The Tracker

Nix was slightly unnerved by the stare that the large creature was directing at her. It was as if it was picking her apart piece by piece and judging each and every miniscule fraction. She frowned and let the capsules fall against her chest. Without another word, she turned and knelt down by the now smaller pile of clothing.



She grabbed a faded blue shirt, the words Semper Fi lettered across the front in a dull black. She felt naked. She had ripped her shirt off to get to the wound beneath, leaving her in nothing but the thin, black sports bra that was damp with sweat and smeared with slow-drying mud. At the time, she had been in too much pain to care or even realize that someone or something might be watching.



She pulled the shirt on and straightened it down over her torso. Several sizes too big at least. She grimaced as she moved around a little, hating the loose fabric that hung from her and made movement more difficult than usual.



Trying to ignore the three sets of eyes that were watching her, she grabbed a knife and cut the long bottom of the shirt off, leaving the ragged and rolling hem hanging just above the top of her pants. The sleeves were next, torn away and dropped onto one of the dead bodies of her former companions. It was still too loose, but she moved a tiny bit better. Sighing, she retrieved the cut hem of the bottom of the shirt and tied it around her waist, the wide, flaring bottom now in order. She knew it looked stupid, but she couldn’t really care less.



“You jump to battle.” The large one stated. Nix looked back at him, still frowning. The Predator gestured around the clearing, then pointed at the tree branch from which she had leapt.



“Yes. I jumped into the battle.” She said slowly. She crouched down next to one of the dead Marines, Ramone, and unhooked the Leatherman, slipping into her back pocket. She continued through all of them and took what was salvageable. Nix knew she should be feeling wrong about doing it, but they were dead, she was alive, and if she had any hope of staying that way, she would need as much help as she could get. The aliens standing behind her would only be entertained by her for so long.



She looked around and counted the dead bodies. Fagan was not among them. She knew that. She was just finally wondering about it.



Scowling, she turned on them.



“The red-headed man. Fagan. Did you see where he went?” She asked. The one that had ‘saved’ her shook his head in the slightest of gestures.



The predators suddenly slipped into defensive stance, the weapons on their shoulders training to something behind her. She felt something sharp press into her back, and an arm wrap itself around her neck before she could react.



“Right here, sweetums. Miss me?” Fagan’s voice breathed in her ear. She shivered involuntarily.



“What the fuck are you doing, Fagan?” she hissed, trying to move away. His muscled arm held her solidly to him.



“Protecting my future assets. Don’t know if that wonder-bastard from Weyland-Yutani told you or not, but the less that come back, the more money the survivors get, on account of the fact that it’s less money they have to spend to track the others down and kill them like they did that blabbing bitch, Woods. Of course, there’s no saying that they won’t come after me in the end, but I’ve got a survival instinct to beat all. It appears that you do too.”



Nix felt something rough and wet roll along the length of her neck.



“Get the fuck off me Fagan or I’ll rip your balls off.” She spat venomously. She noticed three red dots traveling over her shoulder and Fagan shifted. Hiding behind her like a coward.



“Tell your new-found friends to back off.”



Nix actually laughed.



“Do you honestly think they could care less about whether I’m dead or alive? They live for the hunt, Fagan. You got the same info as me. What’s one more dead human to them?”



Fagan backed up, dragging her along. The knife was sharp in her back, and with Cal’s voice still ringing in her ears to live, she didn’t want to press her luck. She could struggle, but what would it get her but possible paralysis or death? She didn’t think the Predator’s blue, burning wonder-goo would help that.



The leader and the shorter of the two smaller ones growled low and took a step forward.



“Somehow, it seems to me that they might care a little bit.” He whispered in her ear. “Now, lets go for a short jaunt, shall we? By the way, I hope you didn’t have any questions for Doctor Dan. I’m afraid his untimely death at the hands of some crazed creature and a taut electrical cord might make it a little difficult for him to answer.”



Nix suppressed another shiver as he dragged her farther back from the clearing, his arm tightening to a near choke-hold around her neck.



“Nice shirt by the way…” he commented, almost as if he were talking about a beautiful day. “Who’s was it? Lewitts’? Ramone’s? Maybe McMullian’s?”



Nix noticed that the Predators had halted their advance and she could barely see them through the trees.



“Now, honey, we’ve got a ‘copter to catch. See, I got me one of those black devils trussed up back at the cave, and I’m dying to cash it in. Maybe we can go to a beach somewhere. White beach, light blue ocean, maybe a few palm trees and a cooler full of Corona and lime? You can wear one of those skimpy little bikini’s and walk around in front of me a little. That sound good?” the point of the knife pressed deeper into her back and Nix clamped her teeth together.



“No way in hell am I going anywhere with you.” She grit out.



“I think you’ll change your mind, Miss Nixlyne. Say, who gave you that name anyway? Was it your daddy or your momma?”



Nix didn’t answer. They were gone from sight now, and even though she knew they could come after her cloaked, she doubted they would. Her words had been true enough before Fagan dragged her back. What was another human to them?



She was by no means defenseless. Her body was covered head to toe in weapons she either had before or had scavenged from the bodies. She tried to reach for a gun.



“Keep that fucking hand away from that pistol or I’ll jam this thing into your spine so quickly that you won’t know what happened. I’m being uncharacteristically charitable, right now. Don’t test me.” He snapped. He stopped and threw her hard into a tree, pulling weapons from her person as she slammed into it. He pressed his body against hers, knife hard against her throat, the other hand taking great care to search her thoroughly for weapons. Nix let out a loud scream, trying to struggle and he punched her with so much force her head knocked back into the tree. Dazed and still tired from the pain, she started to collapse to her knees.



Fagan pressed a knee between her legs and kept her up.



“Now, now. I want you awake for this, honey. Don’t pass out on me.” He said gently. He ran the tip of the blade down her chest and rested it between her breasts, his other hand reaching between her legs, caressing her clothed groin. Her fist shot out and nailed him in the nose.



Fagan took a step back in shock, his face scrunched together in pain.



“You fucking bitch!” he howled. Nix, eyes wild with rage, leapt and kicked him solidly in the chest. The sound of a few cracks met her ears and she smiled as he howled again.



“Nobody fucking touches me, you son of a bitch!” she grabbed a knife from the ground and impaled him in the stomach with a quick thrust. Fagan gasped, his hands grasping for her throat.



Nix twisted the blade and tilted it up, using the heel of her palm to drive it farther in. The death-dealer’s eyes widened further, then rolled into the back of his head, collapsing upon the ground, fingers dragging on her roughly-tailored shirt.



She glared at the body of Fagan for a moment, hands shaking. There was a touch on her shoulder and a series of clicking. She stepped away.



“Don’t touch me.” She said quietly, turning to look at the strangely distorted air at her side. She recognized the wrist blades that one of them had threatened her with moments before.



The three appeared before her again. The short one looked down at Fagan and roared. The eldest took Nix around the arms and pulled her away from the corpse.



“You hurt?” he asked.



“No.” Nix answered. She looked towards the canopy of the forest, seeing the slightest bits of blue sky through the clouds. Lousy fucking day. Really lousy fucking day.



“You go home.” The Predator said. Nix laughed bitterly.



“I have no home. I live in hotels. I have nothing but my life, and not even that is worth much.”



She landed a kick to the dead man on the ground and began strapping the weapons back onto her body.



The predators stood around her, talking to themselves in the language she couldn’t understand. She ignored them and grabbed a bottle of water that hung on a string from Fagan’s side. She took a sip of it then dumped the rest over her head, smoothing it over her scalp and skin. The humid air, with the slightest of breezes, felt good.



She checked her compass, glad that it had not broken amidst the fight and the episode with the redheaded fuck at her feet. Once she got her bearings, she started walking.



“Nix…” she heard Sadrokov’s voice behind her. She looked over her shoulder. The eldest had taken a step towards her.



“You home with us. Me. You hunt. Part of us.” He said. Nix didn’t understand at first, but she got it after a minute.



“You want me to come home with you and hunt as a part of your…your what? Group? Clan?”



“Clan.” The one answered.



“What the fuck is your name anyway?” Nix asked, eyebrow cocking.



Blade played the man’s voice, dead these many years, back to her.



“Blade.” Then he looked at the other two Yautja standing at his sides.



“Or Zazin. This L’ict-ha, and this Ch’hkt-a.”



Nix nodded.



“Won’t I be killed the moment I set foot on your ship?”



Blade thought for a moment. He didn’t think so. She would certainly need to be guarded, at least until he spoke with the Elder. There had been a couple of instances where humans were adopted into clans, so he didn’t think it would be very difficult, especially when he told them the story of her battle. He still needed to mark her.



He took her arm and led her back to the clearing, not listening to the protests. Taking one of his smaller tools, he dipped the end of it in a pool of blood, before turning to her.



He tapped his forehead, then hers. After a second, she sighed and nodded. Blade stared at her a moment longer. For an Ooman to be marked was the highest honor. She held still as he brought the acidic blood to her skin, quickly, but neatly drawing the symbol of his clan into her skin. She had squeezed her eyes shut and gripped his other arm tight enough to make it uncomfortable, but she made no sound otherwise.



Once that was done, he cleaned the tool off and tucked it into place, surveying his work. She had taken down four Hard meat. She was more than worthy enough to wear the mark, and for better or worse, accepted or not, she was now technically apart of the clan.



“We go now.”







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Sorry it has taken me so long! Life has been hectic. Spent last week in the hospital with my husband, then we were evacuated because of a wild fire, and now we are packing to move. I didn’t know how long I would have to wait before I could get back online, so I wanted to post this. Thank you to all of those who are reading this. I hope you are enjoying it this far!



Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading.