He’s relentless.
Because this big blue alien barbarian is fighting for my heart.
And he may just win.
Another word from Kim Fox:
James Cameron, I’m still waiting…
WTF?!?
Have your people call my people. Oh wait, I don’t have any people…
one
“I am the predator.”
I say it over and over again as I drag my thumb under my eyes, spreading the thick mud over my skin like warpaint.
“He’s the prey. He’s the one who should be cowering in fear.”
I flex my arms and roll my head from side to side as I jump up and down, getting amped up.
“I am the predator. I am the killer.”
I shadow box and think of the moment when I knocked out the unbeatable Julie Craven. The roar of the crowd, the stinging of my jaw, the aching in my knuckles, the slapping of her back as it fell to the canvas.
“I am the baddest creature in this hell hole. I will prevail.”
I am ready. Ready to fight. Ready to die.
My opponent is no Julie Craven. It’s a whole other beast. On a whole other level.
“I am the predator.”
I got this.
My heart is racing, my adrenaline jacked as I turn to the entrance of the cave.
It’s been about nine days since I pulled myself out of the river, cold, wet and alone. Nine days of living in this tiny cave. Nine days of hiding.
Nine days of being hunted.
There won’t be a tenth.
I clench and unclench my hands into fists as I roll my shoulders in anticipation.
He’s out there. He’s probably watching me now, like he’s done for the past nine days. Waiting patiently for me to come out. Waiting anxiously for me to screw up.
Well, I’m coming out now. But I don’t intend on screwing up.
“I am the predator. I am the killer.”
It gets harder to say the words as I approach the exit of the cave. As I prepare to leave the safety of it that has kept me alive for the past week and a half.
I force myself to say it.
“I am the predator. He is the prey.”
There’s no room in my body for fear. There’s no room for doubt.
My knees scrape against the rough rock as I drop to all fours and prepare to crawl through the small opening.
I am the predator. I will win.
The adrenaline surging through my veins makes me feel invincible. The doubt creeping into my mind disagrees.
“You are Rolanda fucking Vogel,” I whisper as I crawl forward, ignoring the thoughts telling me to retreat that are rushing forward like a tsunami. “You are the youngest female fighter to win the Markson World’s MMA Cup. You broke Chris Davenport’s nose in the tenth grade. You killed aliens and flew a fucking UFO. You got this. You can do anything!”
I scrunch down as the ceiling of the cave’s entrance scratches my back. I take a deep breath and continue forward. The sunlight is like a flashlight in my eyes in the middle of the night. I wince as I crawl back and shut my eyes, opening them slowly to let them adjust.
It’s been nine days since I’ve been out of this cave. I was hoping that he would get tired or bored and leave but he doesn’t seem to be following my plan. He wants a taste of earthling.
I squeeze my hand into a fist and clench my jaw closed. Well, he’s going to get a fucking taste.
It’s time to show this monster what the human race is made of.
I reach forward and close my fingers around the spear that I made. It’s not much. Just a stick that I sharpened with a rock but it’s all that I have.
A homemade spear against a velociraptor? He doesn’t stand a chance.
“I am the predator. I am the killer.”
My eyes finally adjust and I scan what little of the colorful forest that I can see. No sign of him.
But he’s out there. I know he’s out there.
The tree to my left has an orange trunk with purple leaves. It’s like a colorblind kid went to town coloring the scenery. I hate it.
I hate everything about it. Everything about this place.
The bushes to my right are bright red with green things growing on them. It looks like a reverse apple tree.
This whole planet looks like a rainbow threw up on it.
A loud chirping sound rips through the forest and the birds with the heads that look like mini crocodile heads take to the sky. A cold shiver snakes down my sweaty back.
“You got this, Rolanda,” I whisper to myself. Has my voice always been this shaky?
I think of the quote that was painted in big block letters on the wall of my MMA gym. It was from Mark Twain; It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.
And there’s a lot of fight in this dog. I’m a fucking alpha wolf.
I squeeze the spear in my hand as I crawl forward, letting my head pop out of the small opening of the cave.
A snake with horns on its head sees me and slithers forward. I crush its skull with a hammer punch.
This whole planet is against me. It’s not a fair fight.
For them.
“I am the predator. I am the killer.”