Oh shit.
Out of ammo, with the creature ten feet away.
McKenna turned and bolted for the bleachers. Off to his right, he saw Nebraska struggling to load a 40mm recoilless grenade launcher and his eyes lit up.
“Umm… Gaylord?” he called.
The man jacked the round into the barrel and snapped it shut. “I thought I told you,” he said, as he tossed the grenade launcher fifteen feet into McKenna’s waiting hands. “Call me Nebraska.”
McKenna caught the weapon on the run. The Predator dog slavered and snarled as it chased him—both man and alien hound knowing he had no chance of outrunning death. McKenna reached the bleachers and hurled himself between two crossbars. He hit the ground, rolled, and turned as he rose. The bleachers slowed the beast just half a step—it was enough. McKenna jammed the massive gun between the monster’s mandibles, shoved it down the dog’s throat, and pulled the trigger.
A muted fwumpp came from within the Predator dog. Its eyes went wide and then it buckled, toppling to the ground in a wet slap of flesh on cold earth. Dead.
A snarl made McKenna whip around. He’d been so focused on this fucker trying to kill him that he’d forgotten the other one. The background noise of gunfire and the shouts of his men had receded in the intensity of the moment, the urgency of trying not to die. Now he heard the chuffing of the other hound’s breath and felt the ground thump under its tread. It leaped over the corpse of its dead companion and lunged toward the opening beneath the bleachers.
Nebraska Williams appeared as if by magic, a bolt gun in his hand. With a single motion, he brought the bolt gun up and shot the second monster point blank in the skull. The bolt impaled its forehead. For a moment, McKenna thought it hadn’t made a difference, that the Predator dog would still rip his throat out. Then it wavered, listed, and started walking in a lazy circle as if it sought a comfortable place to lie down.
“You’ve gotta be kidding,” McKenna muttered.
The thing had taken a bolt through the skull and it wasn’t dead. No longer a threat, for sure, but still alive.
He glanced at Nebraska in astonishment.
Nebraska shrugged. “Goddamn space aliens.”
16
The RV revved onto the street between the baseball field and the school. McKenna had lost track of who was behind the wheel now. All he could think to do was get to the vehicle. The Loonies ran in formation, boots pounding dirt, weapons clanking. They were following his orders now, but he didn’t have to order them to withdraw. There was no telling how many of those Predator dogs might be prowling around the neighborhood in search of Rory—or rather, in search of the helmet and gauntlet that, as far as McKenna knew, were still in his possession.
“Dad?” Rory said.
He glanced down, satisfied himself that Rory was running alongside him. Casey had put the kid down. She’d shot at the creatures herself, had carried Rory, helped to save his life. She might be a scientist, but she had proven to be just as formidable as he’d suspected from the moment he’d seen her chasing the Predator.
“You’re okay, kid,” Casey said now, speaking up when McKenna failed to.
“I’ve got you, Rory,” he added belatedly.
“What are they?” Rory asked, as they all crowded through the broken fence and raced toward the RV.
McKenna began to answer, but then he heard Lynch start in on a string of terrified profanities. The Loonies all pulled up short, bringing their weapons to bear. McKenna looked up to see the Predator itself, standing on top of the RV, waiting for them.
Casey said McKenna’s name, very quietly.
Rory took a step backward.
McKenna took aim. But the Predator was all business. It fired a single shot that obliterated a lamppost at the edge of the ball field, purely to show them all what it could do to them if it chose to. The lamppost melted and exploded, all at the same time. Whatever the weapon was, nobody wanted it aimed at them.
The Predator signaled to them, gesturing for them all to lower their weapons. Several of the men glanced at McKenna, ready to follow his lead. If he started shooting, or gave the order, they would open fire. They had seen what the Predator’s weaponry could do, but they had all had their chance to opt out of this fight and instead they had committed themselves to combat. None of these men were backing out now.
McKenna opened his mouth to issue an order—
Rory bolted for the school, the only shelter nearby.
“Kid, go!” Casey called, urging him on.
McKenna followed on his son’s heels. He felt the target on his back. If the Predator wanted him dead it would take only one shot, right now, and he’d be just as much wreckage as that lamppost. He wanted to scream to Rory to run a serpentine pattern, but the school was just ahead, and he knew that as long as he could keep himself between the Predator and his son, Rory would have a head start. The Loonies would buy them even more time. The only thing that mattered in that moment was his boy.
He glanced back and saw the Predator leap down from atop the RV. The Loonies moved in. McKenna spared a moment to hope they weren’t all about to die—then he faced front again.
The lobby doors were locked. McKenna kicked them open and he and Rory barreled into the empty building, footfalls echoing across the vacant lobby. Both of them were breathless, wordless. No words were necessary. McKenna knew he wasn’t as smart as his son, but he also knew they were both working overtime trying to figure out how to survive this.
Rory kept running. McKenna needed to slow him down, to keep the boy with him—protected. He reached for Rory but the kid squirted further ahead, running for the stairs. Going up seemed like a terrible idea—once they were upstairs, they’d have to find a way down that didn’t involve jumping—but Rory had nearly reached the steps and McKenna had no way to stop him.
“Wait,” McKenna gasped. “Rory—”
The lobby doors exploded inward. The blast nearly lifted McKenna off his feet. A cloud of shattered wood blew across the floor. Glancing back through the massive hole in the entryway, McKenna could see the Loonies rolling on the pavement, clutching at their ears, deafened by the blast.
In through the swirling cloud of debris stalked the Predator, its silhouette flashing McKenna back to the jungle. Yet again he cursed himself for not killing the alien when he’d had the chance.
Rory had headed up the stairs. McKenna followed at top speed, using the settling cloud of debris to buy him precious seconds, even whilst knowing that those seconds wouldn’t be nearly enough.
McKenna chased Rory out of the stairwell and into a long hallway. Rory’s sneakers slapped the linoleum. McKenna just needed him to slow down a moment, but damn, the kid was fast.
“Son, come on!” McKenna snapped.
Rory glanced over his shoulder and, at last, pulled up short. McKenna had more to say, but Rory’s dreamlike expression startled him to silence. The kid wasn’t even looking at him, just staring… past him.
A throaty clicking sound came from behind him. McKenna turned to look down the corridor, marveling that the Predator could be that fast, that it had already caught up to them. But no, it wasn’t the Predator. This sound was different. It came from outside the line of high windows set into the outer wall. Turning, McKenna spotted a massive silhouette out there in the dark and he stiffened, his mind trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
Ice flowed along his spine and he reached out a hand, instinctively trying to put Rory behind him. He had no words left for this new thing. It was a Predator, yes, but the monster framed in the window had to be some kind of next-gen bullshit, because this creature stood at least eleven feet tall.