"Kye," I say—because it's also the last.
The sound behind me suddenly crescendos in a squawking cacophony and the flapping of leathery wings. Like a heavy hailstorm, Parron pelt the pair, slapping against their body armor, concentrating on the area I've sprayed. Grat pheromone and hemoglobin draws them like bees to honey.
"Jesus, what the—" their vibro-knives whir, arms slash, slicing a Parron in flight. Blood sprays the Tweedles and the other Parrons. The creatures go into a frenzy, indiscriminately biting at the Tweedles and each other. I back off, tossing the squirt-bottle aside.
Rizzo is backing away also, eyes wide and glued to the scene, but forcing himself toward the door. Dum and Dee writhe and scream until, mercifully, they're suddenly still.
The scent I piggybacked on the DMSO is much fainter on Rizzo. It takes the predators a little longer to notice him. But they do.
Dawn's coming and the Parrons have finished their work. They even ate the bottle, once they noticed the faint scent at the nozzle. Hundreds of them lie dead or dying beneath the trees, bellies bloated with the poisonous tissue of our alien species.
Duncan will wonder why the Parrons fed on men. It's never happened before. He may even figure it all out, but I don't think he'll do anything with the knowledge. He says I'm the sharpest apprentice he's ever had, though I'm hesitant to tell him that the best lessons I've learned have been from my environment.
Overhead, the star-strewn sky is completely clear. Maybe the rainy season is over.
Predators and Prey: A Short Story Page 2
