Author's Note: This is an AVP story with my own OCs. More Predator than Alien, but I do plan for the aliens to make an appearance later on. There is some AU here, though I did my best to do some research and mostly stick with the universe. Just a little something I wanted to write. Feel free to review if you wish. I will be working on Chapter 2 soon.

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Chapter 1 Denali Pit Stop

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12 September 2000

I stand just around the corner, hidden from them both.

"This'll be good for her. For them both. It'll get their mind off of things. You have to take them," Aunt Lizzie tells dad.

Dad sighs. "I don't know."

My stomach tightens and my feet bounce, eager to lift one foot so that I can take a peek past the wall…but I stay hidden.

"Andy, they just lost their mom." That hole in my heart hurts all over again. Tears sting my eyes. "You just lost your wife! I think the three of you have to go and…the three of you have to go and spend some good quality time with each other."

"Sure, Mikey will like it, but Mary's not a hunter!" Dad says.

"Take her fishing!" Aunt Lizzie says.

"She hates fish! They're too 'slimy' for her." I can just see dad airquoting me.

"Then take her on a hike! She loves that, right!?"

Dad sighs again. "Yeah…yeah, alright. You're right. I think some good quality time together will get our minds off of…"

"...Off of mom?" I ask and step around the corner.

Aunt Lizzie looks down at me and frowns. Dad looks back at me, the whites of his eyes red and glistening, but his cheeks are dry. "Mary, what are you doing there?" he asks me.

I try to fight back the tears. I try so hard. "How could we get our minds off mom? That's impossible!" A tear escapes down my cheek. And another. And another.

"Oh Mary," Aunt Lizzie says as dad turns to me and takes me in his arms. His embrace undoes me. I sob into his chest and throw my arms about him, clenching handfuls of his blue dress shirt.

"I know, sweetie," Dad says and cradles the back of my head with his hand. "We all miss her. We'll never forget mom. It's impossible."

"Yeah," another says and embraces me from behind. Mikey. I take one arm from dad and wrap my arm about Mikey. "We'll never forget mom, sis." Mikey kisses the top of my head. "Never."

The three of us cling to each other and let our tears fall. Mikey and Dad…they're here. They're here with me. I'm not alone in this.

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16 September 2000

The steep forest of green Alaskan conifers whiz past, almost a blur beyond the glass of the car window. My eyes drift higher to the snow capped mountain peak poking out at the top of the forest. To be up so high where it is cold enough for the snow to stay…

"This'll be a good trip!" Dad says from the driver's seat.

"You really got the hunting permit for the caribou!?" Mikey asks from the front passenger's seat in front of me.

Dad laughs triumphantly. "Yes, I did! It was really easy to get. I also got the permit for the backcountry. It'll be great! Just you, me, and little Mary these next eight days. We're gonna get a nice big bull! And Mary!?"

"Hmm?" It's hard to tear my eyes from the gorgeous green and the snowy mountains of the Alaskan wilderness, but I manage to look at Dad.

He peeks back at me for a second and looks ahead, flashing me that grin of his. "I've got a nice hike planned, just the three of us! It's off-trail!"

"Off-trail?" I ask, my interest piqued. "Well, of course it's off trail since we're camping in the backcountry. How hard is it?"

Dad chuckles. "It's not too bad. We're going to start out near Wonder Lake the first day, so we're going to hike the McKinley River Bar Trail. Maybe we'll be part of the thirty percent club and see the top of Mount McKinley!"

A smile and a laugh cracks my face. "Are we going to be able to see Mount McKinley the whole week!?" I ask.

"Ah! There's that smile!" Mikey says with a grin, pulling my eyes to him. He is twisted around in the front seat grinning at me with joy. And relief.

"Not the whole eight days, but all eight days we will. We'll be in the forest part of the time," Dad says.

My smile lessens. "For your caribou hunt."

Dad bobs his head, keeping his eyes on the road. "Depends on where they are. Caribou like the cold and the snow, and since the weather is so warm across the tundra, I'm guessing they may be in the forests or towards the mountains at this time of year."

"Come on, sis, it'll be fun!" Mikey says. I glance at him and raise my brows, his smile still on his face. "It'll be like our rabbit hunts. Just think of the caribou like big rabbits! With antlers!"

I sigh and look back out the window, my heart heavy with the memories. "Those poor rabbits. Those poor caribou…I think I'm going to be a game warden when I graduate high school."

"Just like dad and me?" Mikey asks, sounding excited.

I nod. "Yeah." I look at Mikey and Dad. "Someone's got to keep you two in check!"

Mikey gives me a sour look while Dad speaks. "College might not be a bad idea, Mary, but whatever you decide, you have my full support. Hey Mikey, take a look at our GPS." I frown at the back of dad's headrest. Why would I go to college when I already hate school? "I think we're coming up to that store I saw online," dad says.

Mikey turns back around in his seat and picks up the GPS from the center console, lifting the bent black charger cord with it. "Yeah, we're 2.2 miles away. It'll be on the left." He throws a finger to the left side of the road.

"Thanks, son."

Silence fills the car save for the hum of the engine and the road beneath the tires. I look right to watch the conifers whiz by in a near green blur while the snowy mountain peak crawls by above it. I remember Dad mentioning it. The last pit stop before we delve into the Alaskan Wilderness. The Denali Pit Stop, if memory serves me, to stock up on extra rations and ammo before we disappear into the wilderness for eight days.

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2.2 miles later, the lonesome shop breaks through the treeline along the road.

"You have arrived at your destination. 3666 Hunting Road," the GPS announces in its female, robotic voice.

I raise my brows. "666? Hunting Road?" I ask. Mikey peeks back at me. "That's not ominous at all."

Mikey smirks at me.

"A lot of hunters come this way. Hence the name," Dad says.

"Hence the name," Mikey echoes. I frown. Hence the name.

Dad brakes gently as we approach the turn into the small, gravel laden parking lot. The gravel crunches beneath our tires as we turn and pull right up to the front door of the shop, taking no particular spot as there are no lines to indicate spots for cars to park. I look about. There's only one other car in the lot with us. To our left at the end of the lot is an old looking powder blue jeep, the blue paint scuffed and weathered. No doubt the jeep is a four wheel —er all-wheel drive for the mountainous terrain here. I frown. Whatever the right term is. I could never keep up with Mikey and dad and their car…stuff.

Dad shifts the gear into park, twists his keys and slips them out of the ignition, jingling the keys as he puts them in his jeans' pocket. "Okay, everyone out!" he says with a grin.

The three of us unfasten our seat belts and get out of the car. Dad, Mikey and I shut our car doors one after the other. Slam, slam, slam. The gravel crunches beneath their boots as Dad and Mikey start for the shop. I stay beside our yellow Chevrolet Blazer, taking in the shop. A rustic log cabin, no doubt made from the conifers here. My eyes go to Dad and Mikey as they climb up the five log steps to a porch crammed with—crap! Boxes, crates, barrels, and weird looking totem poles. The gaping mouths and empty eyes of the faces on the totem poles…that sends a chill down my spine. I pull my coat tighter about me. The porch runs along the whole front of the shop and is tucked within the shadow of an extended sheet metal roof. The shadow cast by the roof…I glance up at the sky. It's overcast, the clouds heavy and grey. The conifers loom over the shop, putting it in a dimmer light than the rest of the—"Mary."

I look down.

Dad stands at the top of the stairs, waiting. For me. He waves his hand for me to come. "Come inside."

I swallow, my gut stirring. 666. The Devil's number. The overcast weather certainly doesn't help. "Dad, are you about this? About all this?" I twirl my finger about, lumping everything together. "This trip is so…" His face falls as tears sting my eyes. "...It was just last week that…"

Dad hops down the steps two at a time, comes to me, and takes me in his arms. I throw my arms about him and bury my face into his fleece sweater. I try to hold back my tears. I fight with everything I have…The tears push past and touch his sweater.

"Mary…" Dad draws in a breath, the slightest shake to it. "Sweetie, I'm not sure what else to do. I wish there was a handbook or…heh," he laughs once, "something on this." He tries and fails to work a smile into his poor joke. He sucks in another breath, this one shakier. "All I know is I promised your mom that I would take care of your brother and you." My gut and my heart wrenches. Tears flood my eyes. He pulls me tighter to him and rubs my back. "I love you both more than life itself. I will dry as many tears from your eyes as I need to. I will do whatever it takes to take care of your brother and you. You both are my world. Losing your mother…" Oh, mom! I clench handfuls of dad's coat. "...It made me realize how precious Mikey and you are to me. How much I love you both. How much…just…how much you both are to me. You know, you don't know what you have until it's gone. Don't make the same mistakes I did, sweetie."

Dad holds me. He lets me cry into his sweater. He's probably crying, too. Memories of mom come rushing back to me. Even in the end when she was so pale, so thin, every last strand of her beautiful, thick brunette hair gone, she still lit up like a Christmas tree when Mikey and I entered her hospital room. When dad came, she was overjoyed. I wonder, is that what mom and dad talked about when she asked Mikey and me to leave her room and get a bite to eat? Was she asking dad to take care of Mikey and me?

Slowly, my tears lessen and my sobbing quiets.

What sounds like old door hinges creak loudly from the shop. I pull back from dad and peer past him. Mikey stands in the threshold of the shop holding the screen door open, a somber look on his face. He doesn't need to say anything. He saw what happened. He watched it from inside the shop.

Dad goes to my side and wraps his arm about my shoulders. "Let's go inside," he says gently.

I look up at him and nod. "Okay, dad."

I sniffle and scrub the tears from my eyes with my coat sleeve as I walk with him up the stairs and step into the shop. A mildewy smell instantly hits my nose, stopping me just five feet inside the shop with dad. The screen door creaks and swings shut behind us.

"Welcome! What brings you here today?" a man says. I look right. An older looking man leans across the shop counter. His shop counter. His skin is olive toned, his nose bulbous, his face weathered, and his hair is thick and steely grey. His dark eyes go between the three of us, kind, pleasant, softened with a small smile.

"We're here to purchase some supplies. Extra rations and ammo," dad says, taking his arm from me.

"Yes, I can help with that. Which ammo would you like?" the shop owner says.

Dad starts for the counter. ".300 Win Mag."

The man smiles bigger and pushes himself off the counter. "Yes, I can get you that!" He turns to the wall shelves stocked with various ammo boxes behind him and starts searching them. "What are you after? Moose? Caribou?"

"Caribou!" Mikey says, his excitement almost getting to me. Almost. "We're aiming for a bull!"

I sigh and look around the shop.

"Ah yes!" the shop owner says. Plenty of shelves with various stocks. Packaged foods, hunting supplies, fishing supplies. Along the back wall is a fridge section with plenty of packaged foods and chilled beverages. "Now is a great time of year for that! Their antlers are bigger and there is no velvet on them! And there are more of them than usual!"

"That's what we heard!" dad says. "Any idea why?"

Something strange catches my eye. On a display counter beside the front screen door is a…hmm. "There are less wolves in the area. Poachers, we think," the shop owner says.

I turn around and creep to the object to get a better look. "Hmph," Dad says. "Too bad we don't have jurisdiction here."

I stop a foot from the object and lean closer. "You are game wardens?" the shop owner asks.

It is wooden and looks like some kind of a…mask.

"That's right," Dad says.

"I see," the owner says. The mask does not look fit for a man's face. The forehead is twice the size of the face and too sloped back. The brows are shaped into an eternal scowl, the eyes connected into one sort of visor, empty and soulless, and the mouth…well, there is no mouth. Just a raised wood plate where the mouth should be.

"Hi!"

I startle and wheel around, coming to face a teenage girl my height with olive skin, dark eyes and equally dark hair. Much like the shop owner, yet he is grey with age.

She smiles apologetically. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to startle you," she says, clasping her hands in front of her. "My name is Jodi."

"Ah…nice." I bob my head and turn back to the strange wood mask. She must be the shop owner's daughter or granddaughter. Why did she come up to me?

"What's your name?"

What a strange looking mask. It must be tribal…or something.

Someone clears their throat beside me. I look at the girl from the corners of my eyes, straining them against my sockets. Frustration prickles under my skin.

"I said, what's your name?" she asks. Me.

"Ah…Mary." I look back at the weird, frightening mask.

"Ah…Mary. A strange name, but it is a name," she says, sounding amused. Why?

My brows furrow and I turn my head to her this time. "No, my name is Mary."

She laughs. "I know, I was just teasing you! You do not seem good at meeting new people!" She shakes her head at me, smiling.

I frown. That's insulting…but it's true. I nod reluctantly. "You've got me pegged." I turn my attention back to the strange mask.

"You seem drawn to that. Fascinated with it?" Jodi asks.

"The mask? Yeah, it's weird and kind of creepy…no offense," I say and look at her. "Is it cultural to you or…?" I barely lift my finger to point at her.

Her smile lessens. "Yes." She looks at the mask, drawing my eyes back to it. "That is Tuunraqilak."

"Tuunra – qilak?" I try to pronounce the foreign word, but it's hard.

Jodi huffs in amusement. "Not quite, but close enough."

"What does it mean?" I ask, looking into the empty, soulless visor where the eyes would be hidden behind it.

"Sky Devil."

My brows rise and my eyes go to her. "Sky devil?" I ask her.

She nods, her smile gone. "The Sky Devils. It's a story of my people. Every ten years, the Sky Devils come to hunt in these forests when the air is the warmest. They come from the skies and hunt from the trees and in the mountains. You cannot see them…unless they choose to manifest themselves to you."

"Manifest themselves? What, like…ghosts?" I ask, my interest piqued. It's all superstition, but tribal lore and mythology can be so fascinating.

The native girl shakes her head. "No, they are not ghosts, nor are they like ghosts. They are very real. Flesh and blood, as you and me." She gestures to us both. "They have abilities that we do not have. They have weapons that we do not have. And they hunt with those weapons."

My brows furrow. "What do they hunt?"

The girl shrugs. "Anything that is worth their hunt. Anything that presents a challenge or a threat to them. Snakes, wolves, bears." Wolves? The shop owner— "Their favorite prey here is man."

My eyes widen. "Man!?"

She nods, no joke in her eyes, no amusement, but as serious as one can be. "Man. Us. They hunt my people one by one. They stalk, then strike. They often hunt in pairs. There is usually an older one and a younger one with him. You know they are here when our people go hunting and do not come home."

I shrug. "Well, maybe your people don't come home because they got attacked by bears, or they got lost, or—"

"This is our home, Mary," Jodi says and holds her hand out to the shop. "We know how to live with the animals," she drops her hand, "and we know our way home. No, when our people do not come home, we know the Sky Devils have made trophies of them."

"Trophies!?"

"Yes." Jodi nods once. "They take their heads, or they flay our people and take their skins. Sometimes, we have found our people's flayed bodies strung by their ankles from the trees."

A chill goes down my spine. "Gross." I shudder and point at the creepy mask. "And they wear these masks?"

"A mask made of wood? No. But they wear masks that look much like this made of a metal that is not found on earth." She points to the wooden mask.

My eyes go to her as skepticism straightens my back. "So they're aliens?"

Jodi looks me straight in the eye. "They are Tuunraqilak. Sky Devils. You and your family are going hunting?"

I nod.

"Watch the trees," Jodi says. "Watch your back and your head. They will most often strike you from behind or above when you are in pursuit of your own prey. If one should challenge you or your father or brother, make them throw their weapons down and surrender. The Sky Devils will not strike the unarmed."

My stomach twists with fear all over again. "Why won't they attack?" I ask.

"There is no sport in it," Jodi says, "and no honor."

My brows furrow. What? That makes no sense! "But these – Sky Devils sound like, you know, demons! Demons are evil. Devil, evil. Evil is in the name. So, wouldn't the Sky Devils hate honor? Also, wouldn't they hate the more challenging hunt?"

Jodi shakes her head. "You doubt the Sky Devils' existence."

"Frankly, yes. I'm not superstitious. No offense." I refrain from rolling my eyes.

Her dark eyes harden around the edges. "I only tell you these things as a warning to you and your family. I have lost my mother to these Devils, and I feel for your loss." My heart wrenches, stealing every ounce of my annoyance, anger and ridicule. She puts her hand to her heart as her gaze softens. "If you believe nothing else from my mouth, then know this." She lowers her hand as she says, "There is nothing but the hunt and honor to these Sky Devils. Nothing more matters to them."

I shake my head. "I don't care what matters to them. There is no such thing as honor in hunting and killing for sport. If they believe that, then I feel sorry for them cause they're living a lie."

Jodi frowns. "The stronger one will determine the truth, then. I pray you are the stronger one."

"Mary, time to go!" Dad says.

I glance back at dad and Mikey as dad pulls the screen door open and steps outside, weighted brown paper bags with handles in both their hands. "Alright!" I say.

Mikey puts one foot outside with dad, but keeps one in the store holding the door open for me. "C'mon, sis!" Mikey beams with excitement…for the coming hunt.

I nod at Mikey and turn back to Jodi. "I gotta go. It was – interesting talking with you!" I give her a single wave as I step back towards Mikey.

Jodi forces a smile. "You too! Please, watch your back and your head! Stay safe."

My gut stirs—with a warning that nearly makes me nauseous. I shouldn't feel this way! I force my mouth up to return her smile. "Thanks!" I wheel around and nearly trip down the stairs as I race out of that creepy store!

Mikey laughs while he hops down the steps behind me. "Someone's eager to get this trip started!"

"Yeah! I'm anxious for that hike!" I say and laugh, my nerves jittering more and more. My eyes shoot to the trees when my hand grabs my car door handle. I shouldn't be scared. Jodi is full of shit! She has to be! She's your classic superstitious girl who believes every little gust of wind is a ghost!...Yet, she's convinced of these Sky Devils…I find my chin falling back and my eyes scanning the tree limbs closely for any unnatural bend to the branches. The two front car doors open. The car door handle in my grip drops a centimeter as someone climbs in. The car door on the driver's side of our Blazer shuts.

"Mary?" Mikey asks from behind me, concern in his voice. "You alright?"

I tear my eyes from the trees and look back at him. His eyes fill with more and more concern the longer he looks at me…the longer I go without speaking.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Shit, am I fine? 666. Sky Devils. The overcast sky. Jodi's mom. That foreboding sense stirring my gut and making me nauseous.

Mikey studies my face and frowns, arriving at his own assumption. "This is going to be a good trip." He offers me a comforting smile and leaves his car door open to come to me and take my free hand in his. "Mom would want us to do this," he says and squeezes my hand gently in his.

I lift my thousand-pound mouth to a smile and squeeze his hand back. "I know."

The concern dissipates from his eyes as he lets go of my hand. "Glad you know." He perks up and nearly bounces on his feet. "Now let's go!" He bounds into the passenger's front seat and pulls the car door shut.

"Time to go," I say under my breath and pull my car door open. I haul my reluctant body and heavy feet into the backseat and pull my car door shut. I hope Dad and Mikey are right. I hope Jodi is wrong.

"Time to go! Buckle up!" Dad says.

I reach back and grab the seat belt slower than I usually do. Dad revs up the engine, shifts the gear into reverse, and grabs the passenger's headrest with his free hand to look out the back car window to back up out of here. I fasten my seatbelt across my waist and chest, that click affirming that I am fastened. A grin spreads dad's mouth as he backs us out of our unmarked spot and sits forward. He shifts the gear into drive and gets our Blazer moving onward again to our destination.

666. Sky Devils. Hunting Road. Jodi's mom…she must have been out hunting one day…and never came home. Dad pulls left out of the lot and straightens us onto Hunting Road.

"So, first day the hike, then the hunt!?" Mikey asks dad, as eager as can be. As blissfully unaware of Jodi's story as one can be.

"That's correct! The hike the first day!"

"Then the hunt for the next seven days!" Mikey says.

"Yes! The whole week!"

"Hope a week is enough time to hunt a bull," Mikey says.

"With the increased caribou population, there will be," Dad says. He says something else, but his words drift from me as I look out the car window at those Alaskan conifers. They're not beautiful anymore. Their branches…Jodi is wrong. She has to be. Superstition. An old tribal or native's tale. That's what this all is. Superstition. Bullshit. Perhaps it's their underhanded way to keep Mikey and dad from hunting the overpopulated caribou?

It's bullshit superstition. That's all it is.

…I find my eyes skimming over the branches, looking for any that are too heavy, too bowed to the earth. This is ridiculous! Yet, I cannot take my eyes from those green Alaskan conifers.