Predator 2 Novel 5

They stopped firing and stood very still, listening intently, heads pivoting back and forth anxiously as they tried to stare through the dim, flickering light. They had no idea where the first shot had come from. Each thought the obvious, that they had somehow overlooked part of Vega's security and that now a hidden gunman, perhaps more than one, lurked somewhere in the shadows, although it seemed impossible that anyone could have survived their frenzied fusillade. Gunsmoke and the smell of powder hung heavy in the air. The room became completely silent. Suddenly, one of the Jamaicans was ripped right off his feet, as if blown backwards by a shotgun blast, only there was no report.

There was just a sudden, whooshing sound as a large net of extremely fine, alloy wire came flying across the room, snaring him and pulling him backwards. Self-driven bolts made of an unearthly alloy bored their way into the wall, pinning him. The wires of the net drew taught, digging into his skin and producing a fine latticework of blood all over his face. He couldn't move. He was gasping with pain, trapped against the wall by the super-strong alloy net. The others sensed rather than saw movement in the dimly-lit room. Something rushed by them with incredible speed and one of the men spun around to fire, but he could see no target. There seemed to be a vague disturbance in the air, as if someone or something-was in the room with them, but the foe somehow failed to materialize. It was as if they were being attacked by their own shadows.

One of the Jamaicans cried out as two razor- sharp metal darts thudded into his chest with tremendous force, followed by a third, which embedded itself deeply in his forehead. There was another rush of movement. Something passed between the remaining Jamaicans. The twin blades of a gleaming fighting knife, like nothing any of them had ever seen, erupted through the torso of one man's chest and he was lifted right off his feet, high into the air, as if impaled on a pitchfork.

The terrified survivors had no idea what was happening. Panicked, they opened fire on the spot where the invisible assailant had struck seconds ago, but the Predator was no longer there. His light-bending camouflage screen rendered the alien all but invisible to the Jamaicans, who could see nothing more than a vaguely defined shape that seemed to take on the color and texture of the air, like a translucent ghost, a hint of a physical presence one instant and then nothing
the next.

They swiveled rapidly, this way and that, pivoting on the balls of their feet, their eyes wide and terrified, their jaws hanging slack in horrified incomprehension of the force that was attacking them, killing them one by one, relentlessly.

There was a brief hiss and a short, abrupt,
muffled sound, like a hammer striking meat, and a telescoping spear drove itself into one of the Jamaicans, penetrating his chest and flipping him through the air like a pole vaulter.

Gold Tooth was suddenly alone, the only one left alive. Seconds earlier, he'd had an armed force with him. Now there was only himself. He couldn't believe it had all happened so fast. He circled warily, crouched over, pivoting quickly this way and that, desperately seeking a target. He thought he caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of the room, and his finger convulsively squeezed the trigger of his semiautomatic. Nothing happened. He glanced down at the pistol and saw that its slide was locked back, the breech open. He was out of bullets. And out of time...-pg.68-69-70 chpt.3