in place as he raised his clawed hand, black and yellow-skinned hand. My eyes averted to it as it came up to my face; he brushed his rough thumb over the "T" scar on my cheek.
My eyes narrowed at his outstretched arm, but then up to look at the dark, glass-covered eye holes in his mask. At first I wasn't sure what he was implying; but the soft, short purr he made told me exactly what he meant.
"You're…the same one from the pyramid?" I asked timidly, having trouble make my voice go any louder than the tone above a whisper.
He gave a short nod and took his hand away, but didn't step back. It really wasn't until now in a closed his space to realize just how tall he was—anywhere between seven to eight feet; more than your average basketball player.
"Impossible," I said unconvinced. "I saw you die! That alien put her tail right through you! Your people carried you away…"
I knew I was rambling, as if he understood everything I said. I figured from the silence and lack of movement that he hadn't the slightest clue what I told him. But apparently I was wrong.
He looked down at his chest and brought one of his strong hands up to pull away the armor that protected his stomach. There was an uneven burn mark the size of a softball directly in the center, right below his chest. He looked at me again, pointed to the burn mark with his other hand, and then pointed to his right shoulder, as if indicated that the same type of mark was there too. Scar had two alien spear-like alien tails go through him that day—this had to be him.
And here I'm talking about tails going through his body like it was an everyday occurrence.
Asking how he was still alive was pointless. He wouldn't answer me even if he wanted to—the language barrier killed it. This also made me unsure what to do with him here. He seemed to answer that for me when he turned around, the thick dreads of hair bouncing up and behind him.
I watched silently once again. He walked around the room, as if inspecting it to see if it met his approval of decent living space or something. He glanced at my new widescreen TV—I hoped he wasn't going to break it; it cost me an arm and a leg. You know, now that I think of it, I don't like that metaphor anymore.
But he ignored it a second later. The pendulum clock on the wall caught his attention. It was one of those cheesy cat wall clocks where the eyes and tail moved left to right on each tick. I wouldn't have it except it was a Christmas gift from my sister—what she was thinking I have no idea. Scar, on the other hand, seemed fascinated by it.
Scar; I kept thinking of him as that because of my observation of him marking himself. Naturally it wasn't his name. He probably couldn't say it if he wanted to. Yet it kinda bothered me that I didn't know his name—if he indeed had one. Who knew? Aliens that hunted things down for the mere fun factor probably just grunted to each other to get their attention. I guess after the story Sebastian told me, according to those hieroglyphics, made me think of Scar and his kind as cave men.
He turned back to me and made a clicking and purring noise again. I wish we spoke the same language. It really is annoying to the point you want to scream out in frustration. I think he might've felt the same way, though, when I finally and stupidly asked, "So why, exactly, did you come here?" Nice, Lex…lets ask him something where he can't really give out hand motions.
I need to stop doing that. He proved me wrong again. He held up his right hand, curled into a fist, and brought it up to the left side of his chest. He made on knock on his armor then pointed to me.
I stared for a moment, my heart getting caught in my throat. I had two thoughts from that gesture—either he wanted me for his own (shiver) or he wanted to thank me. I hoped the latter was the case. "You want to thank me?"
The alien brought up his left arm where a wrist computer was attached. He flipped it open and pressed several buttons. The last time I saw this he had activated a bomb. Needless to say I started to get nervous. Thank the heavens he gave me a pleasant surprise when he looked up. I heard something I never expected: "I-come-to-thank-you."
I was amazed. The voice was mine—I think—and a little scratchy, almost like one on an old time monster movie, only more feminine. The way it was broken up and the different tones of each word made me realize that I had said each word, and somehow his little computer recorded and played back my words after scrambling them to form the proper sentence. Brilliant! I wanted to burst into a giggle, but I double-though that; he'd probably think it rude, which it would've been. He was trying, after all.
Though I wondered why, exactly, he felt it necessary to come back to Earth and find me just to say thank-you. "I should be thanking you," I told him. "I never would've survived if you hadn't been there."
He didn't answer. Instead he turned his head and noticed the tri-spear mounted on my wall. He went over to it and brushed his hand over the handle, as if in complete awe over its magnificence. I'm guessing he was surprised to see it. "You're king gave it to me," I explained, but there was no reaction.
The phone ran, just then, scaring me half to death. Scar turned quickly with a fierce growl and pulled the dagger out of its holster on his leg. I quickly held up my hands. "It's okay! It's a phone!"
I hurried over into the kitchen area and picked up the cordless. "Hello?" My eyes stayed glued to my visitor as he put his knife away. The voice on the other end rung in my ear. "Steven?" I asked utterly shocked when he practically shouted a, "Hey!"
"How was your flight?" he asked me, filled with more enthusiasm than I wanted to feel at the moment.
"Good," I said honestly. Scar crossed the room to the kitchen table in the small dining area. "Steven, I really can't talk right now."
"Well, that hurts my feelings," he said, "since I'm downstairs."
"WHAT? You're….here!"
"On my way up!"
I panicked. Actually, panic is much too mild of a word to describe my heart rate rapidly increasing. "N-no! I can't have anyone here right now!"
"And why not? Are you cheating on me, sweetheart?" He asked in a joking manner.
"Of course not," I said in defense. Scar was leaning over the table to look at my crystal vase…my very delicate crystal vase. "Please, Steven? I was just about to take a shower."
SMASH!
I was on the verge of tears when I heard a shocked grunt and saw the alien backing up as if nothing happened. I wasn't sure which one I wanted to kill first—the alien or human.
"Will you really make me go all the way back down?" Steven asked.
I hung up quickly. "Scar," I said in haste, taking no realization that I said what I did. "You have to hide—now! Fast! My boyfriend's—"
The doorbell rang. Damn it. I turned back quickly and saw no one. "Lex?" Looking around to double check Scar was out of sight, I opened the door to have a bouquet of flowers shoved into my hands and a man no taller than me move forward and kiss me. I heard a very faint grumble. Actually, it was more like a huff of breath as Steven expressed himself towards me.
"Hi Lex," he said backing away. "Boy, I missed you."
"Really?" I asked as if I hadn't noticed. Steven was the type that loved to prove things—and that was his usual away of telling me he loved me before I could even say hi. "These are really pretty; thanks." I watched in worry as he moved further in.
"Just a little something," he said. "What happened here?"
"What?" I turned to see him glancing at the broken crystal. "Oh…Sophie. She's such a klutz," I lied as I noticed movement behind Steven. The furniture was disfigured as the hunter moved in front of it, his invisible camouflage detectable with his movements.
Steven took a step back and stumbled, hands flying out of coat pockets for balance. At the same time there was a growl. He must have backed up into Scar. "What the…?"
"So what have you been up to?" I asked quickly to draw his attention away, although I looked beyond him.
"The same old," he said. "Sat down at the office for the week. Did you hear a growl?"
"No…" Scar moved away and went over to the TV again. "It's my stomach, I mean. Planes don't serve food anymore, remember?"
"Well, let's go get something," he suggested. "It's only eight-thirty."
I shook my head quickly. "Tomorrow, maybe. I'm really tired. I just want to go to bed, okay?"
Steven pouted, but gave a nod. He looked across the room at the spear on the wall. "When are you going to get rid of that? It looks so primitive and barbaric."
"It is not!" I snapped. "Look, I'll talk to you tomorrow—dinner at seven? How's that?"
"Are you hiding something?" He asked suspiciously.
"No! I just want to take a shower and go to bed! Please?"
"Okay, okay!" He laughed and kissed me good-bye. "I'll see you. Bye."
"Bye!" I said in a fake friendly tone and shut the door behind him. I let out a big sigh of relief—I thought for sure something was going to happen. Why did Steven always have to be so persistent and playful?
I looked around the seemingly empty room. "Scar?" I called out softly. I heard my voice repeat it back to me as the predator's shape appeared out of nowhere. "Sorry," I said flopping down on a cozy chair. "I keep thinking of you as that because of…" I pointed to his forehead, then my cheek. He gave a grunt and continued the exploration of my apartment.
He inspected the stereo system against the far wall. God help me. I wanted to hide when I saw him raise a pointed finger and start to press buttons. Eventually he found the power button. Immediately the room was filled with extremely loud pop music. He roared and raised an arm to claw it down. I reached him just in time. Putting my hand on his side to stop him, my other hand turned the stereo off.
"It's just music," I explained.
Scar cocked his head to the right as if in curiosity. He either didn't understand "music" or he wasn't sure about what to do with my hand touching him. Though my fingers rested on the surprisingly warm metal armor, my palm had hit exposed skin under the even warmer mesh his body donned.
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AN: Yes, evilness beyond compare for my readers—but I realized now that I had never made a decent spot to cut this thing up into chapters…parts…sections…whatever. Sorry! To me, the middle of the story was just way to long for a one shot sit-and-read. I figured this was the best place; it makes this chapter long and still gives the next one enough length to be worth while. I'll have it up soon!
The third chapter will be my personal favorite ;) Alright…I'm done torturing you now.