Chapter 9
Paradise: The Bitter and the Sweet
AN: I posted the first part of this earlier, but I made some edits. The rest is new! Pleasant reading!! As always, a huge thank you to Amita4ever for her patience in proofreading!
Violet had snuck out of her house originally to keep her eye on Larsen Garrett and Samantha Perkins. She'd shimmied down the large tree outside her window like she used to when she was a little girl. Silently, she made her way to the edge of the clearing where she could hear the sounds of music and laughter and all she was missing. It raised her ire, being denied the pleasures of wearing her new dress and having all the young men asking her to dance. She was always the belle of the ball, and it was Dinalla's fault she wasn't this time.
From her tree-lined hiding spot, Violet, looking for Garrett, scanned the brightly dressed people. She found him only after she heard Samantha's piercing laughter through the crowd. And there he was... Larson Garrett with his sandy colored hair and honey brown eyes laughing along with Samantha like she had just told the greatest joke in the whole wide world. Violet's cold blue eyes glittered in hatred. But, poor Samantha was not the real target of Violet's hatred. In another moment, Violet found Dinalla dancing a reel, laughing away like nothing was wrong. A crescendo announced the end of the song, and Violet watched with wide eyes as Dinalla stood panting in front of Bradly, that witch's former love.
Dinalla and Bradly had both been young, barely in their teens, but everyone expected them to marry, settle down and have kids. It was Bradly's father who had finally put his foot down when Bradly announced their engagement. If the young man married the penniless Dinalla, Bradly's father's dry goods business would have surely closed. It was this and the threat of total disownership and disinheritance that made Bradly break off the engagement. For any girl, such a rejection was mortally embarrassing and might cause feuding among the families. For Dinalla, without family name nor dowry, it meant a lifetime of spinsterhood. Everyone shook their heads sadly at Dinalla's predicament and went back to business and in another year, Bradly had married Dorothy Valience. Her family was one of the wealthiest in the territory, and her father became half owner of the dry goods store.
Now, the shameless hussy had the gall to dance with Bradly in public... with people watching! The women in clusters almost collectively gasped, and Violet could imagine what they whispered about Dinalla. Whatever the established dames of the community said about Dinalla's shameless behavior, however, was nothing compared to the litany of curses that ran through Violet's mind.
When Dinalla hurriedly left the dance early, Violet thought it was the perfect time to confront the little witch. What she would say or do, she wasn't quite sure yet. She scrambled ahead through the brush around a bend in the road and away from dim lights of the dance. From behind a fallen log, Violet was at the perfect vantage point to see Dinalla coming down the road. Violet waited silently, barely breathing so when Dinalla was close enough to the hideout, Violet could unleash a long laundry list of grievences with that outsider.
But, Dinalla stopped suddenly and spoke into the night air. Violet held her breath in mid-stream as she watched Dinalla about 10 meters down the road.
"You can come out now," her voice lilted gently on the breeze.
Violet's heart thumped so loudly that she thought Dinalla would hear it, even with the wind coming from Dinalla's direction. Caught! And there would be hell to pay if her father found out she had snuck out of her room. But, Violet had no reason to be afraid.
From further down the dirt track a bush shook, and the small form of the mute Puck emerged. Violet let out her breath slowly as she saw Dinalla indulgently smile down at him and ruffled his hair.
But, when Dinalla spoke again, and the man emerged from the other side of the lane, Violet's breath caught again in her throat.
His eyes...They glittered and reflected the moonlight. Even in the overly large shirt Violet could tell this man had muscles rippling underneath. His jaw was set straight and tight, and he was so tall Dinalla was dwarfed in his presence. He reminded her of a great beast, tightly controlled, body ready to spring on its prey. And, there was something about that image that made Violet's cold heart flutter and a warmth steal down to her belly. Even then, she silently ducked lower behind the log until she was laying with her cheek in the detritus, breaths shallow. She imagined that the man could see right through the log she was hiding behind ready to pounce on her and a delicious shiver went down her spine. Not that that wouldn't be a bad thing... if he were alone. This was a man... not one of those boys that Violet flirted and played the coquette with. He was all virile and masculine and oh-so yummy.
As Violet listened to the trio walking down the dirt track and away until she could no long hear their voices, she stayed totally still and thought about this new turn of events.
Dinalla had lied. She had lied to Violet about having someone with her. She had a new lover, and Violet's father would be furious to find that little tidbit of information out.
Violet's lips slid into a smile, and her eyes glittered as she formed a plan for revenge.
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By the time Dinalla, Puck and Riddick reached the small cottage, Puck could barely keep his eyes open. Dinalla ushered him to his bed roll where Puck gratefully covered himself up and instantly fell asleep. He didn't even stir as Dinalla simply slid off his shoes. Riddick stood by the door watching the homey scene impassively.
Despite the gentleness with which Dinalla treated Puck, he sensed the turbulent emotions rolling off of her. This man... this Bradly person... had caused her distress, and Riddick found he didn't like that at all. But, he stood by quietly while she fussed over the pie plate and washed up from the boys' snack.
"You should get to bed... early start in the morning," she said without looking up from her washing.
"You should too," he grumbled.
Dinalla sighed and leaned against the sink. "I know. I just -"
The sound of horse hooves pounding up the dirt road stopped her in mid-sentence. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at Riddick who immediately and silently stepped behind the bedroom door just in time for someone to pound on the door hard enough to shake the hinges.
"Mistress Dinalla! Bradly sent me to fetch you!" The man's voice was obviously strained.
Dinalla was in motion instantly and flung open the door. "What's wrong?"
"The baby... it's breached... Doc's passed out drunk from the dance... Bradly said something about a promise," the young man panted and spoke in short bursts.
Before Dinalla had finished listening to the man, she had gathered her large scuffed medical bag, muttering to herself, "Damn fool drunk! Never there when people need 'em..."
She stopped short of the door and turned to look at the sleeping Puck.
"He can fend fer hisself fer a bit, Mistress Dinalla. Now, please hurry!" the man said anxiously as he saw her watching Puck.
Dinalla's eyes shot to the crack in the door jam where the man at the front door could not see the bright, glittering eyes. Riddick caught her eyes for a second and nodded sharply once. He saw the tension ease from her shoulders a modicum before turning back to the stranger.
"You're right," she sighed and turned back to the door. "Take me to them and don't be gentle on my account."
The man and Dinalla disappeared through the door in the next instant, and, after only a moment, Riddick could hear the double-burdened horse take off at nearly a full gallop.
Riddick stood stock still until the sound of hooves died in the distance. When he did move, he found himself restless. Being left alone wasn't a problem. Heck, this was one the longest times Riddick had ever been in the company of people... if you didn't count the times in slam. But, they had a job to get done, and Riddick was eager to get off-planet and leave Puck and Di to their lives. Staying longer would only mess things up worse for them.
In his restlessness, Riddick stepped outside into the cool night air. He smelled the strong scent of wood smoke from the fire inside and subtler notes of loamy earth. He heard the babbling brook and the small sounds of night animals moving through the darkness. Riddick let himself relax and found it wasn't so hard to do. That was dangerous... getting too relaxed... getting comfortable, like this place could ever be his home. He didn't belong here; he didn't belong anywhere but on the move. He looked up into the vast dark sky and the smattering of bright stars. He felt the familiar tug from out there, a vague pull that told him he had been on this rock too long.
Soon... as soon as Dinalla got back. Now that she was gone, he was even more eager to be off, to see this Oldtimer and find a way off this planet and away from this town with its double-faced and gullible mentality. And, if he couldn't, what then? With time honored practice, he pushed thoughts of a future to the back of his mind. The most immediate need was to get the wagon rolling.
Riddick's restlessness nagged at him. He found himself inside, flipping curiously through the small collection of books before finding one bound in old leather with gold-leaf script across the spine. He sat beside the low fire, the book feeling warm and smooth in his hands. Riddick flipped randomly to a page and saw it was a book of old Earth poetry and guessed it was probably worth a lot of credits on the open market. He scanned through several poems recognizing a few authors' names that orphanage teachers had tried drilling into his head. Then one poem caught his attention.
"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves..."*
He shut the book quickly. Was it a premonition of his death? But no one would mourn him. And sure, the police would throw a parade rather than a procession. Heck, death would bring an end to the running. No rest until yer dead...
It was to these cheery thoughts that Riddick must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew the sound of wagon wheels coming to stop right outside the door brought him to full attention. The weak light of dawn bathed the room in a grayish glow, and he cursed himself for falling asleep. Impossibly silent on the weathered wooden floor, he dashed behind the front door as he heard murmured good-byes. He wouldn't make it to the bedroom without being seen before the door was opened. He heard what he now recognized as Dinalla's footfalls on the steps and then the door opened and he froze in place.
Riddick heard Dinalla sigh wearily as she closed the door, but his presence behind the door startled her. Faster than any man had a right to be, he grabbed her by the waist and pinned her body to his, placing a hand over her mouth to cut off her involuntary scream. His metallic gray eyes bored into her wide ones. In the next instant, he saw recognition in her dark eyes, but it was too late.
"Mistress Dinalla? You okay?" a woman's voice sounded from outside.
Riddick felt Di's heart racing against his chest and the fast rise and fall of her breathing. Then he ever so slowly released her. She stepped back once still staring wide but no longer frightened of him, stood stock still, gazed locked.
Dinalla felt her heart racing as it switched from frightened to mesmerized. It was like looking into twin pools of quicksilver that pulled her into those depths. And, would it be such a bad thing if she let herself swim in the for awhile? Riddick smirked as if he was thinking somewhere along the same lines. Di blushed with embarrassment and confusion. Finally, she shook her head to clear it breaking the contact.
"Mistress Dinalla?" Mrs Bartlett repeated, and they both jumped as the wagon rattled with the sound of a person getting down.
Di smoothed her skirt and quickly opened the door, reassuring smile plastered to her face in. "I'm fine, Mrs. Bartlett. I'm just tired... so I tripped and caught myself."
"Then get some rest. You did a good thing tonight." Mrs. Bartlet seemed reassured by Dinalla's explanation.
A few moments later, the wagon moving off was the only sound. Di watched it roll away and back towards town before closing the door and leaning against it, closing her eyes.
Riddick looked Dinalla up and down. Her beautiful dress was a mess. Something spotted and splotched the front in places making it looker darker in some spots than others. There was some evidence that she had tried to use an apron but to no avail. Several tendrils of hair had escaped the original top knot and even now she absent-mindedly pushed a strand back into the mass of hair. She looked pale and tired even to Riddick's shined eyes. And, the smell coming from her... under the thin veneer of feminine sweat was the tang of blood and another smell that Riddick usually associated with deep belly wounds.
The mask that was usually Riddick's face must have fallen because she smiled weakly at him, "I know... the smell. They forget to tell you about the smell when birthing babies. But, after a hard labor, we finally got him free. Mother and son will be fine. I'll wash up and we'll be on our way."
"You haven't slept." It was a statement, not a question.
A tired, dry sounding chuckle came from her. "We'll have to put that wagon driving of yours to work, maybe. Give me a chance to sleep."
She opened the door and started down the stairs towards the water pump. Before she made it to the pump, though, Riddick caught her wrist, and she tried to pull back before looking up at him as if she thought he would eat her alive.
Riddick smiled slyly letting her think what she would for a moment. Then he said, "I got it. Go," and he shoved her gently back towards the house.
Dinalla stepped back and smiled up at him gratefully. They didn't bother to heat the water; there was no time if they hoped to make it to the mountain before nightfall. Instead, Dinalla took a sponge bath in her room.
Riddick loaded some provisions in a sack - leftover coldcuts, cheese, some fruit that looked like an apple, biscuits and jugs of water, while he waited. When Puck woke up, he pitched in after checking the sounds coming from Dinalla's room and being satisfied that she was home and safe. By the time she emerged on the top step in a dark rough cut skirt, blouse and vest, she looked like she had more color to her cheeks. No doubt the spring chilled water woke her up better than any coffee could. Puck threw himself in her arms, and she laughed in the morning air. With her arm around Puck's shoulder, she walked down steps to stand in front of Riddick, still smiling and handed him a well-worn, floppy hat.
"Expect me to wear that?" Riddick grumbled.
Di smiled indulgently as if he were her patient back in bed. "You will if you want to avoid a nasty painful burn on your head."
Riddick reached up smoothing his hand over his dome. Di had shaved his face when he couldn't and his hair had gown. But, since he had recovered enough to take over, he had resumed shaving his learning how to plow and plant, he had gotten a sunburn that left his scalp raw and tender. No need to go through it again.
Riddick snatched the hat from Di's hand and dropped it on his head. Di and Puck both raised their hands to their mouths to hide their laughter, but he heard snickers all the same. Grumbling, he climbed into the driver's seat.
Lastly, Dinalla grabbed up a duffel bag and then the shotgun leaning against the cabin and handed it up to Riddick. He hesitated a fraction of a second, but the look on her face was open and trusting. If only she knew... He laid the shotgun near his feet.
"It should take 2-3 days round-trip," she said. "Puck, up front with Mr. Rick."
Puck hopped up into onto the bench seat, gave Riddick his toothy grin and plopped a wide brimmed hat on his head similar to Riddick's. Riddick rolled his eyes but grinned despite himself.
"Follow the road away from town. You can't go wrong. I'll be ready to drive once we hit the foothills. Then it's treacherous going." Di hopped in the back, pushing items under the tarp around to make a nest of sorts.
They were soon on their way, the sun now fully exposed over the hills and casting a warm glow over everything. The clatter and rocking of the wagon was constant and soon Di was fast asleep in the back and Puck munched a hardened biscuit next to Riddick.
Riddick took his time to survey the area as he drove. Dinalla's place seemed to be the last domicile for a ways along the road. Soon the road truly became a dirt track - rutted from water run-off and uneven so that at times, Riddick was afraid he might overturn the wagon, but the borrowed mules were well-trained and seemed to choose the best route along the path. Trees grew thickly next to the road, and the brush and brambles made a nearly impenetrable barrier along it. The dappled sunlight was dim enough that Riddick removed his goggles for better vision, but he ended up squinting a good deal and willed back the tendrils of a headache as the afternoon wore on.
A good place to be ambushed, Riddick mused and kept his body relaxed while his mind was intently focused on any sudden sound or movement. Riddick had no need to worry, though. The most he saw was a quick flash of bushy tail or the flutter of birds hopping among the branches. The forest was not as quiet as he would have thought. It had its own sounds, its own rhythm that was entirely different than what he was used to.
Near mid-day when the sun was high in the sky, they stopped under a great arching tree that looked entirely alien in the otherwise unassuming forest. It's trunk was twisted, the roots bent up through the ground, and the great mass of leaf-bound branches shaped into a hammer-head while the muted light reflected on the pointed leaves like glimmering, gnashing teeth. To Riddick, it looked like a monster with arms splayed out for a grab, legs bent and ready to pounce. Here there be monsters... And his brain flashed to another time, another planet he'd been shipwrecked on. He shook the memories off while Di split up some of the food from the rucksack.
"Haven't seen anyone out this way," Riddick said while he wiped crumbs from his lips.
"Nor will you. This road leads to the mountain, and no one goes there." Juice from an apple-like fruit dripped down her chin, and she wiped it away with her sleeve. "People say the mountain is haunted, that the Oldtimer is in league with demons who reside there." She shrugged. "More superstitions."
They fell quiet for a bit, only the sounds of mastication breaking the silence.
"How do you know him?" Riddick tried to sound nonchalant, but he needed to know how much to trust this man Dinalla put so much faith in.
The look on Dinalla's face told him he had struck a nerve.
"It took my mother five years of planning to get us out." Her voice was low as she spoke. "She plotted and planned, made connections, paid the right people. Somehow, she was contacted by the Oldtimer... He'd heard of her dilemma and offered to help."
Riddick couldn't help himself. "What did he get out of it?"
Di looked startled by the question, and Riddick knew he probably shouldn't have asked. Where he came from, no one did something for nothing. But, Di looked away the next moment, and he had to wonder if this rock was so different.
"I... dunno," she looked far in the distance for a moment. "All I know is he set us up with land. It already had a simple cabin on it, so he let us make improvements on it and now it's ours." She looked at Puck who returned her smile.
Riddick chewed and swallowed while thinking that over. In the slam, people traded everything from a few menthols to carnal pleasures for what they wanted. It was all a matter of implied value since credits weren't very useful in prison. No one helped somebody for nothing. But on this planet, the give and take was... different. It was based on building community, not on forging alliances to gain an advantage on an enemy or protecting oneself from said enemy. The concept was foreign and he gave up trying to wrap his head around it.
After everyone had a chance to relieve themselves, they were ready to get on the move, this time with Dinalla at the reins and Riddick curled in back. He was used to falling asleep anywhere; in the slam or on the run, it was a survival skill. But, the road worsened and started to slop upward, and he could only catch a minutes of sleep, or what passed for sleep for him.
Riddick looked up through the canopy and watched the light fade from the sky. Because of the dense thicket of trees on the foothills, darkness came quickly, well before true sunset, Dinalla stopped in a clearing off the road and informed them they would put down there for the night.
"It's too treacherous in these woods at night," she said, hopping down from the cab. "Puck, gather some tinder and wood, please, dear. Mr. Rick, are you good at starting a fire?" she asked and picked up the shot gun.
"Should be." He picked up the firebox and checked inside for everything he would need. Then he eyed the gun propped on her shoulder. "Where do you think you're goin'?"
She smiled confidently and tucked the handle of the gun in the crook of her arm. "To bring back some dinner."
Riddick snorted as she headed off perpendicular to the camp and disappeared into the foliage. He was surprised that in another second or so, he couldn't even hear her footfalls. While he was working with the tinder Puck brought him, he heard two shots, muffled but not too far away. Riddick froze, all his senses trained on the area where the shots had come from. Puck eyed him curiously before taking over the task of feeding kindling to the small, smoky fire.
By the time the fire was roaring and Riddick had lost his tense look, Dinalla traipsed back into the clearing with two birds looped over her shoulder. She looked quite pleased with herself and, Riddick had to admit, he was impressed she had bagged two birds in such a short period of time.
"See... dinner." She grinned proudly.
It wasn't long either before Puck had them plucked and gutted. Dinalla stuffed them with wild herbs she had also found so that by the time the spitted birds were crisp and crackling, the smell was ambrosia to all three. Riddick consumed one bird by himself while Di and Puck shared the other. To round out the meal, there were more hard biscuits and some cheese. They all cleaned the bones spotless and tossed the leftovers into the fire to listen to them sputter and spit.
Bellies full and fire crackling, Dinalla and Riddick spread out the bedrolls tucked in the wagon, and Puck flopped unceremoniously on his. The evening was still chilly, but the fire kept most of it away as they all bedded down. Riddick laid out, arms crossed under his head and watched the stars through the tree tops. Soon enough, Puck fell into a deep, sound sleep, his breathing long and heavy.
"I'm sure you are eager to get home. We should be at the Oldtimer's tomorrow," Di whispered.
Riddick grunted. Home was an unfamiliar concept for him, but let her think that was his motive. Better that than her knowing that his very presence on this planet could rain down a posse of mercs that would chew up and spit out the people in that dust bucket of a town she called Paradise.
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*Funeral Blues by WH Auden