Predator's death

A few minutes later he arrived close enough to the alien ship to see the surreal blue glow filtering through the trees. Then, in the clearing ahead, he spied the alien itself, staggering toward the light. Schaefer was about to close the distance and have it out at last, when he was stopped in his tracks by a hideous sight that came crashing down on his senses, obliterating everything else.

  At one end of the clearing, translucent human skins had been stretched over wooden frames, the attached scalps rippling lightly in the breeze. Flayed bodies, some lying on the open ground, were scattered about the area, while others hung from the trees in much the way Davis and his men were found. There must have been at least thirty bodies, guerrillas as well as commandos.

  “Even the fuckin’ Nazis didn’t do this,” Schaefer muttered in outrage, sick at the pit of his stomach like one of the men who’d liberated Buchenwald.

  But he had no time to sink into the horror, so he forced his mind to be tempted only by the rage, and used that rage to drive him forward. He turned again to his target and saw that the alien was passing through the shimmering glow of the force field. Cautiously Schaefer walked closer and saw the egg-shaped outline of the ship. The creature was walking with great difficulty up the ramp toward the open door of the spacecraft. It still looked awesome as its silhouette was bathed in the pulsing blue glow of the ship, but to Schaefer in his fury the creature seemed more frightened than frightening.

  Weakened though he was by his wounds and by exhaustion, Schaefer staggered forward and looked up in time to see the alien wave a hand across a light beam. The ship instantly responded with a turbine whine which built slowly and steadily in volume and pitch. The predator turned and gazed out over the thick jungle that still hid Schaefer, as if it sensed the commando’s presence in the shadows. Then it turned back and entered the force field. The door began to slowly close, as if it sensed its captain was about to enter and there was no time to spare.

  Schaefer felt a sudden throb of panic as he saw the enemy about to retreat to safety. He darted into the clearing and spotted the alien’s weapon at the foot of the ramp. The creature had either dropped it in the delirium of its wounds, or perhaps it felt no need for the power any more. It was on its way home now. There would be other weapons for other planets.

  Schaefer grabbed up the odd instrument, perplexed. How to operate it? Was it keyed to something in the creature itself so that only the alien could fire it? The major squeezed the handle and felt resistance. Again he tried with the last ounce of his strength and screamed a bellow of rage as he crushed down on the handle. Suddenly a blue-white light shot out at the end, and the spear was activated. Schaefer raised it, sensing its power and function by sheer feel, warrior to warrior. He leveled the thing at the disappearing back of the alien just as the door was closing behind it. Schaefer shouted triumphantly and hurled it.

  Flaring with deadly energy the weapon shot off like a meteor up the laser ramp, accelerating through the door and into the spacecraft. It lodged in the back of the creature’s neck, and in that instant the door froze half-open. The alien’s head exploded but slowly, in a kind of slow motion, almost as if the gravity within the craft was different from the earth’s. A geyser of amber-orange blood shot out, then pale green tissue as the brain burst. Then the spearhead continued out through the alien’s throat, burying itself in the side of the ship, sending bolts of plasma-energy arcing through the force field.

   The Predator (1987 novelization), chapter 16