Hello, readers!

Lot going on this chapter. Hopefully it all makes sense. If it doesn't, let me know!

This chapter has been updated as of 5/7/2016.

(11/9/17 update) Thanks to some feedback, I changed up how Nichole questions Wolf so it feels more organic and less like she's this all-knowing person who's in-tune with the lore of the franchise haha. I also cleaned up some spelling errors, fixed an instance of Nichole calling Wolf by name even though she hasn't offically named him yet, and some grammatical ironing!

~Crayola


Chapter Eight

Open Sore

I whimpered and looked around, then leaped over to the final egg and put my foot on top of it. "Don't come near me!" I shouted, uncertain if they could understand me but willing to try anyway.

Even if it couldn't comprehend the words, it seemed to appreciate the gesture. The serpent swung its head this way and that, sizing me up, then took a step backward. I relieved some of the pressure on the egg, but when it advanced I stepped down harder. It retreated and its tail lashed like an angry cat's.

A new sense of power washed over me and I sneered at the beast. "Get back! Get back or I'll destroy it!" Bravado filled me and I leaned forward to make it retreat further.

This time when it took a step back, it tilted its head back and cried. The suddenness made me push down harder than I meant and the egg burst beneath me. The serpent's tail arched high and it continued the cry for several seconds.

It's calling for help.

I'm dead.

More screeches broadcast in response and the trembling in my limbs started anew. With a fearful squawk, I danced away from the broken egg, stumbling on my too-big boots. The egg goo on the ground compromised my traction and I almost fell.

The beast screeched and lunged for me, determined to exact its swift revenge.

"Any second now!" I shouted, using all my strength and weight to slam the hunk of metal down atop the creature's head. It jerked and squealed in surprise, backing up.

How stupid to think he was going to go out of his way to help me. We didn't worry about the well-being of the bait on our fishing lines, so why would this alien care about me? I was just a worm on a hook, dangled out for the piranhas to eat.

Maybe he was even dead.

I couldn't rely on anyone. If there was anything I needed to get through my head, it was that. Anderson was dead, Simmons was dead, and now my escort was, too.

When the serpent came back for round two, it was ready. It dodged my swing and tackled me to the ground, forcing air from my lungs. Claws raked down my shoulder blade when I twisted to wrench myself from underneath it, eliciting a strangled wail from me.

Though I doubled my efforts, my arms wouldn't hold up my weight. The creature was heavy on my back, and I couldn't find the leverage to throw it off.

You can't even rely on yourself. You're not strong enough.

There were other screeches from behind us, but I couldn't concern myself with them. Not when I had enough to deal with on top of me already.

Then I heard a familiar roar and splat of eviscerated enemies.

He wasn't dead! He'd come back; somehow he'd shaken the giant monster from his tail and doubled back for me. I could take some solace in the fact that he was holding off the help that the one attacking me had called.

My. Fucking. Hero.

But I still had to live through the one trying to maul me—and it was doing a fairly good job of it.

Claws dug into my shoulders and I squirmed, tears stinging and blurring my vision. I needed to roll over to my back, then I could use that hilarious weapon he'd given me for something. Maybe if I could hit the serpent enough with it, I could kill it. Or stun it.

If he could hold off all those others, I should be able to take care of this one. Just the one!

Grunting, I flailed backward, swinging my arms and throwing everything I had into moving. The serpent snarled, but somehow I was able to flip over. I earned a face full of teeth for my troubles, and pain erupted from my shoulder in a shower of white-hot sparks. I let out an initial shriek of pain, then lost my voice.

I gaped up at it soundlessly until a strangled moan gurgled in my throat. It was like being punched and stabbed at the same time. The pain flared from the wound and radiated all the way down to my fingers and toes. It turned my thoughts to static and left me gasping for breath.

Its second set of jaws retreated into its mouth. Had I not been struggling with such vehemence, it might have given me a hole in my face instead of my shoulder.

The pain sapped all the strength from my body and I went limp the moment its weight was lifted off me. Now free, I curled in on myself and pressed both of my hands against my shoulder, piece of metal forgotten at my side. My breath came in short gasps and my frame shook. Tears slid freely down my cheeks, though I strained to suck them up, tried hard to hide that kind of weakness.

In lieu of tears, I ground my teeth together and screamed internally, the sound coming out as a low groan. I remained in the fetal position as long as I dared to, clutching the injury and telling myself I was going to be fine.

Still, some tears slipped through my defenses.

Through my pained whimpers and shudders, I heard the tail end of the scuffle. A single death wail rang out, signaling the fall of the last drone, then all was quiet. I gulped down one more trembling breath, then peeled my eyes open and looked around. My escort was standing over the mangled bodies of the serpents, donning fresh wounds. One of them was a deep gouge running from his left clavicle to his sternum, vivid blood bubbling from within.

"I thought—" I attempted to stand and my head swam, forcing me back to the floor. Blood soaked into my shirt, and my tongue felt thick. "I thought you were dead."

His incredulous snort might have been amusing had I not been in such agony.

Despite the ambient heat of the ship, ice spread across my body and a clammy sweat broke out on my forehead. For some reason, everything seemed to be vibrating, but I realized that it was I who was shaking like a leaf. I tried again to stand and dug my fingers into the area around my wound, fingers wet and sticky with my warm blood.

I brushed tears away on my sleeve and sucked in a shuddering breath. The bite throbbed, but I forced myself to ignore it.

When I looked up, my escort was close enough to touch me, staring down. He cocked his head to the side and reached out to grab my wounded shoulder. I flinched away out of instinct, overwhelmed by the need to keep the extent of the damage from him.

What if he decided it was too bad? He would leave me. Discard me without a second thought. Maybe even put me down out of pity.

It was better he didn't know.

"It's nothing. I'll be fine. I can keep going," I rasped, throat raw.

He didn't drop the subject and panic tightened my chest. Grinding my teeth, I struggled to stay on my feet and took a step away from him. I knew from the way my shirt tugged on my skin that I was bleeding a lot. Tender bruises blossomed on various parts of my body, creating a stiffness in my limbs. I staggered, but I managed to stay on my feet and I puffed my chest out.

"I'm fine, really." I forced the confidence into my voice. "Let's just keep going."

His head cocked in the other direction, but the angle of his mask let me know he was staring at my wound. I turned my torso to hide, but he lashed out faster than I could react and yanked my hand away from the wound. I squeaked and wiggled in his grasp, but he was firm.

Realizing struggle was futile, I relaxed into his hold and turned my head away, jaw set. "It's fine! I'll be fine. I'll just . . . I'll bandage it up and be good as new."

My escort peeled torn fabric from the raw skin, then pushed me toward the table until the edge hit my knees and I had to sit. He turned away and made to leave. Not wanting to be left alone, I hopped down to follow. Once more he turned to face me, this time growling. I sat back down on the table and he watched me before turning away once more.

It might have been the pain muddling my mind, but I was sure he was leaving me.

"I still got some fight left in me you pompous ass." I jumped off the table and took an unsteady step toward him, licking my dry lips. "I told you I'm perfectly fine!"

He watched me for a second, studying the stern look on my face, and his shoulders shook. The action confused me, but then he started to make a strange rumbling sound that turned into a prolonged trill. I realized after a moment that he was laughing.

"What's so funny?" I demanded.

At first, he didn't answer. Instead, he took a few large strides toward me and put a hand on my good shoulder, pushing me down. I resisted until he pushed hard enough it hurt and I complied with a grimace. He made the same "stay" motion from before, then walked away.

This time I didn't argue. I pressed my lips into a thin line and applied pressure to the wound, though pressing on it hurt. It didn't seem to be putting a stop to the bleeding, either, and I was so cold. My vision kept coming in and out of focus, but I could make out the horrible wound on my shoulder—the puckered skin with bits of fabric stuck to the edges, blood oozing and soaking the front of my shirt.

Narrowing my eyes, I brushed my fingers over the gory mark. I couldn't tell how deep it was, but moving my arm caused quite a bit of strain. At least I didn't think anything had been broken. It was right in the fleshy part of my left shoulder, below my clavicle. It seemed superficial, but I wasn't a doctor.

Certainly looked horrible, that's for sure.

Staring at the bloody mess was making me woozy so I tried to see what the alien was doing. All the while I had to concentrate to keep myself sitting upright—even that was beginning to seem impossible. He moved about the room, pulling crust and slime from the walls to examine cubbies hidden there. After a minute, he didn't find what he was looking for and growled, dissatisfied.

"What do you need?" I asked though I wasn't sure what I could do. Sitting was becoming a task too arduous for me to complete.

Ignoring me, he detached something from his back and returned to me. He set the pack on the table and with a push of a button, it opened up like a mechanical tackle box. I leaned in to steal a better look and he allowed it, running his finger over the various tools. Empty syringes, strange clamps, and a lot of missing pieces.

A medpack?

Again he chittered in annoyance, then looked up at my shoulder. He pulled my hand away to look at the wound, then clicked and rattled too fast for me to follow. I was beginning to pick out patterns in his speech, but couldn't yet discern words.

With an angry jab, he closed up the med pack and tossed it aside. He pulled me off the table and motioned for me to follow. So close to him I could see why most of the pack was empty: he had staples holding together some wounds and a dried substance on others. There were so many injuries he'd had to treat after the crash and various attacks, he'd used all of it up. He'd need to find more if he wanted to treat any more wounds we received.

Sighing, I hopped off the table and my legs immediately buckled. My escort caught me under my bad arm and I sucked in a sharp breath, biting my tongue against a cry of pain. He lifted me up and held me until I found my balance, then let go of my arm. I tucked it against my side, holding my shoulder with a grip tight enough to hurt.

This time I didn't have a quip or complaint. I was too dizzy to speak, and I swayed where I stood. The alien watched me for a second, then stepped aside to let me walk from the room. I glanced at him with half-lidded eyes, then nodded and took a few steps forward.

I didn't make it four paces before I collapsed. The alien's arm was there, catching me across the chest and holding me up.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't even muster the upper body strength to stand up again. I trembled in my escort's embrace, trying to make the floor come into focus, but failing. After a second, where it became apparent to him I couldn't do it on my own, he churred and heaved me up, tossing me over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Any words that come out of my mouth were incoherent at best, and I wasn't sure what I was even trying to tell him. His steps had me bouncing painfully against his adornments and armor, but it beat dragging myself across the ground after him.

Blood dripped down my arm onto the floor as we walked, my shirt's sleeve saturated beyond its threshold. I marveled at how much blood that was—that would explain why I couldn't walk.

I'm going to die from blood loss, I realized, too out of it to muster anything but apathy.

In fact, I couldn't feel much of anything anymore.

Adrenaline had long since stopped flowing and left behind a hollow weariness in my bones. My eyelids drooped as he carried me, and it was as if my clothes were made of lead. I forced my eyes to open, aware that if I passed out I might not wake up. It was hard, though, when against my chest I could feel his torso vibrate with a low rumble. It made me think of our old cat, Alice, purring.

Couldn't imagine what an alien would be doing purring, though.

Eventually, after some twists and turns, he walked into a room and shut the door behind him. In a sort of drunken-like stupor, I ran my fingertips over the door as it slid shut, drawing some sort of pleasure from the action.

My escort removed me from his shoulder, making the floor and walls blur until I was on my back on a new table, staring at the ceiling. The quick action made my head swim and for a moment I thought I was going to hurl, but then the room stabilized.

It was similar to the previous room we'd been in, except the walls were free of resin. The contents of the area were strewn about the floor just like the other room, too. I imagined the only reason the table was still upright was that it might have been bolted to the floor. The crash had toppled various displays and machines to the ground.

Lying down made it even harder to keep my eyes open. I was so exhausted and cold, tired from shaking and still in pain. Now, on top of all that, I couldn't quite catch my breath. All I wanted was to sleep, but I forced myself to stay awake.

Don't go to sleep.

I wheezed and panted, trying to pay attention to what he was doing. The small sounds I made brought his attention to me and after examining my symptoms, he tapped away at his wrist computer. He watched me, then went back to righting one of the machines. He tried to turn it on, but it only sparked and fizzled. He snarled and shoved it back onto its side.

My eyelids drooped and I blinked hard, trying to bring my sight back into focus. In the back of my mind, the wound on my shoulder throbbed. I focused on the pain, trying to stay conscious.

And yet, the next thing I knew, the pressure of his hand on my good shoulder was dragging me from my doze. Startled, I thrashed around until he restrained me. Even then I struggled for another moment, growling until my escort snarled an admonishment.

His familiar sounds stilled my flailing and I blinked up at him with bleary vision. After some more blinking and eye-rubbing, he came into focus.

"What? No—what? I'm fine. I'm fine," I slurred, tongue dry and swollen.

He chuffed and tore my shirt to give him more room to work. I protested in a meek voice but made no move to stop him.

"What's that thing that's chasing us?" I muttered in a heavy voice.

As expected, he ignored my question and showed me a freaking horse syringe with a clear liquid in the tube. I eyed it, nervous, but nodded. He flexed his fingers and held me down before jabbing the wicked needle into the center of the wound.

I yelped and squirmed, but it was all done in a matter of seconds. Whatever he injected me with, I could feel it sledging through my veins, hot and uncomfortable. I winced and fidgeted, clutching at my chest. Soon enough, though, the pain in my shoulder ebbed. However the dizziness tripled, and I curled into the fetal position. He watched me and grumbled to himself for a moment, looking at the syringe. It was missing only an eight of its contents.

For a moment I tried to ask him what he gave me, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was absolute gibberish. After the second attempt, I stopped speaking.

He looked at me, then made a strange noise I couldn't describe—a click, a rumble, a word I couldn't discern. The world twisted and melted in front of my eyes and I clenched them shut. I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, fighting back the urge to throw up.

That was a losing battle.

Somehow I had the presence of mind to turn and lean over the back of the table before retching. All I managed was a bout of dry-heaving, bile caught in the back of my throat. Whimpering, I didn't move from that position until he made me. He flipped me over onto my back with a quiet click, his ministrations gentle for once.

Whatever he'd given me made everything numb. I wanted to lift my hand to wipe my mouth, but couldn't lift it more than a few centimeters. There was a light pressure as my escort stapled the wound shut, but that was all.

When he finished, he left me to recover on the table and went about dressing his own wounds. I kept my eyes shut to keep from watching the room spiral in upon itself. My breathing came a little easier, and something high up in the ceiling was hissing. If I wasn't so sure I was safe with my escort, the sound would have freaked me out.

But he was present. If there was danger, he would know before I did.

For the time being, I could relax and focus on recuperating.

I listened to the sounds of my escort's rummaging and repressed nausea caused by the drugs. As the minutes ticked down, the muck in my bloodstream filtered out. The pain was gone, and I thought maybe my body was adjusting to the foreign medicine.

He hadn't even given me that much, and though the wound didn't hurt I could feel the beginnings of a headache pounding at my skull. At least the world had stopped spinning.

Slow and deliberate, I sat up and brushed my fingers over the strange sutures. They were big, metal, and heavy—not made for my delicate human flesh. I shouldn't complain, though. Not when they were working for their intended purpose.

It was more than I'd expected, too. I'd figured any wounds I sustained I'd have to live with until I made it out of the ship, not that he'd play nurse.

Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.

Blinking the last of drug-induced fuzz from my vision, I looked around for my escort. I found him not far, watching me curiously. I rubbed my eyes and slid off the table. Somehow I managed to stand without collapsing and I took a steadying breath.

When I was sure I would be able to form actual words, I spoke.

"Thank you. For that." I enunciated each syllable with careful precision, squaring my shoulders and trying to meet him eye to eye. It was hard when he was three heads taller than me.

He gave me a deep nod and turned toward the door. I caught a glimpse of the giant gash on his chest from the fight—it had its own sutures and had stopped bleeding. With his back turned, I shed my bloody and torn shirt, replaced it with my jacket and zipped it up.

Heat be damned. I wasn't running around topless and my shirt was nothing more than rags. I discarded it and followed after him.

Before leaving he stood by the closed door, head turned while he listened. After a moment he slid it open and stepped outside. I poked my head around the doorway before creeping after him. Down the hallway, the creatures were still squealing and cackling. Not from the way we came, though.

I remembered the vague feeling of quakes but had thought it was my trembling. In my foggy state, I hadn't realized the aliens had passed us.

"What is it?" I asked, squinting into the darkness. "It's different from the others."

He glanced at me and I didn't shy away. I grimaced and shook my head. "Never mind. I don't know why I ask. It's not like you can answer my questions."

I'd have to limit them in a way he could answer "yes" or "no" with ease.

The alien studied me for a moment, then growled and led me down the path in silence. I tried to think of a way to form my questions so he could answer in a simple manner. It was necessary if I wanted to figure out how these things worked. If I knew that, I could maybe kill them easier.

Fat chance.

"Is it the same type of creature?" I asked, at last, to make sure. When he answered in the positive, it left me wondering why it was different, what would have happened to make it look so unique and. . .big.

"Is it . . . um . . . ." I scrambled for the words I was looking for. "Is it higher in rank than the rest?"

Ants and bees are different sizes depending on their role in the hive . . . maybe these things work the same way.

He had to think about it for a moment but eventually responded in the negative.

If that wasn't the case, then why would it be different? I couldn't imagine what was missing from the small drones compared to that huge beast rampaging.

"Does it look different because it's older?" I ventured.

The answer I received was a no.

Frustrated, I racked my brain for anything else that made sense. Anything at all that would possibly make it so much bigger and dissimilar to the rest of them running around.

It wasn't its rank, and it wasn't its age, so what else was there? There wasn't anything I could think of, except maybe—

Hosts. The things needed a host to breed. That had been my intended fate.

"So, then, was it born from . . . something . . . not human?" I kept my voice quiet as I drilled him. I didn't know how far ahead the creature was, and I didn't want to find out.

Yes, he signaled. Something else had sowed the giant thing hunting us down.

"From here? From Earth, I mean?" came my follow-up question. The area was known for its elk population and sometimes the occasional bear, after all. There would have been plenty of other things wandering around, though I hadn't seen any animal corpses as of yet.

However, my escort told me that that wasn't the case.

"So . . . from another planet?"

That one was affirmative.

I tried to pay attention to the path we were taking as well as the information that I was gathering. It wouldn't matter, though. All the halls and doors looked the same so I was bound to lose my way if I was ever separated from the big goon leading me around.

After a few minutes, I asked, "How did it get here, then?"

He didn't respond except for a few strange sounds and I grimaced at my slip-up. Right. Yes or no questions only.

"Was . . . ." I stumbled for the right wording, just like I was stumbling on my steps, still wobbly from loss of blood. "Did you bring it here for some reason?"

A grunt in the negative.

"On accident?"

He hissed in the affirmative.

Considering that for a moment, I next inquired, "Did it cause the ship to crash?"

His steps paused and he grumbled, then nodded and continued onward. It was enough to sate my curiosity: the weird creature was a stowaway from another planet. It was still the same species, but their host determined what they looked like, or something like that.

Maybe they inherit traits?

There were no parasites like that on Earth, but these things weren't from Earth. Without knowing what alien host had birthed the big thing, I couldn't know for sure. I didn't see much of anything human-like in the smaller bugs running around. They walked kind of upright, but that was the only similarity at first glance.

Well, the best way to know for sure was to ask, so I did just that. When I finished the question, he answered yes.

Any other questions bouncing around in my brain were far more complicated than any yes or no question I could formulate. What sort of traits did they inherit? How did it work?

There was no way I was going to understand any biology lessons this guy gave me, and no guarantee he'd know how it worked, either.

Overall, though, I was satisfied and content to follow after him in silence, stewing in my own curiosity. I'd probably never know the answers, and I figured that was just fine.

We walked for another few minutes and I realized how empty I felt; like I was forgetting something. I racked my brain trying to figure out what it was; my shirt? No, I'd left that behind on purpose. My phone? No, that was still in my back pocket. I checked it for reception again, but there was still nothing. A few more cracks.

Another forty minutes had passed since the last time I'd checked the time.

At least if the armed forces didn't call in at some point, reinforcements would arrive. Maybe just a small team of people to figure out what was going on before they called the rest of the military. Still, it was something to look forward to.

Finally, after staring at the gauntlet on my escort's arm, trying to figure out where the blades went, I realized what I was missing.

A weapon. I had left behind my chunk of metal.

Fat lot of good it did me, anyway.

"Wait," I muttered, matching his strides to walk next to him. "Let me have a weapon. And not another piece of junk this time!"

He pretended not to hear me and turned down a fork in the road. The screeches receded further into the ship, as did the roars. Whatever was patrolling the halls, we had tricked it into wandering away from us. How long until it circled back, though, I wasn't sure.

The place was enormous. Surely we had plenty of time.

I watched him with sharp eyes, noting the way his head inclined at every noise. The grumbling that came from his chest was almost like he was muttering to himself. I didn't know what it meant, but it made him seem less alien somehow.

Maybe not quite human, but at least more of a person than a murderous alien of death and destruction.

After a moment he stopped without warning and I almost bumped into him but halted just in time. He turned toward the wall and pulled down a section of the crust, revealing a control pad. He dragged the claw of his index finger down it, activating the pad, then pressed some keys.

The door slid open with a hiss and I jumped.

Assuming this was another hunt for some survivors, I made no move to enter. The few times I had before, he'd stopped me. This time, however, he motioned for me to step inside and stood out of the way so I could enter first.

Initially, I thought it was some sort of trick so I stood at the threshold, staring in. He chittered in a hushed tone and shoved me inside, making me stumble.

I spluttered some choice profanities at him and straightened up, looking around the room. It was much darker than out in the hall, so it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. When they did, all the color drained from my face. I made to backpedal from the room, but he herded me inside with his bulk and closed the door behind him.

Standing outside was dangerous. If the pest aliens came by while he was in the room doing his business, I'd be a goner and could bring more than just the drones on us. He seemed able to handle them no problem, but the big thing running around had him a little jittery.

Regardless, I wasn't very keen on being inside the room, either.

Lining the wall was dozens of strange, alien skulls. Some were as big as me, some were animal sized, a few were similar to the serpents running around and . . . I looked away from the familiar skulls, unwilling to acknowledge them.

It wasn't hard to figure out what they were there for: trophies.

But it wasn't the trophy skulls that had me clamoring for the exit. My grandpa had an elk head mounted on his wall, one that had almost broken a record. I wasn't a stranger to trophies.

No, it was the humanoid slumped over in the corner, impassive gray mask staring straight at me.