A third Alien dropped from the ceiling, its exoskeleton splashed with glowing green gore. The monster’s bony tail curled around the Predator’s leg, then yanked. The Predator shrieked in raw agony as the muscle was ripped from its leg bone. Hobbled, the hulking warrior tumbled to the floor as clawed hands tore at its now-vulnerable flesh.
Pinned down by the Alien’s weight, its movements restricted by the whiplike tail that enveloped its ravaged leg, the Predator thrashed and struggled, waiting for death to claim it. But even though the black obscenities crawled across the Predator’s heaving chest and spilled hot drool onto its naked face, they failed to deliver the anticipated fatal blow. Instead, the Aliens held the fallen Predator still and hissed expectantly…
Weakening, the Predator saw something stir in the blackness above its head. Craning its neck for a better look, its close-set eyes widened. The warrior had spied a huge alpha-Alien creeping out of the shadows, its teeth gnashing vigorously. Larger than its brothers, and more aggressive, it was clear to the helpless Predator that this being had taken command of the pack.
As it emerged from the gloom, the monster’s battered exoskeleton was revealed. From head to toe the Alien’s body was crisscrossed with wounds—including the burning brand made by the Predator’s high-tech metal mesh net.
The other Aliens backed away in deference as the monstrosity shambled forward. Bending low over the fallen Predator, the creature lowered its elongated snout as if sniffing its victim. Then two ebony hands encircled the Predator’s skull in an obscene caress before clutching the creature’s head and holding it fast to the floor.
The Predator thrashed about and its mandibles snapped empty air, but it was still helpless in the powerful grasp of the battered monstrosity.
As the warrior’s futile struggle continued, it felt cold, clawed feet crawling up its naked torso. Looking down, it spied another face hugger moving inexorably toward its head. Growling, eyes wide and darting from side to side, the Predator felt fear for the first time in its life.
Working quickly and efficiently, the face hugger slowly settled over its prey’s snapping mouth, muffling its whimpering cries….
Miller’s eyes opened abruptly. For a moment he didn’t know where he was. A feeling of ominous dread was his first clue.
He was standing—or at least he was upright. But when he tried to move, he found himself locked in place. A hard, black substance cocooned nearly his entire body. Only his right arm was free. The sleeve was ragged and heavily stained with blood.
Miller turned his head to the right, saw the two men hanging next to him, and his memory returned.
“Verheiden! Can you hear me?” he cried.
Verheiden, his face smothered by a face hugger, twitched and pulled against the hard shell that imprisoned him—the same substance that cocooned Miller. As Verheiden struggled, the parasite’s ropy tentacle tightened around his neck. After a moment, Verheiden stopped fighting, and his body slackened.
Next to Verheiden, Miller saw Connors, or what was left of him. The dead man’s chest had exploded outward, and he hung limply from the wall like some sick work of shock art. Although no face hugger clung to his features, which were frozen in an agonized expression, the Alien culprit that had robbed Connors of his last breath lay dead at his feet, legs pointed up toward the sky.
Miller heard a wet, dripping sound. Straining, he looked down. The egg of a soon-to-be-born face hugger was on the ground before him. Its petal-like lips were oozing as they began to open.
Miller pushed and squirmed against the cocoon. Then he saw Verheiden’s gun, still in its shoulder holster.
With one eye on the twitching egg, Miller stretched his arm. He could just barely touch the butt of the weapon.
The egg quivered and its lips parted. Long white legs emerged, probing the air.
Summoning all of his strength, Miller threw his body forward until his fingers closed on the handle. As the hugger leaped, Miller pulled the gun out of its holster and fired off a shot.
The hugger blew apart in midair.
Yet when it struck the floor—even with half its legs blown away—the stubborn creature still struggled to rise. Miller fired off two more rounds; each smashed the thing like a hammer.
“Score one for the Beakers,” he said.
Though sweet, Miller’s triumph was short-lived. Just beyond the dead face hugger, the stone floor was littered with dozens of quivering eggs, each one pulsing with unearthly life.
CHAPTER 26
Lex watched through the peephole as the Predator who had just bloodied himself now gutted and dressed its kill in the adjacent chamber. The thunderbolt he had seared onto his own forehead had not only earned him his warrior status but it had also earned him the name “Scar” to the sole humans who had witnessed the events—Lex and Sebastian.
Using its ceremonial knife, Scar stripped the black, rubbery flesh away from the Alien’s jaw and severed the tissue holding the monster’s inner mouth in place. Then the Predator doused its trophy with a liquid solution that neutralized the Alien’s acidic blood. When the task was completed, Scar lay the grisly relic aside and suited up for battle.
For a moment, the creature vanished from sight. Lex pressed her face closer to the peephole, straining to see it. Suddenly, the Predator reappeared—staring through the very peephole she was using. The monster’s sharklike eyes were only inches from her own.
Lex gasped and jumped backwards. After a second or two, she regained her courage and peeked again.
The creature was ready to return to the hunt. It had reattached its metal faceplate, covering its still-seeping, self-inflicted brand of honor. Despite the gloom in the adjacent chamber, Lex could clearly see the same thunderbolt design etched into the creature’s metal mask.
Armor donned, the Predator hefted its spear, draped the trophy around its neck, and moved to the stone slab that separated the chamber of the pillars from the room the humans now occupied.
“He’s out there. Waiting for the door to open,” Lex whispered as she quickly slid on her backpack. At that moment, Sebastian realized they had another pack with them. The one Weyland had carried—the one that contained the Predators’ weapons.
“I think when we took the guns, we upset the order of how things work down here. We tipped the scales.”
Lex retrieved the pack. “He needs his guns back.”
Sebastian glanced at his watch, then shook his head. Time was running out. “When that door opens we’re dead.”
“Not if we set things right.”
Sebastian was astonished. “You can’t be serious.”
“This pyramid. It’s like a prison. We took the guards’ guns and now the prisoners are running free. To restore order, the guards need their guns.”
Sebastian shivered. “Don’t ever use that metaphor again.”
“When the door opens, we’re going to give that thing his gun back.”
“Are you crazy?” Sebastian cried. “You want a metaphor? During a big game hunt, the animals being hunted don’t
“They’re not hunting us. We’re in the middle of a war. It’s time to pick a side.”
“We’re on a side.
“We have to consider the possibility that we might not make it out of here,” said Lex. “But we have to make sure that those serpents don’t reach the surface, because if they do, everything, everywhere could die.”
Sebastian was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
