PREDATOR IF IT BLEEDS

by Bryan Thomas Schmidt

  Frankie’s eyes fluttered open. Romilly put her hand against his forehead. “Morning.” He was running a severe fever.

  His eyes darted around till they settled on his backpack. He weakly reached out and clutched it, struggling briefly to pull its weight into his embrace.

  Frankie rolled away from her, arms wrapped around his backpack. His shoulders shook.

  Romilly frowned. She tucked the blanket around him and spoke quietly. “Stay put in here, okay? It’s dangerous outside.”

  “’Kay.” He nodded but didn’t look at her, hugging his pack.

  Romilly slid out of the Humvee and looked around. The Guard fireteam had dropped flares as they worked, but the cathedral was still eerily dark. Shadows danced, gluttonously swallowing the flares’ light, catching the eye with ghost motions. She shook her head, ignoring the tricks her mind was playing. Lejeune was at the back door with Nevaeh. Tito, having secured the front doors, which faced the levees, was walking toward her.

  Everything slowed as Tito raised his rifle, pointing it at her. Romilly felt her head tilt. What was he… She dove to the side as her reflexes processed what her brain wouldn’t.

  “Get down!” he yelled as he sprinted forward and pulled the trigger.

  * * *

  ST. LOUIS CATHEDRAL; NATIONAL GUARD FIRETEAM 06:44 AUGUST 29, 2005

  Nevaeh didn’t have a chance to react. There was a flash of gray in the doorway against an ugly brown sky outside, then the guardswoman was falling back, blood and intestines spilling from her eviscerated body. As she hit the floor, her corpse slid one way and her shotgun the other. Her cross lay in a pool of blood between them.

  Lejeune snapped her rifle up, squeezing off a three-round burst.

  The rougarou yelped as it lost an ear, then spun on her.

  “Get down!” Tito yelled in the background, then started firing.

  The rougarou crouched, snarling, slowly advancing.

  Behind them, across the pews, a large stained-glass window exploded inwards in a concussive spray of flying shards and metal slivers. In the center, a humanoid shape, built to the same scale as the rougarou, flipped through the opening. It landed in a crouch on the altar. The wood cracked beneath its weight.

  Water dripped from the Yautja as it raised its head.

  Three red lights flickered on, tracing ghostly lines between the thing’s shoulder and the rougarou. The lights tracked up until they rested on the entry the rougarou had burst through.

  A high-pitched sound, like a record being scratched in reverse, echoed through the cathedral and a blue pulse shot out. The wall over the rear door exploded, masonry tumbling down, trapping the rougarou in the building.

  “The fuck?” Tito spun around and fired. “Die, you Neanderthal-looking motherfucker!”

  The Yautja leapt as the altar splintered under the gunfire.

  Lejeune, on the other side of the cathedral, never let up on the rougarou. Even with the collapse around the doorway, water poured into the cathedral, making her footing tricky. The rougarou snarled and launched itself at her.

  Tito swung the M16A2 around, never letting off the trigger. The alien hunter landed wide of him, tucking into a roll, then launching itself low, right at the guardsman. Tito overcorrected his aim, sending a spray of bullets into the shadows.

  The Yautja landed in front of him and slammed its fist into his chest, batting aside the assault rifle with its other hand. Twin blades punched through Tito’s chest and he blinked in surprise. Blood poured down his back. Snatching a combat knife from his boot sheath, he stabbed at the alien’s shoulder, scoring a deep gouge that bled green. The blade fell to the ground from Tito’s lifeless fingers.

  The Yautja tossed the corpse off its blades, then spread its arms wide, tilted its head back, and screamed a basso roar of challenge. It charged down the aisle between the pews.

  Lejeune slipped in the rising water, falling to one knee but never letting off the trigger, as the rougarou bore down on her. There was one thing she hadn’t tried yet…

  Lejeune jerked one of two flashbang grenades off her harness, pulled the pin, and threw it at the beast’s head. A fist smashed into her ribs, breaking them, and the world spun as she went ass-over-teakettle to the side. She felt more ribs break as she impacted the pews and her vision went bright white as the flashbang detonated. The back of her head cracked into another pew and pain overwhelmed her. Her stomach rebelled and she vomited, spewing bile over her own chest.

  * * *

  ST. LOUIS CATHEDRAL; ROMILLY SIBIAN 06:44 AUGUST 29, 2005

  Romilly pushed herself up to her knees. The Yautja smacked Lejeune aside with casual disdain then charged the rougarou as a flashbang went off. Romilly stopped and took a deep breath, rubbing her eyes. Not thinking was stupid, and stupid got you killed. She looked around. The wolf-beast and the alien closed in on each other, the alien raining blows on the rougarou’s head while the beast snapped its fearsome maw at the hunter.

  Weapons were easy. Both Tito’s and Lejeune’s rifles were reachable, but neither of them had seemed to dent the two combatants. Her eye fell on the Humvee. Frankie’s face was pressed against the glass and he had the camera open and filming from his vantage.

  The Humvee…

  Romilly sloshed through the rising water to the Humvee, but paused before opening the door. The alien was holding the rougarou by the neck, fighting to keep the beast off while hammering the hand wielding the twin blades into the beast’s shoulder and chest. The problem was one of size. The rougarou outweighed the alien by a couple hundred pounds, and the blades just weren’t penetrating far enough through its tough hide.

  The rougarou snapped massive jaws over the alien’s face, ripping the mask free. It savaged the piece, shaking its head back and forth. Romilly’s eyes went wide. Whatever she had thought might be under that mask, the truth was far more alien. It had four mandibles, both upper and lower, and a wide serrated ridge making a V over a bony forehead. Its skin was ivory with red markings.

  The rougarou dropped the mask and snapped at the alien’s face, scoring a deep gouge between its mandibles. Green blood spurted from the wound.

  Romilly clenched her fist and forced herself into the Humvee. The keys were hanging from the ignition. “Frankie, get down!” she yelled as she gunned the vehicle.

  Outside the Humvee, the Yautja slammed the blades into the rougarou’s throat, though they just skipped off its tough hide. The beast clamped its jaws down over the alien’s wrist and the thing howled as its back arched and its mandibles flared.

  Romilly backed the Humvee away from the two, and Lejeune—an avenging angel covered in blood and bile—rose next to the retreating vehicle. She pulled a steel cable from the Humvee’s winch and paused, nodding at Romilly as she clipped the hook to her vest.

  Lejeune ran at the combatants and jumped on the rougarou’s back. It released the alien to snap at her. She looped the cable around the beast’s neck, losing skin from her palms as she caught it in a makeshift noose.

  The Yautja hammered a fist down, the blades slicing through Lejeune’s leg, pinning her to the wolf-beast.

  In a moment of clarity, Romilly understood Lejeune’s plan and hammered on the gas. The Humvee lurched forward as the guardswoman reached to her chest then threw the last flashbang in front of the rougarou from her perch on the beast’s back. The beast flinched and sprang back to the rubble blocking the door.

  Romilly sped through the fiery pews and slammed the grille of the Humvee into the rougarou. Rubble sprayed out of the church, immediately lost in the maelstrom of Katrina. The rougarou, Lejeune, and the alien hunter followed, caught by the howling gale, tumbling along the ground like a twisted kite. The weight of the three jerked the Humvee to the side as the winch cable pulled taut.

  Romilly sprinted out of the cab to the front of the Humvee and hit the retract gear on the winch box. Barely visible through the hurricane, she watched as the alien jerked the cable off the rougarou and smashed its blades through the
beast’s eyes. Lejeune was blown to the side by the hurricane as the hunter’s biceps bulged in effort. The Yautja tore the rougarou’s skull and spine free of its carcass. The alien had trouble standing against the gale-force winds, but managed to hold up the trophy momentarily before being forced to plant its blades into the flagstones to anchor itself.

  Lejeune’s body bounced in the wind as Romilly reeled her in.

  For a fleeting moment, the alien locked gazes with Romilly. It clicked its mandibles together as it held eye contact with her, then it was gone, vanishing into the hurricane.

  Romilly finished pulling Lejeune in. Somehow, the sergeant was alive. Exhausted, Romilly tended to her wounds, praying to the Loa that they would all survive the night.

  * * *

  NEW ORLEANS, THE AFTERMATH; ROMILLY SIBIAN AUG 30, 2005

  Romilly hooked her arm through the hold-bar in the Coast Guard Dolphin’s doorway, squinting against the sunlight’s glare, as the rescue helicopter swung up and away from the cathedral. The Hi8 camera was tucked into the sling the emergency responders had put her mangled right arm into.

  She stared into the watery grave of New Orleans, absently watching the reflection of the Dolphin below. The corpse of the rougarou would be lost in the devastation Katrina had left behind, just more decayed meat and bone by the time the flooding was cleared. Questions spun through her mind. Why was the rougarou after the boy? What was that alien hunter? Have we only been bait, was that why it let us live?

  Romilly carefully held the camera, thinking about the footage. There were some things that were too dangerous for the world to know… some things that would get them all locked up in some government lab. She pulled out the tape and snapped it in half, dropping it into the flooded ruins.

  “Some questions are better unanswered,” she mumbled.

  Frankie huddled in the corner of the rescue vehicle, clutching his backpack. Everything was a frenzy around keeping the army lady alive and no one was bothering to watch him. He unzipped his backpack and looked in, remembering.

  “Hey, Frank?” The 2nd unit director called out to Frankie’s dad. “Can you stop that yipping? I’m trying to get some establishing shots.”

  His dad looked at him sternly. “Give that thing to me, Junior.”

  Frankie handed the found puppy over and his dad stabbed its shoulder with a dart.

  The animal went limp and Frankie’s eyes went wide. “Da! You didn’t have to kill it!”

  “I didn’t. I used a tranq dart. We’ll figure out what to do with it later. Now, go set it someplace away fro—”

  He was interrupted by screams and spun around. “Oh shit. Frankie! Hide in here!”

  Frankie blinked back a tear and reached into his backpack, stroking the ears of a battered puppy. Dried blood matted fur that stuck to an emaciated frame. It stared out at him, something more than just animal behind its eyes. “I told you when I rescued you in the bayou I’d save you,” Frankie whispered.

  The rougarou cub weakly raised its head and licked his palm.

  LAST REPORT FROM THE KSS PSYCHOPOMP

  BY JENNIFER BROZEK

  “Outta my way! I gotta get to the bridge.” Emery shoved his muscular bulk by the smaller, rounder engineer.

  “Weren’t you supposed to be there ten minutes ago?” Trina grinned after her shipmate as she followed. The captain had called an all-hands and everyone was on the move. “With legs like yours, you’d think you’d be faster. Or at least more capable.”

  “Screw off, woman. I was asleep.”

  “Like you were during netball last week?”

  “We’ll see who’s laughing next week. You may move like a fish in zero G, but I got skill and power to back it up.”

  The two of them hurried down the hallway toward the bridge. Trina, third-in-command, wasn’t needed there for more than advice and to fill in on scanner work. Emery was both the security chief and the second-in-command. On a small scout vessel like the Psychopomp, all crewmembers had more than one job. The two of them burst onto the bridge, one after another. They were the last of the bridge crew to make it.

  “I put five on you eating your words.” Trina threw herself into the scanner station chair, and began a cursory look at what was before them.

  Emery settled into the weapons station and pulled up the latest data. “I’ll see your five and add in the loser has to eat a raw fish.”

  “You and the eating strange things. You’re going to regret those words.”

  “Both of you are going to regret everything if you don’t stop measuring your egos and get to work.” Captain Ahmed stood, his salt-and-pepper hair gleaming in the bridge lights. “Debris field coming into sight.” He stared hard out the forward viewports.

  “The first of the larger derelict ships should be in sight any moment,” Kaida said as she navigated the scout vessel in. “At least, according to the coordinates you won, Captain.”

  Ahmed nodded. “Now we find out if I was cheated or not.”

  “Too late to do anything about it if you were.” Trina eyed the scanner. “But I’ve got the edge of a large shadow at the limit of my ping.”

  The captain let out a soft sigh as the first of the larger debris fields came into sight. “Derelict battle cruiser. That’ll pay for the whole trip. Kaida, eyes on obstacles, slow and easy. Emery, prep shields and grav-pulse to keep the big stuff from crushing us. Trina, monitor for other live ships. We don’t want this find stolen out from under us.”

  A variety of grunts and acknowledgments erupted from the bridge crew as they focused on their jobs. The Psychopomp moved ever closer to the score of a lifetime. Minutes ticked by as the battle cruiser loomed large in the viewport. The ragged holes and scorch marks spoke of the battle that’d been fought here.

  The bridge door slid open. “Any survivors?” Vito asked as he entered with Gunnar close behind.

  When no one answered the medic or the behavioral psychologist turned first contact specialist/adventurer—a paying passenger, a rare thing these days—Trina glanced up at them. “No. Not yet.” The two men were almost mirror opposites. Both were white. Vito had black hair and eyes with tanned skin while Gunnar had blond hair and ice blue eyes with pale white skin. They complemented each other. Rumor had it that Gunnar came on this scouting trip more for Vito than for the chance to make first contact with another species—not that that was really a possibility. Aliens didn’t hang out in dead spaceships.

  “It’s my duty to remind you that there is no life salvage. All mariners, spacefaring and terrestrial, have a duty to save those in peril without expectation of a reward. Salvage law applies only to the saving of property.”

  This last bit was mimicked and mouthed by everyone on the bridge. Vito always said the same thing as they reached a potential salvage score. Still, he always took his cut of the loot when payday came.

  “It’s my duty to remind everyone that saving a person doesn’t negate our salvage find.” Captain Ahmed kept his eyes on the forward viewport. “I—” He froze. “Kaida, cease all forward momentum now.” His voice was tight and intense. “Go dead.”

  When the captain had that tone of voice, no one disobeyed or bantered with him. He had seen something very wrong and was doing everything he could to save their lives. As Kaida cut all power except to the most vital ship systems, the bridge went dark, lit only by a scant number of glowing buttons and system readouts. Trina’s radar system was the brightest light in the back side of the bridge.

  No one said a word. Everyone stared forward, trying to understand the captain’s sudden fear and caution.

  “Holy Mother of God.” Emery let out a slow breath.

  Trina put a hand to her mouth as she saw what had frightened Captain Ahmed. Just on the other side of the battle cruiser was a scavenger ship. Shaped like a torpedo with a series of rotating rings around its core, the scavenger’s ship looked like it’d been in battle as well… many battles. Its main ramming cone was pitted and scorched, but still intact. Trina could tel
l who understood the danger they were in based on the soft gasps and muttered prayers mixed with curses. Only Gunnar seemed unaware that they were seconds away from being blown to hell.

  The bridge door opened and Zuri, the newest recruit, stepped in. Trina waved a hand to silence the woman, but she need not have. Zuri took one look at the growing torpedo in front of the Psychopomp and backpedaled until her shoulders hit the door again. She didn’t say a word. Her eyes were very wide and white against her dark skin. She knew what it was. There was a story there that Trina would have to ask about if they survived this.

  She focused back in on her scanner, watching for the smaller scavenger scouts and ripper crews. She didn’t see anything.

  “Movement?”

  Kaida answered the captain’s question with a slow shake of her head. She gripped her long black braid tight as she stared at her instruments. “Nothing. They haven’t seen us.”

  “Thank the Light that scavengers have terrible boundary protocols. Plot a course out. I don’t care what direction. Just away. We’ll consider what to do once we’re safe.”

  “Captain, there’s nothing moving.” Trina stared at her scanner. “I mean, the torpedo is lit up, but it’s not moving. It’s drifting like the rest of the stuff around us.”

  “She’s right.” Kaida adjusted the navigation controls to allow the ship to drift while keeping a safe distance from any damaging debris. “I don’t see a powered ship in flight at all.”

  The bridge remained silent while the captain considered this. “Emergency beacons?”

  “Four. The battle cruiser, two of the destroyers, and…” Trina looked up. “The torpedo cruiser. Based on the timestamp loops, the torpedo set off their emergency beacon six days ago, but it’s weak. The rest… more than a year ago. The only reason I can read any of them is proximity.”

  The captain’s face tightened into a smile. “All right. Keep the escape course locked in under the emergency nav. I want a single button push to get us out of here if needed.” He took a breath. “If it’s a trap, we’ll find out. Light her back up and head toward the torpedo cruiser.”