Below

Spring swept up and out of the valley, climbing the hills, and claiming the highest ridges. Vivacious green stalking winter, breaking its icy teeth and sending it retreating. The fire tower loomed, hooded and cloaked in the early morning fog. Curious eyes, fever orange and yellow in the eerie morning light watched our ascent up the bluff.

Vera stepped out of the shadows high on a rock face, ears flicking. Her ash-hued fur was the perfect camouflage at dusk and dawn. She pivoted toward us, her swollen belly full and fat like a new moon. A dramatic change in the time I was away. Her stance, the uncomfortable shifting of her hips. It wouldn't be long now. In a week or so she'd head off on her own to give birth to the next generation. Female wolves had a short two-month pregnancy. A necessary survival trait.

The alpha female gave a cursory sniff in our general direction and then walked off, signaling to the others that there was no danger. Still slightly skittish about my presence, the four other mature adults kept their distance and a wary eye on me. Watching. Always watching. I respected their prudence.

Trust should never be given freely. It was earned. Precious as a new life.

But the youngsters, two surviving pups from last spring bounced out to greet their older brother Gotrek. They licked and nibbled each other's lips in a happy hello. Gotrek's stance loosened immediately, he was still very young too, and loved a good marry chase with the pups. Their play would hone skills needed for successful hunts later.

Far from the valley, high in the hills on top of a ridge, the tower stood silent and ever watchful. I climbed the seven flights of metal stairs to the cab. A moment later, Gortek's nails rang almost inaudibly behind me. Every once in a while, his paws would be absolutely soundless and I knew he was lithely avoiding the booby traps. If aliens ever made it this far, I'd hopefully get a heads-up. I'd scattered an assortment of noise makers around the base of the tower. The wolves knew they were there and mostly avoided them, but every once in a while a cub would find them fun to play with and scare the wits out of me.

A biting chill swept through the open windows, so I opted to leave my Kansa City Chiefs hoody on. In a couple of hours, the temp would be perfect.

I slung the rucksack on the table, quickly sorting and putting everything back in its place. A Scrub Jay flitted across the low ceiling. Looks like I had a new roommate. I left the windows open so often that the curious ones tended to come in and pilfer the edible flora I painstakingly collected.

The jay flapped his sky-blue wings in my direction. How dare I invade his home.

Gotrek circled beneath the bird, ears flicking, tilting his head as he sniffed. The little bird hopped in agitation giving Gotrek some real smack talk. It was funny.

I moved about the small kitchen, checking to make sure nothing else had been scavenged by anything larger than a couple of birds. I should've closed everything up when I left. There were some pretty shiny attractive instruments lying around. But locking the door hadn't been at the top of my list after seeing that plane crash.

I searched the sensitive equipment. Some bird droppings but nothing missing. My little solar generators were maxed out thanks to the cool, sunny weather. The water collection was a bit low but I could always go down to a stream and then boil the water. Bears shit upstream. So really, only if I had to. Rain was one of the few untreated water sources I felt comfortable drinking.

A quick playback of communication logs showed there'd been zero chatter while I was gone. I had messages playing on loops on several frequencies but nothing had panned out in months. Intensifying the isolation by about eight billion.

I sighed. Someone had to be out there. I sometimes considered leaving, but my sister's warning was a constant dark passenger riding shotgun in my head. However, staying also seemed equally risky. It was only a matter of time until Xenomorph scouts came in search of better hunting grounds.

Are they a migratory species?

Another question to add to a steadily growing shit list of unknowns. Not all animals migrated. Species vary in their reason for migration but a predictable motivation was food. And mating. But according to my sister, Xenomorphs didn't require a sperm donor. They were all inherently female. How had she put it?

".. well documented in certain sharks, lizards, and insects. The Xenomorph displays cyclic parthenogenesis. Very fascinating."

Fascinating. The memory formed a snarl on my face. Parthenogenesis. Reproduction from an ovum without the need for fertilization. But unlike terrestrial species, Xenomorphs required an extra step. A host. And the birthed phenotype took on observable characteristics of the unfortunate carrier. In the lab, aboard the Tranquility where Lynn had been stationed, they used dogs. The phenotype while small was a quick quadrupedal with a wine stain carapace. At the other end of the genetic spectrum, the xenomorphs that came out of humans were far bigger. Ill-tempered and intelligent, they were bipedal but could run on all fours. A carapace soaked in midnight with a prehensile tail composed of sharp body segments that ended in a slaughter spike. Swift. Efficient. Deadly. It was terrifying to wonder what other phenotypes were freely roaming the Earth out there.

Angry bird squawking brought my attention round. Gotrek was on top of the tiny counter space, slightly raised on his hind legs.

"Gotrek," I clucked my tongue. If he wanted the bird to play then he would have to do it on the jay's terms. Wolves were able to form symbiotic relationships with crows. The crows would alert the wolves where the prey was and in return, the crows enjoyed scraps from a kill. Though, I think this was just simple mischief.

Beneath the sizable wolf, the kitchen looked like a kids' playset. Everything was microsized, but honestly, I was lucky to have it. With the rise of better satellites and drones (well, before apocalyptic bug aliens forced humans into the critically endangered species category), many fire towers started going unused. Or fell into disrepair due to being underfunded. But in places like California where fires raged like mosquitoes in July, there were still several in use. Then someone got the bright idea to turn the towers into camping destinations during the off-season. This meant major makeovers and nifty amenities they didn't normally have.

The cab in this particular tower had been renovated a year before the collapse. My tour had been due to end in mid-December, but of course, it never ended. No better way to live through an alien invasion than in comfort and in the middle of nowhere.

The cringing snick of wolf nails gouging the counter could be felt in my back molars. "Gotrek can you play with your snack outside?"

The wolf snorted, head twitching comically as if parrying a perceived blow from the bird. Hilarious. Not for the jay, he thought he was in the mists of battle. Whereas Gotrek found the bird's frustration interesting. He wanted to see how else he could make the tiny creature yapping at him dance.

'...bzzz... bzzz...'

Flies. Fantastic. Something must've gone rotten. Once the flies moved in, it would take days to get rid of them. Gnats and ants were worse. Far worse. Especially as things warmed up. It's not like I could call an exterminator, so I had to find whatever food scraps were moldering and dispose of it. A quick odor check around the room revealed nothing. No strong spoilage smells. And now that I was paying attention, there weren't any flies either. Yet the sound persisted. Vibrating against my eardrum like a trapped insect.

'...bzzz...'

"What is that?" I directed the question at Gotrek. The wolf and the jay had lapsed into silence, listening for the new sound. '...bzzz...' An irritated squawk from the feathered fury, then he flew off. Apparently, enough was enough. Gotrek barely noticed the bird's noisy departure, his attention fixed. Ears swiveling like antennas, his head tilting to stare at something behind me.

Grappling hooks of sudden comprehension ripped me from the spot and flung me bodily toward the radio equipment.

'...bzzz... scritch... bzzz...'

The sound of static was so out of place, I hadn't immediately recognized it for what it was. For what it meant!

I tore the radio from its cradle. "Hello! Hello!"

I waited a beat.

A whirring came over the radio then, '...bzzz... scritch. Scritch.'

Dead silence.

"Is anyone there?"

Nothing. Not even static.

I dropped into a chair, the intense ocean of euphoria subsiding into a dead zone.

It had been a glitch. Or maybe an animal was chewing on equipment elsewhere. Hell, who knows.

Thump! My body deflated, folding in half for my forehead to thwack the desk. If it left a dent in my skull it wouldn't even be the worst part of the last couple of days.

I stared at the wood grain of the desk. A glob of black-white bird feces an inch away from my eyeball. Lovely. Shit on top of everything else.

What now? Back to sweeping solar panels... foraging for berries and mushrooms...

Boring.

I closed my eyes, only for my breath to get snagged on a flurry of images. I physically wrenched away from the mental blow.

Memories of teeth and Lynn's final moments still jarred me from time to time. It wasn't something easily forgotten. I rubbed my eyes. The other night, when the forest stood frozen in terror, I truly thought I'd be joining her. But after a short time, nocturnal life resumed. The threat gone. Gotrek returned hours later, oddly clingy. Very peculiar.

And what the hell had been out there anyway? If it was a Xenomorph, then wouldn't it be picking its teeth with my bones right about now?

I kicked a foot out, sending the desk chair rolling back, then once more kicking the floor to maneuver over to pick up a tablet. Leaflets of paper scattered, left to drift to the floor in my haste. I'd pick those up later.

I scrolled through a dozen PDFs Lynn had sent me before she died. Shit Weyland-Yutani would've likely killed to keep quiet. 'Course that point was moot now. Though if anyone survived the collapse it would be them. Like cockroaches that lot.

Everything Lynn had discovered, everything I knew about the Xenomorphs, I learned from her. Watching as her excitement and elation at being the first to confirm we were not alone in the universe wither into fear and desperation. I'd watched all the vids hundreds of times, but it all still felt so Twilight Zone. All except the final act, Lynn's final act.

"... humans were never meant to go that deep..." She'd muttered darkly, three days before her death. A private moment, I was certain she wouldn't've recorded if she'd been in a healthier state of mind and body. At that point, she'd been in hiding and alone for days. Keeping records. Still trying to understand what humans were up against. Hoping maybe to give us an advantage. "... maybe we should've heeded mother natures intentions and stayed out of the great below..."

With that dark moment in mind, I selected a vid attachment and hit play. Watching the beginning of humanity's end.

The Mako. 2nd dive. Depth 22,714 ft.

Water gushed over the dome of the Mako. Zillions of tiny jittering bubbles frantically race to the surface. The submersible hung there for a moment, the faces of the cheering crew blurring, wavering blobs above.

'Audio check. Mike, you got me?' the pilot asked.

'All good, Sean. It's a go."

I jumped forward several hours of chatter and oohs and aahs of sealife swimming past. No point. There was only one thing I cared about.

Blackness.

I skipped ahead some more. Double-checking the time stamps. Finally, the powerful lights of the submersible bounced off something.

Rocky formations rose up from the black abyss. The Mako had reached the ocean floor. 22,714 ft below the ice. 22,714 ft from breathable air. 22,714 ft from help.

The pilot changed the angle of his descent. An indicator light blinked red and the pilot fanned the lights over mountainous rocks. The pilot directed the submersible forward with purpose.

There, ahead, he'd spotted it. Hidden beneath soft layers of ash-like sediment, an amorphous dark shape. The camera zooms in. Arms of the Mako extend. The pilot was careful not to cause a silt-out as he gently ever-so-gently guided the robotic hands. Silt spiraled like smoke. The pilot's breath gasped over the comm. An immense clawed ectrodactyly hand surged out of the darkness. Claws gleam obsidian in a flash of light. It reached. Reached. Then suddenly dropped sending up a plume of silt.

I looped back ten seconds and paused on that hand. That alien hand. The abrupt movement had been an autonomic reaction. A reflex to changes in the environment. The Xenomorph Queen had been alive. Trapped in suspended animation.

I let the vid continue.

Low murmurs and gasps came over the comm from the crew above.

The pilot looked at an interior-mounted cam and smiled. Years of passion and pride etched into his brow and stubble-rough cheeks. His eyes glistened, "I wish Mr. Weyland could've been here-"

Pause.

Weyland. There'd been another expedition to the Antarctic also funded by Weyland back in 2004. An archaeological dig on Bouvetoya island. That much was on the Public record.

The rest? Well, there'd been a report in previous days that dear ol'Weyland had succumbed to his illness and died during the expedition. A report Weyland's company had given to the authorities... If it smells like shit and looks like shit then it's shit. As for the rest of the team, they'd supposedly perished in some sort of avalanche or shelf collapse according to the captain of the Piper Maru.

And of course, Weyland Industries being a responsible company and concerned for the families of the lost, supplied the manpower and the hours for the search.

Smells like shit to me.

But it was enough to appease the authorities and the families were well taken care of after such a terrible outcome. I'm not sure if the company knew exactly what they needed to go fishing for under the ice but they knew they needed to search the sea floor. However, at the time of Weyland's death, there hadn't been a submersible that could go that far down. So the company bided its time, waited a couple of decades for the technology to catch up, merged with Yutani, and together they hatched a plan.

Unfortunately what actually hatched... ate the world...


A/N: Woohoo! I'm enjoying this. Got some ideas I need to sort out in my head but hopefully I'll be able to post again soon. ;) If you haven't seen the AvP movie, it takes place in Antarctica on a fictional island. I want to keep the story as canon as I possibly can. Of course, my intentions will eventually veer hard into the non-canon territory. Lastly, now that I have a better feel for my character, I'll revise the previous chapters just a touch. A simple word change here and there. Nothing major. As I said, I'm enjoying this and I want to write Odd's story properly.

Special thanks:

Kaijuicifer: thanks so much for the vote of confidence :) I'll keep trying my best.

angel897: Thanks! I can't help it. I need to squeeze in something furry and fanged into my stories :D

NeverNeverLady: NeverEverEver leave me! That's what I strive so hard for! I want my story to be immersive. It's what I look for in a story too! I want to be a part of it.