Chapter Eleven

Adel ran.

Her breath came fast in her lungs, a sharp, burning sensation as she pulled heavily on her breather. She ran along side Fry, followed by Jack, Imam and Suleiman. At the sound of the first shotgun blast, Adel's heart had dropped.

Afraid.

Afraid for Riddick…

She was afraid, somehow at some time, she had come to think of the man, not as a captive, a criminal but as a perceptive, intelligent person capable of seeing things that others didn't in the most dangerous of situations. As that first blast echoed in the night, she was afraid. Afraid she'd never see the intriguing man again.

Well, and of getting shot…

They ran together, clustered, searching vainly in tiny glances to the ground for the sled marks, some beacon in the night. Adel glanced behind her, vainly attempting to see in the darkness, searching for any sign that the fight between the two men had traveled towards them.

She slammed into something solid.

Damnit. This is getting old.

Fuck.

A muscled arm, shot out, preventing her from falling the dusty ground. Silver moonstone eyes looked back at her. She pulled herself from his grasp reluctantly as the others stopped around them.

"Back to the ship?" He murmured, his eyes still on her. "Huddle together until the lights burn out?"

"Get away from us." Fry interrupted, though not terribly convincingly.

"'Till you can't see what's eating you." Riddick continued slowly. "That's the big plan?"

"Where is Johns?" Fry asked quietly.

"Which half?" Riddick spoke absolutely. No one needed further explanation. Adel noticed Jack's lip trembling in the dim glow of the lights.

"We're gonna lose everybody out here." She sniffed, trying in vain, to keep her tears at bay. "We should've just stayed at the ship." It was silent for a moment before Riddick spoke.

"He died fast. And if we have any choice about it, that's the way we should all go out." He turned to walk from the group, pausing next to Jack.

"Don't you cry for Johns. Don't you dare."