Predator brain and heart

The alien tossed Ramirez’s body aside as if it were a bag of trash. It was determined and focused now, all its otherworldly hunter’s tactics and cunning raw and ready. The raging water posed no obstacle to the creature, and it sailed across like a hydroplane, barely breaking the surface even where it was five feet deep. As it arrived at the north bank of the river it churned up rocks and dirt with its spurs as it strode to Billy’s body. It bent and began to pull the Indian apart, its narrow yellow optic nerve centers pulsing as it searched out the fading heat patterns of Billy’s cooling organs.

Huddled among the rocks Schaefer only realized now that he’d been wounded. The force that had ripped the gun from his grip as the diamond head of the alien’s spear shattered the rifle had gone on to slash deeply through Schaefer’s shoulder, laying open the flesh almost to the bone. With his gun broken and useless, the major saw no alternative but to make a break down the canyon in the wake of the girl and run for his life.

Dutch wasn’t accustomed to any sort of retreat, let alone running like a helpless fugitive headlong down a mountain, but he saw no other choice. Getting away was all he could think to do. Then if by some miracle he got clear, maybe he could buy a little time to regroup and make a final stab at fighting back. He barreled out of the rocks, ran through a tunnel of trees and past the sprung trap, and scrambled over the lip of the canyon and onto the steep downhill trail. He leaped over a fallen log, stumbled, struggled to his feet—running now on pure pounding adrenaline, his wounded shoulder oozing blood and stinging with a painful burn. His eyes were red and glazed with terror, he who had never feared anything in his life. Behind him he could hear the crunch of the alien’s feet breaking twigs and crushing gravel as it jogged along in his wake.

Schaefer imagined that he could hear, almost feel the alien’s heavy breath on him. The heat and panic and the steep trail had made him light-headed. He had to see how close the enemy was, so he turned his head without slowing his pace and saw the creature steadily bearing down the slope, Billy’s heart and brain bloody in either hand.

     The Predator (1987 novelization), chapter 15