The alien night sky was anything but the peaceful Earth sky. Isabel had always taken it for granted. But now, lying beside Royce, she missed it. The small swaths she could see through the jungle canopy were just cruel imitations.
Of course, as far as she knew it was almost morning. Time was hard to tell on whatever planet they were on; they could only estimate.
She and Royce had been here for a while, maybe a few weeks. After the first group after them had been dropped, they had had a brief argument about whether or not to help. That group had not been as hardy as their own group; soon after their landing, with Royce and her having come to the compromise of tracking them for now, they had been set upon by the Predators. All of them had died quickly.
The group after that one had been hardier. Seamus, the Irish mercenary, had been the first one had they met, running into him while trying to find the Predators' ship, hoping to find a way off the planet. Some had been killed quickly; some had been able to last a bit longer. But now all that was left of that third group were Seamus, and Mo the Somalian pirate.
Royce stirred next to her. "Can't sleep?" he whispered.
She shook her head. His hand went from her hip to her belly, before sliding down, his hardness pressing against her as he moved closer. The two of them had done this what felt like many times before. Sex helped them sleep and helped keep them from losing their minds. Neither one worried about protection or pulling out, considering the more important issue of death lurking all about them. The only challenge in it was doing it quietly enough so that neither Seamus nor Mo would hear and get ideas about joining them.
It took some subtle movements, but they worked together to slide her pants and underwear down. His hand moved back to her hip as he slid himself slowly inside her.
Isabel held her breath as he hilted, her wetness holding him snugly. Royce was a surprisingly deft lover, favoring slow, intent movements over pure power, especially since said pure power would wake the other two. She imagined if they had a motel room to themselves, he would throw her down and ride her hard. A large part of her wanted that so much.
His ragged gasps sounded in her ear, his breath on her neck. His movements made her bite her lip and clench her fists, trying to not make too much noise. Despite the constant fear and death, or maybe because of it, she was very wet. His cock moved easily inside her, making her squirm on their dirty blanket.
A moan escaped her, and they paused for a moment, glancing at the two others. They slept on, so Royce resumed his movements. As he slowly moved his cock back and forth, he leaned down to kiss her neck. She wanted to tell him to stop, that she would not be able to keep quiet if he added that to the mix, but she also wanted him to keep going.
A rustling made both of them stop. He quickly slid out of her and shifted, reaching for his weapon.
As he rose to a crouch, she just as quickly slid her clothes up and grabbed her rifle. They had found a stockpile of weapons and ammunition, probably hidden by Nolan, so although her beloved rifle, the one she had been dropped with, had broken, she still had a rifle to use.
Seamus and Mo woke as well, each one reaching for a weapon.
"Is it them?" Mo asked. Seamus moved up beside him, shotgun in hand.
Isabelle could see Royce shake his head. "Not sure. Could be one of their dogs."
A wet thwack made them turn, to see a silver spike protruding from Mo's chest. The air beyond him rippled and one of the Predators revealed itself. He was wearing a chrome helmet; his armor was slashed here and there with corroded metal, as if it had been sprayed with acid.
The three of them turned as one, firing together as Mo fell forward, dead before he hit the ground. The Predator dove, firing another spike from the wrist-mounted launcher as it went. This one flew past them, just missing Royce.
Isabelle heard barking and spun back to barely make out four of their pack-dogs, snarling and snapping, loping towards them. She lifted the rifle and looked through the scope. Seamus pulled a grenade of his bandolier and tossed it. A second after she caught one of the creatures clean through the head, the grenade went off, sending two of the others staggering to the side.
"Run!" Royce shouted. Isabelle rose, firing off another shot at the last creature, and as she turned to run she spotted another Predator, also wearing chrome armor. A shoulder-mounted laser tracked them, ready to fire.
She dove, knocking Royce down. A laser beamed past their heads, and Seamus blasted at the Predator. Royce dragged her up and they ran.
Seamus threw another grenade. They reached the edge of their makeshift camp, the flat ground sloping down into brush. More snarls came at them from behind, and when she snuck a peek over her shoulder, she could see the Predators following after them, at a leisurely pace. They were in no hurry. The dogs would hound them, chase them towards a point where the Predators could finish the job.
"Keep going!" Royce yelled. He was behind her now, Seamus next to her. When she turned back, she could not see Royce. She stopped, Seamus racing past, and dropped to a knee, peering through her scope. She could still hear the sound of gunfire, and the yowls of the dogs, but she could not see Royce.
"Royce!" she called.
"Go!" he shouted back. More gunfire came.
She rose, moving forward. He yelled something again, but she could not make it out entirely. She knew the Predators could kill her any minute if she stayed like this for too long, if she cared too much about Royce, but she did not want him to die. They had survived together for what had felt like so long.
"Royce!" she called again.
"Get out of here!" he yelled. What sounded like a war-cry followed, the snap of gunfire.
"The other one's coming for you!" Royce shouted. "Go! Go now!"
Another war-cry followed that. She heard rustling to her right, so she spun away and ran, cursing as she went. Part of her felt like she was abandoning Royce, even though she could die if she stuck around for too long.
She heard another war-cry, followed by a harsh shriek, one that she recognized as a Predator war-cry. A few steps later and she heard a gurgling shout from in front of her, the direction in which Seamus had run. Seconds later, three consecutive blasts sent dirt and debris flying; Isabel dove to the side, rolling quickly back to her feet. Her rifle came back up to her shoulder.
One final war-cry sounded, followed soon by another shriek. Her blood ran cold at this one; it was the sound the Predators made when they killed one of their prey. A second shriek sounded, and then a third, but in the middle of the third it cut short, trailing into nothing. Isabelle strained her ears, and heard the sound of a heavy body hitting the ground.
More rustling made her aware of her vulnerable position. She ran, heading off to her right. Bushes and branches smacked her as she ran as fast as she could, her only hope putting as much distance as she could between her and what was happening.
The terrain sloped upwards. She kept going; gaining the high ground was important to survival. The dogs were on her tail; she could hear their yowling.
Before her, the tree line suddenly ended. She raced past it, and swore as she came to the edge of a cliff. Below her was a raging sea.
She spun back, looking for a way down, a way to escape. The sky was now tinged with red, the sun rising. The yowling came closer; she steadied her rifle and crouched. As the sun rose through the sky, it illuminated her predicament. The three dogs were slinking towards her, spread out so as to cut off all of her avenues. A shimmering to her right caught her attention. The final Predator stalked her way, this one clad in a red cape and silver faceplate. She had not seen him at the camp; he had probably been hanging back. The other two were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Royce and Seamus had killed them before dying; perhaps they were letting this third Predator get a kill.
