Deep Cuts

Around every corner, behind every tree, inside every shadow—I expected it to begin. The screaming. The shouts. Gunfire. Blood. Even the distant calling for the two missing people was getting under my skin.

Something was going to happen. Something always happened.

The forest was only going to grow darker and darker.

/Any minute now,/ I kept thinking. I wanted to send these people away, but I couldn't yet without raising suspicions.

There was still daylight left. I just had to get them out before nightfall.

I refused to take up the cries—not that it mattered. If there was anything out in the woods, they would already know where we were.

As it was, I was too busy with other things.

Every one of my nerves was alert, all senses strained to their maximum as I kept up constant vigilance. I kept my eyes on the darkness between the trees, in the branches.

Devon kept watch, too, one hand ready to draw his sidearm at all times. He remained close to my side, bumping his shoulder against mine from time to time to remind me that he was still there.

At one point, he asked, "What kind of signs am I looking for?" in an undertone.

No one else was nearby. We could see Ray and Eddie just barely on either side of us, but could only hear them when they hollered for Buddy and Sam.

"Slime. Thick, snot-like slime," I said back.

Every few minutes, if things were becoming too silent, I gave away some unspoken cue only Devon was looking for, he'd bump me and say, "Nothing yet."

I knew what he was doing. It was sort of working. His voice and occasional shoulder tap rooted me back into reality. I could focus more on the sound of his footsteps and less on the night that threatened to consume me.

For once, Devon was keeping whatever snide comments he had to himself. I was the only one with my sidearm up in a tactical position, following every sweep of my flashlight.

He was at least ready to grab his own sidearm.

They were only going to annoy anything that came at us, but it still made me feel a little better.

Suddenly, the bushes rustled at my left and I swung my light around, gasping and freezing in place as I stood my ground.

Devon grabbed my arm and pushed it down with a gentle weight, standing almost on top of me.

"Shh, Nichole it's fine. It's a bird, see?" he said, pointing his light upward.

Sure enough, a big owl stared down at us with its round eyes before taking off, scared away by the lights.

"Fucking bird jump scares," I muttered, finally holstering my weapon. I was liable to end up shooting someone's eye out at this rate.

"It was looking for breakfast," he mused with a grin.

Rolling my eyes, I started walking again.

Soon, too soon, the twilight sky darkened and it was time to send those people home. Almost none of them were armed, and we hadn't found our plane yet.

Every scrape, snap, and shout made me shudder. I wanted nothing more than to warn them of what might be lurking.

Part of me wanted to tell them right away what was happening, what waited for us in the woods. I wanted to tell them to flee back home.

Barricade. Hide.

It was still too early to tell. No matter how much I strained, I couldn't find any signs that there were any xenomorphs out in the wild. Not nearby, at least.

It would be unprofessional to incite a panic over nothing.

Was it truly better to be safe rather than sorry in this situation? If I waited too long . . .

That was all I could do, though. Wait. If I revealed everything to an entire town's worth of people and it turned out that everything had perished in the crash, Devon would be lynched for it back at the bureau.

Going with Wolf might spare me from the consequences of my actions, but I couldn't let Devon shoulder all of it in my stead.

He didn't deserve that.

But these people needed to go home. I couldn't hold back anymore now that the sun was gone.

We hadn't seem hide nor hair of the two or the crash to be found. There was no sign of the xenomorphs, either, so continuing in the dark was pointless.

I counted that as both good and bad—good because we were safe for now, but bad because that might also mean they had already made it into the town. Nesting. Trying to breed.

"Devon," I said, giving him a wary expression.

"I know," he said. "Call it."

I broke from his side long enough to find where the sheriff was and waved him down. My partner followed after me, sweeping the area with his light.

"What is it, agent?" Morales asked me.

"You gotta send these people home. It's past dark and they can't be out here," I said, motioning to the pack around us.

He made a face. "But its still early, even if the sun's down."

"Doesn't matter," I argued.

Devon backed me up. "I'm afraid we have to insist. It's dangerous out here in the dark."

The sheriff looked between the two and he pursed his lips. "There was something in that plane, wasn't there?" he asked.

Neither of us said anything.

"If my citizens are in danger . . . If we need to evacuate the town, I need to know," Morales intoned, glaring at us.

Hands up, Devon said, "No need for that, yet. But instate a curfew, make sure people aren't out of their houses past sundown until my partner and I can secure the crash and ensure nothing is amiss."

"We'll keep you apprised of the situation as we learn anything," I assured him. "We'll let you know ASAP if an evacuation is necessary."

Though not entirely convinced, Morales gathered the search party all the same and told them to head home.

Most wanted to continue. It was still early, even if it was almost too dark to see anything. When Sevin and I announced ourselves, though, they relented

Almost everyone was running on fumes anyway. Voices were hoarse, spirits were low, and people were lagging behind. With a little push from us strangers, they headed home.

As they did, an officer came out of the woodwork and called to us. "Agents, this way. I think I found your plane. Or a piece of it, anyway."

While Morales escorted the party, Ray followed Devon and I as the nameless officer led us to a charred patch of ground.

Whatever had been burning was gone, turned to ash and ground into the dirt. I kneeled down and touched the cold, dry spot.

"What do you think, agents?" Ray asked, patting his officer on the shoulder for a job well done.

"Don't know. Could be something burning fell here," Devon sniffed. "Buddy and Sam known for setting fires without a pit?"

Ray shook his head. "They would never build a campfire without a pit. Not with how many wildfires we get here in the Rockies.

The officer added, "We've got strict rules about it here and Buddy wouldn't risk his hunting license over something like that."

"Then it's probably from the plane," I sighed, standing up.

/Or acid from a bleeding alien,/ I added silently.

Ray asked, "So what do you wanna do?"

I looked over my shoulder to check the position of the others. They were behind us by several meters, still shouting for the missing father and his son as they walked back to the cars.

It was a long way back . . . I wondered if they'd be okay.

"We'll canvas the area. You guys can go back with the herd," Devon suggested, gesturing around.

"We can't leave you two out here alone. You won't be able to find your way back," Ray said.

"It's been a while but I'm sure I can navigate a forest still," I said.

Devon tapped the side of his head. "I was a Boy Scout. I can still read the stars," he said, complete with the full salute afterwards.

I rolled my eyes.

"Still, it doesn't sit right with me," Ray said.

Devon and I stepped aside to bicker about it in private.

"Can we keep him?" he asked, as if Ray were a stray cat.

"What? No! You know how sensitive this information is," I whispered back.

He gave me an incredulous expression. "Do you, of all people, think that discretion is the most important thing when these creatures are involved?"

I drew in a sharp breath. He was right and had caught me red-handed.

"Fine," I relented. "You've got a point. He can come."

With a self-satisfied grin, he turned and approached Ray with open arms. "Alright, Mom says its okay if you come play!"

Groaning, I gave a confused and slightly uncomfortable Ray an apologetic word. "Don't mind him, he can't take anything seriously."

"I can too," he huffed. Straightening his posture, he said, "We'll canvas the area. Whistle if you find something."

Ray chuckled and said, "Alright. Stay within earshot, at least. C'mon," he added, gesturing for his officer to follow him.

At that, we split off to search. I grabbed Devon and held him back, unable to lift my gaze to meet his as I said, "Stay close, Devon. Please."

I didn't want him to wonder off by himself if I could help it. Ray had his officer, so we had to stick together.

He stood still for a moment, then chuckled and shook his head. "Sure thing. I'll do my best. I mean, I've already been attached to you at the hip all night, what's a bit longer?"

Relief removed a sliver of tension from my shoulders and I dropped my grip on him. "Thanks."

After a bit of searching, Devon said, "I've never seen you like this before. Not even at that haunted restaurant with all that shit going on. I mean, I totally understand. That shit's tough for a teenager, but—"

"Could you get to the point or stop talking?" I snapped, sounding harsher than I'd meant to.

"Sorry. I just . . . I guess I wanna say everything's gonna be okay, y'know? We're in this together. Partners. There's nothing we can't do, cuz we're like super agents."

/Everything is going to be okay./

That single, innocuous comment brought back another wave of intrusive memories and I tried to stay grounded—

/Jess clutched at her chest, coughing and holding onto me. Michelle sobbed in the background. I pulled them onward, telling myself that—/

I stopped short and clenched my eyes shut, trying to dispel the image of my friends staggering around the dark hallway of that ship. Jess, doubled over and coughing . . . .

/Everything is going to be okay,/ I had told myself. I'd lied to myself.

I turned to him and forced a smile on my face. "Yeah. Super agents. Just keep your eyes out. It's hard to see them in the dark."

The residual memory of my denial and the death of my friends burned at the back of my skull.

A shrill whistle caught us by surprise. We shared a look, then took off at a jog toward the signal. My legs protested each step, but I ignored them.

Devon noticed the increased intensity of my limp and pulled me back. "You okay?"

"Fine. No pain, no gain."

"Okay," he said, indicated to my bag, "Can I at least carry your bag for you? I promise I won't look inside it."

Shaking my head, I gripped the strap tighter. It wasn't any heavier than the clothes inside it and it certainly wasn't the problem with my legs. On top of all that, I wasn't going to let another soul have the beacon.

"Alright, if you're sure."

"Positive. I'll take a break when we find the crash."

"Good."

Ray was waiting for us between two large trees, his flashlight hovering at the ground by our feet. When he spoke, his expression was grave.

"We found your plane, agents. This way."

The site wasn't much farther than where we had been. We hadn't come across any debris or disturbed flora yet because we were coming from in front of it. Once we passed a thick copse of trees, the wreckage was scattered all over the forest floor.

Bits and pieces were strewn about, stuck in the canopy and littering the ground. I caught myself just as I started to rush the scene, fingers itching to dive into the debris and find my lost predator.

The plane looked small smashed into the earth. It was a cargo plane, fat and gray, so it was anything but. Yet it was in pieces, wings tattered and shell stripped.

The fuselage was still wholly intact for the most part, but windows had shattered on impact and all its bits were every which way.

/There has to be a way inside,/ I thought.

There was time for that later.

"Good work, you two. We appreciate it, but now we gotta send you two home," I said, trying not to sound too rude.

"You sure you guys don't need any help?" Ray asked.

Devon gave him a hearty pat on the back and smiled. He said, "Nah, we'll be fine. Go home and get some rest."

"If you're sure . . ."

I nodded. "Yeah, we need to make some calls, check the cargo, and secure the scene. What's inside is classified, unfortunately."

"Yup, can't let you see the aliens."

That time, I did kick him.

Ray thought it was funny though, and his fellow officer chuckled as well.

"Alright, alright. We'll head out. Should we do a quick search for Buddy and Sam around here?" Ray wondered.

"We'll secure the cargo on the plane while you do that and then in the morning you can try your search again, starting here," I said.

And I meant it, too.

"Of course," Devon said, "we'll keep an eye out for them as well until then. Once we know the cargo's good, we'll call back to our brass and have them bring some dogs to help."

Ray's face lit up. "You'd do that?"

Devon nodded. "You and yours have been incredibly hospitable and cooperative. It's the least we can do to help find that father and his son."

The two police officers nodded and Devon sent them off with a wave, standing sentry at the two trees they passed through.

A moment later, he turned to me and made a wild gesture with his hand. "Okay, they're gone. Go ahead."

I didn't have to be told twice. Turning on my heels, I made a lap around the wreckage, sweeping my light over every nook and cranny and the ground. No signs of survivors so far.

No glowing blood, melted metal, nothing.

Eventually, I came to a large hole in the left side of the aircraft where it had hit a rock or a tree or something. I squeezed inside with my bag against my chest.

"Nichole!" Devon called from outside. He'd followed closely behind me. "Do you really think it's safe to just go in there like that?"

"They won't be in here," I assured him, squirming past some snapped wires and hanging circuitry.

It was a tight squeeze, but I made it into the plane proper with some finagling.

"If any xenos survived, they would have left through this same hole," I grunted, wiping my pants off.

"How do you know?"

"Because we aren't fighting off a horde of the things right now," I pointed out.

"Okay, fair."

The first breath I took was full of dust. I coughed until my lungs cleared, waving my hand in front of me. My eyes were watering some, but it didn't hinder my ability to see.

I shouted over my shoulder, "This plane shouldn't be big enough to nest in. Not the right conditions in this cold weather, either. They'd be looking for victims if they lived."

Devon was silent, but I knew he heard me. I swung my flashlight around, looking for signs of life.

"Unless there's injured ones in here, we should be safe," I finished, talking more to myself now.

Still and all, there was protocol to follow and safety measures to perform. I brought my weapon up and swept over the fuselage, checking every corner for danger.

When none presented itself, I called, "Clear!"

"Alright, then I'm coming in," Devon said.

It was good to hear his voice. His silence had been making me nervous.

While he was busy coming through the hole, I took the chance to search every box, steel container, or fluid-filled canister. There was no sign of any of the xenos, each crate busted open either from the crash or melted away by acid blood.

Dumbasses, the lot of them. Couldn't even think far enough ahead to acid-proof anything.

They had thought that they could just fly on out to California with them under sedation under short notice. Had they even thought to re-apply the sedatives at all during the flight? To reinforce their crates?

They might have worked on your average puma or another large beast, but not these things.

"Find anything?" Devon asked. He'd made enough noise stomping through the fuselage that I didn't jump at his voice.

Standing, I brushed dust and grime off my hands and said, "Just a lot of empty cages."

"Any sign of the predator?"

"Not here," I sighed, motioning to a pile of mangled manacles that had probably once held down the predator. "Either Jailbreak was dragged off by a xenormoph or he walked out of here all on his own."

"'Jailbreak'?" Devon repeated from the other end of the cargo area.

I shrugged and said, "That's what I'm calling him."

"How appropriate," Devon chuckled.

He kneeled by a slightly melted containment unit that had fallen on its side and he yanked something out from under it.

As I was walking toward him, he said, "Looks like someone was crushed when the plane crashed."

When I reached his side, he lifted up his find and I illuminated it with my light—a black, clawed hand. Xenomorph.

"Sucks to be it. Careful with that thing, it could still be corrosive," I warned.

"It's all good. Seems to have lost its bite. I'm thinking that these things probably escaped midflight," Devon surmised, dropping the appendage and wiping his hands on his pants.

He searched some of the other cages before turning to me and asked, "What do you think? One of them wounded itself and bled all over the place, then they took out the pilots?"

We moved as one toward the cockpit, our firearms drawn and ready for action.

I said, "It's as good a theory as any."

"Chances any of the crew survived?" Devon stopped at the door.

"Slim to none." I stepped up to the other side.

The two of us stood on either side of the door to the cockpit. Our eyes met and Devon nodded. I reached out, my back to the wall, and pushed it open. It fell off its hinges at the slightest provocation, making both of us jolt in surprise.

When the racket of the door falling didn't elicit any wild screeches or roars, I could only assume that the room was empty.

Still, we followed our training. Devon counted to three with his fingers, then we rushed inside, ready to open fire if anything remotely alien came at us.