I don't own the Predator franchise.

Old West.

The moment the sun had raised to usher in the new god-given day, Jack had gone out with one of his deputies and a couple of other men, long-term veterans of skirmishes against the Indians in the past, and checked to make sure the Indians had not attacked anyone over the night.

As the town sheriff, he always took his job seriously.

The good news was the Indians, while capable when it came down to burning down farms and cabins, were absolutely terrible when it came to damaging railway lines. But even Indians sometimes got lucky, and with the sudden rise in tensions lately, the last thing the town needed or wanted was to be cut off.

So many people were now dependent on the trains to ferry goods and people were arriving all the time to colonise the region, and since train travel was more versatile and superior compared to the traditional horse-drawn wagons of the past, the strategic importance of the railway was obvious.

Once he had finished with the rounds, Jack returned to the town, received a report from his deputies that he had left behind, and learnt that everything was okay.

But while he was pleased by the news which was incredibly reassuring

The town was always a bustle of activity, and thanks to the fairly recent railway connection which had opened up the province for new settlers and goods so then the people who had been living here for decades did not feel as isolated as they had in the past anymore, although many people had felt the new settlers were more trouble than they were worth despite the fact supplies which had once taken months to arrive safely although they were vulnerable to Indian attacks in the past it was highly reassuring to everyone when they saw Jack, the town sheriff, stride through the town, keeping his sharp gaze on the road passing through the main street. While everyone knew the Indians weren't stupid enough to come to the town, trouble could still happen at any time, and so it was a comfort to see Jack prepared for anything.

Marcus, one of his deputies, came into town on a horse, followed by several other man on horseback. Like Jack, he was a hard-bitten veteran of several wars and they'd been friends since. "Jack," Marcus greeted with a nod as his men dismounted.

"Marcus, what did you find out?"

Marcus sighed wearily. He was visibly exhausted. "We covered a large area," he replied, "the Indians attacked another wagon train last night. The good news is it was a small group, so the wagon train managed to beat them off."

"Where are they?"

"They were heading to some of the farms. We escorted them and told them to travel at day," Marcus replied, taking his handkerchief and wiping his forehead. It was so terribly hot that Jack sympathised, and he wondered if the Indians had noted the temperature at certain parts of the year and took advantage of it to make their enemies die of thirst and exhaustion.

"Good advice," Jack replied, shaking his head as he thought of the Indians. For years there had always been tensions between the Indians and the settlers here. The Indians hated them for intruding on their lands, and for killing off the herds of buffalo which had once roamed the plains for centuries. And then in the lifetime of a dog, the Indians had found dozens of white settlers setting up homes, towns, and mines that ripped up the land in their quest for minerals like iron and gold and imposing a totally different way of life everywhere they went.

The Indians going to war was purely logical.

War parties rampaged through the settler's homes, and so many people died as they tried to protect themselves and their livelihoods. The building of the railroad had made things, in many ways, both better and worse. In the past the Indians had seen the clear vulnerability of the white settlers, who relied on supplies and help from outside, while the different tribes relied on themselves and their resources while they lived off the land, relying on centuries of training and tradition to live, and they had taken advantage of the weakness and they had taken to attacking wagon trains bound for towns.

They also viciously attacked solitary farms and homes, knowing there were not that many people defending them and they were a long way from being helped by anyone, and it could be days before anyone realised what had happened.

They could do whatever they liked. They could slaughter everyone in the farms and homes, or they could take away the women to play with and kidnap the children to brainwash them so they would learn the ways of the Indians. It was possible and there were cases and rumours of that happening, and Jack had gone out of his way to do his best to make certain no child went through that.

But then the railroad arrived.

Jack had watched in astonishment like everybody else as the railroad was constructed with miles and miles of track being laid down. At the time, he had been in two minds about it, but he had felt it if the trains could allow quicker travel and movement of supplies which were urgently needed since it took so damn long for a wagon train to arrive and you were always terrified about whether they'd make it or not, to say nothing about bringing in new settlers to colonise the region.

But while the builders had done their best to try to avoid Indian settlements and territories, in some cases it was unavoidable, and around here, the railroad had needed to pass through a valley the Indians had used for centuries. When they had attacked, the director of the firm had the deaths of hundreds of people on his hands. Furious, the director had called not only for the army to do something about it but he had also hired a group of mercenaries. The two groups were encouraged to learn Indian battle tactics to use against the savages.

After 9 months of using applied brutality, the mercenaries and the soldiers slaughtered hundreds of Indians along the route. But they had gone much further. They had been told to show no mercy and to maim any Indian they found so the others would see them as examples of what would and could happen if they made the mistake of attacking a train or the engineering crews again. Sadly, it went both ways, as the Indians hit back with a vengeance.

But the Indians were fighting back. They had gone after a few trains, and it had ended badly since the passengers and many of the crew were arming themselves and shooting the savages down before they could get too close besides some of the trains had a few soldiers put on them. They were professional soldiers in order to match up against the Indian warriors. But passengers were becoming scarcer and more frightened; they had come out here to make new lives for themselves. They didn't want to be shot at or killed by Indians.

"This has got to stop," Jack growled under his breath. "If we can't ensure their safety-."

"I know, Jack, but what can we do? The Indians will go to ground again if we call in soldiers and mercenaries to kill them," Marcus pointed out, "and if we do order them in they'll only make it worse for next time."

Jack growled, but he knew his friend was right. "I'm thinking of doing more than that," he said darkly. Suddenly his thoughts took on a greater aggressive twist. "I think we should invade the Indians' territory and slaughter every single one of the bastards out there before they even think of attacking us. I'm under a lot of pressure as it is. I don't need anymore."

"It's up to you, and I'll support ya, of course, but do you think it'll work in the long term?"

"No, like you said they would go to the ground. The Indians just know these parts better than us. But they can't stop progress, Marcus. More and more settlers are coming here each year. I want to keep them safe, the only way to do that is to make these parts safe, and if it means killing then so be it," Jack sighed as his aggressive feelings died down. "I want to stop this killing for good."

Marcus wasn't surprised by his friend coming down of his aggressive attitude. Lord knew he felt the same way, and Jack was under enough pressure as it was. The mayor was under pressure each time a train or a wagon was attacked by the Indians, and settlers were baying for blood each time a friend or relative was slaughtered. The mayor was leaning close to calling in the army and setting them on the Indians, but Jack, remembering how bloodthirsty the mercenaries had been tempted to ask for a number of them to come back and do the same job. But he knew the mayor would be more worried about the cost, so he had kept the thought to himself.

A horse's neighing brought their attention to the here and now. Jack's eyes widened when he saw an extremely exhausted horse with an equally exhausted man coming into town. The poor creature was also pulling a small wagon. Marcus rushed over without a word, and gently ushered the horse to a trough while he tied the reins to a post; his expert eyes ran over the horse's body as the animal greedily drank down more water than it should have done. He turned to examine the rider. If the horse was exhausted, this man looked like he had just come out of a fight with the Devil himself. He was covered in grime and he stank terribly, and his shirt and trousers were torn and bloodied with dry black blood and flies were buzzing around him, but he was exhausted, and his body was sunburnt all over and he hadn't had any decent food and water for some time either by the look of him.

"We need the doctor!" He yelled at the top of his voice.

While everyone got the man inside the Saloon so he could rest in one of the rooms, Marcus and Jack examined the horse's saddle so they could find something to help them find out more about the man. Marcus was examining the rifle and the gun attached to the saddle, and he checked the pockets.

"There's a couple of bullet boxes, but they're practically empty. He must have fired every single one," Marcus said.

"At least we know who he is," Jack held up the man's papers. "His name is Charlie Dobb's. He's a surveyor, according to this."

Marcus groaned. "Not another one." Ever since this part of America had been opened up, millions of prospectors and surveyors had roamed the lands like a pack of wolves searching for new minerals or places to build towns and railroads. Jack didn't have anything against them, but more than once some surveyors had behaved like they owned the whole land.

"Yeah, apparently. But what happened to get him in this state?" Jack whispered as he thought about how Dobb's had been when he had arrived. The doctor was looking after him now, but there was a mystery here he couldn't work out.

"SHERIFF, YOU NEED TO TAKE A LOOK AT THIS!"

Jack and Marcus rushed over to the wagon, where they found a sight that made Marcus mutter a prayer under his breath. Jack couldn't believe what was on the wagon. The deputy had lifted a very thick sheet that covered the body, stained in a thick layer of long since dried blood, a headless corpse on the wagon, an Indian by the look of it, but the corpse itself…. Jack had seen so many unsettling things in his life as a soldier and then during his time as Sheriff, but he had never seen anything like this. The head had been removed but so had the spinal column. The body looked like it had been boned like a fish.

"What the hell did this?" Jack hissed.

"An Indian wouldn't have done this, look at where the spine was; it looks like it was torn out," Marcus pointed out in a stunned whisper.

Jack turned to the deputy who found the corpse. "Run into the salon, get the doc. He needs to see this."

The man swallowed but he did as he was told, leaving Marcus and Jack alone while others crowded around the wagon. Jack ignored the swearing as the other townsfolk took notice of the body and the state it was in. The others were saying it had to be Indians, but Jack doubt it; he knew they had strange ways, but he had never seen anything like this.

"What d'you think, Jack?" Marcus asked.

Jack shook his head. "I dunno," he shook his head, "I've seen butchery in my day, and I've seen the results of what the Indians can do, but I have never seen anything like this. But it's also significant. There's only one major Indian tribe in these here hills. They'd never do this to one of their own."

"Yeah, but they could have been attacked by another group from another tribe," Marcus pointed out.

Jack opened his mouth, but he knew Marcus was right. "The only person who knows for certain is the guy we've got in the salon."

The deputy ran out. "The doc's comin', Sheriff."

"Good."

The doctor was an older man. He was wearing a white shirt and rough brown slacks. He was not particularly happy about being interrupted. "Jack, I was in the middle- Good lord!" He hissed when he spotted the corpse on the wagon. Quickly he got to work and examined the body.

"What d'you make of it, doc?" Jack asked quietly.

"I've never seen anything like this."

"Neither have we."

The doc was gently examining the torn rib bones. "Whoever did this was not human, Jack; the sheer strength needed to tear human bone is impressive enough, but I reckon the spine and the skull were torn off at the same point. I can't see any sign the head was sliced off. It happened at the same time."

"So someone….ripped the skull and the spine out at the same time, likely starting from the spine and then took the skull as a lucky bonus?"

The doctor winced at the wording. "Yes, but I doubt any man could have done this."

Jack folded his arms and pondered. "That guy we had taken up into the saloon, doc, how is he?"

"Jack I know what you want, but he's asleep. I had to give him a mild drug to sleep. He's dehydrated and malnourished," the doctor glared at the sheriff seriously to ram the point in. "He won't get that rest, not if you force me to wake him. You'll have to wait."

"We don't have time, doc. That guy we took up can answer a lot of questions. There's a madman out there somewhere, and they're tearing skulls and spines out. They might do it to one of us if they haven't already, and we've gotta be ready," Jack replied.

Marcus meanwhile was examining the rest of the wagon. "How long d'you reckon the man's been dead, doc?"

"The body's already rotting, Marcus, but I'd guess at least a week. Maybe more. It was protected by those sheets," the doctor pointed at the sheets, but the body has been rotting since. It is not in the best condition to be examined."

"I wonder why he brought the body with him," Marcus commented as he examined the rest of the wagon cautiously while Jack and the doctor, "it looks like he brought it with him."

"Maybe he brought the body back to warn us," Jack shrugged as he watched his friend. "He found the corpse, or he saw the killer take the skull and spine, and realised how crazy they were, so he brought it back as proof."

"Yeah, that fits," Marcus went silent as his probing fingers found something hard and rounded, and it was under a lot of blankets and sheets. Curious he lifted them up and he recoiled violently. "Oh my god, what is that!?"

Jack crossed himself, and he heard the sounds from everyone else. It was some kind of head, a hideous face covered with mottled skin which put Jack in mind of the speckled scales of a rattlesnake, with strange dreadlocked hair and narrow, beady-looking eye sockets. By far the most hideous thing was the mouth with was made up of four mandibles.

"Aw, god, what the hell is this thing? It's one ugly bastard," Marcus flinched.

Jack turned to the doctor. "Let me know the minute that guy is awake, doc. I wanna know what the hell is going on."