Rivers Run Deep

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters related to Predator El, other unrelated human characters, and the character names of the predators Imade up, the concept of predator do not belong to me.



Authors Notes: This is a work of Fan fiction. please read on and enjoy.



WARNING: The following work of fiction contains, extream violence, course language (at times), sexual sudgestions, nudety, and explicit sex. If you are
under 18 (or whatever age is appropriate for your location), HIT YOUR
BACK BROWSER BUTTON NOW. If you find explicit sex offensive, please
don't offend yourself by reading further.



Author: Charlotte (jemstone5)

Email: jemstone5

Feedback: Please, yes lots.

Forward to others: would be flattered if you did.

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Rivers Run Deep



Chapter 4



Her house was completely engulfed in flames. There was no way they could save the house. She could recall enquiring about her family, saying her mother was six months pregnant, but all the deputy did was lock her in the back of his cruiser then went back to crowd control. The deputy didn’t return for her till nearly dawn, by then she had watched her home burn down, and the firefighters carry out three bodies in body bags, all before her eyes.


She was taken to a hospital in Los Vegas for observation. The doctors there said that she was brought in from a fire, unresponsive to anyone who questioned her. Three days after she arrived, a large man was placed in the room with her, to recover from surgery. He just started talking to her.


As it turned out, he was the new owner of the diner in her town, and that he’d heard there was a terrible fire there that killed a family. “Yeah,” she said finally, totally shocking the nurse who was there to make sure she was ok. The nurse quickly ran out and got a doctor. “It was my family,” she said, and turned away from him.


After the doctor had examined her, he left, saying to the nurse that she must have been mistaken. Totally dismissing the old man in the bed next to her, who was saying that she had indeed spoken, and it was to him.


Since then, the girl and the old man were inseparable. She would bring him a newspaper, sit and talk with him, even helped him into a wheelchair, so they could go for walks around the hospital. She hadn’t yet turned 18 years old, and was looking at going into a home for underage kids, when the old man looked at his doctor and told him that she would be going home with him. She hadn’t known, but he had made the arrangements to bring her home with him, since her 18th birthday was only a few weeks away. Why traumatize her with the coldness of the social system, he knew she’d been through enough.


So she returned home, receiving from the authorities whatever hadn’t been destroyed in the fire, namely, her brother’s motorcycle. The rest was too damaged, or not of any use to her. The insurance company paid out what was owed on the house, and the life insurance policies of the parents and her brother, covered the burial expenses, and the creditors’ bills, with barley enough to cover the cost of a cup of coffee when it was all done.


The old man quickly took her out to some of the yard sales, and second hand shops, promising he’d do right by her some how, but that second hand was all he could afford. She thanked him, and did whatever she could to make his life easier for him. She had no idea what to do now. She didn’t have money for school, there were few if any jobs, in her two horse town, and there was no way she was going to work at the casinos in Vegas. Good money, yes, but she drew the line at what would be called of her behind the scenes.


For several days, she would put on her jean jacket and jeans, straddle her bike, and ride. She didn’t know where she was going, she honestly didn’t care, she just wanted to get away, get away from the ache that just kept building in her chest, an ache that just wouldn’t go away.


The first couple times she had trouble. The most recent was the bike totally breaking down just 7 miles from home. She pushed it as far as she could, stopping at a fence in the middle of no where. She laid the bike back on its stand, and sat down with her back against the fence to rest. That’s when she fell through, right into a pond of water.


She splashed around for a bit, trying to stand on the slippery bottom, digging down her shirt for the fish that was flopping around in her bra. She remembered it was a pretty color, before she heard the laughing. She turned to come face to face with about 6 teen boys, all not more than 16. “Hi,” she said, dropping the fish back into the water. The boys, all Asian, bowed to her, all but one.


“You will have to fix that,” said the standing boy.


“Is your dad here?” she asked, not impressed one bit by his smug tone.


“Our Sensei is here. He will be furious.”


“Could you get him for me please, and can one of you - ” and she slipped as she took a step “give me a hand to get out of the water?” As the older boy went off, the others all helped her out of the water, asking her what had happened. She told them the truth, as she wrung out her jacket as best she could, then slipped out of her boots to drain the water, and to look for more fish.


“Our Sensei will see you now,” said the boy, and at his direction, she quickly pulled on her boots and followed him inside.


She wasn’t totally uncultured. She recognized the oriental garden. It was beautiful. She’d always wanted to visit the orient. But she was too young, and her parents didn’t want to go. He opened the sliding door, and ushered her inside. Without being told, she removed her boots, leaving them outside, and shook out as much water from her socks as she could. The boy just pulled her wet jacket to move her along. “Watch it kid!” she snapped quietly. The boy just huffed at her, and bowed to the man who was kneeling in the middle of the room.
“Sensei, the intruder is here.”


“Hum? Yes, of course. Come, sit.” The elderly man waved his hand to a space on the floor with him.


“With all due respect,” she said, and bowed as the boy had done. “I must decline. I apologize for my intrusion on your quiet home, it was an accident. I will repair the fence of course. But I would ask if I may use your phone. My bike broke down, and I would like for someone to come and get it, and me. It is a long push back to town.”


The boy just eyed her. “Of course. Yurie will show you where the phone is.”


“My thanks,” and she followed the boy.


After making her call, on the old rotary-dial phone, which she had to have the boy show her how to use. She’d never seen one before, she’d no idea they even existed. The boy led her back to the main door. “Oh, Yurie? Do you have a mop or a towel? I’ve been dripping all over the floor, and I’d hate for you or your Sensei to have to clean it up.” The boy never answered her, just handed her a mop. He followed her as she retraced her steps, then backed towards the door, cleaning the drips from the floor.


“Yurie! What are you doing!?”


“She asked for the mop Sensei, said she wanted to clean up her own mess.”


The old man looked to her and nodded. “My thanks.” She nodded back. He seemed gruff, very firm, but his eyes were soft. “Come, sit. Tell me of yourself.”


“Thanks, but I really do have to get going. My ride will be here soon.”


“It will take time. Time enough for us to talk, and have tea.” He waved for the boy to take the mop, he did, but also grabbed her arm to push her into the room. He grabbed her hard, and she didn’t like it. She pinched his wrist with her free hand, and when he released her, she quickly drew his trapped hand behind him, gaining a groan of anger as she went.


“Anybody ever teach you to keep your hands to yourself? That freaking hurt!”


“Obviously not enough for you to reconsider my Sensei’s kind invitation!” He tried to kick her, only to have her trip him, and push her knee into the small of his back. During all this the old man watched. Not saying a thing.


“You didn’t give me a chance to respond. You ever touch me again, and I will break every bone in your puny hands three times over. You got me!”


“Enough,” the old man stated calmly. “The boy is young; he does not understand the etiquette of women. I will deal with him myself. Please release him and join me.”


She let the boy go, but truly felt she’d outstayed her welcome. “Thank you sir,” she bowed, “but I don’t think you’d want to have tea with the likes of me. Excuse me.” And she left, grabbing her boots as she headed across the deck and down the walkway to the gate. Once outside, she headed around the fence to her bike, and began to examine the hole in the fence.