The Tracker

The base camp had been set. The cave was as they had hoped; closed in the end, and it provided plenty of room for easy movement should they be attacked.



Fagan was speaking to the other death-dealer, who hadn’t so much as uttered a word, but answered with varying grunts. The Marines were cleaning and loading their weapons, something they had already done on the helicopter to their destination. Nix frowned at this and moved her gaze to the doctor. He was humming softly under his breath as he set up a small table to place assorted items upon.



Sighing, Nix leaned her head back against the stone wall, allowing her eyes to flutter closed. They would be leaving the cave soon to begin tracking the alien creatures. She had warned the others that they might have already arrived after crossing a few nearly-hidden tracks that she could not identify.



Doctor Dan was sickeningly enthusiastic, and not exactly quiet about it. It wasn’t until she had threatened to cut his tongue out that he quieted. She couldn’t tell if he believed her or not, but when Fagan backed her up with the promise that if her threat wasn’t carried out by her, he would do it himself…well, you would be stupid not to believe an assassin’s promise. Even the most good-natured or humored comments should be construed as serious when an assassin speaks.



She heard a rattling sound heading for her face and her hand lifted, swiftly catching a medium pill bottle. Opening her eyes to slits, she examined the white of the bottle.



“Caffeine pills.” McMullan commented, a slight edge of disappointment in his voice. She figured it was because she caught the object before it hit her, therefore killing any hope for a laugh at her expense. She looked up at him with a frown.



“We really shouldn’t sleep.” He continued as if she needed an explanation.



“You think?” she replied sarcastically. She shifted and closed her eyes again.



“Ms. Grant, is now really the time to take a nap?” she heard the doctor ask. Gritting her teeth, she opened her eyes again.



“I’m not napping. I’m trying to meditate. I need to clear my head that way I don’t get distracted by anything when we go out. The more relaxed I am, the easier it will be to find something and determine what’s and where’s. Now, if you don’t mind, shut the fuck up so I can start!” she snapped. Doctor Dan turned away, offended.



Third times the charm…she closed her eyes again and was blissful in the sudden silence that surrounded her. Taking everything in her head, she carefully tucked it away in her ‘back room’ until everything was cleared. Sam’s face, Cal’s face, smiling and laughing, all the way to her cousin presenting her with two urns in her hospital room, one bigger than the other. She had felt such anger that they had done the funerary processes without her, but later she could understand. She had been in a coma. They had no idea whether she was going to live, let alone wake up to take care of things. Even when she woke up it was as if she was still sleeping. The shock of not opening her eyes to see Cal next to her smiling was too much. That shock continued for well over two years. She’d wake up in the middle of the night because his side of the bed was empty and cold. At first, she even got up to look for him.



Sam’s room had remained the same as it had been when they had gone on their vacation. Dirty laundry that he had forgotten to put in the hamper, the unfinished airplane model on his night-sky motif desk, his stuffed gorilla ‘Jasper’ half on the bed and half off…his blankets and sheet tossed back at the corner in his haste to go…the picture of them that he had stolen from the picture box Nix kept…Sometimes, she could see him playing ‘monsters’ with the gorilla and his stuffed snake on the floor. The photograph had since been taken from the wall and put in Nix’s wallet.



Things started to drift away for her. She made too much food, accidentally grabbed three plates instead of one, bought raspberry-lemonade kool-aid at the store because Cal and Sam loved it even though she despised it…She would find herself halfway to Sam’s bus stop at four to walk home with him, the other mother’s on their clean, toy-littered porches looking at her with something akin to pity. She’d stop, look around, and turn back, realizing that Sam wouldn’t be getting off that bus today or any other day. She’d go back to her kitchen and tilt the peanut butter-banana sandwich into the garbage uneaten, dump the small glass of milk into the sink, and reach for the new bottle of ‘Jack’ or ‘Jim’ that she purchased the day before in a rare state of lucidness.



She wore Cal’s shirts, spraying his cologne on them just to have a small piece of him back. She did the same with his pillow and blankets, sometimes just the air in the room or bathroom. She’d find herself sitting on the bed, talking to the open bathroom door, pretending to hear Cal talk back to her as he readied himself for work. Her best friend Vale called so many times. She stopped by, pounding on the door until the hinges started to consider buckling. Mail piled up in front of the door…her life had stopped. Everything had stopped. At some point, Nix found herself in the attic standing on a chair she had found tucked away in the dusty dimness, the length of a rope secured tightly around her neck. But she couldn’t do it. No matter how hard she tried to step off the edge of the chair, she found herself paralyzed. She was too weak, she had thought. She couldn’t do it.



She mentally shook herself and resumed her meditation. Now was not the time for memories. She could pick through her two-year-madness at a more appropriate time. Her heart beat slowed to a steady but low pace, her breathing even and deliberate. Sometime in the course of this, she heard the others step just outside the cave to talk quietly about strategy and plans.



As she was ‘waking’ herself, she felt a presence near her, the footfalls of her would-be surpriser silent. She immediately pegged him one of the death-dealers. The Marines, though quiet when they needed to be, could not be so silent in their issued boots. The doctor couldn’t be that quiet even if his life depended on it. He was the accident waiting to happen for them.



She kept her eyes closed, still breathing in slow cadence. He was kneeling in front of her. Now he was reaching towards her, his fingers outstretched towards her neck…



“That’s it…come a little closer…” Nix whispered, gripping the hilt of her blade tightly as she pressed it into his groin. The man yelped and jumped back. Nix opened her eyes, glaring. It was the quiet Death Dealer.



“That was fastest draw of blade! Where you learn?” he asked, eyes widened and hand dropped between his legs as if she would lunge for him to finish the job. Russian from the sound of his accent. At least he could speak some English. Nix got to her feet slowly.



“I’m fast at a lot of things, buddy. Let’s get one thing straight…” she paused, pointing the dagger at him. “You never touch my necklace or the capsules on it. Never. If you do, I will castrate you, stuff your fucking testicles up your ass, and string you up by your toes…are we clear?”



The man frowned, his eyes rolling upward and his mouth muttering something silently. After a second, his eyes widened and he looked back at her.



“Clear crystal.” He breathed. Nix smiled mirthlessly.



“Good. What do you want?”



“Leaving. Lewitts said for to come you. Sadrokov…” he held his hand out. Nix studied it before shaking it, her grip firm. The pale Russian grinned, his wide-set face alight. She knelt down and grabbed her bag, slinging it carefully over her shoulder.



“You medate?” he asked. Nix looked back at him.



“I meditated, yes.” She pointed towards the cave entrance, where she could see the Marines pacing impatiently. In such a hurry to die, Nix thought to herself. Sadrokov, though unsure at first, went ahead of her, his head turned to the side so he could watch her out the corner of his eye.



Nix merely walked past him back into the foliage, looking around. She pressed a finger to her lips to quiet the talk.



“What are you doing?” the Doctor asked. She grit her teeth together and swung around.



“Get in the god damn cave, Dan. Now.” She ground out. The doctor frowned.



“What am I going to do there? Aren’t we leaving?” he asked.



“We are leaving. You, since you obviously have no control over your mouth, are staying here. If you die, it’s no big loss. In fact, I’d be willing to bet we live longer without your brain-mouth running a mile a minute.”



Ramone made to protest but Lewitts interrupted.



“Ms. Grant…”



“He’ll be just fine. He’s weak, and I haven’t seen sign of the xenomorphs. The Predators probably won’t touch him unless he does something stupid, and even then I’m thinking that they would be more likely to come after us. In the mean time, there are several weapons to aid him if either come this way.”



Doctor Dan looked around at everyone, hope in his eyes. The death-dealers were in silent agreement with the woman, as were all but the two Marines. When Lewitts and Ramone remained quiet, their faces pulled in equal disapproval, the Doctor slumped and went back into the cave, cursing Nix under his breath.



The woman took a deep breath and scanned the trees, listening and looking. She had taken the liberty of memorizing the placement of her surroundings, where things should be and where they had been, how they moved when the wind penetrated the thickness of the plants and trees. After a couple of minutes, she took off slowly down their path, eyes scanning the ground for so much as a snapped twig.





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Blade and the unblooded watched the Oomans move, the female again at the head. The older Yautja replayed the conversation between them all, the weakling male staying behind in the cave. He heard irritation in her voice, authority. It was plain to him that she was in the lead of the group, the taller male that had spoken against her was the leader of the military four.



He watched as her eyes scanned the area, and he motioned to the other two to be silent and absolutely still. Blade had no doubt at all that she would be able to see them if they made any sort of err.



Normally, he refused to hunt the females. They were the living soul of the Ooman race, the ones that gave life and brought it into the world, creating worthy prey for the future. They were the most ferocious of the Pyode Amedha, especially when their sucklings were involved. However, most of the females did not know their strength, what they could become. They cowered at the feet of the males, doing the bidding when they could be the ones to give orders. It was rare to see a female in the power, one that knew and used her potential to it’s full abilities, and it intrigued the Yautja.



When the Oomans passed, he looked at the other two.



“We will hunt the military first when the time is right. Leave the female. The Z’skvy-de will be happening soon in the Oomans we found yesterday. I wish to see how she fights and if she lives.”



They agreed.



They found the Oomans not far off, the female crouched to the ground, her hand pressed against something in the soft earth.



“What is, Nix?” Blade heard one of the males ask. A wide-faced man with blue eyes and dark hair. One of the Oomans with the hidden weapons. So the female’s name was Nix. He mimicked it quietly, just loud enough for himself to hear.



“They are definitely here.” She said softly, her hand moving back to reveal the print of a Yautja foot. Blade turned his head to the Unblooded and noticed that Ch’hkt-a was trembling again. Blade hissed his displeasure at the young Yautja, who lowered his head a fraction in submission.



“I thought they weren’t supposed to leave footprints…” the red-haired man said.



“Normally, they don’t. I think there must be more than one. This print is a little smaller than what I expected, possibly left by a younger male of their kind. In Antarctica, they discovered that three had come down to the pyramid to hunt. Alexa Woods mentioned that they had marked themselves after a kill, very much like the warriors of earth did in the old times. In the end, one had marked her before he died. Unfortunately, that’s all we really know of her experiences because the idiots at Weyland-Yutani decided to get rid of her so they wouldn’t have the possibility of competition. All that aside, this may be a hunt similar to the one in Antarctica.”



“Wait minute…” the dark haired man said, holding up his hand. “They have Woods whacked? Why they not convince her to do work? She be useful! Do they do that if we live? They kill now we know too much?”



Nix pressed her hand against her eyes, another Ooman sign of irritation.



“I don’t know, Sadrokov. Maybe she refused, and I honestly don’t know what they plan to do to us if we live. Either way, that’s not the issue at the moment. I think we are looking at three, maybe four Predator, the majority younger males, maybe one older to lead the hunt. I believe that only a younger Predator would make the mistake of leaving a trace of himself.”



Blade looked at the other two, secretly impressed. She could see that with one footprint?



“What about the bugs?”



“What about the bugs? So far I’ve seen no sign of them, and I highly doubt that they are more careful than the Predator with their footprints or movement. My guess is that they haven’t made it this far, but they will soon. Either way, we still need to be on guard for both. Keep your eyes to the trees. Death from above, and all.” Nix said softly, standing straight.



The lead Military stepped up to her, leaning down to her ear. Blade waited for her to lash out at him as she had the Sadrokov man. He had been amused at that little scene, the Oomans ‘safely’ tucked into their cave. She had moved so fast that he had to replay the scene to catch the flicker of the blade that disappeared between the man’s thighs the moment he had reached out to touch her. Of course, the blade was in full view when the Ooman jumped back for fear of his reproductive organs. It was wickedly curved into a half-moon shape, the last two inches if it sharp serrated metal. Though he had paid great attention to the weapon, she obviously preferred melee weapons to ranged weapons unlike her fellows, he took into account the speed with which had been drawn. She was definitely one to watch. He was interested to see her in action.



At first Blade had wondered about his growing interest. But it had been many years since he had faced a truly worthy opponent, one that would not die too quickly. It had been quite a disappointment. Of course, if she was worthy, he would claim her as his prey and fight her, but he highly doubted that he would kill her. She needed to breed and produce sucklings like her, males worthy of a fight and their place upon the trophy wall.



The Oomans were on the move again and they dropped from the trees, following silently after Blade cautioned the younger Yautja to watch themselves. They Oomans couldn’t stay together forever. Eventually, they would separate by force, and that was when the hunters would make their move.



Blade relished the thought, and let his anticipation flourish within him.





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Z’skvy-de—The chest burster phase, when the xenemorph is birthed from the body of the host.



Suckling—child, children.