Day of the Predator - Alex Scarrow [83]
Did it … did it just mimic me?
‘Hi,’ said Franklyn.
The long head tilted to one side, like a dog listening for its master’s voice. The mouth opened again, and the tongue rolled and curled. ‘Ah-eeeee,’ was the noise that came out, lower in pitch now, lower than a baby and almost matching the timbre of Franklyn’s as yet unbroken voice.
He felt some of the terror replaced with the slightest flush of excitement.
It’s trying to communicate.
‘Hi, my name’s Franklyn,’ he said again, louder, bolder, slower.
That long head tilted over to the other side now, the gesture almost comical. One of its long arms, muscular, lean and ending with three digits that curled into lethal-looking long curved serrated blades, flexed in front of it.
Is that a hand signal?
Franklyn attempted to duplicate the gesture, bringing his short pudgy hand up before his face and curling his fingers in the same way. The creature snorted air out of its nostrils and clacked its teeth. He wondered if that was the creature laughing at his attempt.
Suddenly, he heard the crack of twigs, and the clatter of dislodged rocks; something coming down the slope above.
Becks leaped out of the foliage on to the ground between them, landing in a fight-ready and perfectly balanced stance. She spun round to face the reptilian hominid. ‘Run,’ she said calmly as she crouched ready for action, one of their crude jagged metal hatchets in one hand, a spear in the other.
Franklyn was frozen in place, unsure what to do. The creature had dropped down low, on to all fours, its elongated banana-like skull tilted back and resting flush in the spinal dip between two protruding shoulder blades. It hissed and barked and a swarm of others began to emerge over the lip of ground that sloped steeply down to the bay below.
‘RUN!’ screamed Liam, tumbling out of the foliage clumsily on to the ground beside Becks. ‘Run, for Jayzus sakes, RUN!!’ he shouted, getting up and readying his spear.
Franklyn’s moment of indecision passed as he took in the crawling carpet of dark olive bodies slowly, warily gliding on all fours across the clearing towards them like a deadly lava flow. He turned, grabbed a branch and pulled himself up the slope and into the jungle, panting with panic and effort as he and his yellow rucksack quickly disappeared through the thick green fronds.
‘What?’ hissed Liam. ‘Oh, sod this! I thought it was just the one of them!’
The creatures were spreading out around the clearing, attempting to flank them, encircle them.
‘Recommendation,’ Becks said, turning to look at him, ‘leave!’
Liam could hear the sound of footfalls from above – the others. He couldn’t tell if it was the sound of them coming down to help, or scrambling up the slope to get further away.
‘Uh … right, OK. You going to be … er … all right?’
Becks ignored his stammered question as she swivelled the hatchet in her right hand with the grace of a martial arts master. The yellow-eyed creatures had moved too quickly, encircling them so that Liam already had no choice but to stay. He backed up against her until their shoulders were touching.
‘Oh … boy … oh b-boy … I’m really n-not … uh, oh God …’
‘Stay close to me,’ Becks uttered over her shoulder.
‘S-sure … and w-what are y-you going to –?’
Becks was already in motion. He glanced round to see her leap forward, swinging the spear like a baton. The sharp end punctured the flank of one of the hominids and with it still lodged between two ribs she effortlessly flicked it off its feet. Liam backed up, keeping his spear aimed at the creatures closing the gap in front of him.
Becks stepped forward again with the grace of a ballet dancer, the jagged hatchet flickering and flashing in the blur of movement. It caught the long clawed digits of one of the creatures and they spun in the air spraying droplets of blood in messy arcs.
In