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Chapter Text

Rubbing her eyes she looked back and forth between the white tundra and the detailed sketch that sat neatly on her lap. It had taken up her morning yet all she could do was scowl at the results. Twirling her No. 2 pencil in her hands she let out a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned back on the soft cushions she used as a make-shift seatback. Opening her light brown eyes her gaze trailed back to the bleak white tundra that lay undisturbed and consistent as it had been for hundreds of years before man.

Crossing her arms loosely over her stomach she looked over to the scattered group of men that inhabited the game room. Some played card games and poker. Others were engaged in the nightly pole game as they attempted to alleviate the constant boredom brought on by their isolated placement. All trying to entertain themselves.

She had known the handful of men for years now, yet most were little more than mutual acquaintances. She knew little about them and once the job was over they disperse to not meet nor talk again tell the next seasonal job opportunity arose. Yet, Cora couldn’t shake the terrible dread that seemed to plague her since she accepted the yearly six-week job. She had had the option to back out. She could have walked away but she didn’t. Instead, she chalked it up to unstable hormones and her newly heightened protective instincts. She had to.

She needed the money. She needed it to provide for her and her coming child in the harsh world of single motherhood. People didn’t care that the love of her life ran off with another woman after she informed him of her pregnancy. They wouldn’t care that her current predicament was the result of her bending to his will and being too desperate to satisfy him. Her parents and society weren't merciful. They would lay the blame on her and her alone despite it taking two to tango.

The job was always a large paycheck. Enough to pay for her expenses for close to four months. If she was careful she could maybe stretch it out to five. She had made the decision with the acknowledgment of these benefits. She just had to be careful to keep her condition to herself. She was only two weeks into her pregnancy. She had time. She could hide her bump for four months. She just had to be careful.

Smiling, she thought back to Fuchs. He was entirely against it, citing the multiple risks she was taking and the danger of her employer finding out. She had been forced to dismiss his concerns but asked that he help her manage her pregnancy. Fuchs was a biologist by trade but he had gone to medical school for years before swiftly changing his career path. She knew had asked much of him and she had hated it. He was her best friend since childhood and she had leaned on him for years.

She had depended on him for friendship when she was tossed aside by her small-town home community because she was the white trailer trash kid. He had been the one to hold her all night long when she had tried to overdose on the sleeping pills she stole from her mother's already drug cluttered cabinet. Now he was the one helping her conceal her secret. Fuchs had always been her rock and stability all her life. She loved him, it was unfortunate that he saw her as nothing more than a close friend.

Looking away from them once more she turned back to the window, to the white mountainous dunes that surrounded them. Studying the landscape some more she began blocking in the contrast.

“Do you hear that?”

Ignoring Palmer, she continued drawing while the others tried to figure out what he meet. All but Palmer were at loss for but a moment or they were until they heard the all-familiar sound of a helicopter.

__Skip___

She felt like vomiting. Backing away from the malformed being that the doctor and McReady had brought. Moving to stand behind Fuchs she covered her mouth with her hand and half-heartedly tried to hold down her gags. Grabbing at Fuchs shirt she tactfully pulled him away from the monstrosity. Locked in both equal disgust and fascination as they all stood still and observed the creature.

“Blair, I’d like you to start an autopsy right away.”

No one said anything for a long time after Cooper had spoken. No one dared break the silence.

One by one they shuffled out. Cora was the first to depart. Walking briskly down the halls she fled from the mutant. Passing the equipment room she slowed as she rounded the corner to the sleeping quarters. Walking past the other bedrooms she was about to arrive at her room when she was unexpectedly intercepted.

Jerking upright, she sucked in a quick draw of breath and she took an unconscious step back. It was only the rescued sled dog. Letting out a nervous laugh, she went to step past the dog but stopped. Something within her urged her to not go further but to instead turn her focus back to the animal a couple of feet in front of her.

It held her stare in equal focus if not more intense. It did not move nor did it seem to breathe as a dog should. Instead, it was statue-like. Its eyes held a certain cold intelligence to them. As if there was nothing remotely dog behind its heterochromia gaze.

Unmoving and unflinching in its blatant observation, its eyes inspected her form for a moment. The husky then opened its mouth and took in a series of deep breaths while it moved its nose leisurely through the air and as its black nostrils flared.

Once done, the dog's cold eyes returned to her own before taking long clear strides toward her. Not moving, she stared back into its evolving eyes. She couldn’t place what it was but something had changed. Something had shifted starkly in her and the demeanor of the animal in front of her.

The air around her seemed to constrict and the dog's eyes seemed to grow ever more doll-like with every step. She could swear its pupils had moved ever so slightly apart from their normal distinction. As it neared her she took a few unconscious steps back from the animal as a series of small almost unnoticeable trimmers racked through its body. In seconds the dog lunged at her and at that moment she dodged.

That was when she ran in the opposite direction.

Chapter Text

It had been three days since the arrival of the mutant. The acquisition of its mangled corpse had changed their group in many ways. It had changed her. Some of the men had celebrated the discovery with liquor and laughs. Others were far more reserved in their opinions, McReady and Blair being chief among them. Then there was her, who couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Her confrontation with the dog had only seemed to successfully heighten her fear and the growing dread that had been with her since taking the operator job.

“Hey Cora you want to join us,” asked Clark in his usual monotone voice.

Turning to face Clark’s and the perpetually bored expression she politely declined, instead opting to continue to pretend to read one of the many books that she had brought. How fitting that her currency reread sitting on her lap happened to be Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein.

“Make room would you?”

Looking up from her book she smiled and pulled her legs closer to her chest. Sitting down next to her, Fuchs handed her a glass of water and took a sip of his own. Taking it from him she placed her own on the coffee table beside her, Fuchs dark green eyes following her movements.

“You should drink. Hydration is important, especially for your situation.”

Shaking her head she gave him a brief smile.

“I’ll drink it later. Thank you though.”

Moving her legs away she moved closer to Fuchs and laid her head against his stiff shoulder. Shifting her head she coiled her arms around him and locked her arms around his own. Interweaving her soft hands in his own ridged fingers; her smile faded from her face smile. Looking up at his face, his expression was more lifeless than neutral. His only animated feature was his attentive eyes that watched the others carefully with a certain calculating element, a close cousin to the vigilant eye of a snake.

Her lips pulled down, her eyes widened and her eyebrows turned upward. Giving his hand a lift squeeze she unconsciously snuggled closer to him.

“Henry, are you ok?”

“Fine.”

For a moment he remained impassive, and Cora only observed him with concerned eyes and a frown. Then in a matter of less than a second Fuchs's whole expression seemed to reanimate to its usual state once more. The ends of his mouth turned upward and his lips pulled up into a smile revealing his sharp canines and always bleach white teeth.

“Trust me, I’m ok,” he reassured.

Smiling back at him she ruffled his carefully comb-backed hair playfully. Faking panic, Fuchs swatted playfully at her hands before both of them halted in neutral laughter.

“Look, Clark, the lovers are laughing,” Palmer said with a playful smile and lazy half-lidded eyes as in sluggishly strolled into the room, heading toward her a Fuchs. Turning toward him she glared at him with mock anger and rolling eyes.

“Don’t you have something better to report on? Or shouldn’t you be raiding the fridge or something?”

“No,” he smirked clumsily and bumped into random things as he walked over to her he picked up the drink. Throwing his head back he drank. Looking over to Fuchs her eyebrows lifted in confusion. Fuchs's eyes were trailed on Palmer’s face with his previous neutral expression.

“Palmer, leave them alone and get back to your drugs,” Clark said with a tired frown.

Finishing, the rest of the drink he set the glass back on the cabinet and flashed Cora a wolfish grain and a side-eyed wink before dramatically spinning around and heading back to his room.

“Well, I’m not going to drink that now,” she chuckled.

Fuchs’s head turned slowly at a jaded pace, toward her with dulled eyes and smile gone. Staring unblinkingly into her own light brown his expression turned on a dim and his face reanimated with kind cool eyes and a soft smile. Pushing his glasses up into their proper place he shook his head a chuckled.

“Yes, I suppose not.”

Shivering, Cora hugged herself as she made her way through the Outpost 31 halls. She had left the Fuchs and the other man behind in the Parlor, and she needed sleep.

Walking, through the corridors, she moved with absentminded precision. Yawning, she rubbed her eyes and ran her fingers through her long light brown hair. Her dark circled eyes barely stayed open as she moved through the corridors. Arriving at the restroom she knocked on the closed door, and unexpectedly Childs answered.

“Wait, a minute I’m kinda busy in here!”

Letting out a tired huff, she moved away and leaned on the wall opposite the side of the door. Jumping, she heard a large series of bumps in the open door storeroom. A cold shiver racked down her body and she felt suddenly awake. Taking a few hesitant steps toward the room she stopped and looked down. On the ground, small dark spots sat on the tile floor. Crouching down she saw the red outline of the dark black spot. Her eyes wide and her mouth agape she swiftly moved upright and frantically looked around. Hearing a distorted growl come from the storeroom she took a step back.

“Childs, get out of there! Something is wrong!”

“Can you shut up, I’m taking a shit!”

The growls seemed to get loader from the room.

“Childs!”

“Fuck! Go away, Cora!”

Slowly the grows got quieter and uneasy silence emulated from the storeroom and only soft tapping seemed to come from the room. Banging on the door she called out again for Childs and he responded with an angry grumble, a flush of a toilet, and the sound of running water from a sink.

Footsteps sounded on the concrete grey floor and with every step her anxiety heightened.

“What the hell, Cora” Childs yelled at her while he stood in the middle of the open door. Looking at him she looked back down the empty hallway with wide eyes.

Turning toward him, “I could swear that I heard growling. I-.”

“You interrupted me because you heard a dog,” he sneered at her. Turning away from him swiftly she look to the hallway where the husky walked back toward the game room.

“I was sure…something-.”

“Something what? What? Nothing that’s what.”

Grumbling, he pushed past her and stomped toward his room.

Turning away from him with a tight-lipped frown she looked back to the silent hallway with wide searching eyes. Hugging herself she pulled her jacket tighter and lingered for a moment. Her heart hammering into her chest minutes seemed like hours and with a swift turn around she rounded the corner of the hallway and was gone in the direction and safety of her room.

Missing the hidden gaze of another equal observant being.

She was awoken by loud screeching sounds of the Outpost 31 emergency alarm. Throwing her sheets back she jumped from her bed and slid on her winter onesies and jacket. Opening her door she looked down the hallway to the other similarly confused group of men who all were rushing to dress themselves.

Running out of his room with a flame thrower Childs and Bennings moved through the crowd of men and rushed passed her to the exit. Pulling her arms through her jacket she along with the other men followed quickly behind them.

Catching up with Bennings she looked to him, “What’s going?”

Looking back at her he answered back with a shrug and a quick “I don’t know,” as they pushed passed the door and made their way through the snow-covered outside. The cold wind was a wipe against her and the others. Its freezing harshness was a painful reminder of the danger of the continent they inhabited. The lights of Outpost 31 reflected off the arctic white snow as their only beacon among the pitch blackness of the tundra.

As they got closer to the dog kennel a mixed number of odd high pitched and deep guttural sounds imitated from the building. She could feel her whole body shake but not from the cold. Searching the crowd, she quickly found her rock, Fuchs. Coming from behind him she interlocked her fingers in his and walked in side by side. His attention was singularly focused on the Kennel and seemingly ignoring her joined presence.

Walking in together she halted at the door frame before being pulled in and stumbling through by Fuchs's unstoppable stride. Regaining her balance she stared only ahead as her heart hammered against her chest as the screams of pained animals and something monstrous filled her ears.

“Stay back,” McReady yelled over to them as he, Clark, Garry, and Nauls advanced toward the door to the kennel. Her fingers tightened around Fuchs's stiff ones. McReady opened the door and he along with the others pointed their flashlights into the darkened Kennel. All eyes went wide and everyone froze with Cora going a few shades whiter.

Letting out a high-pitched roar a creature of nightmare and amalgamation laid in the middle of the dog enclosure. It possessed a shaven misshapen head of a dog and multiple eyes littered its slimy body. Attached to its worm-like form were several twitching appendages and a half-absorbed-looking dog.

From under its body sprouted forth were red spider-like veins that doubled as tentacles covered the area and wrapped itself around the trapped and injured dogs, strangling them. The defenseless huskies let out loud yelps of pain as their tormentor attempted to take them.

It was at this moment that McReady snapped out of his shock and shot. Leading the others, all the armed men aimed toward and shot the creature. Pulled from her own lost graze by a painful pressure, she looked downward toward her and Fuchs’s locked hands. His knuckles were white and the pain grow only more intense as his grip only tightened with every second.

“Fuchs.”

He didn’t even look toward her, his only focus being the wailing alien. She winced and tried to pull away from him.

“Get back! Get Back!”

Frantically closing and locking the door to the kennel McReady rushed away from the wired door. Clark was restrained by Gerry and Nauls as he fought against their hold as his eyes stared into the kennel and toward his weeping dogs.

She was knocked from Fuchs’s grip by Childs running between them. Rubbing her hand she looked back to Fuchs and his statute frame. His gaze still lost on the creature his body jerking here and there. Looking down at his hands, her eyes raised and she felt her chest constrict, his hands were still positioned perfectly in their previous hand-holding position squeezing an invisible hand.

In front of them, the monster continued unaffected with two large dinosaur-like hands manifesting from its blob of a body. Breaking through the roof of the kennel it used its hand to pull itself up from the ground, trying to make its escape.

Its many eyes locked onto her and she felt her whole body lock. Wide-eyed and unblinking she meant its many-eyed gaze. The blood-covered being began to convulse some more and its body started to split apart. Talking a couple of steps back with open month horror she bumped into one of the men.

"Torch it!"

Firm hands grabbed her upper arms, and she fought for freedom and jerked away from the hand.

“Damn it, Childs. Torch it!

The flamethrower spits forth a stream of fire and in seconds the beast was a lit with flame. She stopped and watched. Screaming it dropped from the rafters and its body weathered as it roared. Wailing in the pain inflicted on it by the others.

She wasn't sure how long it was a flame or how much of it burned but in seconds the monster went limp and Palmer was first to lead the charge, followed by Nauls, and finally, Fuchs, to extinguish the flame that ate away at the monster. All eyes stayed glued to its ever still but chard nightmarish form. Seeing movement in her preferable vision she looked to her side and Fuchs was staring back at her.

Standing near the door Cora held tightly to Fuchs's arm as she and the rest of the Outpost watched in both interest and disgust as Blair examined the burnt fleshy carcass of the monster. Cutting into its flesh she turned away with the autopsy’s commencement and instead elected to stare at the pristine white walls of the infirmary turned makeshift examination room.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to her or them. As a child, she had been told that monsters did not walk the world nor that aliens flew above them, yet, here living proof lay charred and horrifying.

“You see, what we’re talking about here is an organism that imitates other life-forms, and it imitates them perfectly.”

“When this thing attacked our dogs, it tried to digest them, absorb them, and in that process, shape its own cells to imitate them.”

“This, for instance, that’s not a dog.”

“It’s imitation.”

“We got to it before it had time to finish.”

“Finish what?”

“Finish imitating these dogs.”

Hugging Fuchs tighter her experiences with the dog came back to her and the blood in the hallway stood out most in her mind.

“Could imitate one of us,” she asked softly.

Looking over at her Blair rubbed his fingers over his pencil and nodded ever so slightly. Stiffening, her frown deepened and she held her lifeline tighter.

"We brought back some videos from the Norwegian base. I believe we should go over those," Dr. Cooper suggested with a tired sigh and wide-open eyes that conveyed the shock, fear, and horror all of them felt at that moment.

Chapter Text

Past

Hunched over convulsing, a river of liquid red poured from the open-mouthed Husky. When It coughed, droplets of blood splattered only to collect in an ever-growing and moving mass. The animal’s eyes split in opposite directions, alert, spinning, and paranoid. Yellow orbs scanned for the most minuscule of changes. Intruders. Complications.

Elske was careful. It was careful. 

Elske stood shaking outside the locked door labeled “Showers”. Its sensitive ears twitched. The animal could hear the sounds of water, faint humming, and occasional singing. It could smell the calm. The ideal opportunity where inadvertence walked with prey.

Dark fluid disappeared underneath the doorframe. The red mass moved to its own encroaching accord. Now in perfect position, the other part of It departed, its “limb” use completed. The Husky’s demeanor returned to ordinary canine mannerisms. It, who is Elske, rounded the corner to stalk another corridor and resume the hunt. To pursue expansion.

The shower room was humid, teeming with a thick hot fog that clouded the vision of those who only relied on human sight.

Dark aqueous matter snaked onto the hard ceiling with disturbing ease. It lurked above him with no eyes but the ability to see. It watched him, looking for points of possibility to enter: to take.

Thick round glasses sat on top of the soap rack, fresh clothes lay on a chair a couple of feet away, and sitting neatly next to the coverings were brown work shoes. The male sang as he danced alone. Oblivious to the guillotine that hung over him. 

The alien’s attention focused singularly on the human. Its smooth liquor body swayed with his careless movements. It watched, perched above him: waiting. Waiting for the moment. It would be patient. It would wait this time.

The male human identified as Fuchs bent downward, unknowingly exposing his vulnerable backside. Dragging his razor over the small black leg hairs, he began the careful process of shaving. At that moment, the living liquid became sharp, and then It was a smooth spear, launching Itself expertly into the neck of Its target, forcing Its way below the flesh.

It ripped through the thin trapezius muscle, then laced the spinal accessory with Its own veins. They crawled between cartilage and any manner of barrier, infecting, overrunning, and taking all that It could. Like a slow death, It killed him piece by piece.

A silent, sharp cry ripped from his lips. Fuchs clawed at his neck frantically while blood poured from the forced entry. Tears streamed from his bloodshot eyes, and he gasped for air not there. Unable to breathe or call for help, his stance faltered while his vision turned increasingly blurry. Coughing up blood, he flung himself against the white-tiled walls helplessly.

Skin raised, pulsated, even as something twisted underneath. Flesh tore from fat like velcro from felt. Muscles tensed before dissolving. Every nerve was a newly cut live wire that was replaced quickly. Muscles were dissolved in seconds only to be reformed in Its own material. 

In a rapid secession, a void-like numbness spread throughout his body. Limb by limb, he felt them disappear. Falling to the floor, he hit his head on the concrete. His mouth was knocked agape, his lips were locked in unmoving stone.

Crippled, he lay on the floor with wide red-rimmed eyes. Unable to blink, he somehow mustered a single tear. A tear that was promptly washed away with the rest of the rain from the showerhead. Like lights turned off, those green eyes lost their illumination.

A displacement had occurred, an imperceptible exchange that was unknowable to those incapable of sensing. The pupil was more bottomless, or maybe the green was more pronounced, or perhaps the cornea was too transparent. As the form was now a new limb and in moments would be ready.

Skin continued to ripple similar to that of ocean waves during coastal storms. The movement lasted for a handful of minutes before stopping. Closing his mouth, green eyes moved around in a circular motion as if testing their calibration. Hands twitched, fingers flexed, and muscles tensed before loosening.

The bloody male stood slowly in an upright position. Now standing in front of the stream, water showered down on his chest while blood trickled off. Rolling his neck, a loud “pop” echoed throughout the room.

Grabbing the discarded shaver from the ground, he continued where he left off, shaving. Finished, sharp green eyes scanned the shower with intense scrutiny. Judging the mess as yet to be spotless, It began the arduous process of washing any evidence found, including body and building.

Out of the shower, it dried Its being. The man clothed himself and left. 

Leaving his personal scrubber and razer behind.

Present

She leaned against the hard wooden headrail of her twin-sized bed. She rubbed her still-smooth belly with a single hand and smiled. Hugging her pillow, she watched the blizzard rage in the darkness outside her widow. 

Shrill howling reverberated throughout the outpost. The snowstorm swallowed anything audible that might have been heard. Neither a scream nor a cry could or would be perceived; for nature had conjured a magnificent vanquishing symphony: it tolerated no competitors.

In the way one would find beauty in a fire, Cora found nature’s storms as lovely as they were dangerous. She saw beauty in the storm’s uncontained character, nature at its most volatile but untouched. Perhaps that is why she had always found comfort in the infrequent storms that visited her Arizona hometown.

During those terrible storms, most people would rush inside to avoid them, but not her. As a child, she often enjoyed dancing in the downpour.

Despite her mother’s constant protest, she’d fly out of her broken-down trailer home as fast as her little legs could take her.

She’d hop, skip, twirl until she’s fall to the wet ground exhausted, the storm dissipated, or her half-drunk mother had enough and dragged her back in.

The knowledge that she could dance with one of nature’s temperamental dangers had always given her some strange form of strength, appreciation, and thrill.

Something wild to carry her away from life’s many troubles.

Like Dorthy, she’d be carried away.

Closing her eyes, she thought back to the Norwegian videotapes, to the things MacReady spoke of.

She imagined the destruction, and of the man with frozen slit wrists and a head halfway decapitated.

Her eyes snapped open, and she shook her head with a discomforted frown.

Looking back toward her window, her eyes refocused back onto the blizzard, but her mind was so very far away.

Aliens existed.

Aliens existed, and one was here.They stored its corpse in Blair’s laboratory while its ship remained stuck in ice.

It was in a way a thrilling discovery, to be one of the true non-schizophrenic humans to see such a being.

To know that there was more than just humanity. 

In the same breath, the fallout of the Norwegian Base and the incident with the dogs had revealed the alien to be monstrous.

If Blair’s theory held, then the creature was far more dangerous than anyone wanted to acknowledge. 

A being akin to something Lovecraftian.

Something that was horrifying and simultaneously mesmerizing in its regime. A creature that was wayward in its morphology. Fear inducing just by the threat of its being.

A creature willing and capable of wiping out an entire race, if not more with incredible violence. With blood, bone, and a body made to kill.

Holding her hand to her chest, she felt the rapid beat. Letting out a slow breath, she moved to the side of her bed.

Bare feet touching the cold cement, her gaze lingered on the blackness peppered with rushing snow outside.

It was dead. 

This dread she felt should leave. 

Yet. The only thing on her mind was the strange actions of her friend and fear that only seemed to grow.

Loud sirens blared throughout the Outpost for the second time in two days. It was at that moment she knew in her heart that the true horror had only begun.

(Skip)

Standing around the encircled creature that was once Bennings, they all keep their distance and watched with wide-eyed horror.

The alien turned toward MacReady with wide bestial eyes. A blood-curdling roar emanated from its almost human body.

It sounded like screaming but was deviant: a choir of inaudible malformed vocals.

Cries from a thousand worlds.

It eyed them strangely. It was not pleading, nor did it portray guilt for its kill. It only stared and screamed while it puppeteered its imitated body.

Benning’s back rippled as a deep rumbling came from his screaming form. Broken open with a loud crack that sounded like an egg bursting open, large spiked wild limbs sprouted from the torn flesh and fabric. Slender spiked tentacles wiped around wildly.

Roaring, the Bennings-thing stumbled upright. The alien wobbled from foot to foot on its shaky legs before erupting into a sprint toward her.

Its head split open to reveal rows of razor-sharp pointed teeth meshed with normal human molars.

Cora staggered and turned around to run, but the snow was treacherous and she couldn’t move easily.

Bennings jumped toward her with jaws open and wildness in his eyes. She couldn’t move fast enough and she couldn't think quickly for panic was all she felt.

Memories of lost opportunities, past mistakes, and possible futures flashed through her mind. 

She envisioned a happy home. A place where sunlight was constant in the spring. When winter came, they’d have a fireplace to gather around and drink hot cocoa to their heart’s content.

There would be a large yard where dogs could run. Her daughter could play in the grass with stuffed animals and any toy she liked.

That is what she dreamed of in those moments.

The creature was only a foot away from her when it was thrown to the side.

Tossed a couple of yards away, its body rolled sideways and bent awkwardly. In front of her was Fuchs, like a knight in armor he stood between her and the beast.

Wide-eyed and out of breath, he looked at her.

“Are you alright!”

Fuchs.

Tears poured down her face while her lips quirked upward into a shaky smile as she stared at her savior.

Before she could speak, the creature was back on its feet. It crawled on all fours awkwardly, spider-like in its strange movements.

It dared toward them, but before it could touch them a smooth stream of projected fire intercepted the creature.

Lit with fire, it howled and rolled around in the snow. Childs didn’t let it save itself. He followed the creature as he continued to burn the thing.

Child's toasted the Bennings-thing until its body halted and the smell of burnt flesh was overpowering.

Beside her, Fuchs enveloped her in a tight hug. Clenching to him without hesitation, she gripped him tightly.

“Thank you, Fuchs,” she whispered as she wept. Her tears froze with the exposure to the cold while Cora melted into his touch.

Touch that whipped away all previous doubt. 

Chapter Text

He was screaming nonsense. That is what all of them wanted to believe. Blair was insane. That is what it had to be. He wasn’t psychotic. Not in the slightest, and it terrified her.

Terrified her beyond words. 

She sat curled up and wide-eyed on the dark green couch in the entertainment room. Around her, men walked back and forth, some smoked their newfound troubles as much as they could, and others just gazed into the distance as they contemplated the horror they had just witnessed.

She belonged to the third group.

Cora rubbed her hands along her arms while she looked back to the window next to her, to the snowy tundra that they were now stranded in. Trapped with a monster that was hunting them: all of them. 

“Fuck! Fuck,” Windows whimpered as he brought his lighter to his lips; his hands shook so intensely that it took him multiple attempts to light the roll.

“We need to start a buddy system. Something. Just fucking—. Some shit!”

“Is there anyone we can contact? Gerry, there’s an emergency radio somewhere around here, right?”

“The cold, and now we’re stranded. We need to start talking about food and energy rationing in case of more mishaps.”

“Fuck that! We need to get out of here!”

The men argued back and forth. Scrabbling to find a solution to their current predicament. Cora only looked toward the tundra, not contributing nor stopping their debate.

How long will It take to kill us all, she questioned. Staring off into the distance, a single tear ran down her cheek. Wiping away the water with her sleeve, she hugged herself tighter. Observing the man's faux reflections, she watched as creeping panic overtook her long-time acquaintances. 

She took in a deep breath before exhaling as she stood up from the couch. Holding a hand to her belly, Cora made her way to the circle of men. She couldn’t lose herself.

“Gerry! Yeah, Guys come here,” shouted Copper with an anxious twinge to his voice.

Just like that, she felt her collected bravery drop to the cement floor below her. 

All of them rushed toward the commotion. Inside they found Copper, Fuchs, and Nauls with panicked faces. 

“Someone got into the blood!”

“What?”

“Where is Clark?”

“What? Was this broken into?”

“No. Somebody opened it. Closed it. And then locked it.”

“Well, who’s got access to it?”

The conversion quickly spiraled into a shouting match, with each person blaming another until the only suspects singled out were Gerry and Clark. The fight only escalated from there, with Clark accusing Gerry while others yelled and MacReady tried to take control of the situation. 

“Guys. Everyone needs to calm down,” she advised, but they drowned out her quiet voice with their accusing. 

“Doc thought of the test,” Fuchs retorted against Gerry’s claim. His voice was calm, but his demeanor and tone betrayed his growing rage.

“So what?! Is that supposed to leave him in the clear?! Bullshit!”

Regarding the men with her worried eyes, Cora rubbed her left arm and took a deep breath. Gerry always had the keys, but…..

“Why would he sabotage his own test,” Fuchs snarled, losing his temper.

“Windows!”

Behind her, she saw only a glimpse of Windows before he disappeared past the door frame. Shoving past her, she would have fallen had it not been for Fuchs grabbing her wrist in one swift motion.

He helped her into a standing position: his arm never left her wrist. His green eyes surveyed her with a removed carefulness. Once complete in his assessment, he let go of her hand and walked with a determined briskness toward the door.

“Guys, come on guys,” Nauls peaked through the doorframe and shouted to them. 

Startled, she jogged past Fuchs, but slowed a few steps away from the group: she was waiting for him. Behind her, Fuchs followed closely with Nauls. Together, all three joined the stand-down between Gerry and a shotgun-armed Windows that seemed more fragile than she’d ever seen.

“Put it down, Windows,” Gerry ordered.

Trembling, he held the shotgun tighter in retaliation. 

“No.”

“I’ll put this right through your head,” Gerry spoke even-toned, but with shaky hands.

“You guys going to let him give the orders? I mean, he could be one of those Things,” he yelled back as tears swelled in his eyes. No one contradicted him. They knew he could be right, and with the accusation thrown, everyone’s collective eyes shifted from Windows to Gerry’s panicked face. 

Walking past Gerry with a stoicism that demanded adoration, MacReady stared down Windows with an outstretched halting hand.

“Put it away, Windows. Just put it away.”

Silence overtook the group for a brief, dreadful moment as everyone held their breath in collective anticipation. Eventually, Windows tossed the weapon floor beside MacReady.

Windows wept as he pulled at his curly brown hair anxiously. Sliding to the ground, he settled into a manic rhythm of rocking; mumbling to himself incoherently.

She wanted to reach out to him, tell him it was alright, that their current situation wasn’t doom. Stepping forward, strong, calloused fingers wrapped around her forearm; roughly pulled back by MacReady his careful gaze watched Windows. She opened her mouth to protest but was stopped short by the rapid movement of Gerry.

Beside them, Gerry sprung forward, placed his foot on the discarded gun, and abruptly pivoted toward them with silver revolver raised; a thin sheen of sweat covering him. The blond pleaded innocence while his hands and gun quivered in his hold.

“I think someone else should be in charge,” he spoke as he placed his gun on one of the boxes. His eyes were wide and his face dripped with sweat.

Clenching his fist, Gerry asked one of the most important questions at the moment: “Who wants to be the leader?”

Nauls was suggested, but he turned down the position quickly. Childs then nominated himself but was blocked by Clark with a rather large hunting knife. Finally, MacReady took the gun and so did he take the position offered with it.

(Skip)

Gathered together, like scared children around a campfire, they watched as the contaminated blood bags burned. Some shook from the cold and others shuddered from collective paranoia; Cora quaked for both. Various eyes shifted quietly between colleagues while suspicion was parsed out equally peer-to-peer.

Clearing his throat, everyone turned to MacReady. With everyone’s attention, he recited the plan.

Cora couldn’t bring herself to look at any of them. 

“I know I’m human.”

“And if all of you are these Things, then you’d just attack me now. So some of you are still human.”

“This Thing doesn’t want to show itself. It wants to hide in its imitation.” 

“It’ll fight if it has to, but it is variable in the open. If it takes over us, then it has no more enemies, nobody left to kill it. Then it’s won.”

Looking to the sky, “There’s a storm in six hours. We’re going to find out who's who.”

“Doc, Clark, and Gerry. Stand over there,” he pointed to them to the right, far from the group. Ushering them with his flamethrower.

“We got morphine. We keep them loaded. Stash them here in the rec room and watch ‘em twenty-four hours”

“We will take shifts sleeping.”

“Everyone understand?”

Some silently nodded their agreement, and others only stood silent and still.

(Skip)

A loud, echoing roar traveled through the almost empty, blood-covered passage. Cora stood hunched over and pulled desperately against the floor-bolted chains in the middle of the hallway. Her stance was fragile. It was obvious she had been weeping for hours, screaming for even longer.

She called for help. She cried for Fuchs, but only silence projected from her voice. Every sound existed under subjection or muteness, besides the menacing rumbling of the creature that lurked in the dark.

Confined, she stared at the concrete, her eyes carefully to avoid what hide in the darkness at the end of the hall.

Another long, angry screech echoed off the halls and into her ears. The hollow sound reverberated meticulously through her quaking being. It tore through the corporal and hit every nerve like burning electricity.

She looked up.

Walking out of the darkness, a creature made of malignant amalgamation moved with horrifying quickness. Its body, while twisted, was undeniably created for murder. In its clawed hands, it gripped her motionless form.

Tears of anguish ran down her screaming face. She thrashed like a trapped animal fighting against her chains with renewed intensity.

The alien stalked toward her. Twisting its many heads, its body tore into two, revealing its sharp teeth to her.

Long whip-like tendrils shot toward Cora as she curled into a ball to protect the being most precious to her. Shielding arms covered her barely emerging bump. Pain permeated every pore, and she felt her blood become like solute to acid.

Distantly, she could hear high-pitched cries over the thick haze that had overtaken her senses. In her chest, something intimate stirred. Her mother’s lullabies emerged through the buzzing chorus.

Skin moved unnaturally while she screamed, utterly pain-stricken. Ribs pull from her sternum and she felt her guts shift. Long vines travel uncomfortably under her tender flesh, like earthworms in soft mud.

Something was crying out to her.

Her baby was screaming.

Cora bolted upright into a sitting position, gasping for air. Her calloused hands unconsciously covered her stomach. Letting out a shaky breath, she tried to restrain her panting. She scanned the darkness of her room with swift, attentive eyes while her head rotated briskly from left to right and found nothing.

The dark was a daunting aspect of reality. As a child, you either feared or were intrigued by its mystery. Humanity, since the dawn of time, has fought its encroachment. Caveman used fire, modern men wielded flashlights, and children depended on nightlights.

Cora remembered her own childhood nightlight. The light had been her father’s once-every-couple-of-years gift. An aloof present to remind her of his existence.

She had clung to that and her trusty My Little Pony flashlight that she used periodically to check under her bed for monsters. Of course, back then, no literal monsters existed, none that lived under her bed or closet at least. Adults believed knew that.

Still, a deep-paranoid part of her wished to look underneath her mattress and check for monsters.

Because monsters were real.

Carefully, she placed her legs on the side of her bed. Cora leaned over and slipped her right hand under the mattress, pulling out an engraved large hunting knife. 

A gift from her grandfather. His favorite knife to use during his seasonal hunting trips. He claimed it was his lucky blade. The weapon that saved his life during his time in Vietnam. She could only hope its magic would work for her.

Standing, she walked carefully to her locked door and unlocked it. She peeked out the metal entrance and looked from left to right before stepping out into the barely light hallway. Quietly, she closed the door behind her.

Knife hidden behind her back as she walked the empty hall, Cora watched for even the slightest of movements. Having moved quickly, she reached the last room of the corridor in minutes.

She stood outside for a couple of seconds, hesitant. Her body shook for no particular reason, and the hair on her arms stood. She took a deep, long breath, then brought her fist to the door, but stopped halfway.

Something twisted uncomfortably in her stomach. Intense nausea washed over her and a thin layer of sweat developed on her hands. Cora’s heart hammered against the ribs of her chest, so heavy was its drumming that she feared detachment from the sternum.

Strange instinct screamed for her to run while another argued that this feeling was only nerves.

I should just go. With how he has been acting, I- .

Before she could turn around, the door swung open. Fuchs stood straight-backed and silent in the doorframe. The generalized darkness of his room and hallway obscured his looming form in a menacing black. He possessed a composed air of towering presence; like a black hole, he sucked up her attention.

His green eyes narrowed, and his mouth was in a straight neutral line. Forced to look upward to meet his downward gaze, she swallowed the lump in her throat.

What if he’s not Henry?

“Fuchs..I”

He continued to stare at her for a couple of minutes, as she tried but failed to find the right words to explain herself.

“I should just go. I’m so sorry, Fuchs,” Cora whispered as she glanced away from him. Strong hands latched themselves onto one of her wrists, and she jolted from the unexpected touch.

“Why are you carrying a knife?”

Flashing a tired, uncomfortable smile, she answered,” I thought that if anything did happen I might be able to at least take myself out or hurt the damn thing.”

Head tilting to the side, he studied her and she equally him. Gently, Fuchs pulled her into his room while she allowed him to lead. A part of her wanted to pull away, but she couldn’t remove the years of trust and memories that ushered her to submit to his hold.

He saved me.

I need him.

“Why did you want to see me?” He questioned her with a half-hidden smile.

“You know me. Just wanted to visit a friend.” She searched for his eyes in the darkness but found nothing.

“This may be too much, but could I sleep here?” Cora asked as she chewed the inside of her cheek. “With you tonight.”

“I… just don’t want to be alone.”

With glassy eyes, she searched the dark shadow where Henry’s hazel orbs should have been. A ruthless chill ran down her spine with a quick full-body jolt accompanying the sensation.

Fuchs didn’t respond initially. Instead, he observed her with a contemplating tilt of his head before taking one large step closer to her. Light from the hallway illuminated his smiling face as though he was a kid, having been presented with a wonderful present.

Letting go of her arm, he smirked and said a quick, “of course”.

He walked past her; turned on the old bedside lamp, grabbed one of his pillows, a single blanket, and threw them onto the ground. Crouching down-.

“Fuchs.” He stopped and looked at her.

“I mean… we could share a bed. It’s a bit cold on the floor you know,” she explained with a nervous laugh. Sitting on his bed, she patted the spot next to her. 

“Reminds me of when we were kids,” she muttered. Her eyes scanned the familiar, almost barren, room. 

“Ya, you’d come over to my house every day if you could. Too many sleepovers to count,” he chuckled.

“Your mother got to where she made extra for dinner.”

“She never complained at least,” he said with a lazy smile as he took a set next to her and tossed his pillow back onto the bed.

Cora stared at the pillow briefly before turning back to Fuchs, whose smile had faded and returned to neutral.

“Let’s get to bed.”

“Ya. Sure,” Cora answered softly. Scooting over to the far right of the bed, she stopped and observed her surroundings. Somehow, the room seemed more barren than it used to be. The dull grey inspired thoughts of prison walls while little to no after-effects existed in the space. He had always been so impersonal with his belongings.

She reached out to Fuchs and took his calloused hand gently. Founding his soft hazel eyes, she squeezed his hand comfortingly. “Fuchs… I just wanted to say thank you.”

“You’ve always been there. My ever-faithful friend and rock. You’ve always saved me. If you hadn’t…..”

Meeting his emerald green eyes, she meant his questioning gaze with all earnestness she could muster, “Whatever happens. I got your back. I always will have you back Fuchs.”

A certain strangeness overtook his blank features for a second, and he seemed to be at a loss. His narrow eyes studied her. Scrutinizing every nervous move she made and prodding her into her intentions. She found herself lost in the harsh unforgivingness of them, yet she felt her insides recoil at their dissection.

Feeling a faint pressure, she looked down at their now interlocked hands. Cora looked back to face once more to find the usual softness that she had been so accustomed to in the past.

His face serious, he dipped his head slightly downward and discreetly moved closer to her.

“Thank you. I know I have been acting strange. This job and the things that have happened…… things have changed and I’m just……scared.”

Henry gazed into her brown eyes. “I have to remember that I have you in my corner.”

He smiled gently.

”And I’ll be counting on you.”

(Skip) 

He sat silently, and as still as the grave as It observed the gentle breathing of Cora’s flower-covered chest. It listened to the gentle exhale and inhale while she slept. Its head twitched to the side in a jerky quick motion. Sluggishly Its eyes closed in a mistimed manner to open milliseconds later at the same unsynchronized speed.  

Raising Its still very human hand, It hovered Its digits over her sleeping face. It did nothing for quite some time but hold Its hovering threat above her oblivious form, only staring with Its perpetually neutral features. 

Flexing Its slender fingers It slid them underneath their bed and pulled a large thick book from underneath. The cover was painted black with specs of white. The colors were painted so that they would mimic the void of space. How ironic. Printed in front in large bold letters was “Journeys”. 

Opening the book It flipped carefully through the pages. Indifferent green eyes scanned each picture carefully. Many of the images were of foreign lands, plants, skylines, and cities. Then there were pictures of her and….. It's casing. There were many of them. Affection never lacking in any of the photos. 

Trailing Its fingers over some of the photos It analyzed and quantified them all. It shifted through memories with well-rehearsed precision. Its casing’s experiences and patterns laid bare for It to replay with distant neutrality. 

“Clank!”

Its head spun 360 degrees accompanied by a disgusting “crunch” sound. With too wide of eyes It inspected Cora for any evidence of witness. Unblinking in Its careful examination Its stone gaze roamed her sleeping face.

She had moved.

A series of horizontal and vertical lines ripped across Its human face. The human face parted into sections, like a flower, It revealed the hundreds of teeth previously well hidden behind Its visage. Its neck elongated and moved similar to a snake toward her calm figure. Its monstrous head loomed over her slumbering form. It watched her for longer than necessary. It counted her breaths, listened to the beat of her heart, and sniffed the air about her.

Cora had only moved but not roused. 

Slowly, Its neck readjusted while Its face returned back to the natural state of humans. It rolled its shoulders, placed the book back under the bed, and laid down on Fuch's side to face Cora. Staring at her for but a moment the alien closed Its cover’s green eyes and slept.

Chapter Text

-Past-

At the age of fifteen, her mother threw her out of the only home she’d ever known. The memory of that day was branded into her brain, somewhere on the same wavelength as the day of her father’s fatal car crash. It changed her life’s direction in ways she often liked to imagine as negative when she remembered the good times before her papa’s death. She remembered it all. How her mother drunkenly dragged her by the hair kicking and screaming through their trashy trailer, while her mother’s acholic boyfriend screamed “Shut The Fuck Up,” having been awakened from his sleep.

Cora had cried. She had pleaded. She’d screamed. Some part of her had been furious, but the pain silenced her rage, and the sadness only made her want to curl up and beg forgiveness. To tell her mother it wasn’t her. That he forced her to come close to him. That he held her down with his threats and raw physicality while he touched her. But she wouldn’t hear any of it. She’d only drag her more intensely. 

So much of her long brown hair had been lost that day. Pulled from her scalp like dandelions from the ground.

She had been thrown down the porch stairs that day. Hadn’t she? That is what she’d been told by the neighbors, but things had been spotty at that point. She remembered the blood, and how it ran down the back of her head like water. The sun had been too bright and noises too low.

Cora remembered her mother's order to never return. She recalls the vitriol and the slap that sent shockwaves of pain and breaking the braces her biological father had paid for. She could taste the blood. The damage had cut open her gums, leaving her unable to even open her mouth properly. 

She had stumbled to the highway after her mother’s refusal to open the locked door, despite her banging and screaming. She didn’t recall how long she had walked. She only recalled the feeling of sharp rocks and thorns, nor how the blood felt oddly soothing on the scolding pavement. The day was filled with stars and the night was full of blotches of vivid color. Eventually, she’d fallen and neutral darkness had gifted her rest.

When she awoke she was in a hospital with her hand encased by familiar larger hand, Fuchs's hands.

He had found her. She had squeezed his hand and cried silently to herself. A quivering smile formed on her lips and a look of ease overtook her. For the first time in hours she felt safe.

Her rock had found her and she was finally safe for the world.

-Present-

They had tied Gerry, Doc, and Clark to one of the sofas in one of the storage rooms.   The passing of two days felt like months under the season of oppressive neverending night. She’d been covered in bundles of winter clothing as the weather worsened outside. There had been no noticeable accidents since the quarantine measures, at least none noticeable. That didn’t stop the paranoia nor the lingering glances of mistrust or down-right hostility the others sent to each other. Things were growing more intense every day. Mac and Childs were always bickering and Palmer seemed to stick to the engine room of the outpost; smoking his usual weed she suspected. 

She hadn’t seen much of Fuchs after that night. He had been tasked by MacReady to find some way to test the others; now he’d seemed to work day and night.

Wanting to contribute, she occupied herself with helping Windows salvage as much as she could of the radio and long-distance communications machines. Unfortunately for them, they hadn’t made any note-worthy progress. Most of the key components were destroyed with some parts having disappeared together. 

Despair and distrust were rampant throughout Outpost, even in Cora. She had Fuchs but there were times were she felt a chill run down her spine when he was in her presence. Times she caught him staring into nothing, moments when his fluid movements halted onto something that looked rigged rather than natural.

She comforted her worry with reasoned reassurance. Fuchs was stressed. How could anyone not be going a little crazy under the pressure of the unbelievable? 

He hasn’t hurt me. He had all the chances but he didn’t.

He saved me.

She had to hold on to that.

He still was kind to her, distant but kind. She had promised him her trust and he’d given her no reason to distrust him. She looked down to her stomach and let out a tired sigh. The paranoia had to be getting to her. She couldn’t let her imagination rule her , no like it had with Gerry , she thought.

Moving to a more comfortable position she watched one of the movies she brought, Star Wars. She’d purchased the video before leaving for the job. It had been among the small stack of VHS tapes that she’d brought along. Grease, Arthur, Monty Python, Romeo & Juliet, Jaws, a handful of other films, and Alien . 

She almost wanted to laugh at the coincidence. 

Rolling her shoulders she exhaled and attempted to refocus her thoughts on her film. She might have succeeded if Fuchs hadn’t been standing in the doorframe watching her. She jumped at his surprise appearance and held a hand over her chest.

“Fuchs-,” she paused,” you scared me,” Cora said passing off her discomfort jokingly.

He cooly entered the room and toward her before he stopped in front of her. With his increasingly common nonexistent expression and eyes that stared down at her, she felt that familiar uneasiness creeping up her spine.

Within a blink of her eyes, life ignited in his steel eyes while a friendly smile formed on his lips.

“What are you doing,” he asked playfully.

Smiling nervously, “Just watching some movies I bought. Star Wars right now. What about you,” she asked with a voice tenser than what she wanted.

“Star Wars! I remember us camping outside the theater for half the day just waiting for our turn to watch. We definitely should have been smarter to go to the big city rather than our hometown movie theater,” he smirked, reminiscing over the shared memory.  

Cora could feel her body's tension evaporate at the familiarity. This is her Fuchs.  

Acting on ingrained action, Cora absently shuffled over to make room for him on the couch. Fuchs seated himself in the newfound void with a lazy grin and fond half-lidded eyes that never felt her figure.

“I should have snuck some popcorn from the kitchen,” she joked.

He let out a breathy laugh, “Maybe, but I find this works as well,” he chuckled. 

“Ya,” she whispered with a smile as she looked at him.

“Ya,” he meant her gaze with a gentle glow and grey eyes that sparkled with mirth.

They ended up shuffling through the majority of Cora's small catalog together. They smiled at the antics in Grease, watched in awe at the practical effects of Star Wars, and laughed continuous at the comedies.

At end the of Roman & Juliet, Alien was played hesitantly, on her part at least. She had initially suggested they try and rummage through the various VHS tapes around the base, but Fuchs had softly turned the idea down. “I’ve never seen it. I'm curious he,” he had countered casually.

After roughly two hours, the movie was over and Cora felt just as uncomfortable about the film as she did about putting it on. Fuchs had said nothing nor did he show any great emotion beyond periodic head tilts throughout the film.

She didn’t remember how she ended up with her head on his shoulder, using him as a makeshift pillow but he was comfortable, he’d always been soft.

The credits were rolling by the time he spoke.

“They were unfit.”

She looked over to him in small surprise at his sudden speech. 

“What do you mean?”

“They were unfit for survival.”

He faced her slowly. His eyes glazed over with a dark sheen of clothed vacancy. That feeling was back , she thought while she felt a certain tightness in her chest form, as a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach weighed her down to the coach. She moved off him to lean on the side of the furniture.

“Survival,” she blurted out with a raised eyebrow and confused expression. 

He took a long moment to respond. He watched her with an unemotional scrutiny. His head fell lazily to the side while as he faced her with his expression of stone.

“She destroyed the Xenomorph's ability to reproduce. The alien may have her life, but the creature didn’t succeed in its species survival” he said dispassionately as he turned away to look at the credits.

“They were unfit.”

She shifted uncomfortably, “maybe. They were pretty scary though,” she said softly not wanting to dwell on the creatures that so eerily reminded her of their monster.

He denied a reply to her.

They sat in silence, one side awkwardness, and Fuchs uncaring confidence in his assessment.

“I think I liked Romeo & Juliet better,” she nervously joked.

“I don’t understand.” 

“What do you mean?”

“They too were unfit.”

“Unfit,” she said confused,” it's a love story.”

His eyes trailed over the items of the room and then to Cora herself. He looked through her, like she was a misty cloud he was staring through to observe more important things. She felt a chill run down her spine. I’m just cold, she thought as she wrapped her blankets tighter around herself.

“They self-destructed,” he stated.

“They never wanted to part.”

“They parted in death.”

She was quiet for a moment.

“They didn’t see it that way,” she whispered before adding a hasty, “think they saw it as following each other to the next life.”

“To nothing.”

“To their heaven,” she paused, “they loved each other so much that they’d rather die and go heaven than live apart.”

“Would it not have been better to run away from their troubles, to live as they wished, alive,” he asked yet she felt more like a statement rather than a question to be answered.

“I don’t think their world would have allowed it.”

“They should have made the world allow it”

His eyes locked onto her own and she felt him materialize her in his abyss-like gaze. 

“Ya,” she paused with arms crossed protectively around her.

Chapter Text

She was standing in the middle of a white land of desolation, naked before the cold nothing. Freezing wind blew across the Arctic from many directions but concurrently none at all. Time stretched into an endless expanse around her existence on the tundra. The cold racked across Cora’s shivering body; it touched like needles, the pricks of them burning with bitter coldness. Snow covered her in gentle deposits and with time she felt the world dim. Darkness danced at the edges of her vision. Every blink increased blackness until she was stranded in a place of nothing. 

Abandoned in the cold; conscious, but not living, Cora didn’t struggle against the shackles of oblivion. 

She could only wait.

Wait for all eternity

Sitting upright with frowned eyebrows and anxious breathing, she swung her legs over the side of the small twin-sized bed. Misty condensation accompanied her every breath. Arms shaking, she gently ran her hands over her limbs. Intense shivers ran up and down her body. Standing from the bed ungracefully, Cora staggered around in stiff movements.

She stumbled toward her jacket and the hunting knife that lay next to it. After shimmying her thick puffer jacket on, she strapped the old weapon to her waist and shuffled toward her room’s door. Careful to close the door quietly, Cora walked casually from the room toward the common room where she knew the others should be. McReady hadn’t ruled out the others yet. Suspicious of everyone, he had taken it upon himself to guard the outpost and his decided prisoners.

With luck, McReady could tell her what had happened to the outpost heater.

Cora was walking through one of the hallways when the lights above her flickered. She stilled and studied the ceiling lights in horror as the whole outpost was engulfed in pitch black. She took a handful of steps back. Her breathing exhilarated as she moved toward the walls, seeking guidance. 

She turned her head from side to side but couldn’t pinpoint her location. Unable to see, Cora stayed where she was for a time, planted firmly against the wall. Every blink meant by darkness heightened her anxiety. She squeezed her eyes together while counting down from ten repeatedly. Tracing her position she attempted to map out what she could. She knew the general area but not perfectly. 

She couldn’t wait in the open.

It was getting colder.

Cora felt her way to the hallway sides. Sticking to the wall as closely as possible. The popcorn texture of thinly painted walls skid across her fingers, the sensation comforting in the dark. The wall and her partial memory were her guide. She didn’t know how long she’d been moving until she’d hit a corner. She’d suspected that she was at the entrance of the kitchens.

A heavy hand wrapped around her arm while another covered her mouth in synchronized motion. Insticutally, Cora thrashed and screamed against the man’s stern hold, his grip only tightening as a result.

“It’s me,” Fuchs's soft voice whispered behind her. 

Cora felt her limbs tense at the sound of his voice while her mind willed her to calm within his presence. He retracted his arms. Free to move, Cora swiveled toward him and hugged him tightly. He didn’t return her embrace, rather he tenderly pulled her from him. His arms traveled down her arms to her wrist. He grabbed her hands in an iron-like grip. He didn’t remove his hands nor make any movement to disrupt their conjunction. Cora waited, for what, she didn’t know for what but she stayed. She stood with a nose that burned from the cold and a body unwilling to be comfortable around her best friend. 

I’m safe with him. I always have been.

In a sudden swift move, he turned in an unknown direction with her in tow. He dragged her through the unknown as she forced through the nauseous feeling in her stomach. His grip never faltered in it’s decisive assertiveness. It hurt. His grip hurt and something in her body whispered warning.

“Fuchs where are we going?”

He didn’t answer her. They turned a corner sharply, his quick pivoting jolting her. Fuchs twisted and turned between hallways with assured fluidly that never stumbled. Consciously, she tried to memorize their steps. Left, right, two lefts, another right- she colluded into the back of Fuchs's solid inert body. 

Not lingering he opened one of the outpost’s metal doors and pulled her in behind him and let go of her hand. The door closed behind her with a loud dull heavy sound that must have echoed throughout the base, causing Cora to jump. 

In the dark, she stood isolated with the only thing grounding her being was the thick cement floor underneath her. The cold air burned the back of her throat and lungs with every breath. Several chills had run down her body and she began to tremble slightly. The atmosphere had grown into something oppressive. She felt herself suffocating under the heel of something her body could feel but she couldn’t see or hear. 

She couldn’t see her Fuchs.

Light ignited across all corners of the room. Its illumination chased away the darkness and in its origin sat a small battery-powered lantern on the bedside table. Standing beside the lantern was Fuchs. 

He walked toward her with long effective steps. In front of her, he stood oddly serene with the light of the lamp casting him in an outline of white light. He looked down at her with a vacant expression that stung some part of her brain uncomfortable, like lightning striking. the thought burned like wood. 

The trembling of her body hadn’t stopped despite the light. She folded her arms onto each other and rubbed her fingers nervously across her forearms. A single viperous hand shot out above her and she flinched at it's unexpectancy and speed. His hand locked the welded sliding lock in a single fluid motion. 

Her breath hitched in her throat as she met his unflinching gaze of Fuchs. Her brown eyes struggled to stay upward and not toward the floor. It was the cloudy vacancy his eyes held that made something in her curl inside in confusion and fear. 

“Fuchs, where is-.”

“They are away from us,” he answered plainly. His hand fell from the lock to her head. His fingers trailed lightly down her face. Her breath was caught in her throat, and she felt her world slow to a disturbing pace as the smooth pads of Fuchs's fingers caressed the side of her cold cheek. Cora's throat tightened. She shuffled in uncomfortable nervousness from the contrasting desires for his touch and frightening discomfort with his closeness. 

His thumb slid across her cheek in a short rhythmic pattern before his hand clamped around her mouth. Surprised, Cora pulled back and yelped, but his hand muffled her. Fuchs’s other hand came to his mouth and he held a single finger to his lips.

A terrified series of screams and inhuman roars echoed in the background of her and Fuchs. They reverberated throughout the hallways in a terrifying motif. Cora flinched from the startling sounds, and tears formed in her eyes. In the end, she was brought back to his hollow eyes that stood unfazed by the cries.

“Fuchs,” she whispered his name behind his hand. His eyes moved up from hers. He stared at the metal door that he had caged her against. 

Against him. 

He gazed off before returning to her brown hazel eyes with fuller eyes and a neutral expression.

“We are safe from them.”

Chapter Text

She didn’t know how long she sat curled up and freezing on the bed. After the noises stopped, Fuchs grabbed her hand and led her to the bed. A man half-clothed in a black shadow similar to the undertaker that laid the dead to ground, Fuchs laid her down softly on the cot. 

He pulled the covers over her and wrapped her in multiple bedding coverings. He hugged her tightly, yet his warmth bled as a hollow gesture before he left. A part of her clung to him, while another smaller part desperately wanted him to go. He exited without locking the door behind him. He left only the lamp, the jacket he had covered Cora with, and a promise that held like heavy chains around her ankles.

Enveloped in multiple layers of cloth, warmth should have clung to her; instead, she felt colder. Misty vapor materialized from between her chapped lips, and some childish part of her felt like a coiled drake. Cora didn’t know how long she stayed there, bundled up in layers of cloth. Soft fabric felt like promised armor, an avowed shield against the world. She was like a turtle, an animal with a shell of insincere invincibility. 

A loud bang across the small window behind her broke her from her stupor. She lept for the bed, taking covers with her. Cora spun to face the source of the sound behind her. Darkness like the abyss lingered behind the snow-coated glass. A clothed hand slammed open-handed against the window.

She bounded away in surprise with a silent gasp. Breathing quickening, Cora took several steps backward toward the door. It can’t get in , she tried to remind herself. Yet, the fact did little to stop the building anxiety of her situation. 

A bright light passed the window, and a face appeared against the glass panel. 

MacReady.

His beard and clothes were covered in progressively thickening layers of snow. His teeth clicked together in offbeat exposure. His whole body shook in tremendous sporadic assaults. Cracked lips coated with frozen blood barely covered the chattering of MacReady’a mouth. Corpse-like and snow-covered, the outpost pilot presented as something between disturbing and obviously pitiful. Lips moved with compelled force mustered only by instinctual determination. He spoke to her silently with pleading eyes that clenched something in her chest painfully.  

Blankets fell from Cora’s shoulders to the concrete floor. She ran toward the window and leaned forward toward him, “MacReady,” she whispered with a shocked expression and a single unknown tear down her face. 

His once resolute brown eyes stared at her pleadingly. He mumbled a silent whisper between his gnashing teeth. 

“MacReady, I -.”

“Help me,” he mouthed with a flash of a wince.

She didn’t move. She wanted to, but she didn’t. Fear locked her in place, still and heavy with a skin of fresh rock-like concrete. Cora turned her head to the locked, imposing iron door. It stood tall between her and the world, where monsters lay. Her eyes descended to the small space that existed under the barrier. Darkness sat positioned, its edges frayed and gnawing, barely fed off by the cheap light provided by the lamp.

She didn’t know what was out there, not for her or her life inside her.

Every breath felt halved, and the air felt thin. 

She didn’t know if MacReady was still the pilot she knew.

With crossed arms, she rubbed her hands over her arms and picked at her nails with her teeth. Her chest bounced with the force of her increasingly erratic breath. She turned back to face MacReady. 

What if it waited for her?

“Hold on Mac,” Cora mouthed toward him with a whisper.

In a frenzy of rushed clumsy motion, she gathered her knife, jacket, and boots. Reaching toward the lamp, she felt her spine go ridge as a sharp pain ripped through her stomach. Doubled over in pain, she fell to her knees, clenching her stomach.

She could feel warm liquid pass between her legs as the pain only increased. Cora could hear the faith thumping of MacReady’s hands. Stars danced along her vision, and just as fast as it came, the pain disappeared. Wide-eyed and breathing heavily, Cora shoved her hands down her pants and brought them back. Smeared on fingertips was blood.

“No no no no no-,” she repeated rapidly.

Another thump against the Outpost walls grabbed her attention. MacReady’s face was no longer visible, just his barely held-up hand.

With a furious cry and tears running down her cheeks, Cora stood as the pain dulled to be manageable.

With wide eyes, she let out a shaky exhale, hovering above the small lamp and seemingly paralyzed before grabbing the light source and moving toward the door.

A hopeful thought came to her, one that her mind had been nursing before the pain in her belly, to call out to Fuchs to save them, all three of them. Something however told her otherwise, like blaring alarms that it would do more harm than good, that she’d attract the alien rather than a friend.

She closed her eyes and took a breath that felt held for hours before releasing and opening the door to the frightful dark that surrounded her in all areas. The situation reminded her of her childhood, where the darkness hid monsters. Only this was real, and she had to save MacReady before it was too late. She stepped inside the hallway, her only light source clenched in her knuckle-white hand. 

A sour, metallic smell filled her nostrils, and she could taste the layered bitterness of copper on her tongue. Down the hall, walls remained shotless as far as she could see, but the smell lingered like a terrible haunting. Cora felt her gut knot. Her outstretched left hand shook, and her grip tightened unconsciously until it painfully and almost puncturing, her knuckles turning white under the stress. 

Her legs felt heavy, like anchored lead, as her feet dragged along her floor and toward the blood-painted exit hallway. Suppressing the desire to gag, she swallowed down the vomit that threatened to climb up her throat. 

She had to get to the Exit.

She had to save MacReady.

He didn’t have much time.

Chewing at the inside of her cheek, she jogged carefully, mindful of the periodic pain in her lower stomach; she moved with one arm extended, holding the lamp and the other gripping her sheathed hunting knife.

A loud series of high-pitched chirps sounded above her, and Cora swiveled with lamp in hand toward the ceiling. Her mouth formed a perfect “o,” a silent scream whispered through her lips. 

A creature with a collection of wondering eyes hung above her with spindly spider-like legs attached to a dangling forearm. Its eyes blinked wildly as the lamp’s light that seemed to burn or blind the creature. Screeching, it moved with a strange mixture of grace and clumsiness. The monster ripped through the covering of the Outpost’s metal vent and shuffled in, disappearing as fast as it was discovered. 

Almost slipping on the blood-covered floor, Cora ran toward the exit and opposite the creature. No longer paying mind to her surroundings or her pain, her whole focus lay on MacReady and getting him safely back inside.

Then it’d be about saving her own and baby.  

The bright crimson light stood above the door like a homing beacon to the lost, its glow offering surety in the dark. Cora’s body slammed onto the thick metal door and fumbled wildly with the lock before releasing the latch. She pushed against the sold iron and weight of the growing snow barricade before the door gave away. 

Cold wind lashed across Cora’s face; her hair flew about wildly. She felt her body would almost give way to the air current’s power, that she’d be swept away to stars.

“MacReady! Where are you,” she screamed, yet she doubted anyone could hear her past the wind’s shallowing howls. Cora was unable to see five feet past herself. The blizzard obscured not only her vision but also her hearing. She felt stranded in an alternate reality of wind, crisp snow, dark skies, and endless white.

She moved through the storm with a hand skimming across the Outpost walls. 

“MacReady!”

Cora held desperately to her blowing lamp as she followed the mental map of the outside of the Outpost.

“MacReady,” she yelled desperately. Every inhalation of cold air hurt; her throat felt coated by sharp frost, and her mouth oddly dry. 

Trudging through the snow, a large shadow of mass appeared. Slumped against Cora’s room wall was MacReady, shivering and looking at with those resilient brown eyes.

She didn’t remember much after she found him. Instead, she only recalled splotches of actions and the feeling of adrenaline running through her body.

She had heaved MacReady to his feet, and somehow with their combined strength brought him back inside.

The creature had let them be, and safely, the both of them had made it to Cora’s room. The room where now both she and MacReady sat covered in blankets, hoping for help.