The Nature of Predators - Human Exterminators (3/9)

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Memory transcription subject: William Kane, Human Refugee

Date [standardized human time]: November 3, 2136

The sky was still overcast, a day after the deluge of rain I’d traipsed through on my last drunken hurrah. My shoes squished in the grass, and I looked around for any sign of the dog. It was important that I was the first to spot it, though that was easier said than done. The herbivores could see in each direction simultaneously, whereas my head was on a swivel.

Fyron the Farsul (an alliterative name, if I pondered it) moved closer to me, before pointing at muddy pawprints. I knelt on the ground, inspecting the trail’s direction. These looked like fresh imprints, so it was investigating. My eyes locked on the tracks, and I set off without hesitation. The other exterminators looked terrified and submissive.

That was with the exception of Rauln, who was juggling his holopad and his gun. Derisive huffs emanated from the Venlil, every time I carried out any action. Meanwhile, Luala wandered further off to the side, and kept out of my narrow sightline. That was a smart decision on the Krakotl’s part; I wanted to rip her wing off and stuff it in a KFK bucket. Of course, that would “prove” that humans were monsters.

I realized, to my chagrin, that my exterminator partner was texting as he walked. Rauln accepted an audio call, and Venlil screeches emanated from the device. My head snapped around, inspecting the bigoted male with disdain. If this dog was skittish, he was going to alert it to our presence. Besides, was active duty the time to chat it up with a friend?

“I can’t believe that they fired you, man. Don’t worry, it’ll be fixed soon,” the Venlil growled.

More agitated noises buzzed over the holopad. I shared a glance with Fyron, who looked disbelieving herself.

Rauln heaved a sigh. “It’s a matter of time before a human eats someone, and doesn’t hide it. Then, everything will be back to normal. You’ll be proven right for not compromising your values; a hero!”

My shoulders tensed up, and I bit back a sharp retort. Did this Venlil actually state that aloud, right in front of my face?! Regardless of Volek’s pleas, I wasn’t going to tolerate direct insults. Humans were not monsters to be discussed with flippancy; all of this space-vegan bullshit was getting to my head. A not-insignificant part of me wanted to strangle Rauln, and give him the attack he predicted.

“I’m right here!” I spat. “You don’t get to speak that way about my species.”

The Venlil covered his holopad. “Why not, predator? You’re already going to eat me, the first time we’re a little late for lunch break. It’s not like it can be worse.”

The voice on the other end of the call had picked up my Terran register, and frantic rambling poured through the speakers. I wished I could make out the words this bigot was saying. When I got back to the extermination office, I was going to ask Volek to find me a different partner. It didn’t matter that she hired me to “convince” Rauln of my benevolence; there wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening.

Shit, I’d consider taking Luala over this bastard. And I still want to roast her as Thanksgiving dinner…

“Yeah, dude, it’s fucking insane. They paired me up with this nasty-looking human,” Rauln grumbled. “Our fate is sealed, so when I disappear, you’ll know what happened. Luckily for me, it’s definitely going to eat Luala first.”

The Krakotl squawked in alarm, attempting to fly on instinct. The higher gravity of Venlil Prime prevented her from ascending skyward, and she plunked unceremoniously onto the ground. Fyron moved over to help her partner, but the avian pushed the Farsul’s arm away. I could see my cocker-spaniel friend recoiling in hurt.

Struggling to focus on tracking, I swiveled around to face Rauln. My legs cleared the gap between us in a split-second, and I caught him off-guard. The Venlil reached for his sidearm, but I twisted it out of his grasp. He screeched in fury, as I ripped the holopad out of his paw too. My fingers found the hang-up button, cutting off his buddy mid-rant.

The exterminator’s eyes were crazed, pupils expanding at a rapid pace. I shoved him onto his backside, and he cursed at the wet earth. My fingers unzipped the back of my suit, watching Rauln for sudden moves. His firearm was stuffed into my waistband, alongside my concealed tranquilizer gun.

“Go fuck yourself! Stay there; I don’t need you.” My words were charged with fury, and I’d dropped into a lunging stance. “I am going to handle the dog, and I don’t want any of you interfering. Is that clear?!”

Fyron wiggled her ears. “Yes, W-Will. Is it…safe to be around you?”

“As long as nobody tries to torch man’s best friend, you’ll be just fine!”

I resealed my suit, after drawing my tranquilizer gun. Adrenaline coursed through my blood, as my ears cued in on barking noises. My feet took off in a mad dash, before any exterminators could approach the canine. The dog was a Rottweiler, who was chasing some Venlil wildlife with excited barks. This was about the same as pursuing squirrels at home, but it definitely put the mutt in a predatory light.

I released a shrill whistle, hoping it would capture the Rottie’s attention. The dog’s ears perked up, and I got a better look at its ragged condition. A metal collar chewed into its neck, a remnant from puppyhood that was several sizes too small. Fur loss was evident, with reddish skin visible on its haunches.

A novel source of anger swelled in my chest. Maltreatment of animals was all-too-common, and exemplified the worst aspects of mankind. My original thought had been to return the dog to its owner, and check if it was microchipped. Now, I wished to locate its human caretaker to ream them out and seek legal ramifications.

I dropped to one knee, whistling again. “C’mere! That’s it…who’s a good dog!”

Good boy. Hm…yep, boy.

Fyron’s mouth dropped open, as I allowed the canine to trot up to me. Despite this breed’s reputation, they were more than just attack dogs. It was obvious this pet had a mellow temperament, so I ruffled his scruff. The canine rolled over onto his belly, warming my ill-tempered disposition. I indulged in a little tickling, before coaxing him to his feet.

“Truck? Come on, boy.” I curled my fingers underneath his collar, and winced in secondhand pain. Sadly, carrying a large canine unconscious wasn’t an option without help…which I didn’t dare to ask for. “Easy now. Who did this to you, huh?”

“W-what are you doing?!” Luala squawked.

“My job. Look, before your bird brain takes over, this is best for everyone. Dead dog, angry humans. You don’t want that.”

Rauln scoffed at my cooing tone. “Releasing a thing like that on our environment, amidst children! It’s a menace. You’re a menace!”

“I told you I don’t need a partner. Get back to the truck.”

“Not a chance, predator. I won’t let you cover up this Earth-spawn’s misdeeds. I am going to do my job, and sweep the area for bodies. No doubt it’s killed someone by now.”

“Fine, look around. Why don’t you look up your ass too? I figure that’s where you stashed your brain.”

Luala trilled with amusement, puffing her chest out with laughter. The Krakotl reined herself in, and studied her talons in sheepish silence. I ignored the bird altogether, not wanting to acknowledge her presence. My fingers stayed clenched around the Rottie’s collar. Fyron tailed after me, giving the dog a wide berth.

A few Venlil pointed at me, on my trek back to the vehicle. I couldn’t imagine what it looked like to them; a human stomping across the turquoise alien-grass, pulling a massive quadruped by the collar. To top it all off, said Terran was clad in exterminator gear, and accompanied by a traveling circus of aliens. I cringed as some spectators began to film.

There’s going to be questions among my own people…about which “traitor to Earth” joined these guys’ ranks. It’s a matter of time before a witch-hunt unveils my identity.

My shattered self-worth reminded me that I deserved to be called out as a fraud. I was a traitor to the Sol system long before I donned my firesuit; a young, able-bodied man like myself had no reason to shirk enlistment. It was my duty to my planet, during a crisis unlike any other. Humanity was under threat of extinction, and I had only thought about self-preservation.

I wasn’t certain what compelled me to swing my feet out of bed this morning. The adrenaline rush tapered off, and was replaced by defeated shuffles up to the truckbed. The dog hopped up with little prompting; I readied my dart gun with a shaky sigh. My motivation to ace this job had fizzled out like a tropical storm over frigid waters.

“Sorry, I can see you’re a nice dog,” I said in a robotic voice. “But my colleagues will want you knocked out, or else they might hurt you. You feel me?”

The Rottweiler whimpered, and I dispensed a tranquilizer into his neck. I supported his weight, with arms that felt heavy as concrete. Fyron clambered up into the truck, studying the canine with bewildered eyes. Her apprehension was laughable, given that the dog was out of commission. I didn’t have the energy to calm her nerves now.

“Will, that was so brave! Are you hurt?” the Farsul gushed.

I cleared my throat. “Nope. Let’s collect that jackass Rauln, before he digs up a fossil and calls it a predator kill. With my luck, he’ll claim I traveled back in time to end some prehistoric prey.”

Luala fluttered her wings. “And…if Rauln won’t c-come?”

Great. The fucking bird has decided to speak to me! God, that stupid, singsong voice…chirp, chirp, chirp.

“He gets one chance,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “I want to mark it on my report that I offered.”

With a nimble jump, I hopped over the side of the truck. It was a short drop to the pavement, where I could retrace the path to Rauln’s last-known location. The two aliens, whose species had collaborated to destroy my home, shared a glance and followed me. I felt like a mother duck, with ducklings tailing in a wobbly row. Neither seemed willing to take charge or think for themselves.

Spectators continued to film my adventures, and I loathed the attention. A middle finger was raised at them in protest, though the Venlil didn’t understand the gesture. Why did me making a fool of myself, performing a task that was antithetical to my continued existence, have to be caught on camera? I picked up the pace. The sooner we fetched Rauln and departed this park, the better.

I utilized the still-visible pawprints to find my way back. A Venlil scream resonated through the air, from within a decorative garden. The location was only a hundred feet or so away; I cleared the terrain in seconds, sprinting in a frenzy. Rauln tumbled backward, and collided with a tree stump. Tears rolled down his face, as if a faucet had been turned on.

“What the fuck…” I started to mutter.

My pupils followed his gaze, and my heart rate spiked. A Venlil corpse was strewn amidst the garden, with intestines trailing from its bloated abdomen. The dead body smell wafted into my nose, putrid and overpowering. Acid spouted up into my throat, and I narrowly avoided vomiting inside my suit. Queasiness grasped my organs, leaving me feeling faint.

I collected my bearings, before noticing Rauln aiming a flamethrower at the body. That moron was going to scorch any evidence! His panic was understandable under the circumstances, but even through my shock, I knew it was lunacy. On instinct, I lunged at the Venlil exterminator; my jittery hands pried the incendiary device away.

“What are you doing?” I howled. “We need to call the police, and start an investigation.”

Rauln pawed for the device’s return feebly. “P-predator contamination. Must be erased…then search for predator. The dog!”

“The…this doesn’t look like dog handiwork. Secondly, you don’t have to worry about me catching ‘predator contamination,’ do you now?”

“The dog’s been c-corrupted by the Intestine-Eater. It passes on its disease s-strain to animals, whenever there’s predator sightings, and then there’s an attack. It could infect you, if it’s near here…”

That story was an incoherent mess, riddled with inconsistencies. As I understood it, the Venlil had a name for this supposed “predator”…with a standardized MO that reeked of sapience. Did they just burn the evidence of every violent death, and cry predator? That meant that murderers existed here, while getting away with their deeds scot-free.

The incisions on the dead Venlil’s stomach were clean, though it sickened me to look at. This was the work of an alien serial killer. How did I get neck-deep in this, first day on the job? My breath hitched in my throat, and I scanned my surroundings for signs of movement. Fyron and Luala were staring in horror; the bird had regurgitated her breakfast.

I needed to take control, before any of these nutcases tried to torch the body again. Summoning my strength, I crouched beside the corpse. My hand motions signaled for my colleagues to move back; to my relief, they complied. All I could do was gather evidence, and attempt not to contaminate the crime scene.

After all, the last thing that would benefit my cause would be to get my DNA on the corpse. I didn’t need some wild fabrication that I was the Intestine-Eater, did I? Rauln would love to pin this in his human partner, so I wasn’t leaving that as a possibility.

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A/N - Part 3 of Will Kane's adventures! The dog is brought in unharmed, as Rauln continues his show of hostility. However, the simple mission takes a dark turn after the Venlil exterminator finds a body. How will our human narrator handle the murder? What will the exterminators' office response to the serial killer hypothesis be?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!