(I created a lot of this, but not Riddick, as stated in COPYRIGHTS listed in chapter 1)
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CHAPTER 9
Surprises
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Riddick marked the night early on by a trio of dark mammals with mottled fur that decided to pay the camp a few nocturnal visits. The creatures made their presence known not too long after the camp went quiet. Their faint chitters and growls stirring the convict from his doze and he watched through the thin mesh as they cautiously came in three abreast from the darkness. Each followed the same entrance routine at a different interval, taking its turn standing high sniffing and peering then dropping down with a chitter to take three steps as another went up. It gave them a strong resemblance to a set of animated children's toys. Riddick kept his peace and let them come. Once in the light they all three stood up and looked around, then on some silent 'all clear' they split up. Their bodies were broad and thick with wide heads. Large rounded ears swiveled in every direction as their bright eyes explored the camp, fire not withstanding, and they picked up every loose object with nimble paws to examine it closely with eyes and noses... all the while taking turns standing on hind legs every once in a while to peer into the darkness and chuff warily.
Occasionally an animal would try sharp white canines on something he or Coulter had handled as if their touch might have miraculously transformed it into food, but there was nothing that held their interest for long. Meat teeth, Riddick noted, but the way they're searching, more likely omnivorous. That thought was confirmed when one explored the remains of the berry bush and slinked out of the thorny mess with a moderately red berry in its paw. It sat on it's haunches as it turned the berry over in its 'hands' examining it from every angle but then, after a single nibble, it shuddered much as Denise had done and discarded the fruit with disdain. It was examined twice more in turn, but none of the animals was inclined to eat it. Don't like 'em sour, Riddick chuckled silently, no accountin' for taste. Surprisingly the creatures didn't seem the least bit interested in exploring the lean-to. Maybe you don't like flowers either, Riddick thought dryly, that we got in common.
Riddick had made sure there was nothing about the camp that encouraged visitors so by the time the little mob returned the third time he knew it was mere curiosity that drew them. That was enough for him. He might not like the girl's perfume, but he was going to use it to his advantage. A creature would have to have some pretty precise olfactory skills to sort the two of them out of the floral mess the frail exuded - not impossible, but he was hoping more than likely improbable - so he wasn't moving around and advertising anything living any more than he had to, and he didn't like that there was something else doing it for him. Motion in the camp was just as likely to draw the attention of something hunting as scents were. The third time the beasts came back he stirred and growled as he pushed the curtain aside and chucked a piece of wood on the fire causing a brief explosion of sparks to spin up in the air.
That was more than enough for their furry visitors who high tailed it out of the camp with a single unanimous squall. They didn't come back.
The other thing that shifted early on in the night was the girl's position. She started out under his arm, but after his first bit of jostling as he renewed the flames she found his lap a better pillow. By the time he 'attacked' the camp 'raiders' he'd managed to work her off that so he had some freedom of movement and could lay down himself... so that instead of pinning him down in one place she was just snuggled up beside him, but there were two things that didn't change. The first, she didn't once let go of her bag, and the second, no matter how often he moved, as soon as he settled she cuddled back up against him, her warm back pressed against his thigh, his shoulder, his back... whatever part of his body was accessible, without even waking to do it. It felt strange, but he realized quick he either had to deal with it or accept it or she'd be working him right out of the lean-to.
After a moment's thought he concluded dealing with it required accepting it. He doubted she'd be sleeping without it - no amount of threats could change that - nor did he want to know what she'd turn into if she didn't get her beauty sleep. The whole idea was to get her and her little bag out alive. It was an interesting realization, however. He would have never imagined his presence could comfort anyone, especially someone who knew who he was. Usually it was the other way around, but then she wasn't actually conscious of her actions at the moment. Despite the floral stench that accompanied her, however, there was one aspect to the night that wasn't completely unpleasant. At least she was keeping parts of him warm.
Early morning brought with it a chill and a mist that enveloped their little lean-to and collected on the lining spread over the openings. The barrier actually did a decent job of keeping the mist out of their temporary abode. The minute particles of water caught on the thin fibers and grew until the mesh looked as if it were sprinkled with thousands of little crystals spheres. Each sphere flickered with the firelight behind it causing the 'door way' to sparkle like a net of Sardian diamonds. When the drops grew too heavy to resist gravity they would race down the surface clearing a path, but a trail of tiny pieces left behind started the process all over again and Riddick made a note. If they didn't have a ready water source, the mesh would work nicely to collect moisture once the fog came up. They'd just have to be a little more particular about how they set things up the night before.
Unfortunately, however, while the mesh kept the mist out, it didn't stop the moisture present in the wood and moss inside with them from creating a bit of a damp chill. It wasn't bad. The mesh served to keep their body heat in as well, but it had dropped enough that the girl had curled up in a ball against his thigh like some oddly colored hunting hound. Yeah, he thought with some amusement, but the most serious hunting this species probably does is sales at the fashion store. He had considered pulling out one of the thermal emergency blankets in the duffle, but the things were a mess to fold up again and he figured morning was too close to worry about it now. Maybe next camp if he thought they really needed them.
After a time the sky began to lighten with the coming dawn, and the result below was to reveal another face of forest, this one shapeless shades of pale and shadow in washed out hues of sage and slate. The deep fog that wrapped them limited their vision to meters, reducing all but the nearest things to vague shapes, and things further to complete invisibility. They weren't going to be traveling in this vapor, but they could be ready when it burned off. He stretched, then nudged his companion. "Time to get up."
She mumbled unintelligibly, clutching her bag tighter, then actually rolled away from him.
"Suit yerself. Camp's coming down," he offered congenially then crawled out of the lean-to and promptly pulled the lattice away from the trunk. Between the overlap of the mesh and the springy foliage attached to the framework, there was an abundance of cold water droplets just waiting for the excuse to complete their earthward journey. His sharp motion broke these droplets, large and small, from their moorings and sent the uppermost of them springing into the air to fall back within the space so recently sheltered.
The frail's shriek at her sudden cold shower caused Riddick to duck his head, the piercing high note ringing in his ears, but by the time she had righted herself to glare at him, he had returned to his stoic stance and he met her gaze placidly. "I said it's time to get up," he repeated pleasantly, then had the gall to grin. He really couldn't help it. If her hair had been mussed before, sleeping on the damp moss had really done it in. Beyond a simple disheveled look, one side now hung flat, while the other had a kink that sprayed it out in several new directions. And those eyes... He had a fleeting thought of a phrase he'd heard once - something about if looks could kill. The girl's brain was churning hard, and her mouth worked too, but the connection between the two seemed to be overloading so he wasn't privy to the thoughts burning up her wires. To that end he figured he could make a few guesses, but that wasn't on the morning's agenda. "Build up the fire a bit," he ordered just as pleasantly but he added an edge to it that stopped her mouth from moving, "and when you're done with that, start takin' the frame apart. We'll save the wire. I'm goin' to take a walk."
That stopped her brain. "You're leaving me here?" She whipped her head around to take in the thick pale mist that surrounded them as if it were a hostile force, and to her it probably was. It hid everything, and there was an utter silence that hung over the early morning forest that seemed wholly unnatural. When they did hear a sound, a distant crack of wood, the fog just baffled the direction and made it sound even more ominous. She spun around in an impossible search for the source then cringed back against the trunk.
"You got the fire... and plenty of sticks," he motioned to what was left of the wood pile and the frame. "You ain't completely helpless, but don't worry... you scream, I'll hear you." He lifted one hand as if he were cleaning out his ear with his finger. "Count on that," he commented ruefully and with that he strode off into the grayness leaving her to deal with it. Rude way to wake up. She'd learn to listen to him even in her sleep.
The fog engulfed him, and as the dew dripped grass and plants were revealed in front of him, the camp and her incessant flowers were swallowed up behind him. The bubble on the girl's perfume had been condensed to something resembling personal by the dense air, but it had been replaced with the rich scent of damp dark earth. It was a natural smell, a wild smell, but it was nearly as pervasive and hindering as the perfume. It pushed things close and held scents down so you had to be right on top of them, and Riddick didn't like that any better.
On top of that his range of vision had been cut from five to maybe fifteen meters at most depending on the drift of the fog. His direction sense was near perfect once he got his bearings, but even he wasn't fool enough to try hiking in this soup without an actual compass. The truth was he had one all oriented and adjusted to this planet's idiosyncrasies - he'd made sure of that before they left the ship - but when stepping out on a new path he'd rather see where he was going and what he was traveling through if he had a choice. The limited vision, at least, was a temporary condition.
The clearing and its immediate surroundings, however, were known territory and even revealed a few meters at a time it was enough for him to see to his needs then find his way around. It was merely a matter of using more senses that just the eyes. He let those senses reach out and tune into the feel of the waking woods as he eased through a couple slow kata routines getting the night's kinks out of his muscles. As he did his shoulder reminded him it still had some healing to do. He didn't like limitations, but he wasn't fool enough to ignore them either. Best take it easy on the arm and give it some down time if he could.
When he was finished he reversed his course of the previous day following the edge of the clearing. He couldn't see the foliage towering above; it was only the contrast of shade against pale that delineated the canopy from open sky above the clearing, but he could feel the great forest all around him and caught an occasional splatter of cold as drops of water gathered by the leaves overhead dropped their collection down to their roots. In the course of one orbital year an average of three to four meters of water would fall on these roots and that had a great deal to do with how well everything grew. It was an environment of abundance, and that made it very appealing.
As he neared the end of his circuit he found his steps slowing. The diffused light permitted to penetrate from above and the deep silence that hung over the woods were positively otherworldly. It filled the forest with a blissful stillness totally unlike the quiet peace of the night before and Riddick didn't want to give it up. When his steps should have shifted to take him back to camp, they turned and went the other way. It was contrary to conventional wisdom to leave a known path in this fog, stupidity really, but when he stood still Riddick could hear the faint murmur of the stream at the furthest edge of his hearing, and he knew as long as he could find the stream he could find his way to the camp.
He didn't go overly far into the forest, not really, but as he walked there was not a sound. Not a bird called. Not a creature cried. Not an insect hummed. There was no sound beyond the soft brush of ferns against his pants, and after Riddick stepped up and settled himself on a small rock outcrop protruding from the ground even that sound ceased. Silence reigned as a palpable force... an ancient, primal force. The fog shifted as it crept through the trees changing and yet unchanging as if it were something beyond natural. There were moments when he couldn't see three meters ahead of him, then a path would open and he would see the ghostly shapes of great ferns bowing over the earth... he could make out the long moss covered vines reduced to snake-like shapes twining between the branches... he'd see the dark trees push upwards until they were lost in the pale mists while along the ground wisps of vapor crept smoke-like over the earth, all without a sound, before fading into nothingness or disappearing beneath a new wave of fog.
The quiet, the peace, the simplicity... It was as if he had stepped back in time to a moment before civilization existed. He couldn't explain the effect. It was simply primeval. He remembered learning about great beasts called dinosaurs that had once roamed Earth Prime. There had been fossils found in the 20th and 21st century that actually yielded salvageable DNA, and that was carte blanc for later geneticists to play with them. Riddick had never seen one in the flesh but he'd read about them. At least one planet had decided to try and recreate a whole collection of pure gened beasts, or at least as pure as they could manage, for some kind of amusement park. They got the idea from some ancient pre-holo vid that someone had found in a 20th century classics collection, but if it hadn't been the vid, someone else would have thought of it. It was man's nature to tinker with things best left alone. The park had been big news for awhile and Riddick could almost imagine he was there now... that at any moment the fog would part to reveal some massive towering beast with horns, or claws or teeth just down the way between the trees.
Just the thought of it made his heart pick up. It made him yearn to step into that time... to be able to leave the running, and the dodging and the people killing behind. The mist created the illusion that he could do that here... that he could vanish into that era as easily as he could step through the trees and lose himself in the grayness. Despite the illogic of it, the temptation to get up and start walking... to disappear into the fog and leave Denise behind - to leave everything behind - was strong.
If he did that. the girl'd be left to find her own way. Be wiser to ghost her, but if he started walking he wasn't coming back. She might make it out to tell the authorities about him, but by his way of figuring the odds of that were slim to nil. If she actually did manage to survive she deserved anything she could get out of it, and by then he'd be so deep in they'd have a hard time prying him out. He could afford to let her have a chance.
Almost he started walking... so almost that his muscles actually tensed to move... then he heard a sound.
In the distance, from the direction of the stream, he heard a rough cough, and a low rough purr, the guttural sound of a predator pulling air over the back of its throat to taste the scent, and with it his neck hairs lifted as the skin on the back of his neck tingled. There was another hunter out there, and it was tracking something. Them?
The idyllic thoughts of vanishing into the wilderness were lost in the immediacy of the threat. Riddick silently stepped off the rock and raised his head to check scents and test the breeze. He didn't smell anything. Damp earth was close all around him hindering, and maybe the angle was just wrong, but what little air movement there was, was in his favor for hunting. He took a lower stance, drew his knife and went into stealth mode.
One would have never guessed a man his size could move quite so quietly, but he was slow and deliberate, the ground was soft and cushioned, and plants would make no noise if the one moving amongst them knew how to do it. His cautious steps carried him toward the stream, his senses straining against the fog to see, to hear, to feel the creature ahead of him. He didn't know what it was. Fog treated sounds deceptively and wild things could pull their own trickerations. This kind of ecosystem often had tiny animals like frogs that could make a prodigious BIG noise, but what he'd heard wasn't a frog or anything like it. That much he knew. He knew a predator when he heard one... he recognized one of his own.
He crept through the trees slipping over the ground like a shadow, but as his neck hairs started to settle he knew what ever it was had moved on. That fact didn't settle his mind any, though. He was pretty sure what ever it was had some size to it, and he had an ugly feeling that he might just know what it was. As he approached the stream, its tranquil motion contrasting his tension, he knelt searching the soft earth along its edge as he worked his way back to camp. He had heard the creature in this direction, and if he were lucky it might have stopped to get a drink...might have left a calling card to let him know just what they were dealing with.
When he found what he was looking for, it did nothing to ease his mind. If anything it only served to amp his edge. The stream was starting to look familiar when he found a deep impression pressed into the mud and he was hit by a familiar scent, this one stronger and fresher than any he'd caught before, discernable by its sheer proximity. Six toes arranged around a heart shaped central pad nearly as big as his palm, none of them showing sign of claws. Soft pad, retractable claws... no question. Cat... and a big one.
And he hadn't gone four steps more before he saw the cat's weren't the only tracks marking up the mud. Traveling the same direction as the animal's were a pair of boots. His own.
Tracking me? he wondered, What would bring it after me?
It only took a moment's consideration to provide an answer... thought of and confirmed in the next step. In the soft earth was half a boot print, the middle of it ripped through as if the cat had tried to pick up the print with its sharp claws. Riddick knew immediately this was not a random action. He could actually see it in his mind's eye... an anonymous cat shape scraping a clawed foot through the center of the print and lifting it up to smell, breathing rough as it pulled the scent over the back of its throat. Had it been the other boot Riddick would have been left wondering, but it wasn't. This was the boot that had sent the merc blood splattering, that had tracked them across the ship floor, and was even now tracking them through the forest. Stupid little bit of vindictiveness, he chastised himself.
Riddick knew his sense of smell was a cut above most humans, and he also knew there were more than a few animals that put him to shame. If this thing was tracking him by the blood on his boot, then this was one of them. That put a whole new light on things. Did he want to take on a cat this big right now? He shifted his shoulder feeling a familiar dull sear of pain and the limitations revealed by his katas were keenly remembered... keenly felt. No. Not right now. Not unless he knew for a fact he was staying and the impulsive desire that had caught him up had passed. He could have lived with the decision, but staying here was short term freedom. 25,000 might lead to something more lasting, and with that he realized the first of his options had been officially shelved. They were headed for Breken 4.
Once that decision was made his feet found it easy to head back to camp, but his attitude regarding the woods was no longer casual or careless. There was something out there that was interested in them... in him... and cautious was going to have to be the angle from now on. Cautious without freaking out a flighty hysterical prone frail who already thought every little bird twitter and rodent squeak was out to get her. He paused to scrub the sole of his boot with wet sand, then stepped into the stream and let his feet grind into the fine sentiment and gravel on the bottom as he walked. He felt a few points of cold where the seals of his boots had failed letting the stream in, but he didn't stop. If he was lucky he could wash off the blood in the treads of his boot before he attracted anymore attention.
The camp was surprisingly quiet as he approached. He didn't hear Coulter's voice or sense any movement, and for a moment he had a sudden concern that the cat had paid the girl a quiet visit. For that brief moment he wasn't sure exactly how he'd feel if that had happened - certainly pissed. If she was dead he'd never get the disks out of her bag and Gallo'd have no reason to pay him either, but in the next moment his internal self-exploration was abandoned as he saw her standing pressed against the tree trunk clutching a small dark object in both hands. What's wrong with this picture. The object was small... quite small in fact, and nearly hidden by the way she had her hands wrapped around it, but that made it an interest catcher. By the way she held it, all the while scanning the grayness as if expecting an invading force to charge in at any moment, he flagged it a weapon in spite of her. That prompted him to watch it... and her... for a moment. Best be careful just how quickly he entered camp until he found out for certain because the fog really had her rattled. He felt another twinge for leaving her alone in it for so long. If he was wanting to avoid hysterical, he'd need to be a little more careful.
He paused at the edge of the fog becoming a quiet shape in the haze as he looked the rest of the camp over. This camp was significantly different from the one he left. The secretary had struck again. The fire was three times bigger than it needed to be and hot enough to burn off the fog in their little corner of the forest. Trouble was there was plenty to replace it so it didn't make much of a dent beyond clearing the air for a meter or two around the flames. The lean-to frame had been dismantled as he had commanded, and the mesh was folded up under the wire which had been wrapped into a coil nearly as neat as it had started out in and placed on the duffle... and damn if the wood hadn't been arranged according to size. He'd definitely left her with too much time on her hands. But far more interesting, however, were the boots and yellow striped socks discarded by the fire pit and the little collection of things sitting on a slightly leaner purse next to the girl as she stood huddled against the tree trunk. These things were new to him, and he let his feet carry him into camp with a heavy tread bracing himself for whatever her reaction would be.
He wasn't three steps in when she spotted him. "Mr. Riddick!" she cried, and she threw the object she was holding down on to the purse as he rushed him in newly booted feet and wrapped her arms around him. His brief glimpse of the thing she'd been holding confirmed its status as 'weapon' even as it ran counter to what he knew of her, but he lost sight of it as it slid behind a lump in the purse and the frail demanded his attention. He held his arms up to keep them from getting pinned as she all but sobbed against his chest. "You were gone for such a long time. I thought you'd gotten lost in the fog."
Riddick snorted. "Not 'less I want to," he growled, trying to figure out what to do with the girl clinging to him. "Took the long way round." There was something to be said for a warm female body pressed up against his, but that wasn't on the morning agenda either so he finally reached down and began to pry her loose.
She took the hint and pulled herself away with a mumbled apology, then quietly added, "I'm glad you're back." Four little words, but Riddick didn't miss them. They weren't the sort of words he was used to hearing.
The girl fell back against the trunk again and sank down to the ground in evident relief, but when she hit the moss she paused and stared at his boots for a long second. Riddick glanced to see what had caught her attention. His pants were splotched and splattered in graduating shades of dampness down his legs, but what would one expect after walking through plants and ferns dripping with fog. The only thing not in keeping with that was a faint sudden shift to solid wet where he'd been wading in the stream. Her brows knit briefly then she looked in the direction he'd come from. She watched the fog for a long second and he had a feeling she was bothered, but what ever her concern it was evidently dismissed in favor of more important things as she turned back with a shrug and reached for one of the items on her purse... small palm size box with a rounded end.
With the push of a button the little box unfolded in her hand and numerous glowing ball tipped spikes emerged from one end. When the thing bleeped faintly she began pulling it through her hair. Within a few strokes the kinks on the side began to ease, and after a quick once over she held the device up and pushed another button. Riddick heard a series of faint tones during which the girl quickly turned her head to the far side, then when it bleeped again she plastered a fake smile on her face and rotated it a full 180 degrees until she was looking back into the trees. The brush device beeped again and the smile disappeared as she stared at the fog shrouded trunks. She shivered and quickly turned to look at the small hologram of her head projected in front of the gadget. Whatever she thought was in the fog didn't hold a flare stick to what she saw in that little hologram. She gasped then looked up at him with sharp accusation, "Why didn't you tell me my hair looked that bad?"
Yep, that's my baffle headed payday. Hoofin' it through a designated wilderness and she's worried about being presentable. He rolled his eyes. "Me tell a woman she's got bed head before she's had her morning jump juice? I ain't that stupid."
She deciphered his slang in a heart beat and latched on to it, "We've got coffee?"
Riddick moved off to the side of the fire where his pants could dry off but he wouldn't roast, and as he did his eyes skimmed over the girl's new belongings. On her feet were good white socks with a soft blue band around the top, and over them a well broken in pair of hiking boots. They weren't the best a person could buy, but he'd worn enough boots to know good ones when he saw them - these were functional not trendy. Their presence alone was interesting, but on top of the purse were a few more items... a water bottle in a hip holder, two sports energy bars and... a little semi-automatic mousegun complete with a self concealing auto-anchor holster. All of a sudden the dark little handful she'd been clutching while she waited for him was confirmed. Now,that's the last thing I'd have expected.
Wary was standard operating procedure in Riddick's book, and the presence of a gun, particularly a gun in the possession of someone who said they hated guns, kicked his up a notch. The cat was a new factor prompting him to step up the schedule, but they weren't going anywhere until he had some answers... till he decided if he was taking company or going solo... but for now the girl seemed content to leave the little firearm where it lay as if his arrival had eliminated its need. He glanced at the fog. Still time enough for answers; no need to go the subject head on... yet.
He remained hyperaware of the girl and her gun, even as his actions appeared casual. After he settled himself he pulled the duffle over to his position and fished out breakfast. "Nope. We got ration bars," and he tossed one in front of her before beginning to pack the mesh and wire.
"Oh," she sagged a little in disappointment, then closed her brush and set it down on her purse without even glancing at the gun.
She picked up the bar, looking at it dubiously, and Riddick smiled to himself recalling her last encounter with the emergency provisions, but he was more than happy to help take her mind off it. "So now you're a magician?" he asked.
"What?" she looked up from the bar where she was studying it carefully... looking for the best way to open it without activating the heating unit.
"Secretary, courier... magician," he gestured toward her new belongings, "I didn't pack them boots. They come outta thin air?" He knew better. It was more than obvious to both of them that he knew they came out of her bag, but he knew the question would get him what he wanted. Ask this girl a question and you got way more'n you ever needed... usually.
"Oh, those," she suddenly looked perplexed, "The crash must have addled my brain. I have a membership to the Cedrin Adonis Galactic Gym and there are facilities on Breken 4. They just got a new THS hikes and climbs collection - something from Earth Prime called Yellowstone Back Country North America. I had planned to try one of the nature trails after dinner... something relaxing before I went back to the hotel... so I packed my boots and a change of clothes, but I ... I forgot!" She shook her head. "It wasn't till I started building up the fire this morning and those other boots started pinching again that I thought about them. I just knew I was going to get blisters all over again and I wished I had my own boots. That's when I suddenly remembered I did." She was obviously bothered... practically emoting dread and distress. "I don't know what's wrong with me... why I didn't remember until now. Did I have a concussion or something?"
She looked to Riddick as if he might have the answer and he shrugged letting his good shoulder make most the motion. "Your tube malfunction might have somethin' to do with it." Then again, maybe you're just naturally ditzy. Time may tell... if we got it.
"Do you think?" she asked hopefully, a reasonable explanation easing her concern. "It would be temporary then... right?"
Riddick shrugged again, carefully, and her eyes narrowed sympathetically.
"Your shoulder still hurts, doesn't it?"
"It's gonna."
There was a pause then, almost reluctantly, she offered, "Do you want me to rub it again?"
The animal in him growled, but Riddick met her eyes. He saw something he couldn't quite place there, but concern was still the main theme. That was good enough for him. There was something out there in the woods. He didn't plan to pick a fight, but it could come down to one anyway. "Might be a good thing," he acknowledged.
He shifted to open up his back, but he angled himself so she'd have to come around to work on him... so that he'd be between her and the gun. Giving his back felt even more prickly with a firearm in the open and he watched covertly as she got up, but she again paid the little gun no mind, nearly dropping her ration bar on top of it.
She settled herself behind him. "Do you want to take your shirt off or should I do just the one shoulder?" she asked quietly. He shifted the one shoulder slightly and a moment later her cool fingers were brushing his skin as she slid the strap of his tank down his arm. "I'll be more careful this time. I'll just try to work out some of the knots so it doesn't feel so stiff."
He grunted his acknowledgement and she began, her cool hands warming quickly as they sought the tight spots. Good to her promise she caused twinges and a few sharp flashes, but nothing serious.
"What kind of clothes you pack?" he asked as she worked.
"Short sleeve shirt... shorts. They're really not much better suited to this place than what I have on, so I decided I might as well keep them clean for when we get to the city."
Made moderate sense. "What else you got in that bag of your's?" Some of its bulk was gone, but Riddick could tell by looking it wasn't empty.
"Odds and ends," he felt her shrug as she kneaded. "Tony's discs, of course. My folio. It's got my travel idents, membership cards, hotel pass, my cred cards, that sort of stuff. I also have a vid-reader and a few vid-book cards, some hard UDC..." she groaned. "Man, you never realize how much that stuff weighs until you have to haul it cross country. I am never throwing my loose credits in the bottom of my purse again!" Then she sighed. "But I don't think I should get rid of it. We may need it when we get to the city."
The way she said it told Riddick she was trying to think ahead, trying to figure out how they were going to get him on a transport off planet... and that she did know some of the rules to working under the scanners. One of those rules was a little cash in hand could sometimes speak louder than a lot on a cred-card... untraceable credit had a value all it's own in the circles they'd be seeking services. The jewelry in his pocket might go to that as well if it was real... he wondered what her attitude would be toward that. At least two of the pieces were hers.
"Oh, and I've got my hygiene and style kit - I hate using that generic stuff they provide in the changing rooms, but I didn't figure there was any need to get that out. I don't think forests come equipped with showers."
At that Riddick smiled, seeing the opportunity to make her twitch, "You'd be surprised what a forest's got," he drawled, "but you have'ta share with the natives. Want me to find you one?"
"No," she said quickly as her hand clenched painfully on his shoulder and she looked sharply into the fog, "No, that's okay. Not a problem. I can wait."
Riddick chuckled ruefully. Maybe that perfume does have a use out here after all.
When she was finished she replaced the strap of his tank, and returned to her spot. She picked up the ration bar - leaving the gun untouched - and resumed her inspection. Riddick picked up his own bar and he caught her watching furtively as he opened it. Payin' attention now. Good girl.
When he was done she carefully repeated his actions and sunk her teeth into a solid bar with obvious relief. However it compared to her regular fare, it was a far cry better than goo so she had no complaints.
They ate their bars in silence, and as they did Riddick noticed the fog was slowly thinning. Above... through the mist... he was starting to pick out shades of green and gold as the sun burned off the vapor from the top layers down. On the lower levels that meant more light getting through and although it left things hazy, visibility was increasing.
It was nearly time to put some distance between them and the cat tracks... maybe between them and the cat. The trouble was cats could have big territories... tens of kilometers squared... and this was a big cat. Riddick was half tempted to go check the scratch tree, but it didn't really matter. Either the beast had claimed the territory or not. New king or empty land meant the same for them... no resistance if it wanted to follow them, so the sooner they got moving the sooner he'd be happy, but there was one issue yet to resolve.
"So, why you packin' that little pop gun if you don't like shooting things?" he asked casually after he had twisted his wrapper around a chunk of bark and tossed it into the middle of the girl's little bonfire. His boot knife slipped out of its sheath and he began cleaning his nails in a distracted manner that completely belied the intensity he felt. If bringing up the gun made the frail go hostile, if she tried to threaten him, she'd be pinned by his knife before she could aim.
He saw her eyes lock on his knife for a moment, but she didn't bat an eye at the topic shift. "Tony," she answered shortly around her last bite and followed his example with her own wrapper. "He insisted I learn to use it... then that I carry it," she added distastefully as she picked the little gun up and went through a safety check with movements so meticulous and careful they couldn't even remotely be considered aggressive. She had to look to find the release, but after she did, she popped the clip. She checked that it was fully loaded then slid the clip back in and gingerly pushed until it clicked. The same check would have taken Riddick all of three seconds, but she had definitely done it with more comfort and familiarity than she had afforded the bigger piece.
"You hit anything with it?"
"If I have to." There was something subdued in her tone as she carefully slid the little piece in its holster and put it back down. "I can keep the whole clip on the target if that counts for anything."
It didn't necessarily. It was a short range gun, ten, maybe twelve meters at the most. That gave human size targets a pretty big surface to aim at, but simply "on the target" didn't sound like she'd spent much time working on accuracy and beginner targets didn't move... they didn't try to kill you if you missed.
"I suppose I'm just being stupid," she sighed. "If I had been carrying it the way Tony wanted, maybe Jenner wouldn't have grabbed me so easily."
"Wouldn't have made any difference," Riddick commented. He was not overly impressed with her little mousegun and guessed Jenner would have just laughed at it. It was made to be concealed and while that little model - probably chosen to suit her small hand - might scare off would be attackers who had something to lose, it wouldn't be much good against anything else unless you were a crack shot. "Guns are useless if you ain't willing to use 'em."
Riddick finished his nails, returning his knife to its sheath, and she watched him curiously. "You'd rather use knives, wouldn't you?" she asked out of the blue.
Riddick glanced askance at her. Sometimes he just never quite knew where this frail was coming from next and he considered her question. Was she asking about knives in general, or in his capacity as a mass murdering serial killer? He decided to go the latter route. "They're quick, quiet and personal," he said brusquely. "But I'm not picky. I'll use any odd thing lying around if I can't come up with a shiv. Why?"
She shuddered as he spoke, but at his question she shrugged. "Jenner said you used knives because you like to watch things die... liked to watch them bleed out. He said you enjoyed being the last thing people saw... that it was a power thing."
Riddick was amazed at the girl's blunt naivety. Although he could tell the subject matter made her squirm, it was more as if she were discussing a disturbing vid she'd seen on the evening news rather than quizzing the convicted killer who'd done it. Hadn't she considered how dangerous this line of conversation could be, or was this what passed for casual when you worked for a crime boss? "You believe everything people tell you?" he replied.
"No," she shook her head. "But it's not like I have a lot to go on. It's just... after hanging out with you this little while... it doesn't seem right somehow. I don't think it's a power thing."
Riddick was surprised to be given the benefit of a doubt, and on the heels of that surprise was a flash of anger... a strangely irrational flash of anger. So it wasn't a power thing. Then what? She still thought he enjoyed it? And since when did he give a damn what she thought. "No, it ain't a power thing," he growled. "It's a necessity. Places people want me to live, a shiv's a Do-It-Yourself project and they do the job fast, silent and one-on-one... Hell, even gives some a chance," he chuckled cruelly, purely for her benefit, then added with malice, "but not many, and not much."
She blanched, and Riddick took some satisfaction in that. It wasn't the sort of respect he'd grown up hoping for, but he'd take it where he could get it. At Sigma 3 they'd taught him all there was to know about killing and he'd become damn good at it. There had been a lot a things he'd been good at, but that was what they wanted him to learn, and in the end they'd found out just how good he was. So had more after them. He wasn't born a killer, but it was what they'd made him... it was all he had. If he couldn't earn anyone's respect for being the man he wanted to be... for the one good thing he'd tried to do... he'd take it for being the monster they said he was.
But he didn't want to stay a monster. Deep inside he wanted something else, and this frail... her disks... they were his chance to get that... maybe.
The disks.
It would be nice if he could get his hands on those disks. If he could, the girl and all her flighty ways would be optional. He liked having options, especially ones without perfume.
"We're leaving soon as the fog lifts enough to see decent. Best get your bag packed back up." After their last conversation it would take some guts to tell him no, but indirectly that was exactly what he got. It was an almost tangible reaction... as if the suggestion had run up against a stone wall. He practically felt her cringe, though outwardly she only turned her head and rounded her shoulders a fraction... and she didn't start to pack. Interesting. Do I see a backbone forming here? "D'ja hear me, Coulter?"
"Yes," her shoulders shifted back and she turned to look at him. Her eyes were wide with trepidation, but her body was tense and she looked ready to dodge.
Oh, yeah. Very interesting.
"If you don't mind," she said carefully, "I'd prefer not to open my bag again."
And just what is this backbone made of? "What if I do mind?" Riddick asked letting a strong hint of menace edge his tone.
She was set to panic. "Please...," she whispered, "please, don't mind," and her gaze unconsciously flicked down to the little gun, and back to him. Maybe she wasn't quite so naive as he thought, but he knew how she felt about guns. Would she really try to use that one on him if he tried to make her open the bag? He stared at her and read it in her eyes. He'd finally found a line this little frail wouldn't let him cross. Yes, if he tried to force it, she would try to use that gun on him, for all the good it would do her. She was not going to open that bag in his presence... at least not willingly.
Impasse. Do I want to narrow down my options this soon? Riddick had no doubt he could force her to open the bag, but he could see it would cause a fuss and if he did he could never take her to Gallo. It was all or nothing... and if this little spitfire surprised him again, if her backbone where the disks were concerned turned out stronger than he expected...
Not yet, he decided. So long as she's alive and obeying I got two possibilities. If she lets down her guard and gives me a chance I'll take it, but for now I want her trustin' me... least ways as far as she's inclined to. I'll let Leon deal with getting' the disks out if that's the route I go, he smiled to himself, and good luck to him. "Then put the bars in the duffle," he relented, "but you carry your own brush and bottle."
He thought she was going to melt into the moss, but she pulled herself together. Relief was echoed in every line of her posture, and she smiled gratefully at him before busying herself with her tasks. Riddick ignored the fact that he was almost glad he hadn't had to kill her yet... that he kind of liked that smile aimed in his general direction. It took some guts to tell a killer no, however you did it, and he hadn't thought she had that. Maybe there was some hope for her.
And he was pretty sure that she had no intention of killing him. How sure? he asked himself as he pulled Jenner's .44 and put it through a check before glancing absently in the direction of the scratch tree. The territorial marker was still lost in the haze, but he could see across nearly half the clearing now. He stuck the .44 back in it's holster. Sure enough, for now, he concluded. To his way of thinking it was better having her mousegun out in the open where he could get his hands on it, and for now it might be wise to have a weapon in another person's hands even if it was a pop gun in hers. "And wear your gun. I don't feel like haulin' both."
That stupid little bit of vindictiveness on his part was leaving a trail whether he liked it or not. It was barely possible - if this thing was a pure scent hunter - that the frail's perfume might become an asset. But if the thing went on sight once it was hungry enough to hunt...
The fact that the girl had a weapon she might know how to handle had a good side. Maybe she could distract the thing... if she didn't shoot him in the process.
-oOo-
WRITER'S THANKS, NOTES & NEWS:
NOTES:
If you have been reading with me for any length of time you are probably just as frustrated with my update schedule as I am. It just seems like life gets busier and busier, but I will continue - as Shaden suggested - to just keep plugging away. The good news is the end of Turn About is in sight ¤YEA¤, the bad news is I am not even going to try to give you a deadline. The thing I have been thinking about lately is how much I really, really appreciated your reviews, and how long, long, long it takes me to get back to you and say thanks since they don't come out until the next update. Talk about delayed appreciation - :o(.
With this in mind I've decided to stop making you wait short eons for me to say thanks. I will continue to thank my reviewers at the end of each update, but will do so in a more en-mass fashion. My personal thanks I will send in a more timely manner. If you take the time to give me a review, I will take the time to send you a reply. It only seems fair and will hopefully allow me to give the longer reviews the appreciation they are due as well, for as I said at the beginning...
REVIEWS ALWAYS APPRECIATED:
(Good ones I enjoy, critical ones I value, and those that include specifics I love)
:0)
Now onto Turn About's last installment of overly belated public thanks...
THANKS:
Shaden - Massive apologies for the delay in updating. Hopefully you won't have to reread again but it has been a long time. No excuses beyond life in general. Well, if you didn't like the distance they covered in the last chapter, you really aren't happy with me now - LOL - but I'm working toward something, and your chapter is coming up soon(?).
Yeah, I kind of like how Denise is coming along... not the stereotypical 'bimbo', I believe someone called her - LOL - that she started out. Hopefully she will continue to round out believably. I also know just how far her and Riddick's relationship is going to develop, but I'm not telling you - ;oP - you'll just have to wait and see. Only a few chapters to go :0). Thanks for the kind words and the prayers. You're still in mine too.
NotAfraidToLive - You're welcome for the update and sorry for making you wait again. I have no intention of dropping any of my stories, but thank goodness I'm not trying to meet any deadlines to earn a paycheck :o), of course if I was maybe I could devote more time to writing - LOL. Oh well. Thank you for the praise. I can't ask for better than LOVED it! Hope this one still holds to the bar.
Brimseye - From "haha, loved the perfume" to "don't buy it" in three chapters. Bummer. No offense taken though... I'm just sorry it's not working for you. I agree, whole heartedly, that Riddick would be highly unlikely to put any effort into saving a gal he'd never met before... not for free anyway. That's why the 25,000 credit bounty that he could collect on, but I think there are times Riddick is starting to wonder if that's enough - LOL.
As for Denise not running off into the jungle, well, she sorta tried, but had some sense knocked into her - rather literally. Think about it from her point a view when she woke up the second time. She realized he had saved her life, he hadn't acted hostile and he hadn't taken advantage of her even though the opportunity was there. Under those circumstances might you not decide to take the chance of possible survival, however risky, over the prospect of certain death? I know I would. Survival is a powerful motivator, but you'll have to decide whether that flies for you or not.
Thanks for the other compliments though. It's good to know Turn About has some redeeming features ;o). And Logan, yeah, he's one of my fave X-men (although I haven't collected for quite awhile). Maybe that is where I picked up 'frail' - :oD - I was wondering. I really appreciated your review. Thanks again.
Blade for Hire - Thanks! I am trying very hard to keep him in character, and it's not always easy considering Denise is not the sort of personality he normally interacts with so, for the most part, I'm having to wing it - LOL. Your comments give me hope I'm not straying to far :o). Let me know what you think as this odd couple continues to make their way through the forest :oD.
Starnyx - Where do you think you need to apologize for a late review... look how long it took me to update! Sauce for the goose I'd say - LOL. Thanks, for the characterization praise. Who'd have ever guessed I could have so much fun trying to think like an air headed secretary.
Vinbabe - Thanks SO much! Such high praise is a real encouragement, and I hope you've enjoyed this update as well. This story has been a challenge because the plot is so 'atypical' and I am thrilled it is keeping your interest. Let me know if it continues to do so. Thanks again.
Anna's pastime - Welcome aboard - you know how to make an impression! GRIN Two juicy reviews in the space of two chapters. Talk about making a writer feel special - LOL. I appreciate the "Romancing the Stone" comment, but it has been too long since I've seen it to groan. I do remember the two main characters having disparagingly different personalities... I'll have to try to remember to find it next time I rent movies.
Thank you for the characterization kudos. A writer can't help but "make the canon character their own" in the course of writing, especially back story because to a great deal our past shapes who we are, so, yes, I did do quite a bit of research before I started and I'm trying hard to keep Riddick believable. As you indicated, he's complicated, so I am pleased you are enjoying my portrayal of him in Turn About.
Speaking of research, you prompted me to go do a little more. I went back and watched a few scenes and pulled out the First Edition script of PB I found and not a "yer" in sight so I've gone back and edited not only Turn About, but my other stories as well. Thanks for the critique. As for the other little mistakes, let me know if I've got anything else I'm doing consistently. I just started with betas last chapter and they are definitely helping me catch some things :o).
Thanks so much of the review. Yours is the kind that falls in my "love to receive" category - Letting me know the specific things you're enjoying, but not afraid to point out specific things you think I'm doing wrong. Thank you for taking the time to do so. You'll never realize just how much it is appreciated!
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MY CONTINUING PROMISE:
As much as I hate it when other writers get 'distracted' by other stories and don't update the one I'm reading as fast as I'd enjoy, I have discovered that there are times other stories insist on being written. The result? I have four stories currently 'in progress' for your perusal – as they are all of a 'back story' nature in Riddick's timeline they would occur thusly: Saved by Grace, Be Still: Chances, Turn About and Nigh Unto Christmas.
The good news is that each story has been generally plotted and outlined, and only ("only" LOL) needs to be fleshed out. The bad? That takes time, especially when divided between 4 stories, 3 kids, (2 six and under), 1 husband and the life that contains them all and more, so writing time comes at a premium. What it means for my readers is that updates to this story may be intermittent. I do, however, promise it won't be abandoned barring death or other equally drastic life change. Updates will come, please be patient, (and, of course, be aware that feedback is an incredibly powerful motivator ;o) but until then, may God bless you all the time in-between.
