The Predator: The Official Movie Novelization

26

Trudging back through the clump of jungle that was sandwiched by the swampland on one side and the quarry on the other, Rory came to a sudden halt. McKenna halted too and looked at his son. All three of them were exhausted, filthy, and pretty banged up, and he wondered whether Rory had finally reached his limit, whether he was about to break down and crumple into tears.

He didn’t, though. Instead, he took something from his pocket and placed it almost reverently on the ground beside him. And then he started to dig a hole in the soft earth with his hands.

McKenna knelt on one side of his son, and Casey knelt on the other.

“Whatcha got there?” he asked softly.

“Stuff from the guys,” Rory replied.

McKenna and Casey exchanged a look. McKenna’s raised eyebrows said it all: He’s been collecting mementoes? All this time? And I didn’t know?

He looked more closely at what Rory had spread out on the ground beside him—a bandana, which he guessed must have belonged to one of the guys, its corners turned up to create a little parcel. He glanced a question at his son—May I?—and Rory nodded. McKenna reached out and carefully peeled back the four corners of material.

Inside was a crumpled cigarette packet, which had belonged to Nebraska, an equally crumpled Tootsie Roll, fortunately still in its wrapper, which Coyle must have given to Rory from the stock he’d acquired back at the Iron Horse Motel, and one of Lynch’s pornographic playing cards.

McKenna swallowed hard. He looked again at Casey, and saw her eyes shimmer with tears. Gently, he wrapped the items up again and said, “Son, these are the forgotten ones. The ones no one’s gonna remember.” He gestured at the three of them. “Just us.”

Rory finished digging his hole. His hands were caked with dirt.

As if handling some ancient and invaluable artifact, McKenna pinched the four corners of the bandana together with his fingers and lifted it. “What say we lay ’em to rest, huh?”

Rory nodded, and McKenna gently lowered the bandana into the hole. Rory was about to start scooping dirt over the little package of treasures when Casey told him to hang on, and unslung her backpack from her shoulders. She opened it, rooted inside, and with trembling fingers withdrew the small foil unicorn that Nettles had left at her bedside back at the motel—it seemed a thousand years ago now. She sighed, and placed the unicorn on top of the bandana, then nodded to Rory to cover everything up.

When he had done so, they all rose wearily, McKenna groaning as he stretched his stiff limbs.

Looking up at the dawn sky, a swirl of pink and purple streaked with yellow, stars still flecking it like diamonds, Casey said, “So… what’s next?”

McKenna and Rory looked up too. After a moment McKenna said, “Hey, you on the left…” He pointed. “I see you. We’re still here. Come and get us, motherfuckers.”

Rory gave him an admonishing look. “Language, Dad.”

They all laughed.

Then Casey hoisted her backpack onto her shoulders once again, and they trudged wearily away.