Jack flew back from the force of the blow, and landed on her side. Liquid fire spread from her belly down to her knees and up to her chest. She looked down at her hands and saw red.
'Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God that's my blood! Oh God...'
Vaguely, she heard someone fall down, and then heavy footsteps. Riddick was there, checking her over. He moved her, rolling her onto her back. She moaned. The pain. It hurt so much to move. She squeezed her eyes shut, but Riddick hit her face and she opened them again. She wanted to tell him how much it hurt, where it hurt, to stop moving her.
Opening her lips, she realized her mistake too late. A cough issued forth and there was sticky wetness on the side of her face.
'I can't cry! Come on Jack, be strong! You can't cry in front of him. Not in front of him. Hold it together.'
He picked her up and she grit her teeth. The pain was everywhere, like poison in her bloodstream. He held her with one arm, and she felt him stumble a little. She turned her head in towards his chest, pressing her face against his shirt to hold in cries of pain.
Now it was dark. They were inside and she was on the bed. She had to tell him about the man. There might be more like him. But, oh, he walked away from the side of the bed. Outside. To the holophone. To the other man, who looked dead.
'He's got Riddick's knife sticking out of his neck. He IS dead Jack.'
She had to tell him. He had to know. They were after him. Bracing herself for the pain, Jack pulled one of her elbows underneath her. She pushed herself two...four...seven inches off the bed, until she was sitting up. Then he was there, his hands on her shoulders. But he was pushing her back down.
"No!" she yelled, but it came out only a whisper. Immediately he stopped pushing her down, but kept his hands on her shoulders, now holding her up.
"What is it Jack?" he asked.
"'Nother Johns. Tried warn...gauge...you have...to go." Jack knew this was the time. He might not understand it, but she would. She could die with a clear conscious. "Ridd...," she coughed, spitting blood. Clenching her teeth she moved her hand up to his face. Pulling his goggles away from his face she stared into his eyes.
"Riddick," she croaked, "thank you." Then there was darkness.
'Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God that's my blood! Oh God...'
Vaguely, she heard someone fall down, and then heavy footsteps. Riddick was there, checking her over. He moved her, rolling her onto her back. She moaned. The pain. It hurt so much to move. She squeezed her eyes shut, but Riddick hit her face and she opened them again. She wanted to tell him how much it hurt, where it hurt, to stop moving her.
Opening her lips, she realized her mistake too late. A cough issued forth and there was sticky wetness on the side of her face.
'I can't cry! Come on Jack, be strong! You can't cry in front of him. Not in front of him. Hold it together.'
He picked her up and she grit her teeth. The pain was everywhere, like poison in her bloodstream. He held her with one arm, and she felt him stumble a little. She turned her head in towards his chest, pressing her face against his shirt to hold in cries of pain.
Now it was dark. They were inside and she was on the bed. She had to tell him about the man. There might be more like him. But, oh, he walked away from the side of the bed. Outside. To the holophone. To the other man, who looked dead.
'He's got Riddick's knife sticking out of his neck. He IS dead Jack.'
She had to tell him. He had to know. They were after him. Bracing herself for the pain, Jack pulled one of her elbows underneath her. She pushed herself two...four...seven inches off the bed, until she was sitting up. Then he was there, his hands on her shoulders. But he was pushing her back down.
"No!" she yelled, but it came out only a whisper. Immediately he stopped pushing her down, but kept his hands on her shoulders, now holding her up.
"What is it Jack?" he asked.
"'Nother Johns. Tried warn...gauge...you have...to go." Jack knew this was the time. He might not understand it, but she would. She could die with a clear conscious. "Ridd...," she coughed, spitting blood. Clenching her teeth she moved her hand up to his face. Pulling his goggles away from his face she stared into his eyes.
"Riddick," she croaked, "thank you." Then there was darkness.