.x.
The burning sensation I'd felt after impaling the alien on the spear, I discovered, was just that—my forearm being burned. The putrid green blood of the alien was highly corrosive and had dissolved almost completely the left arm of my both my jacket, thick wool shirt, and heavy thermal undershirt. Laying the spear down I removed my jacket and attempted to roll up my singed sleeve. The resulting agony almost dropped me to my knees. The fabric had melted into my own skin. Biting down on my lip hard I wrenched both shirts away from my flesh, and couldn't stifle the muted cry that escaped me. Breathing hard, I tenderly probed the wound and winced. It was beginning to ache in the way all burns did, with a consistent, edged throbbing that was steadily growing more and more acute. I had no water to cleanse it with, no antibiotics. I knelt, casting a nervous glance around to make sure I was still alone, and withdrew from my jacket pockets the small emergency kit I 'd packed before embarking into the ruins.
Binding my arm with gauze was a painful affair. Once it was done I eased my sleeves down again and donned my coat. As if acknowledging that I had dealt with one wound, the rest of my body began to complain. Reaching around I touched with one finger the area where my head had met with the stone wall. There was a definite bump there and even the gentle feel of my finger sent me staggering into another wall with a wave of vertigo. Quite suddenly my stomach roiled and the next moment I was on my knees, retching. Once I had emptied my stomach of its contents I crawled to the spear, gripped it, and slowly stood. For a long moment I just stood there, willing my dizziness to fade, willing my body to hold itself together so that maybe, just maybe, I could make it out of here alive.
A sound came to me then, muffled through the stone—it was the predator's cannon firing, and I could hear the scream of the alien it wounded. I waited until I could hear no more before I began to walk, leaning heavily on the spear. I had contemplated remaining in one place but I knew that it would be futile because eventually either the hunter or the aliens would find me and I wasn't certain which I wanted to face. I wandered for long hours as silently as I could, meandering throughout the constantly reshaping temple. Whatever luck I did have held and I encountered nothing. It wasn't long before I began to be both ravenously hungry and insanely thirsty. I had several high-nutrition bars in my inner jacket pockets, but no water—Sebastian had carried one of the canteens and the rest had been with party members now dead and gone. Deciding a break was in order, I took out one of the bars, unwrapped it, and began to eat fast. Swallowing thickly, I let my eyes wander the corridor around me, and abruptly stopped chewing as I saw what appeared to be a large opening in the rock not too far away. The edges around it seemed to have melted, as though shaped by some sort of intense heat, and the actual opening led into a tunnel.
My intuition was wreaking havoc once again, but I gripped the spear white-knuckled and approached the tunnel. Steam rose from the sides, and after walking several paces in I saw something lying on the ground that made me catch my breath. Miller's digital camera lay face down, and as I grabbed it something warm and incredibly viscous encompassed my gloved fingers. Hastily I snatched them back and wiped them on my pants. Whether it was alien saliva or mucous, I didn't want it touching me. I began to walk further into the strange tunnel, more wary now. I strained my hearing but could hear only my shallow breathing and tentative steps. The passage curved gently and I followed, and found myself then in a large chamber. Everywhere I could see were large brown egg shaped things. When I realized they were actually eggs, my earlier conversation with Sebastian came rushing back to me. We—humans—were what the aliens needed to breed …
I turned my head to survey my surroundings, and as my eyes focused on a pair of slime covered shoes I couldn't muffle the despairing sob that left me. Slowly my gaze traveled upwards to take in the gaping, bloodied wound in the torso, to discern the slack, anguished features of Graeme Miller. I had no time to grieve for him—movement from the peripheral of my vision twisted my head back around. Perched atop a stone dais was one of the black aliens, but this one was considerably smaller than the others I had encountered earlier. It was roughly as high as my knee, and it regarded me with its large, slender head angled to the side. I clutched at the spear, brought it up to bear, and as I did so the alien twitched.
Maybe it wouldn't attack. Maybe it was too young—
Not so, and even as those thoughts flew through my brain it launched itself at me. I whirled aside and it struck the ground in a skittering roll, but was on its feet and coming for me fast. I thrust out with the spear, missed, and shouted as it hit me midsection. I went down with it on top of me, claws raking at my arms and jaws snapping. The small tail whipped all around us in a frenzy. With strength born of utter desperation I seized it by its scrawny neck and threw it off of me with all my might. It struck the dais it had leaped from. I stood and approached with the spear held tightly in both hands. The young alien was moving as though stunned, making a warbling noise, and as it caught sight of me I impaled it directly and savagely through the head. It made no sound as it died—simply fell limp and curled in on itself as a spider does when its life is spent. With one foot on its head I wrenched the spear free, careful to avoid the splatter of its blood. I opened my mouth to say something tough, something witty and triumphant belying the fact that my body trembled, when another sound caught my attention.
It was a choked whisper saying my name.
"No," I moaned, for I knew that voice. And pivoting about, I saw him, saw Sebastian, mired to the wall just as Graeme had been. His head wobbled, as though he didn't have enough strength to hold it upright. His skin was a sickly greyish white. "Sebastian," I breathed, horrified, and ran to stand before him.
"Lex …" he gasped, face contorting, "Help me …"
"I'm going to get you out of there," I said in a voice that wavered, dropping the spear and wrapping my gloved fingers about the sticky strands that had him imprisoned. He shook his head wildly.
"Kill me, Lex," he cried, body writhing, "Please!"
I hesitated for a moment. I could hear the unmistakable noise of bones being broken, and knew that even now within him was a creature fighting for release. Sebastian screamed my name. I picked up the spear and drove it with all I had into his torso. His final, shuddering sigh mingled with a cry like nails on a chalkboard—the last sound the creature within him would ever make. As Sebastian's head sank down to rest on his chest, as his body relaxed in death, I heard someone weeping softly and realized it was me.
"I'm sorry, so sorry," I whispered numbly, curling my trembling hands around the spear and pulling it free. The pointed end was covered in crimson and green, a gruesome testament to the two lives I had just taken. Struggling not to erupt into full scale sobs, I reached up through the muck and felt around Sebastian's sides for his canteen. After several seconds of fumbling I found it, and with a jerk I snapped the cord that bound it to him. I could hear the water sloshing around within it, and such a small thing seemed so great in the face of what I had just done. Both hands full, I gave Sebastian one last anguished glance before I turned to leave the way I had come.
I knew, even before I'd moved full circle, what would be standing there. Just like last time, my intuition warned me. I didn't make a sound as I came face to face with the predator, nor did I move. I stood there with his spear in one hand and the canteen in the other and simply waited.
His head was cocked to the side. It gave him a curious air, and I knew then he had seen all that had just transpired. Had he wanted to strike me down then he could have without incident for I simply did not have the will to struggle. Instead a noise that reminded me of a purring cat came from behind that impassive mask, and he pointed with one clawed finger to something beyond me. I craned my neck to see what he was gesturing to—it was the corpse of the young alien. Facing him again, I nodded my affirmation that I had indeed killed it. He emitted another clicking rumble and stepped past me to kneel by the alien. Glancing back at me, he reached out and snapped from the alien body one long, curled finger. Not entirely certain what he was doing, I began to back away. The predator affixed the finger to his belt with a length of wire before cocking his head again at the corpse of Sebastian. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he spun about and strode right past me. I stared after him, confused and more than a little anxious. He stopped at the tunnel entrance and turned to me, giving a barking growl, and despite the language barrier between us I knew instinctively what question he was asking.
It was an invitation to run at his side, to accompany him through these depths that I had to this point survived in only through sheer dumb luck. I hesitated only a moment, because even if I wasn't certain he wouldn't me harm in the future, I held a much better chance of surviving while in his company. And so I crossed the distance between us, and when he made another inquiring growl I nodded my head. For one moment longer he looked down on me from the expressionless countenance of his mask, and then he began to run.
And I, feeling a small spark of hope, followed close behind him.
.x.