::EIGHT::
Nightmares. I guess even mass murderers get nightmares. I’m familiar enough with them to know that he’d rather be awake. Would rather I didn’t know about his bad dreams, but would rather be awake, nonetheless. He’s been sleeping for about nine hours anyway, pretty soundly too. At least he doesn’t snore. Sleeps perfectly quiet and still. I wouldn’t even be able to tell he was having nightmares, if I wasn’t pretty familiar with them myself. Short quick breaths, his brows all bunched, fidgeting, like he’s trying to wake himself up, and can’t.
I would have let him have my bunk, but it’s pretty small, he’d probably end up all curled up anyways. The Virago was never really built for comfort, but for speed. I remember reading stories, when I was really young, about “rumrunners”, and their fast little cigarette boats, and the bootleggers cars. I guess that’s what the Virago is. She’s fast. But not comfortable.
I get the med kit from the back, and something for him to eat. Just protein bars, but, if he hasn’t had water in a while, I can’t see mercs caring about whether he’s been fed or not. This way I can wake him for a purpose, rather than just wake him from a nightmare.
Her cool hand touches my arm, gently, making me nearly jump out of my skin. She’s making a point of looking down, when I wake. Knew I was having nightmares, and is giving me a chance to pull myself together. The courtesy surprises me. Then again, looking at her, I’d imagine she probably gets a few bad dreams of her own. She put a blanket over me, sometime after I fell asleep. I didn’t even feel it.
“How long I been out….”
“About nine hours or so. How’s the leg?”
I try to flex the muscle, wincing, in spite of myself. “Stiff.” Her eyes flick up to mine, to see exactly how much pain I’m in, letting out a contemplative low growl as she does it. I could lie and say I’m fine. She wouldn’t buy it though. “Hurts like hell.” She drops her eyes again, not pressing the matter, once I’ve told her the truth. She’s reaching in the med kit by her side, for another syringe. For just a second, her neck is completely exposed to me. She’s starting to trust me, or she never would have done it, would never have left herself that vulnerable. I must have gotten over my doubts about her, or I wouldn’t have slept for so long around her. I’m used to not sleeping much. I make a show of fussing with the blanket, when she looks back up, with the prepped syringe. So she won’t know I was watching her so closely. I offer her my arm again, letting her clean a spot, before she injects the antibiotics.
She lets out a laugh when she’s done. More of a snort, like she’s trying to keep herself from laughing. Covering her mouth with the back of her hand, looking away from me.
“What’s so fuckin funny?”
He’s angry. Probably thinks I’m laughing at him. Well, fuck, I AM laughing at him. Can’t help it, a little. Try to get my grin under control, pointing at his arm. At the only two clean places on his body that are visible. “We keep this up, you might actually be clean everywhere in, oh, what, a month or so?”
She’s biting her lip, trying to keep from laughing out loud. I know I must have looked pretty pissed off there for a second. Now, looking down at the two clean spots on my arm, that she cleaned with alcohol swabs before injecting me, compared to the rest of me, I guess that is pretty funny. Spent a lot of time in places where I lived filthy. Sometimes you notice it. Sometimes you don’t. I didn’t really care so much, when it was just mercs I was with. Now I notice just how fucking dirty I am. And I DO stink. Take a sniff at myself.
“You ration water on the DECATUR?”
“Yea, but for you, I think we’ll make an exception.”
At that, she cracks up. Still trying to keep it under control, fighting it every step of the way. Like laughing is something she does rarely, and doesn’t know what the hell to do with it, when it gets out. She’s still got a pretty big grin on her face though, when she looks up again. Whoever worked her over knocked out a couple of her back teeth while he was at it, one of the ones in front looks like it’s been replaced. She looks down, when she catches me looking at her, noticing the damage that’s been done to her. A bit of the hardness coming back in her face. I regret that I noticed. She has another syringe, for pain. Waiting until her laughing stops, before she injects me again.
“That’s three spots now…”
She hands me the protein bar, smiling again, while moving to take a look at my leg. The smile on her face dying the moment she sets eyes on the wound.
“…fuck…hang on….”
There’s no way he’s going to keep that leg if I don’t get some help for him right away. A med kit and some antibiotics just isn’t going to cut it. I need Franks. He’s pulled me out of enough scrapes that should have left me dead. Open the comm system.
“Decatur……..” He’s watching me. Concerned.
“‘Morning, Virago. Where are you, Jane?” That canned voice. Always makes you feel lonely, no matter how many times you hear it.
“I need a clear channel, Dufresne. Your eyes only…….” I have to wait awhile, while Dufresne secures the communication. Riddick is watching me intently, distrustful again. A shame. It was nice hearing him laugh.
“You’re clear Jane…”
“I’m going to need an intercept, D. I need Franks. I have an injured passenger.”
“Have you been playing again, Jane?” Dufresne’s had to clean up a few of my messes. A point he delights in reminding me, from time to time.
“You ever known me to care about it when I have, before?”
“True. So, where are you, exactly?”
I send him the exact coordinates, and my intended route. “Just shy of the rockfield, D.”
“I can intercept in ….just under seven hours…” He’s feeding me the route and interception point, where a small fighter will dock, quickly, with the Virago, letting Frank’s ride back with us.
“I need it to be tightly controlled, D. Just Franks, that’s it. And no one on the pad when we come in. Just you.”
“Sma…”
“And Small Johnson, I know. I swear, if I didn’t know this baby was mine, I’d swear she was his.”
“You bringing home strays, Jane?” He sounds pretty amused at that. Can’t say I blame him, but I swear, the first person that busts my chops about it, I’m going to punch him in the mouth.
“I don’t want to say just yet, D. Tell Franks it looks like a blood infection, right leg. Gun shot wound, no bullet. About three days gone.”
“Clear, Jane. See you when you get home. Out.”
“Home sounds like a busy place, Jane.”
I had forgotten about the leg, listening to ‘Dufresne’. Knowing instantly that I didn’t like him, and not knowing why. I don’t know if it’s because I just don’t trust, period. Or because I’m starting to like her, and don’t like the idea of running into a whole ship full of people who know her better than I do.
“There’s maybe forty or fifty of us, altogether. Sometimes more, sometimes less. D….Dufresne…was military. Franks was a former prison doc. Small Johnson…”, he’s smiling at that. Can’t say I blame him, it’s a hell of an unfortunate name for a guy. “…is probably one of the best mechanic’s I’ve ever met. With a most unfortunate nickname.” His grin is back, at that.
“No one’s going to turn you in, Riddick. I give you my word. But that leg is serious. If I wait the three or so days it’ll take for us to reach the Decatur, you’ll probably lose the leg. Doesn’t seem fair. If there is such a fucking thing.”
She looks away, as she finishes that thought. I guess she’d know all about things not being fair. A woman shouldn’t have to be made to know that things aren’t fair. Not the way she’s been made to know, that’s for damned sure. She’s getting back up. Resignation in her face, as she looks back down at my injured leg. I fight making any noise, while she cleans it. So she doesn’t know just how much pain I’m in. I can manage for a little under seven hours, until a doctor gets here to fix me up. Her face is hard again, not cold. Just hard.
“I hate to do this to you, Riddick, but we have to make you walk on that leg. Just enough to get the blood moving again.”
She’s looking down when she says it, doesn’t want to hurt me anymore than I’m already hurt. Moving around to the other side, to help me up. It’s stiffened up again, and hurts like hell to get up, but she’s not dropping me. Trembling under the weight and the exertion of keeping me from buckling. Just a walk to the back of the ship , the bathroom, and back. It feels like an eternity. She doesn’t complain about it. I think I liked it better when she was laughing at me. Or at least smiling, anyways.
“Is that a sheet, Jane?” Pointing to her bunk.
“Yea. Why?”
She’s trying to look up at me, difficult when I’m leaning on her. “Because I stink, Jane, and you’ve had to put up with the smell long enough. I need to clean myself up, and if all I have to wear is a sheet, I can live with that.” It IS nicer when she smiles.
The proximity alert goes off just then. A quick look at Riddick, before he grits his teeth, the both of us struggling to get him back up front. The heads up display shows two small marauder class fighters, coming in fast.
“Fucking mercs….” His face is unreadable and hard again. I can’t blame the guy for not being the trusting sort, but I don’t have time to worry about it now anyways.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, they’re not coming knocking for you…This baby can outrun damned near anything.”
“Not exactly a whole lot of places to run to here, Jane. That asteroid belt has us pretty much boxed in.”
At that, she looks over at me, and I get a glimpse of just how dangerous she really is. Her face breaks into a radiant grin, a hard laugh right behind it.
“Buckle up, sweetheart. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
The Virago rolls once, gracefully, skirting the edge of the asteroid field, drawing the mercs in, before she enters completely, shutting off the ships auto pilot, and taking her solo. Into the rockfield, with the mercs trying to keep up, right behind….
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