The Predator: The Official Movie Novelization

24

It was dawn. They were running.

Again.

They had had at least a couple hours’ respite after their victory, a time to rest and recuperate, to eat a little food and bury their fallen comrades. When McKenna and Nebraska had returned to the clearing to announce that they thought the Upgrade was dead, there had been tired cheers—but only from the couple of Traeger’s mercs who had survived the encounter. For the rest of them, the price had been too high for them to feel they could celebrate their enemy’s downfall—and when Nettles had glared at the mercs for daring to express their joy and relief, they had shut up quickly, and then had slunk away soon afterward, like funeral attendees who had suddenly realized they were in the wrong church.

McKenna had thought it was tempting fate to hang around too long, and so as soon as they were ready they were back on the move again. With Rory on his shoulders, he led the way through the jungle toward the helicopter, which they had landed on a plateau at the jungle’s edge, a couple of miles to the south. They had covered around half that distance, maybe a little more, when Casey voiced her suspicion that they were being followed.

McKenna wanted to tell her that they were fine, that it was nothing but her imagination, but he would just have been fooling himself. Casey was smart, levelheaded, and eminently capable, and he had grown to trust her instincts implicitly. Besides which, as soon as she spoke up, both Nebraska and Nettles admitted that they had been thinking the same thing—and even McKenna himself, much as he hated to say so in front of Rory, told them that his own Spidey-senses had been tingling for a little while too.

The question was, was their pursuer—or pursuers—human or alien? McKenna hoped they would never need to find out. They doubled their pace, and covered the last mile of jungle in less than eight minutes. It was a relief when they finally burst from the tangle of trees and undergrowth to see the ludicrous pink helicopter still standing where they had left it, like a loyal pet awaiting their return.

As they broke cover and started running for the chopper, McKenna glanced back—and just for an instant he thought he saw movement in the jungle behind them. But it was too swift, too fleeting, for him to be sure, and the next instant his eyes were dazzled by the dawn sun rising over the distant hills. He faced front again, jogging toward the chopper, Rory bouncing on his shoulders. Nettles was already in the pilot’s seat, Nebraska and Casey climbing in beside him. The engine coughed into life and the rotors started to turn.

“Come on!” Nettles shouted.

Another minute, McKenna thought. Another minute and they would be up in the air, flying away from this place. Eight of them had arrived here, and five would be leaving. It wasn’t great odds, but it could have been worse.

He was a dozen steps from the chopper when a blazing streak of energy erupted from the edge of the jungle and hit the machine like a thunderbolt. Nettles, Casey, and Nebraska were blasted clean out of the still-open door of the cockpit, which crumpled like a deflating balloon as the rotors warped out of shape and stuttered to a halt.

The shock wave of the blast knocked McKenna off his feet, Rory tumbling from his shoulders. As he lay dazed, he saw Casey stagger upright and beckon to Rory, who ran across to her, bent low to make himself less of a target. McKenna watched as the scientist and his son took refuge behind the only cover available to them—the still-smoking ruins of the helicopter—and then, pushing himself groggily to his knees, he glanced over his shoulder.

He was not surprised by what he saw, but it still sent a weary shudder of horror and dismay through him.

From the trees at the edge of the jungle, its huge body shimmering as it decloaked, stepped the Upgrade. It was battered and blackened, its right eye a suppurating mass of gore, but even now it still looked more than capable of ripping them apart with its bare hands.

It looked mightily pissed off too—but then it always did. McKenna wondered what it would be like to be born in a rage, and to stay that way your entire life.

The Upgrade’s gaze swept over him, and then it turned its attention to Nebraska and Nettles, who were clambering to their feet, and to Casey and Rory, sheltering behind the wrecked helicopter. Remembering the declaration the creature had made back at the crash site as to who its real target was, and all the people who had died since, McKenna decided that enough was enough. If the alien wanted him, it could have him. He didn’t want to have to see anyone else die because of him today.

Rising to his feet, he spread his arms and walked toward the alien. “Okay,” he said. “I’m over here. I’m the one you want. Leave them alone.”

The Upgrade snapped its head back round to regard him. McKenna braced himself as the creature strode forward, wrapped one huge hand around his throat and lifted him off his feet. For a second he hung there, staring into the creature’s one good eye—and then, to his amazement, he felt himself flying through the air, having been tossed aside like yesterday’s fish.

He hit the ground, rolled, and by the time he had managed to prop himself up on one knee, the Upgrade was striding toward the helicopter. McKenna saw Nettles and Nebraska racing to retrieve their guns, which were lying some distance away, having been flung out like shrapnel when the energy bolt had hit the chopper. Then he saw Casey run out from hiding, her hands held up in front of her, as if that could halt the progress of the colossal brute bearing down on her.

“Please…” he heard her say, but before she could utter another word the Upgrade swung an arm, swatting her aside like a troublesome fly.

McKenna felt cold prickling terror sweep through him as the Upgrade shoved aside the ruined helicopter, exposing Rory’s cowering form. Reaching down, it swept the boy up as though he was a puppy, and then it turned and headed for a rising slope of rock, topped with trees, that fringed the far side of the natural plateau on which they had landed the helicopter. Beyond those trees, McKenna remembered from their approach, was a quarry—a vast natural bowl of pale rock and baked earth. He saw the Upgrade reach the top of the slope and disappear into the trees, still carrying his son.

As a soldier, McKenna was used to staying calm under pressure, but now his body was sizzling with panic. “No,” he shouted, his voice raw and ragged. “No!” He tried to get to his feet, to run after the Upgrade, but he had hit the ground with such force when the Upgrade had tossed him aside that his legs were still throbbing with numbness, and no sooner was he on his feet than they crumpled beneath him again. He slapped the ground, spat blood on the dry earth—he had bitten his tongue when he landed—and started to crawl toward his gun, for all the good that would do.

Then Casey was beside him, her elbow grazed and bleeding, dirt streaking her face.

“He lied,” McKenna almost sobbed. “Said he wanted me…”

Casey shook her head, grabbed his arm to support him as he made another attempt to stand. “No, he didn’t. He said he wanted McKenna.”

Suddenly, the penny dropped. McKenna looked at her with horror.

“He wants an upgrade,” Casey went on. “Get it? Not you, your son. The next step on the evolutionary chain.”

He let out a roar of rage and despair, using the adrenaline of it to rise to his feet with Casey’s help, to stamp the feeling back into his numb legs. He began to run toward the trees into which the Upgrade had disappeared with Rory, Casey running alongside him, and Nebraska and Nettles, having now retrieved their weapons, bringing up the rear.

They reached the tree line within ten seconds, and in another ten had burst through the trees to the other side. When they had passed over the quarry in the helicopter yesterday, it had looked empty, but now McKenna realized it had not been empty at all. They arrived just in time to see a glassy shimmer, and next moment the stark, brutal lines of a Predator ship—larger and sturdier than the damaged escape pod at the crash site—materialized before their eyes.

There was no sign of the Upgrade itself—which probably meant that he and Rory were already inside. As the rumble of engines filled their ears, McKenna once again felt panic sluice through him.

We’re too late, he thought.

Rory couldn’t decide which was the worst option—dying right now, or being taken to the Predator’s planet. Like everyone else, he had thought his dad was the alien’s target, but as soon as the Upgrade had thrown his dad aside and turned its attention to him, he had realized what its true intentions were.

It thought he was smart. Smart enough that his intelligence would enhance its own race. But how would they extract that intelligence and apply it to themselves? He thought it best not to think about that for now.

When the Upgrade had lifted Rory up, he had curled into a ball and stayed quiet. He hadn’t struggled, hadn’t protested, hadn’t tried to communicate with the alien in any way, because he knew it would be pointless. He didn’t like looking at the Upgrade’s mangled face, because it was scary and also gruesome enough to make him feel sick, so he had kept his eyes tightly shut during the short journey to its ship. The alien smelled of overdone barbecue and its flesh was rough and hot. As it descended the rocky slope of the quarry and marched to its ship, he had heard its heart beating, a regular, rapid boom, strong and somehow ominous, like a war drum.

He only opened his eyes once they were inside the Upgrade’s ship—because how could he not? Terrified as he was, this was an alien spacecraft, and therefore it was automatically awesome.

It was a lot different to the ships he had seen on TV and in movies—darker, and full of weird angles, and more functional somehow, and yet at the same time more real and more… well, alien. There was a command deck of sorts, but it contained machinery whose function he couldn’t even begin to hazard a guess at. And there were bewildering displays of jagged, ever-changing alien symbols flickering across seemingly every surface. There were organic-looking pods set into alcoves along one wall too, like giant moth cocoons made from dark crystalline material, similar to the ones in the craft that the smaller Predator had arrived in.

Rory was peering at the pods, trying to work out their function, when the Upgrade tossed him into one of them, as carelessly as he himself might toss a ball of crumpled paper into a wastepaper basket. He cowered in there, not daring to move, as the Upgrade moved across to the command deck and busied itself with various controls. Moments later there was a whooshing hiss, followed by a deep rumble, which could only mean one thing. The Upgrade was firing up the engines.

Rory’s heart started to beat very fast indeed. Was this it? Were these his last minutes on Earth? Would he see his mom and dad ever again? Would he ever see another human being?

Where would he be this time tomorrow? In space? On another planet?

As the rumbling of the engines rose in pitch and power, becoming a screech as savage as the war cry of the Upgrade itself, he clung to the sides of the pod and tried not to cry.

“Dad,” he whispered