When Each Minute (is Your Last)
By Unanon
Written for the 15minuteficlets community on LiveJournal for the word
'Drenched'
Jack's hands trembled as she ran them over the prickly hairs of her newly shorn scalp. Globules of viscous blue fluids welled up between her knuckles as her fingers forced the sickening combination of rain and alien blood away from her forehead and face. It slid down the back of her neck uncomfortably, but her attention was elsewhere.
She was trapped in a tiny cave, barely a hollow, with Fry and Imam. The rustles and shrieks from the beasts outside waxed and waned in intensity but never stopped entirely. The creatures knew where they were hiding; Riddick had said that they could smell human blood. Her blood.
They could smell her and he had left them there.
Jack's attention snapped into focus when the flame of one of the makeshift liquor lamps guttered. She and Fry shared a glance and wordlessly moved to combine their remaining fuel into one bottle. Fingers pushing fluid, running along both sides of the crude, hastily made wicks. Forcing out every remaining drop.
It wasn't very long before that final light faded as well, dipping onto itself as it flickered into death. Jack swallowed a whimper until it was only a dim moan at the top of her lungs, and she reached for Fry in the sudden chill of darkness. Only it wasn't dark.
Phosphorescence. Sonofabitch.
She helped Fry, scraping labels off the bottles and slipping glowing worms down their narrow necks. They worked steadily, the urgency of imminent death gnawing at their hearts, nibbling at the edges of their souls. The glow from the tiny creatures was so dim, so insufficient. There weren't even enough to fill the second bottle.
Outside their enclosure rain pattered on leathery wings. And then Fry left too.
Jack's hands trembled as she ran them over the prickly hairs of her newly shorn scalp. Globules of viscous blue fluids welled up between her knuckles as her fingers forced the sickening combination of rain and alien blood away from her forehead and face. It slid down the back of her neck uncomfortably, but her attention was elsewhere.
She was trapped in a tiny cave, barely a hollow, with Fry and Imam. The rustles and shrieks from the beasts outside waxed and waned in intensity but never stopped entirely. The creatures knew where they were hiding; Riddick had said that they could smell human blood. Her blood.
They could smell her and he had left them there.
Jack's attention snapped into focus when the flame of one of the makeshift liquor lamps guttered. She and Fry shared a glance and wordlessly moved to combine their remaining fuel into one bottle. Fingers pushing fluid, running along both sides of the crude, hastily made wicks. Forcing out every remaining drop.
It wasn't very long before that final light faded as well, dipping onto itself as it flickered into death. Jack swallowed a whimper until it was only a dim moan at the top of her lungs, and she reached for Fry in the sudden chill of darkness. Only it wasn't dark.
Phosphorescence. Sonofabitch.
She helped Fry, scraping labels off the bottles and slipping glowing worms down their narrow necks. They worked steadily, the urgency of imminent death gnawing at their hearts, nibbling at the edges of their souls. The glow from the tiny creatures was so dim, so insufficient. There weren't even enough to fill the second bottle.
Outside their enclosure rain pattered on leathery wings. And then Fry left too.