Chapter 11: Dutch's Counterattack
Monica had lost the group in the dense greenery and was on the verge of a hysterical breakdown. But the sudden roar of miniguns and grenade thumps acted like a lighthouse, guiding her back.
"Don't stop! Keep shooting, you beautiful bastards!"
She scrambled through the undergrowth, lungs burning. She reached the clearing just as the deafening firestorm died down.
Instead of running to Leo or her nominal boss, Dillon, she threw herself into Anna's arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Oh god! I thought I was dead! I thought I'd never find you again!"
Anna stood there, frozen and covered in Hawkins' blood, looking utterly bewildered. She had no idea when she and this "Miss" had become soul sisters.
***
Poncho emerged from the shredded treeline, shaking his head.
"Nothing, Major. No body... no blood. We didn't hit a damn thing."
Mac looked like he'd seen a ghost. "That's impossible! I put two hundred rounds into that thicket! Nothing survives that!"
"Save it," Dutch growled, his face a mask of grim realization. "We're dealing with a real piece of work here."
"Dillon! Get on that radio and tell Headquarters we need an immediate extract! Mac! Set up a perimeter on the ridge. I want every claymore, every flare, and every ounce of explosive we have wired to the gills!"
He looked over at Blain's mangled remains. "Bag him. We don't leave our own behind."
***
Once the squad cleared the area, a shadow detached itself from the ferns.
Dante Crowley stepped into the clearing. The mud on his skin was now caked with dust and jungle grit, turning him into a black, light-absorbing wraith. Only his eyes remained bright—sharp and lethal.
He strolled over to the headless ruin that used to be Leo.
"Tch. Tragic," Dante drawled, poking the corpse with the toe of his boot. "The alien didn't even want you as a trophy, and your 'teammates' couldn't be bothered to drag your carcass back. Talk about a shitty way to go."
He kicked some loose leaves and dirt over the body with a mocking smirk.
"Tell you what, Leo—since I spent some quality time with your girl, I'll consider this a 'proper burial.' Consider the debt settled. Try not to be such a loser in the next life. Ciao."
Dante moved to the spot where the Predator had been when Mac opened fire. He began a methodical sweep of the leaves.
Soon, he found it: a splash of vivid, fluorescent green slime on a broad leaf.
He touched a bit of the liquid and sniffed. An acrid, chemical sting mixed with a nauseating organic musk hit his sinuses. He sneezed violently.
"Neon blood and a smell that could peel paint," Dante muttered, shaking his head. "How the hell are these 'elite' soldiers missing this? No wonder they get wiped out."
The previous firestorm had masked the Predator's retreat, but the green glow was a beacon. Dante began to track the luminous trail, his nose twitching. It wasn't hard—the blood glowed like a broken neon sign in the humid twilight.
He followed the trail up a massive cedar tree. Above him, he saw a silhouette.
The creature had deactivated its cloak. It was hunched over a branch, using its wrist-mounted Medicomp to treat a jagged graze on its thigh. Dante watched as the Yautja cauterized the wound, letting out a guttural, bone-chilling roar that echoed across the valley.
It wasn't a cry of pain. It was a challenge. It was letting Dutch know that the hunt had only just begun.
***
That night, Dutch's squad built a fortress on the ridge. In Mac's words: "Nothing gets in here without tripping a wire."
But the Predator wasn't playing by their rules.
Using a wild boar as a distraction, the creature triggered a stampede. In the chaos and darkness, it ghosted into the center of their camp, snatched Blain's body right out of the zipped bag, and vanished before a single shot could be fired.
The squad stared at the empty body bag in a stunned, suffocating silence.
"It bypassed everything," Poncho whispered, his voice cracking. "It took him right from under our noses..."
The next morning, as the sun began to bleed through the canopy, the team inspected the perimeter.
"Nothing," Billy reported. "No footprints. No snapped wires. Only the pig."
"How the hell is that possible?" Poncho asked, looking at the dense web of tripwires. "This place is a goddamn tennis racket of metal wire."
"The ground..." Dutch muttered.
He looked up. The jungle was a vertical labyrinth—towering trees with interlocking branches that formed a highway above the forest floor.
"It's in the trees," Dutch realized.
He turned to Anna and Monica, his voice low and dangerous. "You two were right next to the bag. What did you see?"
Monica shook her head, still trembling. But Anna looked up into the canopy.
"It changes color... like a chameleon. It uses the trees."
"That's it," Dutch nodded. He drew his combat knife and sliced through the vines binding Anna's wrists. "The monster is hunting all of us. We're in the same boat now. I need your eyes."
Dutch turned to gather the men. Dillon grabbed his arm. "What are you doing? We have to move! The rescue chopper won't wait forever!"
"Dillon, look around you!" Dutch snapped. "We try to run through that jungle now, we're just targets in a shooting gallery. We stand and fight, or we die tired."
Anna stepped forward. "Major... when the big man died, you hit it. I saw it bleed."
Dutch's eyes flashed with a cold, predatory light. He looked at his team, his voice filled with a sudden, lethal conviction.
"You hear that? If it bleeds, we can kill it."
He didn't waste another second. He ordered the men to scrap the high-tech sensors. They switched to the old ways—vines, sharpened stakes, and massive log deadfalls.
Dutch realized the creature could likely "see" the metal wires of their modern traps. He had them string up thousands of feet of vine, creating a maze that would funnel the hunter into a kill zone.
Finally, Dutch stood alone in the center of the clearing, his rifle slung, his chest bare. He was the bait. He was the prize.
Far above in the leaves, Dante watched the trap being set. He checked the grenades in his belt and adjusted his grip on his knife.
"Nice setup, Dutch," Dante whispered into the humid air. "Let's see if the guest of honor likes the party."
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A/n: Just saw the 5 star reviews, thanks a lot! I'm gonna drop 2 more chapters aside from this. (Only 1 more 5 star review left for a bonus chapter.)
Btw, if you want to read ahead, check out patre o n. com/Demonic_Fiction for advanced chapters (20+). Link's in the synopsis and my profile.