They were nearing the motel. Jack knew she had to do something. If she ran, he would shoot her and probably find Riddick. If she tried to warn Riddick, he would shoot her and definitely find Riddick. Ideas were bouncing around her head, but one of them stuck out like a diamond in a pile of coal dust.

She saw the door to their room open.

'Please tell me it's Riddick!' her mind screamed.

It was Imam. He was coming their way. Maybe he would see them.

Unfortunately, the man also saw Imam walk out of the room. Quickly, he ducked behind a building and pulled Jack behind a disposal container. She sat on the ground, breathing hard, with his fist pressed into her neck. He peeked over the disposal container a few times and finally judged that it was safe. Standing back up, he pulled Jack up with him, and dragged her roughly from behind the building.

They were walking past rooms now.

'I've gotta do something. I've gotta warn him.'

Her mind vaguely registered that she owed him her life, and would - not to mention should - sacrifice her life for his. It wasn't a pleasant thought, especially to a fifteen year old, but this was reality. If there was one thing Jack had learned from Riddick, it was to face reality and not dance around it.

The man still had her by her collar, but he wasn't pulling as hard now. Turning quickly, Jack grabbed his hand in one of hers and pulled as hard as she could, twisting at the same time. He let out a loud yell, and she felt three of his fingers break inside of her palm. Pushing Jack away, he wrenched his hand free of her grasp and tried to remove his gun from his jacket pocket.

Jack stood for a moment before realizing that, without his other hand, it would take him a while to remove his gun from the small pocket. Just enough time...

"Riddick, run!" Jack screamed, before landing a kick to the man's kneecap. Her kick wasn't hard enough to do major damage, but it hurt him enough to distract him from taking out his gun for a little while. He fell to the ground in pain. Jack looked toward the door. Riddick wasn't there, nor was he at the windows.

'What if he didn't hear me? What if he passed out? Or if he's asleep? Shit what do I do?'

Breathing in as deeply as her lungs would allow, Jack screamed high and long, hoping it would at least wake him up.

"Riddick," she yelled again, "run! Go, run, get away."

Her voice was getting raw. She was about to run, when a click drew her attention back to the wounded man. He held the gauge out, pointed at Jack, while he cradled his injured hand to his chest.

"Bad move honey," he said, a grin surfacing on his face.