Author's note: first, I just want to say thank you to everyone who's made it this far! I hope you're enjoying it, please let me know either via PM or a review if you're seeing any major grammar or spelling errors, or plot holes that I need to fill in. Also, I am going to be getting a good amount of material for the events to come from Toombs' Chase Log, so if you haven't already watched that, you can check that out. Trying to make it so you can still follow the events without having seen it, but you will be getting a better understanding if you do watch it :-) anyway, thanks again!
. . . The man trudged through the snow, focusing on the tracks and drops of blood in front of him. Mouflon deer. Young buck. Got separated from the herd, he thought. Maybe attacked by a lone wolf. Got away, but he's dragging that left hind leg. Won't last long. He peered ahead, brushing his long tangled hair out of his face, and despite the snow whirling around him, saw the opening to one of the low valleys common to UV6. Trying to wait out the storm. The man kept moving to the valley.
He found the buck on the ground behind an outcropping. It lifted its head when he came into view, then dropped it back to the ground. He surveyed the teeth marks in its hindquarters. Got the muscle but missed the hamstring. Must've gotten this far off of pure adrenaline. He placed one hand on its side, feeling it flinch. Its breathing was irregular, and it wouldn't last the night out here. The mouflon survived the cold by bunching up with their herds in the valleys. The wounds the buck had taken weren't enough to make it bleed out, but the cold would finish it off. He took out one of his bang sticks; he'd had to get creative with his tools when his gun had jammed up his first year here.
"Making it quick for you. That wolf might still be around, and you know he'd make this slow," he said, his voice sounding rusty from lack of use. The buck closed its eyes, as if it understood, and let out a long, shuddering sigh.
He raised the stick and drove the end of it into the buck's skull, the bang of the exploding shell echoing around the valley. It twitched once, then lay still. A low growl made the man turn around. He could see the silhouette against the mouth of the valley. The wolf stalked forward, legs stiff, hair bristling. The man mirrored its movements and body language, unsheathing his knives.
"You do not know who you're fucking with," the man said in a growl. "This ain't your dinner anymore, it's mine. Count the loss."
It stopped about ten feet from him, scenting the blood in the air, its teeth bared. The man bent his knees slightly, solidifying his stance. The wolf crouched, then sprang. His knife blade whipped through the air and buried itself in the wolf's eye socket. It yelped, but its momentum kept it in the air, then it slammed into the man. His other knife found its throat and a moment later, the only sound left was the blizzard's winds . . .
. . . Carolyn jerked awake out of her dream, flailing her arms as if the wolf had been leaping at her, almost tipping out of her chair. One of her hands hit the vodka bottle on the table and it hit the floor with a loud thud, but didn't break. Rubbing her eyes, she saw the thin grey daylight of the early morning hours coming in through her window. Fell asleep at the table. She leaned down and grabbed the bottle, setting it back upright on the table.
Carolyn had finally bit the bullet and sent a message to Il-Imam on Helion Prime last night, nothing specific, just that she hadn't heard from him in a while and wanted to check if he and Jackie were ok. She had then spent several hours alternating between checking her notifications on her tablet, and toying with the vodka bottle. She would reach for it, get as far as pulling the stopper out, then slam it back in and put the bottle back on the table without taking a drink. Most of her first year on Lupus 5 had been spent in a drunken haze. The alcohol seemed to be the only thing that stopped the nightmares from coming, at least for a while.She had tapered off when they began to come back; nothing was worse than being too drunk to wake yourself out of one of those nightmares. She checked her tablet again: no new notifications.
Stupid to send him anything. Not only could it be tracked, you cut them out, remember? She tried to push the memory of that phone call out of her head, but it crept in anyway.
"What do you mean, you're staying on Lupus 5? I need you here! You were going to help me study for the pilot's test!" On the vidscreen, Jackie's face was starting to redden and her eyebrows had crashed down together in anger. Carolyn tried to soothe the preteen.
"Hey, Helion Prime has some of the best schools out there, and Il-Imam can pull some strings to get you a good tutor. Why would you want to learn from me, anyway? Remember the crash?"
"You saved my life! You and--"
"Shut up!" Carolyn said warningly, but Jackie had already cut herself off from saying his name. "Sorry, Jackie, I didn't mean to snap at you."
"Why aren't you coming back? It was just supposed to be a quick trip, light merchant vessel, easy money, main roads." How could Carolyn tell Jackie the truth? That the minute she had gone into cryo on the ship, her mind had forced her to relive those days on M6-117, from the rude awakening to the desperate run though the muddy canyon to the skif? It had replayed the last minutes over and over. Only this time, instead of her and Il-Imam stumbling out in the rain to get the injured Riddick back to the skif, she was on her own. The nightmare would end with something stabbing her in the back and carrying her off in the rain, then loop right back around to the beginning. She had been covered in sweat and trembling when the merchant vessel's autopilot finally came on for real, and she had barely been able to hold herself together through the landing. Her first act on disembarking was to hand in her resignation to New Oslo Shipping Corp.
"Listen, I'll try to come back, but I don't know when I can." Another 21 days in cryo? She shuddered, then shook her head and asked, "Are you still having nightmares?" Jackie sighed.
"Sometimes. Il-Imam still has me talking to some head-doctor."
"Is he around? Can I talk to him?"
"No, he had an evening service to lead." Carolyn tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "I can have him call as soon as he gets back."
"Ok, sure," Carolyn managed to say. Her eyes started to water.
"Well, guess I'll see you soon. Take care of yourself, ok?" Jackie said, her anger gone, replaced with real concern.
"Ok. I'll keep in touch." The vidscreen went blank, and Carolyn put her head on the table and sobbed. She didn't answer when Il-Imam called that night; she had been blackout drunk and had woken up on her bathroom floor, smelling like whisky and vomit.
After that, it had just seemed easier to let the calls go to voicemail. Carolyn would skim their messages, then delete them without replying. They had kept trying, but the time between their attempts got further and further apart, then finally nothing. Better this way. Puts it behind all of us. Now she just wanted to warn them that the trail might be heating up again, to keep their heads down, but it was unlikely Il-Imam would contact her back. She checked her tablet one last time: no new notifications. She sighed and headed to her bedroom to get ready for her shift at Grif's.
Toombs woke up beside the redhead, out of a dream where that woman from last night had been running from him, and finally placed the name to the face. Skinny, blonde, blue eyes, cut on her jaw.
"Carolyn," he said, then chuckled a little. Maybe your luck's finally turned, Riddick. Universe just dropped one hell of a breadcrumb on your trail.
"Who's Carolyn?" The redhead said, suspicion sharp in her voice. Her eyes were puffy and her makeup had run down her face. Toombs said the first thing that popped into his head, not wanting to let his little clue out to anyone, no matter how unlikely it might be that they mess up his hunt.
"My wife."
"Your WHAT?" The redhead sat up, yanking the sheet around herself.
"Sorry, ex-wife. She ran off on me with some bald piece of trash, haven't seen her in five years. Dreamed about her last night."
"Oh," the redhead replied, relaxing again. "That must've been hard for you." She lifted the sheet and began to slither over to him.
"Yeah, bad times. How about you help me forget again?"
She giggled, and lowered her head to his groin. Toombs closed his eyes and imagined it was that pristine little pilot instead, bobbing her head up and down. Time to track you down and have a little chat . .