The Nature of Predators - Wild West (4/11)

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Memory Transcription Subject: Nilrie, Takkan Smuggler

Date [standardized human time]: April 6, 1851

The sheriff’s hand drifted to its gun, and I found myself extraordinarily glad that I’d stuck with this vicious enforcer. I could see some of the townsfolk carrying torches, perhaps to burn me—like exterminators would. Marlow seemed to be basking in the moment, snarl unwavering as the furious-looking mob closed in on me; their binocular eyes glowed with hatred, clearing any doubts on what their fully predatory gaze looked like. The outlaw was armed with a firearm, though it hadn’t made any move to draw it. It was content to allow us to understand that we were completely outnumbered.

Blake released a high-pitched noise, baring its own teeth. “Preacher Collins and John Marlow, workin’ together. Two opposite ends of the God-fearing spectrum teamin’ up.”

“Hand over the demon, Sheriff,” the bandit commanded. “You’ve been fooled by the lies of Satan! Return to the light.”

“You couldn’t give a shit about the Bible, Marlow. What is it you want?”

“I’m here to help the good preacher. I’m a man of faith, whatever misconceptions you might have about me. Demons falling from the sky; it must be the end times. We must fight back against the armies of evil, and preserve the Lord’s teachings.”

“I highly doubt this skittish bastard’s any ‘demon.’ How do you know that it’s not just another part of God’s creation? Nothing is beyond His capabilities, and we’re not ones to assume to know his grand design. Everyone, please, return to your homes. You’re being misled.”

Preacher Collins raised its book at me, causing me to take a step back. “The demon flinches away from the cross; for how could it not? In the name of Jesus, I command you to leave this town!”

“I d-don’t know what you’re talking about, or what you w-want!” I wailed.

Gasps echoed through the horde. “It possesses that rock!”

“It’s actually speaking in devil tongue.”

“Sorcerer!”

The predators were acting more like a panicky herd than an army, seeming to brand me as
evil? Saying it was the end times, whatever that meant; it almost sounded like the preacher and Marlow were spreading fear that I was bringing the death of them all. The holopad I needed to communicate aloud had increased the stir, generating apparent fear and horror as the primitives didn’t understand basic technology. The fools hadn’t even invented speakers, most likely. Blake took a few steps backward, moving us closer to his horse, Bourbon. I could see tiny hairs on his arm standing upright, and see the tension in his shoulders.

Wait, when did I decide to start calling the sheriff ‘he’ again? I must be very desperate to have another person around, but he is standing in the way of them
for me.

“I’ll make sure Nilrie leaves the town an’ never comes back. We all want the same thing, Preacher,” Blake said cautiously. “It’s my job to keep the good folk of Corvallis safe. Ye can’t know fer sure that he’s a demon, so let’s do it my way. No one gets hurt if he ain’t a demon, and no one gets hurt if he is. Ever’one wins.”

Collins’ expression was a mask of rage. “We know what it is, perverting the holy realm of the Almighty Himself! Only God uses flying chariots. A bird’s wings are not meant for man.”

“That’s right,” Marlow interjected. “How did God react in the Tower of Babel, trying to build into the heavens?! We can’t let this creature’s wickedness be loosed into our worlds; it’s a temptation! That’s why we have to stop this work of Satan from falling into the wrong hands.”

The sheriff scowled. “What are the right hands? Yours?”

“Mine, Preacher Collins, and everyone in this town. We’ll turn what was meant for evil and use it for good, in prayerful reflection. We’ll enact His Will on Earth, and be blessed with prosperity, as obedient servants.”

Cheers came from the crowd, along with a few calls of “Amen.” My eyebrows furrowed even further, as I heard a predator—granted, an insincere one—likening itself to an obedient servant to rally support. It should’ve been laughable that flesh-eating beasts were calling me evil, but the situation was one of utter terror from where I was standing. Bourbon issued a reverberating sound of distress, while Blake tried to calm the horse, ensuring she didn’t rear back. I could see the human trying to think of a way out of this, but knowing he couldn’t take on his entire town. I wasn’t sure he wanted to fight the very beasts he set out to protect. The Donovans were different from these mindless savages, there was no doubt about it.

Maybe if they were raised on a proper planet, they could’ve overcome their abominable ways. Blake doesn’t know any better than being a deplorable predator, but he acknowledged that humans are terrible. He wants to be better, so I could try to save him.

“Fine,” Blake sighed. “I give in. Do you want us to take ya to the flying chariot? We’ll need Nilrie to know what any o’ the damn runes do. I ain’t able to work the shit.”

Panic swelled in my chest, and I tugged at his arm. “N-no! You can’t give me to them.”

“I can and I will. Y’ain’t done much to endear yerself to me. What do ye say, Marlow; want me to lead ya to the score? I can keep Nilrie in line.”

Marlow hesitated, unsure how to save face. “We should make sure the demon has revealed all of its tricks, and that there aren’t more of these things. Me and a few of my men will ride out with you.”

“Without me? What if that thing possesses you?” a crazed Collins demanded.

“Preacher, you can come too if you’d like, to ward off the devil’s influence. I wouldn’t dare try to overrule a higher authority, if God compels you to follow us.”

“Myself and my most trusted parishioners will tag along to ensure the Lord’s grace is with us. I must be certain that this wily hellspawn doesn’t lure any of you into temptation. We will cleanse our homes and our minds of its sinful ways.”

I refused as the sheriff tried to herd me onto the horse, feeling panicked and cornered. Marlow laughed at my fear—predatory amusement at a sapient’s suffering. How could Blake turn me over to these menaces, if his job was to protect me—if he thought it was the right thing to do? I had to persuade him to help me, but I was too afraid to speak. Donovan lifted his pistol at me, nodding his head toward Bourbon; that quashed my delusional hopes that he might have been different from the rest, or actually cared about my welfare at all. I climbed onto the animal’s back, quivering and holding onto her neck for dear life. 

I shuddered as Blake mounted his servant animal behind me, and I could feel his flesh-filled stomach pressed against my spine. He was close enough he was breathing from that defiled mouth onto my skull; his arms ensnared me to grab the ropes cruelly allowing him to control Bourbon. Why didn’t I flee his home when he gave me the option? It was foolish to stick with a violent predator, whatever sympathetic words the beast offered. I collapsed against the mare’s neck, sobbing into her mane, as the sheriff prodded her slowly out of the stall. Marlow and his thugs had grabbed their mounts, flanking us on both sides, as the preacher’s group tailed behind us. 

I’m going to die. What happens when one of them decides to eat me? The bandits know I’m no demon; they just want to loot my ship. Maybe they’ll loot my skeleton of my flesh. I hate this world, this entire species.

The horses trotted lightly through the grass, but it seemed to me that we weren’t on the right path to reach the crash site. Blake scanned the horizon; I could feel the sheriff’s erratic heartbeat from where we were huddled together. Why was fear coursing through his blood? Maybe he was different, but was only going along with this marauding band out of fear; that was an understandable prey motive. If I was coerced by savage predators in a massive group, I would go along with what they wanted too. He was right: I hadn’t done anything to endear myself to him or make it worth it to risk his life protecting me. Donovan thought I hated him and saw him as a monster, and he hadn’t been wrong.

“If ye look off to yer right, you’ll see the flyin’ kite embedded pretty deep into the earth. Might have to dig to get some pieces,” Blake commented, and I thought he was thoroughly lost. There was nothing there.

Marlow guided its horse over to the ditch, peering off the side of the road. “Hm, it doesn’t look like there’s much to salvage. I don’t see a whole lot—”

With lightning-fast motions, the sheriff whipped his rifle around, firing a shot close to the ears of the bandits’ horses—and into the leg of the leader’s mount. The thunderclap was deafening, enough to startle the hell out of me. Several of the thugs’ quadrupeds reared back, dumping their riders onto the ground; Marlow’s horse was crippled, unable to tote him at all. Unfortunately, the predatory human pried his leg from beneath the animal, and screamed at his men to go after us. Blake had spurred Bourbon to a breakneck gallop, speeding off into the fields. It took the bandits and preacher’s gang, who had stayed on their saddles, several moments to pursue us, as they had to go around the downed horses. One fallen human screamed as it was trampled by its own comrades in their haste.

Blake tricked them; of course he did, he’s still using a predator’s arsenal. He made them bring me out of the town, and now we’re making a run for it. If it wasn’t for this human’s protection, who knows what the angry mob would’ve done to me.

“T-thank you, thank you, thank you,” I whimpered.

“Don’t thank me yet.” The sheriff squeezed his legs against the horse’s ribs, pointing his pistol over his shoulder; pulling the trigger with ease due to his natural killer’s instincts. “We got a whole lotta bad guys on our heels, and I gotta find a way to lose ‘em. Stay low, ‘cause they’re gonna shoot at us. If I go down
squeeze Bourbon’s ribs with your feet an’ keep runnin’, Nilrie.”

“And l-leave you?” Of course a predator would suggest ditching a fallen ally, once they were useless.

“I ain’t gonna let them do Lord knows what to ye. You got to get away, much more than I do. Can’t look back. ‘Sides, I figure you’ll be happy to be rid of this monster.”

“Not really. T-there might be a little hope for you. You’re as
l-least monstrous as a predator can be w-with your innate f-flaws.”

“Gee, thanks. Totally appreciate that.”

Bourbon raced off into the open land, with bandits hot on our tail. I quivered as bullets flew toward us, while Blake was steadfast—coolly firing shots back at the predatory bipeds. All the while, he guided the horse toward a lightly wooded hill, in the hopes we could lose our far-back pursuers. As long as we stayed on flat land, in their line of sight, it would be impossible to get the predators off our scent. The sheriff passed the reins to me, then switched from his handgun to the rifle; high-velocity rounds seemed to make contact with something, judging by the whinny and subsequent human howl I heard behind me. He popped off another round, and I found the courage to look—observing his pristine aim at taking down prey animals. A second horse had gone down to a perfect shot. 

This was simply another day of hunting to him. I couldn’t lose sight of the type of barbaric creature I was dealing with: one that was adept at murdering its own kind in gun battles, and wasn’t satisfied with a diet of leaves alone. It didn’t take much imagination to guess what would happen to me if I was left in the wilderness with Blake for any meaningful length of time. Then again, he might eat the horse first since it was bigger and already deemed a tool for his use. Bourbon must’ve had a pitiful life, stuck around reeking predators who’d park themselves on her spine. I winced in sympathy, hating that my presence added to her burden. 

Donovan swiveled back around, tugging one side of the rein, arcing Bourbon around the side of the hill. “I got a couple of ‘em. Gonna do a turn and dart into the treeline, and we can leave ‘em in the dust.”

“G-great,” I responded. “Awesome.”

As the human was fully focused on fleeing from a fight—something I was surprised a predator’s pride would allow—there was a slight squelching sound. Bourbon brayed, though Blake managed to keep her upright and spur her onward. Our turn to avoid a direct ascent of the wooded hill had given the bandits a perfect angle of her chest, and their bullet had struck true. Despite still running, I could hear the horse’s breathing turning to a wet, grunting sound; if there was that much blood, I had no doubt that Blake could smell it. It must be teasing the predator, and his mouth was right by my neck. His breath had hitched when Bourbon was struck, though he pressed on without eating me somehow.

“C’mon girl. Just a little further,” the human pleaded, in a voice that sounded fraught.

Repeatedly squeezing his legs for speed, he commanded the horse up the hillside, hoping the cluttered scenery would force our opponents to use caution. Despite how easy it would be for branches and tree roots to trip up the massive quadruped, Blake wouldn’t let her slow down. The predator kept glancing over his shoulder, having to turn all the way thanks to his tunnel vision. The recklessness, pushing Bourbon to her breaking point, was enough to have the bandits not appearing on our six. However, it resulted in her hoof striking something on the ground, and we were thrown as her leg buckled beneath her. 

I groaned, as tender injuries from the crash sang with new pain from the hard landing. Blake picked himself up before I did, no doubt finding the energy to ignore his pain with a helpless herbivore lying on the ground. The wounded prey animal laid there, unable to get back up as her panting sounded wetter still. I sat up in slow motion, and watched in horror as the human knelt by the horse. He buried his face in her neck, no doubt to tear out her throat and suck the warm blood; the impulse to eat the injured meat slab had won out. I stared at the alien with absolute disgust, though it was replaced by confusion as I heard a sound coming from his chest. The human’s body shook, and the noise of sniffling through snot was unmistakable. Was Donovan
crying?

“No, no, no,” he whispered, in a despairing voice. His arms were draped over the horse’s neck, still holding on for dear life. “I’m so sorry, Bourbon. I’m real sorry, girl.”

I crept closer, unable to believe what I was seeing. Blake lifted his head, showing water pouring out of his hideous eyes—which were reddened; his nose and lips were contorted in an unsightly expression of grief. The predator who’d just shot two other horses without skipping a beat was kneeling in the dirt, bawling his binocular eyes out. He blinked away more tears, placing a hand on the horse’s cheek. She offered a pitiful wheeze as he stroked her fur, and turned a vacant look toward his face. The sheriff retrieved more bullets for his handgun, wiping tears from his eyes. Snot dripped onto his upper lip fur. 

What the fuck? A hunter grieving the loss of a companion preemptively, showing weak, preylike emotions? Maybe Blake is capable of caring, in a way that’s at least recognizable.

“I know that look,” he whispered, hanging his head low. “It’s okay. You can rest now. Ye been a good friend to me.”

I gasped in horror as the human turned his pistol on the horse who’d done nothing but serve his whims, and blew her brains out right in front of me. Shock lanced through my body, at the sudden shift in Blake’s behavior. Why would a predator try to treat her wounds, when Bourbon could just be killed and no longer be a concern? I supposed it was nice for a predator to show sympathy for a few seconds, and not to gnaw on the freshly-deceased corpse but
the sheriff slaughtered his horse out of nowhere. It was a mistake to think this thing was anything like decent herbivores. Donovan showed that he was a murderer, no matter what he acted like. 

The human saved you because you were useful. Predators leave their wounded to die, end of discussion.

I scrambled away on my haunches, worried he’d turn the gun on me. “W-what is w-wrong with you?! S-shooting her after acting like you l-love her; you are a monster.”

The human screamed in fury, suddenly having lost his mind; he kicked a bunch of leaves into the air, and hurled his pistol at a tree trunk with startling accuracy. Blake clenched his fist, before sinking to his knees with a rapid loss of energy. He reached out with a searching hand, placing the handgun quietly back at his hip. The alien monstrosity stroked Bourbon’s corpse with affection, as if he hadn’t been the one to take her life. He then rose to his feet, looking at me as if none of his maniacal acts had happened. The sheriff waved the pistol through the air, blowing a flustered breath out of his lips.

“What was I s’posed to do: leave ‘er to suffer, slowly bleed out?” Blake demanded. “That was a mercy kill. I loved my fuckin’ horse. Don’t ye ever say otherwise.”

My expression turned more sour at the phrase “mercy kill.” “If that’s
how you treat your w-wounded, why didn’t you m-mercy kill me?”

“Yer a person. Ya didn’t ask me to neither, but Bourbon did with her eyes. I done saw. What was I s’posed to do for her anyway, huh? Ya think I coulda saved her with some magic runes?”

“N-no.”

“Okay then. My best friend died gettin’ you out of jeopardy, so it ain’t gonna be for nothin’, Nilrie. Let’s get moving, in case they heard the gunshots. We gotta keep tryin’ t’lose ‘em.”

I followed the predator, though I watched the firearm on his hip with extreme discomfort. Blake’s posture seemed different, not carrying himself with the normal authoritative confidence. His breathing sounded shaky, as if he was in pain, and he was avoiding looking at me. Perhaps it was just the tumble from the horse, but I couldn’t help but apply prey logic to him. The human seemed torn up about what he did to the horse; despite his explicit role in her passing, I felt a bit bad for him. Given how much predators liked to drag out deaths and watch their meals squirm, maybe a quick end was a mercy to them.

“Are y-you upset?” I ventured.

Blake sucked in a sharp breath. “Yes, but it won’t do nobody no good to keep cryin’ about it.”

“I’m
sorry. About Bourbon.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry about those folk ganging up on ye. I ain’t never meant to scare ya; only ever meant to help, not put nobody in danger.”

I flicked my plumed tail in acknowledgement, unable to avoid seeing the emotions in those binocular eyes. I didn’t trust Blake’s feelings to win out over the killing drive, especially when his society steered him in that direction; I wasn’t convinced it wasn’t dangerous to be out here alone with an armed, erratic human. The things he would do to survive were unthinkable. However, so far, he was the only reason I had survived on this planet, and he’d saved my life more than once. I had to trust that a predator wouldn’t waste all of that effort just to turn on me, or else, I might as well give up now. With a heavy heart, I followed the sheriff as he looked for a safe place to hide from the bandits.

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A/N - Chapter 4! The town is egged on by the preacher and Marlow to believe our narrator is a demon with unholy tech; Blake pretends to give Nilrie up and reveal the location of his shipwreck, only to make a run for it. Sheriff Donovan takes out a few horses and riders, heading for a wooded hill, but Bourbon catches a bullet to the chest. The cowboy is forced to mercy kill his horse, which earns a reaction from Nilrie of calling him a monster
and he loses it momentarily.

Do you think the Federation could ever understand mercy kills, coming from a place of kindness rather than violence? How will Nilrie reconcile his gratitude and need for Blake’s assistance with thinking he’s a monster? What will surviving and hiding in the woods entail
and what’s the sheriff’s plan to deal with Marlow?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!