AVP: Alien vs. Predator Read online

  Stafford’s cries of naked torment cut Weyland like a knife. With a moan of agony that mirrored Stafford’s, he dropped to his knees at Max’s side and clawed at the metal web.

  “We’ll get you out of there!”

  The piercing threads lacerated Weyland’s hands until they were slippery with blood. Yet he would not give up. The cocoon tightened, and Max’s howls intensified as the mesh chewed deeper into muscle and bone.

  “Back off!” Sebastian cried.

  He grabbed Weyland’s shoulders and dragged the man away from the sight. Then Sebastian drew his survival knife and cut the net—or tried to. But the thread literally severed the knife, and its broken titanium steel blade rattled to the floor.

  “Stay back!” Weyland croaked, leaning against a wall. “That damned trap gets tighter every time you touch it.”

  Blood pooled on the flagstones as red, raw agony sapped Stafford’s consciousness. Fighting to stay alert and alive, he forced his eyes open, to see a blur appear behind Sebastian’s right shoulder—a second Predator.

  His lips writhed soundlessly before words finally came.

  “Lookout—”

  But the hoarse whisper came too late.

  As the other Predator uncloaked between Sebastian and Weyland, it kicked its powerful leg. The clawed foot hit Weyland like a jackhammer, dashing him to the ground.

  Visible now, the second Predator grabbed Sebastian by the throat and lifted him off the floor. Sebastian kicked once, slamming his boot into the creature’s belly, but the blow had no effect.

  Arm extended, its helpless prey struggling in its grip, the creature threw its head back and unleashed a guttural roar. Sebastian pounded the monster’s fist with his own until, annoyed, the Predator slammed him against the stone wall.

  Sebastian’s head lolled, and his arms dangled like empty sleeves.

  Still clutching the stunned human, the Predator raised a long, barbed spear. With his other hand he braced himself to administer the fatal blow to the man still ensnared in the net.

  Lex, back against the wall, cast about for a way to rescue her comrades. In the wavering light she saw Stafford’s MP-5 and lunged for it.

  But the Predator was faster. A shimmering shape crossed the corridor and slammed an armored boot down on the machine gun, crushing it.

  Then the Predator swatted Lex aside with the back of its hand.

  She struck the wall and slid to the hard floor. Immediately, she tried to rise, but the Predator administered a kick that sent her spinning back against the stone. Blood spurted from her nose and the room spun. Swallowing the pain and her own blood, she quickly rolled aside, narrowly avoiding a second savage kick.

  The Predator roared and chased her.

  Meanwhile, held fast in the ever-tightening web, Stafford shared a look with Charles Weyland, who leaned against the wall only a few feet away from his faithful assistant. Weyland was winded, helpless, with blood seeping from his hands and wrists.

  “I’m sorry…” he sobbed.

  Stafford’s eyes—red-rimmed and pain-ravaged—were resigned as the Predator drove the spear through the net, through Max Stafford’s heart, and into the hard stone floor beneath him. A red tide flowed outward, and Stafford twitched once. Then it was over.

  Through tears of pain, Lex watched Max die.

  “Oh, God,” she cried.

  Her eyes darted, seeking a way out. Then Lex spied Sebastian still hanging limply in the second Predator’s grip. She called his name.

  Sebastian’s eyes fluttered, so she knew he was still alive, if barely. Seeing him there and Max slaughtered on the floor filled Lex with a cold, helpless fury. With a defiant shriek, she reeled to her feet, searching for something, anything to use against the monsters. She wanted nothing more than to lash out, to hurt them, butcher them—the way they’d murdered the members of her party.

  Then cruel fingers encircled her head and forced it back to expose her tender throat. The reptilian stink of the invisible Predator curled her nostrils, and Lex heard a metallic snick as twin curved blades slid out of their sheath and touched her throat.

  The creature’s arm and face were visible now, though the rest was still cloaked in a shivering blur. It was as if some hunter’s ethic compelled this race of warriors to reveal themselves to their prey at the point of climax.

  Her head was wrenched from side to side, yet Lex saw the monster staring at her through slits in its expressionless mask. Snarling, the warrior drew its arm back for the killing stroke.

  Powerless in its grip, she refused to struggle any longer, or to look away. Death held no terror for Alexa Woods. She would face it squarely, eyes open.

  The woman’s fearlessness disconcerted the Predator. The creature actually hesitated for a moment—long enough for a black shape to drop from the ceiling and for its razor-sharp tail to plunge through the Predator’s reptilian flesh.

  Suddenly the hand that held Lex convulsed. Then the fingers parted, releasing her. She stepped back as bright fingers of raw energy crackled across the Predator’s torso. The monster twitched and flung its arms wide.

  Flattening herself against the wall, Lex heard the crunch of snapping bone and a wet gurgle. Then a black, barbed spike burst through the Predator’s chest in a torrent of phosphorescent gore.

  Lex whimpered as the hot, steaming liquid spattered across her cheek, but still she could not turn away.

  Unbelievably, the Predator was now helpless in the grip of a destructive force more savage than itself. Limbs flailing, wailing madly, the hunter was hauled upward, disappearing in the shadows.

  Lex heard bestial sounds, and the ripping of meat and bone. Sparks rained from above, followed by a deluge of gore. In the intermittent flashes Lex observed a black, insectlike shape curling in the arches, its long, clawed arms tearing at the beleaguered Predator.

  With a final crunch of bone, the Predator died, its corpse dangling limply on the barbed tip of its killer’s tail. Gouts of flesh and streams of reptilian blood plopped onto the flagstones, steaming in the frigid air.

  The second Predator spied the black obscenity as it dropped to the ground and crouched on two spindly legs. Tossing Sebastian aside, the Predator assumed a fighting stance, an undulating rumble gurgling in its throat.

  The Alien whipped its bony tail around, dislodging the dead warrior and hurling its battered carcass into a dank corner. Legs spread wide, clawed arms raised, the Alien kicked Max Stafford’s bundled corpse aside as if it were clearing the arena. Slime oozing from its lipless mouth, the Alien bobbed its shiny, elongated head and thrashed its tail from side to side as it issued a sibilant challenge. Finally, its toothy mouth opened and the black beast spit at the Predator in angry defiance.

  Only dimly, Sebastian had felt the crushing grip relent, and he’d slid down the wall. He would have remained there, too, except for the strong hands that encircled his waist and hauled him to safety.

  Sebastian looked up to see Lex standing over him, her face stained with an eerie green phosphorescence, like some strange, futuristic war paint. Then he heard hissing and an angry roar. Rolling onto his side, Sebastian watched two demons out of hell squaring off for a duel.

  CHAPTER 24

  In the Labyrinth

  The tittering obscenity and the reptilian humanoid slammed together with a shuddering impact that sent both creatures reeling. Howls and thrashes accompanied their charge.

  The Predator lashed out, striking a backhanded blow against the Alien’s gnashing jaw. The Alien staggered. Then, in a scorpionlike motion, the black monster attacked with a flash of its spiked tail. Springing back, the Predator used its wrist blades to counter the strike—and in a quick twist, it severed the Alien’s tail.

  Yowling, the Alien whirled, spraying deadly venom from its bloody stump. Whatever the steaming droplets touched burned, sizzled and pitted.

  The Predator pulled back its arm to thrust again but discovered that its wrist blades had been reduced to smoldering, molten stubs by th
e Alien’s acidic blood. Snarling, the Predator leaped at the Alien and brought it down. As they grappled, sparks—struck from solid stone or from the Predator’s shredded armor—created distorted shadows that writhed on the walls, floor and ceiling.

  “We have to move!” Lex cried, tugging Sebastian’s coat.

  He nodded and stumbled to his knees, grabbing a flashlight that had rolled to his side. Sebastian looked up to see Lex haul Weyland to his feet. The man sobbed and held his useless hands palms up, their fingers encased in congealing black blood.

  Sebastian grabbed Weyland’s arm, and together they carried him toward the far end of the corridor, into the darkness. Behind them, the two unearthly creatures grappled on the stained flagstones as the savage battle raged on.

  Bodies intertwined as one, the thrashing creatures rolled end over end, kicking and clawing, their wails of rage and pain echoing throughout the tunnel. Gaining the upper hand, the Alien hovered over the humanoid, and its black maw opened. A second set of jaws burst forth from the first—stopping mere inches from the Predator’s battle-damaged face mask.

  With an echoing roar, the Predator heaved the black, yammering creature aside and sprang to its feet. Whirling to face the Alien, the warrior raised his wrist and aimed the net gun—

  The Alien, its gangly black arms flung wide, launched itself into the air in a powerful bounding leap—

  And the Predator fired—

  A metal net enveloped the creature in midleap, forcing the kicking, mewing Alien to the floor. The Alien’s exoskeleton clattered on the flagstones as the net pulled tight, crushing it.

  The Predator, unsteady and bleeding from its wounds, grunted with satisfaction as the mesh closed on its enemy, piercing through the Alien’s chitinous hide.

  Blood and gore spurt from a hundred places, spraying the flagstones and the walls and burning holes wherever it splashed. Unfortunately for the Predator, the acid also burned the net, and in a few brief seconds the mesh melted enough for the Alien to break free.

  Spitting angrily, the Alien clambered to its feet and faced the battered Predator. Its black, misshapen body smoked and sizzled where the razor net had cut it. The Alien was determined not to be dominated. Its segmented tail-stump flailed from side to side, beating the stone walls.

  The humanoid was clearly overmatched, for the Alien was far more powerful and formidable than the Predator had thought possible. Now there was little to do but face death with honor—and die fighting.

  The Predator threw back its arms, extended its chest, and roared in the face of doom.

  With a final spitting hiss, the Alien was on him, driving the humanoid to the ground and crushing him under its weight. The Predator struggled against the onslaught, but there was no defense. Clawed hands grasped the Predator’s dreadlocks, holding its head fast.

  Then the Alien’s inner mouth punched through the broken faceplate to smash the Predator’s flesh and bony skull beneath. A fountain of gore erupted from the shattered head, spraying the walls and flagstones with clotting brain matter and a steaming green fluid that glowed with a sickly radiance.

  On the Staircase

  Abruptly, Lex and Sebastian—with Weyland draped limply between them—staggered out of the labyrinth and into a vast chamber lined with stout, rough-hewn stone pillars. The room was a maze of pitch-black shadows, but a dim illumination radiated from an unseen source, though it was still difficult to penetrate the darkness for more than a few yards.

  Lex was starting to think like the survivors she’d lived amongst—the Sherpas of the Himalayas and the subsistence hunters of Alaska. She knew that anything could be hiding in this forest of carved stone cenotaphs. For the first time in her life, she wished she had a weapon.

  They found a wide stone staircase lined with ornate square pillars. After climbing several steps, Lex and Sebastian slowed and released Weyland. He leaned against the wall, avoiding their eyes.

  “What was that thing?” Sebastian croaked, rubbing his bruised throat.

  “I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”

  Lex drew a compass from her utility belt and, with the sleeve of her coat, wiped the Day-Glo green blood from her face. She read the compass, then glanced around the column-lined stairway.

  “What now?” Sebastian asked.

  “We keep moving and stay on this heading.”

  Weyland clutched his chest and moaned. A cough wracked his frail body. He dropped to his knees and began to hyperventilate. Lex hurried to the man’s side.

  “Take it easy,” she said, grabbing his shoulder.

  Weyland’s face began to turn blue. His mouth gaped like a suffocating fish.

  Without breaking eye contact, Lex took Weyland’s head in her hands and held it. It was clear that he had taken too much air into his lungs and that they were beginning to freeze.

  “You have to control your breathing,” she coaxed. “Take slow, steady breaths …”

  She took shallow breaths herself, to teach Weyland by example, and soon his own breath became less forced, less labored.

  “Slow, steady… that’s it,” Lex said as the tension drained from Weyland’s face and he visibly relaxed. Finally, Lex led Weyland to a step and sat him down.

  “I’m okay… I’m okay,” Weyland croaked, trying to wave her away and rise again.

  Suddenly a looming shadow appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Come on, we have to get out of here,” Lex cried, hauling Weyland to his feet. Hobbled, the billionaire tried to use an ice axe as a cane, but his arms were as tired as his legs—too exhausted to support him now. Slowly, Weyland slumped against the wall, teetering on unsteady limbs.

  “No,” he gasped. “I can’t… it’s hard enough to stand…”

  Every word Weyland spoke seemed to sap more of his waning strength. Lex could see that the strain of the chase and the constant exposure to the frigid air had ravaged what little remained of the man’s disease-ridden lungs.

  “Weyland—”

  But the man cut her off.

  “Save it,” he said with some of his old authority. “This is all my fault.”

  His intentions were clear. Weyland was going to sacrifice himself in order to give her and Sebastian more of a head start.

  “I’m not letting you die down here,” said Lex.

  Weyland grinned. “You didn’t, Lex. Go. I’ll buy you whatever time I can.”

  The Predator was coming, moving very deliberately up the stairs. Weyland spied it and grabbed the ice axe, brandishing it like a weapon.

  “Go! Go now,” he cried.

  Lex reached for Weyland, but Sebastian grabbed her arm and dragged her up the stairs. Weyland and Lex shared a final look, then the man turned to face the presence growing nearer.

  Not bothering to cloak itself, the Predator walked right up to Weyland. The human rose to his full height, staring impassively at the otherworldly creature. For a long moment, Weyland faced the Predator squarely, eye to eye, then lifted the axe and charged.

  The Predator reached out, snatched the axe out of Weyland’s hand and tossed it aside as Weyland’s futile swing carried him past the Predator and set him stumbling down a step into an elaborately etched wall panel.

  The creature turned and stared down at Weyland. As blank eyes on the Predator’s faceplate glowed with crimson fire, the human felt a strange warmth inside his chest. Reaching out, the Predator clutched Weyland’s shoulders, held him fast and examined him from head to toe.

  Then, snorting contemptuously, the creature pushed Weyland aside and turned his back on him.

  Weyland understood what that meant. Somehow the Predator could sense his frailty and did not regard him as a threat—in fact, Weyland was sure that, to this monster, he was nothing more than a sick, helpless animal!

  Choking on a rush of helpless rage, Weyland clenched his teeth and searched for a way to strike back. He had no weapon, but his fingers closed on the oxygen tank slung over his back.

  Ripping th
e cylinder off his shoulder, Weyland set the tank down and propped it against his foot. Kneeling, he opened the valve until it was gushing full blast. As pure oxygen filled the chamber, he yanked an emergency flare from his utility belt and held it up.

  “Don’t you turn your back on me!” he cried.

  At the sound of the human’s voice, the Predator spun—and Weyland ignited the flare.

  The combustible oxygen instantly exploded in a bright yellow fireball that engulfed the Predator. Clutching the tank and directing the oxygen flow, Weyland doused the thrashing, flailing creature with blistering fire.

  When Weyland heard the Predator’s pain-wracked cries echoing off the walls, he laughed like a madman. “That’s right, you son of a bitch! Burn…”

  The black silhouette in the center of the conflagration screeched again. Then, still wreathed in flames, the Predator lurched forward as it unsheathed twin wrist blades. With one quick thrust the Predator plunged the long, wicked knives into Charles Weyland’s soft, unprotected belly.

  Weyland died with scarcely a sigh, blood starting from his nose and mouth. Snarling, the Predator hauled the limp, bloodstained body into the inferno to be consumed. But with Weyland’s corpse came the oxygen tank, still clutched in his dead hands. Licked by the flames, the pressurized contents of the cylinder detonated like a bomb. A billowing orange blast and a bright yellow fireball surged along the stairway, scorching everything in its fiery path.

  In the Labyrinth

  Lex and Sebastian stumbled blindly through the semidarkness, once again lost in the maze of stone corridors. The pyramid rumbled as it shifted shape yet again, shaking the dust of millennia loose to choke and blind them. Over the noise and the pounding of their boots on the stone floor, they heard Weyland’s cries, then the explosion.

  “Weyland!”

  “You can’t help him,” Sebastian said, dragging her along.

  Lex struggled against him.

  “Lex, we have to go… hurry!”

  From behind came a blast of hot air—and something else. They both saw a flickering light at the far end of the corridor. Then a fiery figure hurled out of the darkness toward them—the Predator, its form sheathed in roaring flames that did not seem to harm the creature in the least.