Rider 62

A kiss. Jack had never before dreamed of a kiss. The men in her dreams were usually the stuff of nightmares but this was different. Soft and sweet, and oddly it made her think of Riddick. It was gentle yet strong and it made her feel safe as though nothing could hurt her. A waking dream, its fragments torn into pleasant wisps.

She wished that she had chosen to sleep downstairs; everyone looked at her as she sat up. It was awkward and she put her hands up to her cheeks, sure that they were hot, which of course they were. The blankets still pulled up around her, she sat with her back against the rail under the wheel and hoped her embarrassment didn’t show.

Duncan hadn’t moved from where he had stood at the wheel and Jack had the distinct impression that he didn’t look at her on purpose. Which meant that he did. Jack didn’t know whether she should be embarrassed that he noticed or just glad that he said nothing about it.

She started to bundle all of the blankets up only to be stopped by Joanne who knelt on the floor beside her and folded them quickly and efficiently, a chore often repeated. Jack tried to help but she had never really had much practice at folding and everything had either too many folds or not enough. Joanne smiled at her and said nothing as she took the bedding from her and re-folded it.

“I made you coffee, and something to eat.” Joanne wouldn’t let Jack take any of the blankets but kept them in her arms as she made her way across the bridge to drop the blankets near the galley. No one else had left the bridge either; the blankets would stay. Anna lay curled up next to Johns; the little girl hadn’t left his side once and, as she had done with Riddick and Theo and even Duncan, had started to address him as ‘Uncle’.

Jack stretched out, her hands high overhead, as Joanne prepared a cup of coffee for her. She winced and grumbled quietly, but Joanne caught it anyway. “Jack?”

“It’s nothing, I must have slept funny.” Jack thought that she had gotten spoiled; lately she had slept on soft beds after a number of years of catching sleep where she could.

Joanne eyed Jack carefully. It could just be that Jack was still sore from her sleep on the floor, but Joanne didn’t believe it. The pillows and blankets were quite soft and there were no drafts on the Moorglade. “Where exactly does it hurt, Jack?”

A quick sip of her coffee was all that Jack managed before Joanne was at her side; skilled hands pressed against her back and belly as Joanne asked her where she hurt. “What? What is it?” Jack’s features pinched up as Joanne continued with her examination; she wasn’t used to people making a fuss over her and Joanne’s concern had her a little rattled.

Joanne almost held her tongue but there really was no one else, at least until Shazza returned, for Jack to talk to. “Have you begun menstruation?”

Joanne may as well have asked if Jack had ever flown under her own power or turned invisible. She blinked, and for once was struck completely dumb by a question, without a single question to ask or smart ass comment to spit out. After a series of fits and starts, she got out a ‘no’, her expression puzzled, worried and sheepish at the same time.

Joanne rummaged in the cupboards, far in the back, until she came out with a small box of herbs that she made into a tea which she handed to Jack. After which, she continued to explain what Jack was going to go through in a matter-of-fact way. “It’s bitter, but it will help with the pain and cramping.”

Jack’s brows furrowed as she digested what she was told. “Pain and cramping? I don’t want…”

Joanne laughed softly, kindly, as she turned towards Jack. “You don’t have a choice, hon.” A deep sigh and Joanne looked out across the bridge, towards Duncan. “Stay close to Riddick and Theo. And Duncan. They’ll keep you safe.”

Joanne’s smile faltered at the last and Jack was hit by a wave of sympathy for the woman. “Did you have anyone to keep you safe?”

Joanne’s smile was back but it wasn’t a real smile, or at least not one that showed her real emotions. It was more a way not to be affected by their opposite, by sadness. She just shook her head, unable to say in words how her life had turned out.
—

Duncan thought Jack looked a little pale when she came back from the galley but at one discreet gesture from Joanne as she walked by he knew better than to ask. Women’s trouble was women’s trouble, and as comfortable as he felt in his conversations with women, it was still a taboo subject. Some things never changed. He muttered that he needed to get something to drink and left Jack alone at the wheel once again.

He had watched the forest wall as Jack had slept, an old soldier’s senses attuned to danger even in a place where he felt safe. Occasionally a shape flitted between the trees; he would catch it from the corner of his eye, and it would be gone before he turned.

If he was anyone but who he was maybe he would have dismissed it as a trick of the light, or bored, tired eyes looking for adventure that wasn’t there. Duncan wasn’t that foolish and trusted his instincts; he trusted his eyes, even when he wasn’t sure of what he had seen. “Keep us well away from the forest.” A quiet word to Jack, as Duncan and Johns stepped out onto the deck outside.

Duncan felt the slight tug as Jack pulled the Moorglade further from the dark reach of the overhanging trees. It was nearly dawn and feeble shafts of light filtered through the canopy to rustle the low-lying bank of fog beneath. Duncan stood stock still with Johns beside him, motionless. It was as though they didn’t breathe.

Like ghosts, shapes moved eerily across the forest floor, hidden in the swirling mist, in the dark of the woods. Johns’ breath hissed on the intake as his eyes shifted from the shapes to Duncan’s stony expression. “Fuck. Do you think they might be…”

“…The ones from the village.” Duncan finished the thought easily enough. “Yeah. But I can’t be absolutely sure until they make a move. I don’t really want to start firing on friendlies if I can help it.”

Johns was about to speak when Joanne stepped out onto the deck with them. She felt awkward when the two men went silent but advanced anyway. She had overheard what they had said about people in the woods. Duncan waited until she reached the railing before he spoke to her. “Watch there.” Joanne followed the path of his hand as he pointed to an open patch of ground between two large trees. She gasped as she saw the shapes and turned around in fright. Duncan just nodded because it was what he had suspected and because he didn’t want to frighten her any further.

They were being pursued.
—

Joanne’s voice had been sharp as she ordered Anna to go below. Anna had looked from Johns to Duncan. Even Jack. None of them were about to get involved and Anna’s face looked like a little black thundercloud but she had gone below.

Duncan limped out to the deck for the second time, an armload of weaponry in his hands which he deposited under a blanket on the deck next to the railing. Johns had done the same a little further down; the weapons were weighted down with the blankets in case Jack had to pull away sharply. That way the arsenal wouldn’t fly all over the deck.

Duncan made to go back for another load but Johns pressed his hand against his chest and insisted he stay; Duncan would be of no help if his leg was so swollen that he couldn’t stand should they run into trouble. That they would run into some sort of trouble wasn’t really in any doubt now; it was only a matter of when.

Nervous, Johns held his ground and pressed further into Duncan’s chest. To fight injured was nothing new for Duncan and if he had wanted to make the point clear that he was capable, it could be done quite easily. Every one of them would have had Johns on the ground, injured, in less than a heartbeat, and there was no way that Duncan was about to do that. So he let Johns’ hand stay him.

“I can help.” Joanne was afraid, even as she said the words, her hands in knots just inside the door to the bridge.

Johns took a look back at Duncan who now leaned heavily against the railing of the Moorglade. Duncan nodded imperceptibly before he looked back out into the forest. When Joanne had relaxed a little she had proven to be a fair shot. She would never be good and there was no way to know if she could handle the real thing when it came down to it but there was little choice. If those people in the forest were a threat, they would need every hand available. Joanne would manage, of that Duncan had no doubt. She would be afraid but she would manage.

The river widened ahead of them into an expansive delta. As the mouth broadened, the waters stilled, until it was as though they skated over a sheet of glass that reflected sunlight back at them as it broke through the mist over the river.

Johns and Joanne joined Duncan out on the deck and they all shuddered at the low, mournful sound of some sort of war-horn, a sound full of dread and power that caromed and echoed strangely through the mist-enshrouded forest.

Far above, in the upper atmosphere, there was a sound that could be felt more than heard and it sent shivers down Duncan’s back and made his skin erupt in gooseflesh.

He hadn’t heard it in a very long time, and he closed his eyes, in silent hope that he was wrong.