The mortuary door frame shook, brick and plaster dust rushing into the room in a white cloud that obliterated Anna’s view of the Chittrix. It hollered and raged on the other side of the door, spitting fury.

Bam. Bam.

Finally, it broke through in an explosion of brick and concrete, its head tucked low to its spiny chest. Red dust filled the room, wiping out everything but the high-pitched keening that heralded its terrible presence.

Anna rammed herself into in the furthest corner of the room, as far as she could get from where the Chittrix pummelled and tore at the foundations of the building, its clawed feet scraping and scoring the tiled floor. As the dust cleared, it spied her hiding place behind the autopsy tables. It froze, a long razor of tongue sliding from its black, shiny mouth, tasting her on the air.

It dipped on wiry haunches and leapt, launching itself across the room by its thick, pistoning thighs. A dark nightmare, thundering towards her with the unstoppability of a rocket.

Pressed against the cold white tiles of the wall behind her, Anna struggled to suck air into her lungs. Adrenalin and fear shot through her bloodstream, leaving her light headed.

If I’m going to die, I’m not going without a fight.

She brought the pulse rifle to her shoulder, charged and ready, tracking the advancing Chittrix. The trigger was greasy under her fingers, and she desperately wanted to wipe her hands on the leg of her trousers.

Come on.

The Chittrix careened to a halt halfway across the distance between them, just on the other side of the concrete autopsy tables. It stretched its head and flexed thick jaws that split wider than Anna believed possible. A ragged howl of domination tore from its throat.

Fucker’s savouring the moment.

She waited, not wanting to fire too soon. There were no second chances in such an enclosed space; no Plan B if she missed the first time.

Move you bastard. Over or around?

The Chittrix cocked its head. Searching for Garrick? Anna kept her finger relaxed on the trigger. This Chittrix was one of the biggest she had ever seen. It was easily eight feet tall, with an equally long spiky, plated tail that fractured the tiles beneath it.

The Chittrix decided. Powerful limbs bent and contracted in preparation to leap.

Garrick burst from the shadows of the autopsy storage drawers like human quick-fire, his machete held high above his head, as he landed on the Chittrix’s jagged spine. He swung the blade forcefully against the back of its neck, biceps bulging with the effort. The Chittrix staggered under his unexpected weight, its lethal jaws snapping shut in a collision of needled teeth. Its barbed tail flailed as it tried to right itself, bending metal drawers and smashing the base of the nearest autopsy table in the process. Anna tracked them with her pulse rifle but Garrick was too close to the Chittrix for Anna to even entertain the idea of firing a shot.

The Chittrix shook violently, trying to dislodge him, as he repeatedly stabbed the machete blade into its carapace. He rolled with the beast’s movement, preventing it from dislodging him. With frustrated bellows, it pitched to one side, trying to crush him under its body weight. Garrick dived from its back, rolling behind one of the autopsy tables.

Scraping itself upright, the Chittrix howled in fury, neck cracking like a whip as it scanned the room for him. Garrick darted, quick and liquid in his movements despite his considerable muscle mass. He lunged, his machete drawing a thin line of yellow fluid across the Chittrix’s breastplate. It hissed and rattled, reaching for him with talon-tipped limbs. Its tail connected with a dissection table, splitting the top clean in half, creating a punishing vibration that rose through the soles of Anna’s feet.

The Chittrix had the advantage of size and weight over Garrick, but he continued to dance and weave, his machete connecting one stab and cut after another. Finally, the brute grew frustrated with his dancing avoidance and lunged for him, its hooked spurs hungry for his soft flesh. Garrick didn’t falter, egging it on, turning the air blue with taunts. At the last second, he dropped and rolled, leaving the Chittrix to collide with the concrete slab behind him. It still managed to reach him, raking razor sharp teeth through his flesh of his right arm from elbow to wrist. Welling crimson lines sprang up against his skin.

Garrick scooted away from the Chittrix on his backside, smearing blood on the grey tiled floor. Physical pain shot through Anna’s belly.

He’s hurt.

The Chittrix shook itself, gobs of gelatinous fluid flying from its jagged, open mouth. Climbing to its feet on the polished tiles, it raised its wings, battering and raging against the too-small space in an increasing frenzy.

Clawed feet slashed and cut the air at Garrick’s back, scraping uselessly against the armour and giving him time to pull himself to his feet and duck behind the end of a dissection table. He pulled out a cascade of silver body drawers in his wake, creating a jagged maze of metal that the Chittrix railed and crashed against.

Garrick was only a few feet away from Anna now, the neck of his t-shirt dark with sweat. Even with the screeching rattle of the Chittrix, the erratic rhythm of his breathing was audible. His arm was bright with blood. Rivulets ran down his hand and dripped off the end of the machete, mixing with the ochre fluid of the Chittrix.

The sight of his blood released her. She threw the pulse rifle to the floor and pulled the smaller SIG from the small of her back. Her hands grasped the reassuring weight of metal.

The Chittrix was slick with its own fluids. She tried to judge whether its movements were less coordinated or clumsier. It was difficult to tell as it jerked and howled, bending the metal drawers out of shape as it clawed towards Garrick, goaded by his curses.

It jumped onto the dissection table, clawed feet scrabbling for purchase as its tail held perfect balance. It towered above Anna, an iridescent black shadow of pure hatred, eyes reflecting her own pale face in multiplicity.

But its body was angled towards Garrick, its attention fully on him.

Anna thrust herself forwards, using an open drawer as a step up to the Chittrix, her SIG steady in front of her like a talisman. Tendons and muscles strained as she jumped, utilising every ounce of her strength. She collided with its rigid abdomen and jabbed her weapon up towards the sweet spot where the chitinous armour met unprotected underbelly. As the gun scraped between the impenetrable plates of chitin, she twisted forcefully, pointing the snub muzzle upwards.

She discharged the weapon, one bullet after another hammering into the jerking, screaming insect body, numbing her ears with the thunderous roar of gunshot.

The Chittrix bucked and kicked, and even though Anna ducked her head, its claws collided with her shoulder, making her eyes water. Pincers scraped down her back, trying to gain purchase on her armour.

It jerked violently then slumped limp and heavy, splattering her hair with alien fluid. It fell, sagging onto the floor in a wet cracking pile, leaving her to fall to her hands and knees on the autopsy bench. Her trembling fingers and the SIG were coated with alien jellied gunk.

“Anna.”

She turned. Garrick was beside her, smeared with blood, his eyes full of concern.

“Give me the gun.”

Anna hesitated; her finger was still against the trigger. She relaxed her hand, flexing her digits painfully as he took the now-empty weapon from her. Scarlet blood traced delicate rivers down his forearm. She wiped her hands against the thigh of her cargo trousers, but it was going to take a lot more than that to remove the tactile memory of the alien from under her skin.

The Chittrix lay motionless on the floor in front of her, faceted eyes already clouded and opaque.

Garrick stuck her SIG in his belt then reached over with his uninjured arm and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead in a gesture of infinite gentleness. “It’s over.”

She stumbled down off the bench and picked the pulse rifle up from where she’d dropped it. She stood with one foot on the Chittrix’s neck and discharged the full force of the weapon against its skull.

Just to be sure.