Death Surrounds

Through the thick door, a distance roar caught our attention; deep and unlike the noises the other aliens made.

My escort turned his head an inch, growled, then took a few steps toward me. I retreated in the opposite direction and put my hands up as meek protection, now paranoid he was going to kill me at any second.

However, he stopped my attempt to flee before I could bump into his precious trophies.

His hand gripped my good shoulder and he tugged me toward the door, a deep churr of amusement at my reaction rumbling in his chest.

I was still tense in his grip, but I let him drag me through the now-opened door and toward the noises.

"Is it a survivor?" I asked, trying to pull my arm free. His grip tightened and I winced. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

He made a noncommittal grunt and steered me down another hallway. The roars grew louder until the echoing crackle of the giant alien drowned them out. My escort yanked me faster down the hallway, coming close to pulling my shoulder from its socket a few times.

"Hey," I snarled, "be careful! Let me go, I can keep up on my own."

His hand retracted and I pulled my arm into my chest, cradling it there, glowering. Running was easier with my arm free and I trotted after him like a good puppy.

Each pulse of noise ricocheting against the walls made my hairs stand on end. The back of my mind prickled with a sudden realization: the sound was familiar. I'd heard it somewhere before.

Though the noise was a demonic rendering, it was the exact same thing. The same echoing crackles that dolphins made.

Echolocation.

It could see everything. That was how it was tracking us. I couldn't speak for the little ones—not when they were so quiet until they were on top of you. This large monster (the Echo, I dubbed it) hunted its prey via sound.

"Give me a weapon. I can help," I insisted between breaths.

He ignored me and kept running, growling to himself. The way he growled, his hunting posture and strange sense of loyalty to finding survivors . . . He was like a wolf, searching for his pack. A lone wolf, trying to survive.

Wolf. A fitting name to give him until I learned his real one.

Just as I was about to work up the courage to ask for a weapon—again—a sharp cry came from above. I looked up in time to see one of the awful face-hugging shits skittering along the ceiling toward me.

/Wait, that's illegal!/

They were supposed to stay in the chambers, right? With the eggs and wait for a host? Apparently fucking not if this one was out in the wild, trolling for a host to impregnate.

Perfect. Just what I fucking needed to be piled onto my plate.

It spotted me—or sensed me, or however it navigated its dark world—then squealed and launched itself through the air. I put my hands up to protect my face out of instinct.

Wolf shoved me forward. I lost my balance and tumbled to the ground, braced against my arms. I scrambled to my feet and readied to protect myself with a wide stance.

Was Wolf alright?

The facehugger had landed on his mask and its little legs scrambled for purchase, lashing its tail. I didn't have time for relief, though, as it let out a surprised and confused squeal, unable to find an orifice to invade.

It leaped off Wolf, hitting the ground running, and it came right for me.

It didn't make it close before Wolf stabbed it with his spear, pinning it to the spot. The thing writhed around, squeaking and hissing, then finally fell still.

I felt as if my heart was going to explode straight out of my chest. I remained in my half-crouched position, staring at the dead facehugger.

If Wolf hadn't been so vigilant, or a millisecond too slow, I would have gotten a mouthful of THAT.

Would he have been able to get it off me? Or would he have cut his losses and killed me?

None of that mattered. It didn't happen. I didn't need to dwell on it.

Knees shaking, I stood straighter and forced my arms to my sides. I wanted nothing more than to hold myself tight, keep from falling apart from the seams, but I was fine. I didn't need comfort from anyone. I had a strong mind. I had to have a strong mind.

"Now can I have a weapon?" I asked in an unsteady voice.

Wolf's low rumble worried me, and I waited for him to decide. I watched him as he considered me, then turned to lead me onward. I repressed a scream of rage and stomped after him, my hands balled to fists at my side.

Were he a few inches smaller and a little less muscular, I might have punched him.

Many times.

Would it really be such a bad thing, giving me a weapon? I didn't know what I could do to prove he could trust me with one. The last thing I wanted to do was kill him, and I was certain I couldn't even if I DID want to.

The Echo was long gone by the time we reached the site of the battle. We were met with complete disarray; the room was the biggest I'd been in so far, larger than our school's gym room by a margin.

Broken controls and consoles were everywhere, sparking and crackling. Lights blinked in various places, and the walls were actually windows smeared with dirt and covered in a thin layer of snow.

Among the broken machines were bodies. More than half a dozen of them, all humanoids like Wolf, tossed about like ragdolls or crushed beneath heavy machinery.

Any that had survived direct impact into the side of the mountain wouldn't have lived through the Echo's rampage.

And we just barely missed it because of that facehugger attack.

If I hadn't been with him, he might have made it. He might have been able to fight alongside the survivor. I put a hand to my mouth and took a step back, guilt-ridden.

"I—I'm sorry," I muttered, shaking my head.

He couldn't respond; we weren't alone in the room.

The walls seemed to come to life as black shadows writhed and crawled toward us, scaling walls and clambering over bodies or machinery.

For the first time since we'd initially encountered one another, the gun on Wolf's shoulder buzzed to life and its three-dot target took sight.

It fired with a muffled sound, one for each serpent. All of them burst apart in a spray of acid blood, quickly filling the room with the stench of burning flesh and metal.

In the end, though, he didn't have enough shots to cover all of them, and at least one slipped out unharmed.

With it spent, he removed it from the mount on his shoulder, discarded it, and made his way toward the carnage wrought by the Echo. I almost followed him but felt he needed to deal with the death of his comrades alone.

And now I knew why he hadn't shot me in that room. He hadn't seen the need to waste a perfectly good round of ammo on some pitiful human girl. Not that I was complaining.

Not all of the humanoids on the bridge were wearing masks, so I caught my first glimpse of their faces. I couldn't see them very well from where I was standing off to the side and out of the way, but I could make out various features.

Their sloping foreheads, horn-like ridges, and large brows resembled their masks somewhat, but I was a little more interested in the strange, tusked mandibles around their mouths . . .

They all seemed to share his same body build, too. Big, tough, and intimidating. Did the strong rule in his culture? Were there women here, too somewhere?

Children? A growing sense sadness came over me at the thought.

Movement near the bow—maybe, I hadn't had time to brush up on my ship terminology before being /kidnapped by space monsters/—caught our attention.

Wolf slid into a defensive posture, but then relaxed and jogged over to the half-alive humanoid.

First I thought about joining him to see if I could help, but I was afraid I'd only upset both of them. Still, I felt so confused and helpless.

I shimmied along the wall until I was clear of the doorway. My first instinct was to search for more enemies, though Wolf seemed unconcerned. There was a second way out of the bridge: the route the Echo had taken to search for more victims.

I watched it, hoping it didn't return. If I wasn't doing anything, I might as well play lookout while he tried to save his friend.

My fault. He'd stopped to save me. If I wasn't with him . . .

I was going to have to make up a lot of favors for him. First my wounds, and now his friends. It didn't matter if he blamed me because I certainly did.

Wolf spent some time with the last living humanoid, but he didn't have the means to heal him. After a while, he put his hand over their head and bowed his before standing to pick through the others.

I remained where I was, content to leave this moment of mourning to him. It wasn't like I would know how to offer him comfort if he needed it, anyway. It reminded me that my friends were on the ship somewhere, waiting for me.

At least, I could hope they were.

He finished his sweep of the bridge and came back with a new shoulder-mounted cannon and holding a wicked blade. I balked at his approach, watching his posture to see if he'd try to use it on me, ready to turn tail and flee.

As he neared, he twisted the grip and held it out to me hilt-first. His shoulders shook with that amused rumbling in his chest; my wariness was a great source of entertainment for him. I stared at the weapon for a moment, my face pale.

The blade had a sharp, serrated edge that curved toward the tip. Its grip was the bone fragment of some alien creature, wrapped in a leather-like material.

"This is for me?" I asked, finding it hard to believe.

He chittered encouragement and held it closer to me.

I swallowed hard and took it by the hilt, surprised at how light it was. I'd overcompensated for the weight, thinking it'd be heavy, but it was the same as my dad's baseball bats.

"Th-thank you," I said, surprised he handed it over without much fuss.

He'd put it off for so long maybe because he hadn't had one to spare. Which body had he taken it off? Would they be okay with a human using it? Though I supposed since they were dead it didn't matter.

I gave it a few practice swings and he made an irritated sound, then pushed me forward, skirting around the edge of the bridge toward the other exit.

"Are we going after that thing?" I asked.

His low, sinister hiss told me yes. It was time for the hunter to hunt.

We were already so far behind it. Wolf pressed us faster and faster until we were a pace slower than sprinting.

I didn't know if we'd be able to kill the Echo with just the two of us, but Wolf seemed confident—or maybe foolhardy, eager to kill the thing that was running around murdering his friends while they were at their weakest.

As we came upon a juncture leading down three paths (though one was completely blocked by a collapsed ceiling), Wolf made us stop. I was glad for a break while he decided which way to go.

When he finally came to a decision, he motioned for me to come.

"Yes, sorry, sir." I mocked a salute and followed him onward.

The Echo had pulled ahead of us again, and its bellowing wail vibrated the air. Another, similar cry met that one, joined by the screeches of the drones.

They were communicating, but I couldn't fathom what about. Coordinating an attack, giving and recieving orders . . . these things weren't entirely mindless.

Listening carefully, I tried to figure out where they were and how far. I wasn't mentally prepared to fight something so huge; I'd need time to find my center.

The weapon he'd given me was foreign and daunting, and I didn't know how to use it right. The grip was also a bit uncomfortable and irregular-shaped, but my hand was starting to acclimate to it.

The question still remained about whether or not I'd be able to kill anything with it.

How hard could it be? Swing and slice and there you go. Business end toward the aliens. Easy. If I could swing a bat, I could swing a sword. It wasn't like I'd be jousting with some seasoned fencer. They were beasts with claws and fangs: ripe for the chopping.

I'd have to be careful of the acid though . . . If I went too hard-ass mode, I'd splatter that shit everywhere.

As I tried to pick up the noises of the monster, there was something else on the stale air, wafting through the halls toward us. A familiar sound, full of fear.

A sound that tightened my chest and threatened to bring tears to my eyes.

I'd heard it in the woods, and it echoed in the recesses of my mind still. A sound that I'd likely hear when all this was over, if I lived.

One that would haunt me forever.

Wolf's faltering steps told me he recognized the sound, too. He hadn't quite stopped yet, but was slowing down in front of me.

I stopped moving, head down and ears straining.

I stopped breathing, trying to limit other idle sounds.

On baited breath I waited. Wolf came to a stop ahead of me but I was only vaguely aware of him and his ambient clicking. When I heard it again, my chest swelled and I dared to inhale.

A human scream.

Female.

Before I could overthink it, my legs were carrying me forward. I shot past Wolf and he trilled after me, but I ignored him. My body moved of its own accord, driven forward by the familiarity of the cry. By all the things it promised and all the things it threatened.

I came to a stop at an intersecting hallway, head turned to listen. The Echo was down one way and the human was screaming in an another.

Easy choice.

Wolf growled near me, but I was off and running again. Adrenaline had gifted me a second wind. I didn't care which way he chose to go. This was my path to take.

That voice calling for help . . . I knew it. I knew it so well it HURT.

I ignored my fatigue and pushed myself into a full sprint, desperate to reach the voice and the second chance of life it meant for them.

For me.

To make things right, to make up for what I'd done in the woods. I just had to HURRY. All I had to do was make it to whatever room they were in, find it, find them, SAVE THEM.

My friends. Jess.