Title: Magic Black: Chapter Three, or The Silence Only Grows
Author: NaniErin
Genre: Adventure, Sci-Fi
Rating: M (profanity, violence, and character death)
Theme music: Shadow's Keeper by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
Setting: AU, Pitch Black - we're officially in unknown territory
Disclaimer: Not my books, movies or money. My spin on the plot, though.
Note: So, officially I've put out this chapter in half the time that it took me to put out the one before. Not that I'm proud to take a year and a half between chapters, but life is what it is. I'm hoping to half my time between chapters again for the next one, but no promises.
To those of you who left reviews - your questions and compliments keep my heart warm, thank you! Most of the questions I can't answer right now, but yes, you will be seeing Harry's magic working in ways that are not cannon to the books. Riddick won't always be reacting as he would in Pitch Black either, but whether that's because we've changed the time line or whether it's the fault of something else can only be revealed in time.
WARNING - for those who are sensitive to it, there are mentions of child abuse in this chapter, but nothing graphic. Also, there are descriptions of wounds received in battle in this chapter as well (although I don't consider those to be graphic, either).
Riddick groaned.
His head throbbed and his ears rang. His back ached. So did his left side.
Fucking Johns. Riddick had been injured worse, of course, but damn if he didn't owe that ass-wipe a shiv to the gut. He'd put that fucking cockroach down for good this time.
Riddick was moving before he was even fully aware of his surroundings, instinct telling him that the enemy was still alive, still near.
He startled when a panel shifted off his back unexpectedly.
A quick scent of the air and he was smelling spice and battle and green. The kid was still around, then. Interesting.
He pulled himself to his feet as the kid crouched down awkwardly to pick something up. Riddick didn't smell any fresh blood on him, so he didn't think the kid had caught the bullet, but adrenaline and pain still rolled off the kid in waves.
The longer Riddick thought it over, the more he realized just how injured the kid was. Local or not, he was starting to think it'd be better if he left the kid behind.
Water was important, but it wouldn't be too bad to go without if he could pick up a ship fast enough. He didn't need anyone slowing him down, though, and he especially didn't need to worry about the kid getting caught in the crossfire along the way. The kid was fucked up enough that there was no way he'd have the reflexes to keep up. If Riddick left the kid here, the survivors probably wouldn't even realize that he wasn't one of them. Other locals might notice, but the kid looked like a survivor - he'd adapt.
The kid stood up, Billy-boy's pistol in his hand.
Riddick didn't mind the kid having the piece, but he didn't like the look on the kid's face. The kid was glaring at the pistol, his eyes unfocused and his breathing ragged.
About the same time, a breeze found its way through, heavy with that pepper-spice smell and carrying something on it that set Riddick on edge. Riddick couldn't pick up anything that had changed in the past minute besides the wind, but he'd been trusting his gut for too long to let his guard down now.
In the next moment he heard it. Someone on the upper level was coming closer. Only sounded like one at the moment, fit and uninjured. It'd be good to move on before they got too much closer, though, especially if they were setting off his instincts like this.
It'd be nice to have that pistol before he slipped away, though.
Riddick turned his attention back to the kid. "Hey, Bright Eyes - you with me?"
The kid blinked and swayed a bit.
The wind stopped. The pepper smell lingered, but the sense of approaching danger vanished with the wind.
Riddick shifted. He didn't like that. He liked it better when he could smell his enemy coming.
The kid nodded after a moment, but then he shook his head.
Overhead, the threat stumbled and the noise startled the kid into alertness. The kid froze where he was, emotions flickering over his face, before he moved the pistol up and toward his head.
Riddick tensed, but the kid was frowning down at the weapon not even a moment later. The confused look on the kid's face wasn't any sort of reassuring, but at least he wasn't wasting bullets trying to paint the room with his brains.
"Stay with me, now." Riddick kept his voice low and soothing. He didn't need the kid startling again.
The kid looked up immediately, glowing eyes alert and focused on Riddick. The kid noded to show he was paying attention, almost looked like he was waiting for orders or something.
That was an idea.
Riddick was trying to work out if the kid would just hand over the weapon if he asked for it, when the pile of rubble he'd just climbed free of started rearranging itself.
The noise startled the kid into dropping the pistol and the damn thing discharged as soon as it hit the ground.
Riddick grimaced as his ears started ringing again. He'd be lucky if he could hear anything by the time he got out of this wreck.
He stopped himself from reaching for another shiv. The scent of blood in the air was heavy enough to taste, flowing thick and laced with morphine - it helped him keep his cool, even as Billy-Boy's hand reached the pistol before the kid's did.
The kid scowled at Johns, eyes darting to Riddick before returning to the newest threat. The kid was putting off fear and anger in waves, body language tense and defensive.
Riddick had to wonder if the kid was so worked up because he didn't have the pistol, or if he was just a damn good judge of character.
Johns didn't give the kid more than a glance before he directed his smirk at Riddick. He had a whole host of new, lesser injuries, but, judging by the way he was moving, he wasn't feeling the one that was going to kill him.
Riddick folded his hands across his chest in slow, deliberate movements and visibly relaxed as much as he could. As long as he could keep Johns from doing anything stupid in the next minute or so, Riddick's problem would sort itself out.
Still, he couldn't resist gloating a little.
"Knew you were slow," he felt the curl at the edges of his mouth. "Didn't think you were this slow."
Johns' own cocky smirk flickered. His eyes searched Riddick's face. He glanced at the kid again, briefly, but seemed a little reluctant to take his full attention away from Riddick. It was a smart move, but it wouldn't save him this time.
When Riddick felt he'd allowed the new corpse enough time to work out the answer on his own, he took pity and tapped his own thigh to help the dumb bastard along. From the corner of his eye, he saw the kid looking back and forth between them, but he knew better than to move his full attention away from this blond bastard.
Johns' face twisted as he realized the truth. Fear didn't make him any prettier. "Trashbaby, -"
"Save your breath, Johns. You're already dead." It was hard to get pissed at a man that was dying in front of him. Johns was already turning ashy and the hand holding the weapon had a fine tremor.
Johns licked his lips and shifted his grip on the weapon, but he was falling before he could pull the trigger.
That was closer than Riddick liked.
The kid was still looking back and forth between Riddick and the corpse, so Riddick grabbed the pistol before the kid could make a move for it. The kid lurched forward to intercept, but caught himself quickly. Riddick waited to see if the kid was going to throw a fit, but the boy only frowned at the gun. Bright eyes flickered up to Riddick's face and away before huffing. The anger from before was missing, though there were still hints of fear and worry in the air.
The kid was all kinds of interesting. Too bad Riddick was going to have to leave him behind.
Riddick turned back to the pistol, pulling the clip out to check the ammunition before sliding it back in place. The survivor was approaching again, close enough to smell, now. He took a deep breath - tools, boots, leather... female. The prospector.
"Hello? Who's down there?" She sounded healthy, wary.
The kid was putting off adrenaline again - backing into the shadows and eyeing the exits. He was shaking, too. Fine tremors for the moment, but not a good sign.
Riddick turned to scan the room, but a gasp and the faint sound of metal rolling against metal drew his attention back to his would-be guide.
The kid was falling.
Riddick reacted on reflex and steadied the boy with a hand on his shoulder.
Then things really got interesting.
The kid's eyes flew open. There was no sign he recognized Riddick as anything other than a threat. He feigned a swing with his bad arm - slow, stiff, weak - then brought his good arm around, aiming to connect his fist with Riddick's temple.
Riddick caught the kid's good wrist in his left hand and watched as the kid snarled and tried to yank himself free, noting that the kid kept his injured arm tucked close to his body rather than use it for attack. When it looked like the kid wasn't going to calm himself down, Riddick slid closer and pressed the mouth of the pistol into the soft flesh of the kid's chin.
The kid's eyes rolled in his head, half crazed and shining with a kind of desperation that only came with being backed into a corner, but he seemed aware enough of his situation that he didn't try attacking again.
It gave Riddick a chance to think.
Riddick wasn't bothered by the fact that the kid had lashed out. The kid wasn't a threat to him and anyone used to fighting for their lives all the time would react the same way. It was the way the kid tried to attack him that caught his attention.
Plenty of people that had tried to attack Riddick over the course of his life. He'd gotten to where he could tell what kind of weapon they were used to having on them by the shape of their hands. A hand used to holding a knife was curled different from a hand used to holding a pistol. By the looks of it, the kid was used to holding a club of some sort. Nothing heavy, but a baton might've fit there - especially if the kid had access to some of those new, lighter metal alloys law enforcement liked to play around with.
Riddick didn't smell any metal on the kid, but the reek of blood and battle could be hiding the scent. That, plus the kid's clothing was loose and Riddick had long learned that there were ways and places to hide anything if a person was desperate enough.
The kid's eyes started clearing.
Riddick kept his face neutral and waited to see how the kid would react.
The kid relaxed a bit, confusion on his face and bright eyes blinking rapidly, but in the next breath he was all tension again. His eyes widened and his breath started picking up speed, he scanned Riddick's face right away, too, before grimacing and closing his eyes.
Riddick took a slow, deep breath. Shame. Fear. Desperation. Pepper. And something else...
Interesting that he could pick up the pepper now, when there was no wind.
The kid's face screwed up and smoothed out a few times, but Riddick's attention was focused on trying to pick out that last emotion. All the other emotions made sense - shame because he'd lost control of himself, fear of either himself or Riddick's reaction, and desperation because he knew that Riddick was bigger, stronger, and faster. That pepper smell was getting stronger and Riddick couldn't work out how. It was annoying not only because it made him want to sneeze, but also because it was masking that last scent. When Riddick finally worked out what that other smell was, he felt uneasy.
Resignation. The kid knew he'd messed up and had resigned himself to whatever he thought Riddick was going to -
"Zeke. Zeke, come here."
The prospector. The one survivor that his gut had told him was a threat, even if his instincts were silent about her for the moment. She was close to the edge of the drop, but not at the right angle to have seen them yet.
Her voice seemed to pull the kid back to himself. His eyes opened and flickered around the room before he pulled a jagged breath in. He inhaled again, breath more even this time, and his heart beat started to slow. The taste of adrenaline was starting to fade from the air again, but the kid's eyes were still darting to Riddick every few seconds.
The kid was trying to reduce the visible signs of his panic, even if he still reeked of it. Riddick was impressed. There weren't many who understood how that helped when facing a predator, but then, those who did know usually had to deal with them on a regular basis.
Unease settled more firmly in Riddick's gut.
The kid still hadn't said anything and now he was starting to shiver. Maybe he was mute? He was going through some sort of shock at the very least.
The kid chose that moment to glance up and meet Riddick's eyes. The kid only kept eye contact for a moment before he dropped his gaze. The kid tilted his head further toward where he was looking - same direction as his bad shoulder, so at least he wasn't aggravating that - and the tremors running through him calmed some.
Riddick scanned the area the kid seemed fixated on, but didn't see anything of note. He saw that the kid was still tense and also that he was putting off less anger and desperation. Now it was the resignation that hung heavy in the air - resignation and anticipation?
What was he waiting for?
It only took another heartbeat for Riddick to put everything together. The kid was turning his body away from Riddick. It wasn't like Riddick was giving him much room to work with, but the way the kid was tensing, the direction he was curling his body in, was the same side where some of his worst injuries were.
The kid was shielding himself. He waiting for a beating.
Riddick felt vaguely nauseous.
The kid glanced up again - restless - and the smell of fear and panic spiked. The kid's heart rate picked up, so did his breathing, and the tremors that ran through the kid started getting stronger again.
The kid's whimper interrupted Riddick's thoughts and something else clicked into place.
The kid hadn't spoken once since they'd started interacting, communicating only through body language and the occasional grunt. He'd looked to Riddick repeatedly for instruction, followed every order given and, when effectively cornered, he'd bared his neck. And now he was panicking because Riddick hadn't accepted his apology. The kid had been beaten into thinking he was an animal.
Riddick's stomach gave a violent lurch, but he managed to keep it under control. Really, he should've recognized the signs sooner. He'd grown up the same way, after all.
He briefly entertained the idea of having the kid lead him to the sick fuck that thought it was fun to do fucked up shit like this to children, but there'd be time for that later. He needed to focus on the immediate threat.
Riddick pulled the pistol away from the kid and loosened his grip on the painfully small wrist he still held. He didn't let go, couldn't risk Bright Eyes trying to run or tripping over something, but he took a step back and cocked his head to one side. It let him get a better earful of what the prospector and her man were whispering about and it showed that his attention was elsewhere, giving the kid a few seconds to catch his breath again.
Riddick let his mind run with the new information and reworked his plans again.
He still needed to get free of the wreck and find a way off this rock. If he couldn't find a ship to slip away in immediately, then he'd need to find food and water and maybe a place to lay low.
The prospector was a surprise. All that time drifting and he hadn't picked up that she was a threat until after the crash. He'd come across others like her, though - friendly enough, even kind, until they figured it was their life or yours - so he knew how to handle her. The kid, on the other hand...
Riddck let his thoughts skim over the idea of leaving the kid behind to distract the prospector and ensure his escape, but something in his gut twisted viciously just as another burst of that irritating spice hit his nose.
Riddick held his breath to keep himself from sneezing and wanted to shake his head. He'd always had a soft spot for kids. It didn't help that this one was injured, exhausted, and more than on edge - too much like himself at that age. He'd be taking the kid with him, even if it did slow him down.
The urge to sneeze passed and he glanced back at Bright Eyes, whose gaze was darting around the room. Riddick squeezed the smaller wrist once to get his attention.
The kid nearly gave himself whiplash, he turned his head so fast.
Riddick motioned for the kid to keep quiet, then pointed at the path he was going to lead them through - further into the belly of what was left of the transport ship. He didn't want to startle the kid again, he didn't want to chance the noise or a bad reaction. Slowly, he moved in the direction he'd pointed in and the kid nodded and followed along, looking happy to follow Riddick's lead.
Riddick chose the easiest path he could, trying to move at a pace that didn't force Bright Eyes to put any more strain on his injuries than he had to. His instincts pushed at him to move faster, to find deeper shadows and more difficult paths, but they also urged him to keep the kid close, where he could protect the smaller, more vulnerable person. Feeling torn between the two was doing a number on his nerves.
Riddick stretched out his senses as they walked. He didn't pick up any sounds of pursuit, but he did hear someone start to scream. It came from far off, from what he thought of as the front of the ship, but it was still loud enough for normal hearing to pick up. The kid didn't react.
The kid's breathing got labored if they went too fast, and he grimaced if forced to stretch or bend, but otherwise he didn't make a sound.
Riddick released his grip on the kid three times on their way out of the wreckage. He'd needed to clear away some rubble the first time - there wasn't an easier path and there was no way the kid was going to be able to climb over that mess. The second time, Riddick had caught the glint of a pair of welder's goggles. Deserts tended to be bright and he couldn't afford to let an advantage like that slip away. The third time Riddick was just trying to figure out how far gone the kid was.
Each time, the kid slowed to a stop, stared ahead vacantly, and panted until he caught his breath. He didn't sit down, he didn't track Riddick - or anything else - with his eyes, and as soon as Riddick grabbed his wrist and gave a tug, the kid went right back to obediently following again.
The whole mess had Riddick itching to slit someone's throat. Too bad Johns had to go and get himself dead so fast.
Finally, Riddick was able to find a spot that would lead them out into the desert.
Riddick tucked the kid away in a shadowed, sheltered area, before he slid his new goggles on and stepped out to assess the terrain.
He was grateful for the tinted lenses. The light was bright enough that his eyes were going to start aching soon, even with the protection they offered. Going without them was something to avoid at all costs.
A quick jog up to the top of the nearest dune confirmed what he'd been afraid of - desert as far as he could see. He spent a few minutes listening, scenting the wind, but still had no indication of which way water or civilization might be. It was good he was taking the kid along.
He turned to head back and caught sight of the ship's shadows. They were angled odd, darker in some places and lighter in others in a way that only made sense if... Riddick clenched his jaw and looked down at his own feet. Sure enough, two shadows.
Two shadows meant two suns.
God wasn't finished shitting on him yet, then.
He made his way back into the wreckage and waited for his eyes to readjust. The kid was right where he'd been left. At least he wasn't panting so much. There was a bit of a hitch to his breath that was new, but none of his injuries had reopened.
"Hey, Bright Eyes."
No reaction.
Riddick grabbed the kid's wrist and squeezed. He didn't put much force behind it at first, but he started increasing the pressure gradually when the kid didn't react. Gripping tight enough that he could feel the kid's bones creak didn't seem to pull the kid out of his daze, though, and Riddick fought back the urge to shake the smaller person until he got a response.
Riddick dropped the kid's wrist and took a step back, pulling his goggles up to his forehead.
The kid was injured bad, but knew how to move around it for the most part, shock aside. That alone spoke of a strong survival instinct. He had to have a safe place - somewhere with food and water, maybe even some medical supplies.
The problem was the heat. Dry heat ate at any scent trail a body could hope to follow. There was nothing on the wind that smelled like anything but desert.
Riddick wasn't surprised, but he was frustrated. He'd been hoping the kid's bolt hole might be near by. The kid was practically dead on his feet as it was, a trek of any real length might actually kill him.
Of course, going without seeing his wounds treated would definitely kill him.
Riddick had to wake the kid up.
He looked the kid over. The shoulder injury was the most recent one and it didn't look too bad. He ran his hand over the site.
The kid whined and started to shy away, but a hand around his upper arm held him in place.
Riddick pressed on the injury again and felt something inside it - shrapnel, maybe a bit of weapon that got left behind - but the kid was finally coming back to reality and Riddick filed the information away for later.
"Stay with me, Bright Eyes."
The kid's eyes rolled in their sockets and he made a high pained sound, but he quieted after a moment and nodded.
"We can't stay here. It's not safe." Small words, simple ideas. He had to make the kid understand what was going on without overloading him. "You're injured bad, but I can't help you here. Do you have somewhere safe to go?"
The kid nodded, standing up a bit more straight.
"If you tell me where to go, I can get us there. I can patch you up, too, but I need you awake to get us there. I know you hurt, but we can't stop until you get somewhere safe. Can you handle that? Can you keep moving?"
No response. The kid's eyes were locked on Riddick, but that thousand-yard-stare was creeping back into them again.
Riddick carefully tightened his hand around the kid's shoulder wound again. He hated the sounds the kid made, the way the smaller person struggled to move away, but he had to keep the kid grounded if they were going to make it anywhere in one piece.
"You stay with me, Bright Eyes. No rest until we're somewhere safe, you get me?"
The kid closed his eyes. His breathing was getting close to hysterical, but the kid swallowed hard and nodded after a moment.
"Are you with me, then? Or am I leaving you behind?"
As a rule, Riddick wasn't one to make idle threats, but the words certainly got the reaction he was looking for.
Those glowing eyes shot open and the kid was shaking his head again, pain and desperation in his body language and the scent of spice growing stronger again.
The kid took a moment to gather himself, then met Riddick's gaze and shook his head again. Another breath passed and then the kid started leaning forward, pressing his wound into Riddick's hand while keeping up the eye contact.
The effect was a little unnerving, but Riddick figured the kid was trying to make a point. He released the kid's shoulder and nodded once. He gave one last glance back along the path he'd led them to get there and then grabbed the kid's good wrist again, leading him outside.
The effect on the kid was immediate. Fine tremors and trembling became outright shaking. The kid swayed and his breathing started getting harsher again, then he shook his head.
Riddick scanned the terrain and scented the air. There weren't any threats that he could pick up on, but it might be the wind was blowing the wrong way. It didn't help that the kid was starting to throw off fear and pepper-spice in waves again, either. Was it the time of day? Maybe there was something bad about going out in the sunlight. They could sit tight until nightfall, but Riddick wasn't sure if the kid would last long enough to lead them to shelter if they did.
He rested his hand on the back of the kid's neck. A quiet reminder. Staying wasn't an option, but Bright Eyes wasn't going into this alone, either. Whatever was out there, Riddick had seen worse.
The kid made an effort to even out his breathing before he nodded. A moment later, he looked up at Riddick and nodded again.
Riddick tightened his grip a touch before he moved his hand away. The boy was responding better to touch than he was to words at the moment and a little encouragement never hurt.
The kid looked around, frown on his face and unease in his eyes, but then his whole face lit up. The kid looked back at Riddick wearing a shit eating grin and in the next breath he was taking off into the dunes as fast as he could manage.
Riddick scanned the path the kid was leading him along, but didn't pick up on anything that marked this direction as any better than any other, so he kept his silence and followed along, keeping his senses open for any signs of trouble.
They walked for ages. Sand dunes stretched as far as the eye could see, only broken up by rocks and earthen spires. The spires were hollow and the noise they made when the wind blew over them set Riddick on edge. He was glad that Bright Eyes didn't show any interest in getting up close to them.
They passed near a boneyard, too, and wasn't that interesting? Riddick thought maybe they might be trees, at first, but there was no moisture on the wind, no smell of anything green. The kid never showed any signs of slowing, even if he was staggering more than walking by that point, so Riddick made a note of their position and continued to follow.
The two suns in the sky seemed to burn hotter and brighter the closer to the horizon they got. The air was thin, too. Either on their own wouldn't have bothered him overly much, but add in the thirst he was fighting and he had the start of a powerful migraine.
It could've been worse, though. He could've been wandering this wasteland without goggles.
Bright Eyes was already used to the lack of oxygen, too. Being short of breath on top of beat to shit would've just been adding insult to injury.
Riddick paused long enough to notice a third, blue sun starting to rise before the other two had properly set.
Yeah, it could've been worse. It could always be worse.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
There were buildings on the horizon when the kid finally collapsed.
Riddick was impressed. Bright Eyes had lasted a hell of alot longer than he would've thought the kid could.
He scooped the kid up and closed the distance to the settlement. The kid was lighter than he should be, but that was something to think on later.
The buildings Riddick passed were open and empty. He kept his senses open for any sort of threat, but if anyone was here, they were better than most at hiding. The wind was the only thing making noise or movement here, and it didn't carry any new scents. Between his gut and his senses, he didn't figure there was anyone around, but he'd feel on edge until he confirmed that for himself.
After a few minutes of peaking in doorways, he found a shelter he felt comfortable setting the kid down in. He moved quick and silent through the other three rooms of the building, clearing them before he returned to the first room and crouched next to the kid.
Bright Eyes was in bad shape. Working himself so hard without water hadn't done him any favors. Riddick would see to the kid first, then scout out the area for water and supplies. The place felt more like a waystation than a bolt hole, but there had to be something around here worth more than shade.
A quick look over the kid's head showed two knots at the back of his skull and an old scar on his forehead, but nothing Riddick could do anything about right then. He tried to take off the kid's glasses, but they were stuck. Glue, maybe? He didn't smell any, but he couldn't see anything else that would hold them on.
The shiv from the ship made short work of the kid's shirt and the sight of what was underneath gave Riddick pause. Setting aside how painfully thin the kid was, his body looked beat to hell in ways that were hard to come across on a battlefield - an interrogation room, maybe, but not on the battlefield.
Bruises mostly, but there didn't seem to be any pattern to what made them. None of them smelled dangerous, so he ignored those.
Two slashes across the chest, both shallow and both nearly scabbed over. The lower one was deeper and going pink around the edges already. Riddick was going to have to keep an eye on that.
He was right about the shoulder wound. Someone had jammed a stick in the kid's left shoulder. The bleeding had mostly stopped now, but that changed when Riddick fished the wood out.
The stick itself was odd. There was a string hanging out of the broken end of it and it reeked of that pepper smell he'd picked up on the kid. Riddick didn't pick up any scent of any poison on it that he knew of, though, so he set it aside in case it mattered to the kid.
Riddick used strips of the kid's shirt to bandage his shoulder. He couldn't feel any broken ribs and it didn't sound like the kid was having any trouble breathing, so he rolled the kid over onto his side.
Lots of bruising, just like the front, and more slashes, too. The deepest cut was to his left lower side and it was still oozing a bit. Looked like the blade that did it was sharp, at least - there wasn't too much tearing to the skin. A deep whiff told Riddick that the kid's guts were in one piece, so the kid was lucky there, too. Riddick knew how to feel out if anything vital had been nicked, but he didn't want to stick his hands into the kid without washing them first, so he patched up that wound as tight as could for the moment.
There was a bad burn across the kid's mid back, as well as along his legs in a few places, and Riddick even found an acid burn to the kid's right calf. It was minor, but how the fuck did he get hit with that? The other burns made about as much sense as the bruises, so he patched up what needed it and bound the kid's right ankle up.
No broken bones, that was good. The kid needed stitches and clean bandages, though, and some burn salve, if there was any around.
Riddick stood and looked the kid over again, before he nodded. Bright Eyes would be fine - at least for as long as it took Riddick to get a feel for the place.
An hour later and Riddick knew that this wasn't the kid's bolt hole. He was willing to bet money that it wasn't a waystation, either.
No food that hadn't expired decades ago. No water stored, but there was a broken pump he might be able to figure out. No bodies, but a hell of a lot of personal effects left behind. The only building he hadn't checked out yet was locked from the inside and that left a bad taste in his mouth, too. The best thing about the place was the emergency raft, and even that looked like someone had been chewing on it.
How did Bright Eyes know about this place? Were ghost towns common here?
Riddick wasn't going to get any answers until the kid woke up, but he'd be surprised if the kid didn't sleep at least a few more hours.
Riddick scanned the empty settlement, and the silent desert beyond it, before he shrugged.
That water pump wasn't going to fix itself.