Chapter 22
Well enough alone…
"What, Chloe? I was just lost in thought," Adrien snapped.
"You weren't just lost in thought, you were back… there. You had that look in your eye again," his wife, Chloe, observed.
"I'm fine. I was just thinking about how to fix the car, that's all," Adrien growled again.
"You know, if you want to talk about it…" Chloe offered.
"I don't; and on top of it, I can't, you know this. We've talked about it a hundred goddamn times!" Adrien was shouting now.
"Adrien please! You're scaring Mackenzie!" Chloe protested.
That gave him a pause, and he stopped to look at his girl. "I'm sorry, sweetie," he apologized, combing his fingers through the child's hair.
She flinched, and Adrien felt his heart being pulverized.
"You know, that's it. We're going to go stay with my parents," Chloe announced as she got up from the table and walked to the bedroom.
Adrien followed her. "I can read between the lines, Chloe. You don't have to do this."
"You haven't left me a lot of choice. I can't blame you, but I can't stay here when you're like this," Chloe explained as she began to pack a bag. "Not with Mackenzie."
"I know I've been… difficult. But what happened is classified information. I just need… time," Adrien offered lamely.
She put her hand on his cheek. "And I'll be there when that time comes. But you need to work through this."
Defeated, Adrien sat on the bed, watching her go. He knew he couldn't stop her and what was worse: he knew it was for the best not to try. Once she'd packed for her and Mackenzie, she suddenly stopped and turned back to him.
"Can I tell you something before I go?" she asked, hand on the door.
"Sure?" Adrien agreed, though somewhat confused by the request. She leaned in right next to his ear and spoke with a low, seductive whisper.
"There's something crawling towards you…"
Adrien snapped awake and fired at the serpent above his head. Quickly, he rolled out of the way before the body and the blood hit his position.
Everything hurt. Not just the impact from the train crashing, but everything that had required significant muscle movement in the past day or two was now hitting him hard.
Groaning, he rolled over onto his back and pulled himself up using the train's seating. "Anybody hear me? Sound off!" Adrien called out.
The only reply was the sound of metal groaning. Deciding it wasn't a good idea to make any unnecessary noise, Adrien held off speaking again.
When he stood, however, he did cry out in pain. His back hurt, the worst it had been since he initially sustained the injury. This was no time to dope up, however; he needed to be alert.
He looked out a nearby window and saw only sky and mountains. That couldn't be good.
Pressing his forehead to the glass, he looked down and saw the valley below. Somehow, they were still suspended on the bridge.
"Well. That ain't good."
Should he chance moving through the cars, and search for the others? Or try to climb out onto the bridge? Neither option sounded safe.
Before Adrien could decide, there was an assortment of loud creaking and groaning noises, and the train began to shake. This was soon followed by the brief feeling of weightlessness.
The bridge, or the train, or both, had finally given way. The ground quickly reached up to meet him – but somehow, the fall hadn't been enough to be lethal. That still didn't make the landing pleasant, which tossed Adrien around the cabin like a doll.
Other cars must've landed on his, as the walls began to cave in; thankfully not enough to pin him down or trap him.
Or crush him to death.
Lifting himself to a hunched position, Adrien inched his way towards the door. When he reached it, he discovered it was warped, and required a significant amount of muscle to get it open. It was also murder on his back.
When he stepped out of the car, he found the storm in full swing. Heavy, howling winds, blinding snow with big flakes. Dark, foreboding sky. The works. He pulled down his ballistic goggles and pulled his shemagh up to his nose. If he could have a do-over, he would've gone with a neck gaiter instead. Much warmer material.
Adrien crept between the overturned train cars, careful about alerting anything to his presence. He should be a ghost in this blizzard, much like the hunter. What he wouldn't give to have their infrared vision right now, too.
Ahead of him was a sort of 'courtyard', formed out of trashed cars. As he got closer, he made out three Weyland mercs approaching a body. He couldn't be sure, but that was possibly one of his idiots lying in the snow.
Pulling his sidearm, he approached quietly and cautiously. The closer he could get, the less likely he was to miss.
"He's alive. What should we do with him?" one of the mercs asked. So, the victim was male. If it was Alexei, Adrien might just walk away…
"Kill him," another ordered.
Adrien fired off three successive shots, killing all three mercs before they even knew he was there. Hopefully, the wind would somewhat suppress the sound.
Coming up on the body, he found it was Petrov. Could be worse. Could be better, too. He'd have preferred Zaitsev.
Petrov sat up slowly, wincing.
"Hey, it's Lieutenant Dan. Never thought I'd be glad to see you," Adrien greeted.
"Ditto," Petrov replied, accepting Adrien's hand. "Thanks for the rescue."
Well, that was one of three people he wanted to find. He just needed Zaitsev and Katja now. Screw Alexei.
"Any line on Katja?" Adrien asked.
"No; and since you're asking, I'm assuming you haven't seen her either," Petrov answered tightly.
"Correct," Adrien affirmed.
His answer clearly troubled Petrov. "What's the plan?" he asked. Adrien actually did have a plan, but he was curious if Petrov had some ideas.
"I'm open to suggestions," Adrien said.
"I don't know. This is not a situation I've remotely prepared for," Petrov answered. "I just – I want to find her."
So, as intuitive as he was, the guy had trouble thinking outside the box and improvising, which was generally a requirement for any special forces. That was why he wasn't in charge, and Katja was. She could adapt to a changing situation, even if it was something completely new.
"We're gonna start by securing the area and round up the others at the same time," Adrien said.
"That is a good plan, but what about after?" Petrov asked.
"Baby steps, Petrov. Deal with the immediate problem." Adrien slapped the man's back. Petrov seemed overwhelmed, and Adrien didn't know whether it was because he was too distressed over Katja's disappearance to be rational, or he simply couldn't cope with the situation in general. Most likely the former; but even so, inaction was not going to help Katja.
They walked away from the area, in between some more cars and bridge rubble. Suddenly, from behind a bridge beam, Adrien saw flashes of yellow. More Weyland mercs stepped out, searching the area. They were making no effort to be silent.
"I'll take one, you take the other," Adrien said quietly over the wind. Petrov took the shot at his target, and Adrien got the other one.
"Nicely done," Petrov complimented.
"Yeah, almost like we're a team," Adrien joked. They scavenged what they could from the bodies, which wasn't much, and then moved on.
Soon, they came upon a car that was sloped against another. They'd have to go underneath the wreck to pass. Adrien went first.
Once on the other side, he turned and watched as Petrov came through the narrow gap. Three-fourths of the way, an alien spider dropped on the younger man's helmet and wrapped its tail around his neck, scrabbling to get at his face.
To Petrov's credit, he didn't so much as yelp. He just tried to pry the tail off his neck. Adrien took aim instinctually, but there was no way he was going to have a safe shot on it.
The lieutenant must've thought fast, because he dropped his head like a bull and rammed into the side of a car before it could clamp over his mouth. The tail went slack, but that wasn't enough. Petrov ripped the helmet and the attached spider accessory off his head and began banging both against the train car.
With the spider dead, Petrov dropped the helmet to the ground. Adrien could see that acid had eaten away at the helmet, rendering it compromised and useless.
"Good?" Adrien asked.
"Just give me a second," Petrov requested as he put his hands on his knees. After a moment, he rose and gave a thumbs up, then pulled a fleece beanie from his pack and fit it over his head.
They continued on until they found the train engine – on fire, no less.
"I think I found Zaitsev," Petrov voiced grimly.
Adrien did a sweep. "Yeah, I think I found some of him, too." Poor guy. Another unnecessary loss, caused by a government who thought they were in control of things that they had no business trying to control.
Adrien could relate.
Not far away was another body. Petrov headed over to investigate after grabbing Zaitsev's tags, and Adrien gave him cover.
Adrien saw pale curls and a mouth hanging open, breathing loudly. It was Alexei. Hallelujah. Their problems were solved.
Adrien poked him with his gun, which earned a groan from the kid.
"We could leave him here, Petrov," Adrien suggested, only half-kidding. To his surprise, the lieutenant seemed to be contemplating it.
"Nobody has to know," Adrien pushed.
Before Petrov could give a verdict, the kid spoke; muffled, yes, but he was still alive.
"He says he can hear what you're saying," Petrov translated.
"Good; he can know how little his life means to me," Adrien snorted.
Sitting up, Alexei looked around and began babbling and sobbing.
"Oh, give it a rest Alexei! Have some dignity. What's he saying anyway?" Adrien asked with exasperation.
"Something about 'game over' and 'we're screwed'," Petrov answered. Adrien rolled his eyes in response.
Quieting down, Alexei began to rub at his foot, pouting dramatically in his little snow pile. He spoke again.
"He says he rolled his ankle, and is requesting you carry him," Petrov continued.
"Fuck that," Adrien answered.
"He says if you're really Captain America, you'll help," Petrov finished with a shrug. "I can do it, if you want."
What, did Petrov think the train crash was too much for an old man? Time to put him in his place.
Grumbling, Adrien bent his pained back down and picked Alexei up, piggyback-style. At least he wasn't too heavy.
The kid spoke again and this time, Petrov responded in English.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll get your damn computer," Petrov scoffed as he picked up the bag and tossed it into his own pack.
Stupid kid, that thing was useless to everyone out here. Why was he so insistent on keeping it close?
"Alexei, did you see Katja at all?" Adrien asked.
"Nyet," Alexei replied, sounding unconcerned; and that didn't need translation. Adrien knew what 'no' was in Russian.
"Ok, new plan. We are going to secure one of these cars, and hole up in there until the storm settles," Adrien ordered, heading towards one of the more stable-looking cars.
"What about Katja?" Petrov protested.
"With Alexei's ankle roached, we aren't going to be able to move. Besides, this is the only landmark out here. She'll know to stay close," Adrien insisted.
Cracking the door of a car open, he found it empty, and therefore easy to secure. He dropped the kid unceremoniously on the metal floor and ushered Petrov inside.
"Stay here, help the kid. I'll be back," Adrien ordered as he went to mark the train car in his GPS. The thing was broken, though, so he tossed it. He'd have to navigate via his compass. The old ways.
"Where are you going?" Petrov asked.
"I'm gonna try to bring our girl home," Adrien said as he shut the car door.
Katja was freezing.
She woke with a start, and found her cheek pressed into the snow. She was lying on her stomach, sprawled awkwardly where the train had tossed her. She was covered in a fine layer of snowflakes, and quickly became aware that the strange storm had turned into a snowfall, complete with wind and low visibility.
Below her, she could just make out the wreck of the train, and she shuddered.
Somehow, she had not plunged down into the valley with the cars, but had been thrown backward onto a narrow lip on the mountainside. Maybe the car she was in had swung back just enough to launch her as it was falling.
Regardless, she was alive. On a mountainside several meters below where the bridge had once stood, but alive.
Katja tried curling her toes and fingers before she attempted to get up, to make sure her spine hadn't been damaged. To her relief, they responded easily, and she could feel them well enough, other than the slight numbness from the cold.
"Maksim?" she called, rising to a sitting position. "Adrien? Zaitsev, Alexei?"
There was no response, and the vacuum-like shroud of the blizzard stretched around her.
Her lower leg twinged as she moved it, and she looked down. A thumb-sized shard of metal, clearly from the train, was sunken into her skin – right through her pants, just above her ankle. It was not a large fragment, nor was the cut deep; the metal had just been wickedly sharp. It would probably not even hinder her movement.
Removing the metal, she tossed it aside; and though she was barely bleeding, she grabbed some gauze and ointment from her pack and quickly applied some of the antibiotic before wrapping the injury. Then, she returned to the situation at hand.
From her perch, Katja contemplated her situation and began looking for some sign of where the others might have landed. Most likely, the best place to start searching was the wreck itself. At the very least, the cars were the best option for shelter from the storm.
She moved down the slope towards the valley carefully, testing her muscles. They weren't sore yet. The next day might be bad, but she wasn't having an issue now. Maybe it was fortunate she had blacked out before her fall. She hadn't had time to tense up and strain her body even more. Or maybe, the snow drift she'd landed in had cushioned the impact.
Either way, it was a minor miracle she was walking away from this at all.
It made her fear what had happened to the others.
At last reaching the shallow valley, Katja hopped from a boulder to the ground. Though the wind was less intense, the snow continued to fall. She couldn't see anybody, but she had to continue under the assumption Weyland was also inspecting the wreck.
She wandered noiselessly through twisted metal, not daring to call for her men. It could get them or her shot if she wasn't careful. The hunter and serpents were also factors to consider.
Then, in the snow, she spotted something green.
Moving closer, she saw it was Petrov's helmet. She recognized it, because of its ballistic visor. He'd been wearing it on the train.
When she picked it up and turned, she saw half of it was burned away by acid.
With a strangled cry, she dropped it.
He was dead. Maksim was dead.
Unbidden, her mind flashed back to the first time she'd met him.
It was the first day of basic training, and after getting all her gear on, Katja went to join the other recruits outside of the locker rooms to wait for their drill sergeant. Thank goodness Karik had previously explained to her what all of the equipment was, or she would have been completely lost.
"Who's this little girl?" questioned a male voice aloud. In fact, all the other recruits were male, which could only mean the voice was addressing her.
Katja paused before turning, wondering if she should even bother acknowledging the question. Karik had warned her this would likely happen, and that she needed to either ignore it entirely or be ready to fight back.
The recruit who'd taunted her was standing beside another young man. They were both stocky and strong-looking, and a few years older than the other fresh-faced kids surrounding them.
The second man was grinning at his idiot friend's comment. "Yeah, you sure you want to play with the big boys, baby doll? You look ready to collapse in all that gear, and we haven't even started!"
The first guy chuckled. "What do you think she's hiding under that uniform? I wanna find out if the carpet matches the drapes."
The area around them became very quiet as the crass comment drew the attention of several more of the recruits.
Steeling herself, Katja slipped into a Krav Maga stance, just to be ready lest they actually try to touch her.
But then, behind her, she heard a new voice. "Wow. These are nice knives."
Confused, Katja turned. A blond boy, a teenager like her, was testing the edge of his new army knife carefully. He was very tall and gawky, with big hands and feet, like he was still growing into them.
"Not like the ones I used back on the farm, but still nice." Looking directly at Katja's harassers, he said, "You know, at home, I could turn a bull into a steer very quickly. Some of them just got too aggressive, you know? I got very good at it. I think my record was about two minutes. Of course, they were lucky enough to be sedated. I wonder how long it would take with one of these babies?" He weighed the blade casually, looking pointedly at the men.
Katja's harassers looked at one another uncertainty, as though they couldn't tell whether it was a joke or not.
Katja didn't think so. Even with his big ears and boyish looks, he seemed dead serious.
"Let me guess, farm boy, you wanted all the cows to yourself? Had to get rid of the competition?" one of the men finally asked, and the other guffawed in a forced manner.
Still, the two were very quick to move along, leaving Katja behind; and the circle of onlookers dissolved.
The tall boy began to walk away as well, as if nothing had happened.
"Hey, wait," she called.
He stopped and waited politely for her. "Yes, miss?" he asked, eyes on the ground.
"Thanks for helping me out. I mean, I could have handled it…"
"But you shouldn't have to. You're a soldier, just like the rest of us, and it wasn't right."
Katja smiled. "I'm Jekaterina."
"Maksim. Nice to meet you."
Katja didn't know how long she stood there. Her boots were covered with fresh snow when she finally came back to reality.
No doubt Adrien and Zaitsev were dead as well.
That was it, then. She'd lost everyone. She had nothing left.
No, that wasn't quite true, was it?
If, as she suspected, Weyland was going for the serpent queen, she was going to stop them – and take out as many serpents as she could along the way. The only thing worse than a government trying to use the serpents was Weyland trying to use the serpents.
Resolved, she turned and faced the cliff she had just descended. Where had Jade claimed the Weyland encampment was? South of the FOB?
Katja knew she was running low on ammo, but she had several grenades left; plus, anything she could find in the crashed trucks left in the wake of the train skirmish.
It wasn't a lot, but if she was strategic, she could hit them hard with guerrilla tactics.
The cover of the blizzard would make avoiding the mercenaries that much easier. Which meant she had to get started right away.
Starting forward, Katja thought about her sleep accommodations for the night. The train had traveled a significant distance, and she might not make it all the way back to the depot before nightfall. Though it was terrifying to think about sleeping outdoors for the night.
The best she could hope for was maybe salvaging a tent and a sleeping bag from the cars, but the most likely outcome was making a shelter and utilizing survival tricks to stay warm while asleep. There were also still some decoupled cars on the track that she could search and potentially use as shelter.
Arriving at the mountain peak, Katja tilted her head and looked up at where the bridge had once been. Following the railroad tracks would be the easiest way to return to the depot without getting lost, but it wouldn't be the quickest.
Either way, she had a daunting trip ahead of her.
Stepping up to the rocks, she began to climb.
"Hey Petrov, remember when we played 'Never Have I Ever'?" Adrien called before he pulled open the train car door.
"Unfortunately, yes," Petrov said from inside, lowering his gun and wincing as he was hit with a blast of cold air and snow. "How is that relevant? Why do you ask?"
"Because before I entered, I wanted you to know for sure it was me, and not Weyland," Adrien answered, stomping snow off his boots as he stepped inside the car. "I'd rather not get shot."
Petrov ignored that. "You didn't find her," he said. He didn't phrase it as a question.
"I know. I tried," Adrien said regretfully. "I combed the whole valley." And even then, he had looked again, and a third time after that. It had been murder on his back, the weather and temperature were extremely unpleasant, and he hadn't even found a hint of her.
Dropping his head, Petrov removed his hat and scratched at his hair, weakly mumbling something in Russian that was no doubt a curse.
Alexei chimed in with something, and Petrov looked at him murderously.
"Do I want to know?" Adrien asked as he slouched against a wall and rested his chin in a hand.
"He says… she was probably crushed under the train," said Petrov, going pale.
An image of Zaitsev, torn to pieces by the falling machine, returned to Adrien's mind. But he refused to believe Katja had met a similar end. She was just too stubborn. He could almost picture her tossing her red hair at him and saying, "Really, Adrien? You think I would let a train stop me when there's work to be done?"
"Nah, she's ok," Adrien said firmly.
He thought he heard Petrov mumble something that sounded like, "Please, God, let him be right." Then, after another moment, Petrov squared his shoulders and looked at Adrien directly. "I'm not leaving here without her. No matter what your plan is."
"Wasn't gonna ask you to," Adrien responded. "I just thought we should wait until the blizzard clears up first. It'll make searching a hell of a lot easier. We might even find footprints – right now they're filling in as fast as they're being made."
"What if she can't move?" argued Petrov. "What if Weyland finds her first, or the serpents, or the hunter?"
Adrien smiled. "Heaven help 'em if they do."
"Be serious, American. What chance does she really have?" Petrov asked anxiously. Adrien went silent as he thought.
Weyland would equal death, maybe capture and interrogation if she was lucky. Either way, if they found her, it wouldn't be good – but there was a chance she could live and escape. Despite Weyland's superior numbers, she was very resourceful and skilled. Much more so than them.
The serpents were a promise of death, either by attacking or impregnation; so better for her to avoid them altogether.
The hunter… he could make guesses based on history, but it would be just that. This one didn't follow the mold. If it found her, it was anyone's guess what it would do.
And of course, there was them. They stood a one in four chance of finding or being found by her.
Despite all of that, Katja was smart, well trained, and methodical. The odds would look bad to someone not taking that into account. More than likely, she was sheltered down somewhere out there, waiting for the storm to pass, same as they were.
"We'll find her, or she'll find us. I can guarantee it."
Katja thought the climb would be the most difficult part.
Somehow, it wasn't.
When she'd arrived back at the railroad tracks, she waited cautiously behind a derailed car, listening and watching for Weyland or serpents.
But there was nothing.
She knew the snow would dampen sound, so she proceeded east, hoping the enemy would not hear her struggling through the drifts. She had hoped to stay a distance from the railway itself, as it was something of a landmark and bound to be a hotspot for Weyland to regroup; but she was afraid of losing sight of it and becoming lost in the endless white expanse.
Katja was so lost in thought over the deaths of her team, she didn't even notice that she had entered a forested area of the mountain. She didn't remember passing it on the train, but she also hadn't really been paying attention due to the firefight.
The tree cover suppressing the wind was a nice change. Now, the snow fell steadily in front of her. Still blinding, but now she could appreciate the beauty. A memory of all of them in the woods from earlier replayed in her mind.
"…they prefer ambush attacks from high places. Like the trees in a forest," the memory of Adrien explained. Quickly she swiped at her eye and tried to refocus.
In front of her was a mountain river, or stream. It drifted from a section of forest and ran parallel to the tracks for several meters before curling away into the woods again.
Suddenly, she saw a mound of snow beside the water move.
No, it wasn't snow. It was a wolf, pure white, with sky-blue eyes. Katja froze in place, not wanting to scare it away – or draw attention to herself.
The beautiful animal trotted to the river, glanced around, then crouched to drink. Katja watched it in silence for several seconds, until the wind shifted.
The wolf's head shot up, and it looked straight at her. Its nose twitched as it took in her scent.
"Hello," Katja whispered. "Where's your pack?"
It seemed more unsure of her presence than aggressive, straining its neck as it tried to see and smell her better without moving closer.
"Did the monsters get them?" she continued. "They got mine, too."
Suddenly, the wolf backed away a few paces, ears rotating flat. Its nose lifted to point at the treetops, and its hackles raised. Baring its teeth with a low growl, it swept its tail between its legs and ran into the trees.
"He's here," Katja realized, another recollection of Adrien popping up.
"Did you know humans see in more shades of green than any other color? Why do you think that is?"
She heard a soft thud, and slowly turned around. Sure enough, the hunter was there on the forest floor with her. He hadn't even bothered to cloak. His hands were clenched, posture in an aggressive, athletic ready position.
"Or the ghost of Siberia. A specter you can't see until it comes and snatches you away!" the memory of Yahontov said. No description was more apt, this thing was the Ghost of Siberia.
She found it strange that she didn't feel any panic. There was no way she could win with her current weapons and low levels of ammo. The Krav Maga wasn't going to do anything here, either. But it just didn't seem to matter anymore.
Setting herself to face the hunter head on, Katja mimicked his pose with her own. Gun in hand, but resting, feet shoulder-width apart, and the best stone-cold killer Spetsnaz look she could muster. If she was going to die in all the horrific ways Adrien described, she wasn't going to just roll over. And she wouldn't show fear.
The tell-tale screech of the black demons broke the standoff as Katja watched them emerge from all around, lithely creeping towards them. Their focus seemed to be on the hunter.
Taking advantage of their emergence, Katja ran while the hunter fended off his attackers. The snow was blinding as she ran into it, and then almost into a wall of trees. She twisted her shoulders and hips to fit through the narrow gaps, desperate to put as much distance between them as she could.
Roars and screeches from behind her only further spurred her on. Worse yet, the cloud cover had made it dark before; but now night was on the horizon.
Katja didn't know how long she ran through the forest at a dead sprint, but when adrenaline finally wore off and she was forced to stop, she found her hands shaking, which meant she had been running for a while.
With no choice, she sat on a rock, panting for air, and opened a bottle of water. Surely all that zigzagging through the woods would throw… whatever off her trail. At least for a little bit.
She took huge gulps, trying to steady her breathing out. She could feel her lungs burning, and the cold mountain air only made it worse by adding needles of pain to it.
As her breathing steadied, she pulled up another old memory.
"How did evasion training go?" Karik asked.
"I failed to meet the minimum time to avoid capture," Katja answered glumly. She didn't like failing. She never had.
"Be pretty easy to give up, call it stupid, huh?" her brother ventured.
"I get why it's important. I just don't see myself ever isolated from my unit and on the run," Katja explained.
"Katja, Spetsnaz is always operating behind enemy lines, even if lines are more metaphorical now," Karik began, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"I know," she said.
"Then you can't train with that mentality. Treat this like the real deal. Put some angles and terrain between you and your pursuer. Double or triple back if you can. Don't stop to rest. Keep moving, as much as you're physically able," Karik advised.
"You're right," Katja agreed.
"Remember, you're the deer and they're the hunter," a new voice cut in. When Katja looked up, confused, it wasn't Karik. It was Adrien.
She just looked at him, baffled.
"Katja…"
The Russian Captain snapped awake at hearing some birds startled from the trees behind her a distance away, a sign something was coming. Or maybe it was hearing Adrien's hushed voice on the air. Almost like a warning.
Either way, she got up and started to run, trying to keep the advice of her brother at the forefront of her mind. The problem being either creature was probably a much better tracker than anything on Earth. Not to mention much faster.
Katja nearly stumbled when she came to a clearing. Again, she had lost track of how long she had been running, but she needed another rest.
There was one tree in the middle of the clearing. It would provide some cover from the snow, so Katja meandered under it and rested her shoulder on it.
There was a snapping sound, like rope gaining sudden tension to it, and Katja quickly found herself whipped upside down. It had all happened so fast, she hadn't been able to stop herself from smacking her face into the trunk of the tree, knocking her unconscious instantly.
Cracking an eye open, Katja felt a pain spread across her face, centralized at her nose. Blood had pooled in the nostrils, effectively plugging them. And at this angle, it wasn't easy to clear them out. She didn't know how long she was out for, but it must've been some time, as it was darker out than before.
Below her, she could see her helmet, rifle, and pack nestled in the snow, out of reach. Tipping her chin down – which was up in her position – she found her leg caught in a snare. Her first instinct was to go for her knife, but she found the sheath empty.
Right. Her blade had dissolved when she'd saved Petrov from a spider back at the FOB. And the ballistic was in her pack, which was out of reach in this position.
Going slack again, she tried to stifle the rising bubble of panic. "Dyshat'," she coached herself.
Opening her eyes after calming, she found, of all things, an enormous bear on approach. It was snuffling and grunting as it ambled along. It looked quite thin – probably not long out of hibernation. Maybe the serpents had woken it.
Which meant it was going to be hungry.
Turning its head, it spotted her, and began to charge her way. She must have looked exactly like prey, trapped and helpless.
Grabbing her Glock from its holster, she took aim and pulled the trigger.
Click.
Pulling the slide back, Katja found the magazine and chamber empty. She fumbled around her pouches for another. None were left.
Just as she was about to try and scare it off with a fragmentation grenade, there was a very alien roar, and the bear turned tail and ran.
Even with the snow, she saw the distortion of the invisible creature step into her line of vision before he de-cloaked and turned to her. The Ghost of Siberia himself.
Out of the frying pan…
What he meant to do with her now was a complete question mark. Back at the warehouse, it seemed like he had been willing to bargain. But on the train, it looked like his goal had been to kill her again. And here, she was completely at his mercy. The real question was, what did he want with her in general?
He reached down to his hybrid sandal-boot and pulled a wicked-looking knife from it. Although, proportionate to humans, the thing was more of a short sword. He broke her thoughts when he began to stalk towards her.
Then, she realized he meant to skin her alive, just like Adrien said they did. Heart racing, Katja began thrashing around, trying to find purchase to free herself from the impending flaying.
That form of death was tied with 'death by serpent impregnation' for ways she didn't want to go out.
As she was struggling, a high-pitched screech resonated through the trees, and Katja turned her attention back to the hunter just in time to see him tackled by a serpent from behind. A scuffle between the two began.
With the creatures distracted, she began trying to work out her escape before one of them came out on top. Thinking quickly, she began pulling herself up the rope to the very top.
Once there, Katja looked back down at the ground apprehensively.
"This is going to hurt…" Katja mumbled.
With that, she released herself. The rope held her weight, but the branch didn't. It snapped cleanly, dropping her to the permafrost ground; harshly, since the snow didn't accumulate as well under the tree.
It didn't take her long to realize she couldn't even stand. All the blood had rushed to her head, plus the cold, and the lack of circulation in her ensnared foot, had caused it to go numb.
Scrambling forward, Katja grabbed her rifle, then scurried away to brace her back against the tree. The two extraterrestrials were still fighting.
It was at that moment she realized it was time to pick a side. The serpents weren't going to ever coexist with humans, and the hunters had been co-existing with them for some time already, so the choice was clear. Even if it killed her.
Taking aim, Katja waited until the right moment and fired.
The bullet penetrated the serpent's oblong skull and out the back, killing it instantly. It fell away from the hunter by sheer luck, and no blood splashed on him.
At first, the hunter seemed confused, but then he tipped his head back from his prone position to look at her. It was now the moment of truth to find out if she had chosen poorly or even more poorly.
The hunter rolled over, stood, and shook himself of snow like a dog, his 'hair' rings jingling. It would be amusing or almost cute, if the threat of skinning weren't so real. Katja rested her weapon off to the side, hoping that it communicated she had no desire to fight. At this point, she had no desire to even move.
He strode in front of her and sat down on his haunches. She watched as he reached into a belt pouch and withdrew something small, on a chain, and offered it to her.
Confused, she realized it was a set of dogtags, and slowly leaned forward and took the chain from him. " 'Yahontov'?" she read aloud. "You saved these?" That had been days ago. How had he known they were important to her and her men?
Pocketing them, Katja watched as the hunter picked up her helmet and brushed off the snow with his hand before giving it to her, speaking some of his language.
Katja let the breath she had been unknowingly holding go. The hunter's message had been clear.
This was his olive branch.
Notes:
Not that it really matters, but this was written before anything about Prey had surfaced. We talked about swapping the bear out for a tiger so it didn't look like we plagiarized anything, but we ultimately left it as intended.
Also, Katja has made a new friend!