Chapter 5
"Yeah, it's one of the better cases I've seen." Riddick's eyebrow rose, and then his face twisted as another hard coughing fit took over. God, he hated being sick. Hardly ever happened, but when it did, he crashed hard.
"Better meaning worse?" Sarge asked, still propped against the wall, arms crossed over her chest as she watched Doc examine Riddick.
"Worse," the doctor gruffed. "You're just gonna have to wait it out, big man," he said with a shrug. "My shipment of goods didn't come in."
"Twosy fart out on ya?"
"You know better, Sarge," Doc scolded. "Twosy's the most dependable thief in this hellhole and you know it."
"Gee, thanks," she said with a sarcastic grin.
"And you, my dear," Doc started, rewarded with a cold scowl from Sarge, "didn't bring me back anything either." She sighed.
"Too conked out," she muttered.
"You can usually snatch something in transport," he continued, brow quirked.
"Like I said, too conked out."
"Musta been bad."
"Drop it, Doc." Her voice was suddenly harsh, the words forced through gritted teeth. Riddick sighed.
"So what's the deal, Doc?" Riddick finally asked, voice raspier than usual. "Take two Tylenol and call you in the morning?"
"Funny," the doc snickered. "You got yourself a comic this time, Sarge."
"Yeah, he's a real fuckin' hoot," she mumbled.
"No, Riddick. Just drink a lot of water, piss in a dark corner, and stay covered up. Talk to Dirk. Sarge knows him. He should be able to track down a heavier prison issue for you," Doc said, regarding Riddick's uniform. Riddick nodded, stifling a yawn. "Get him back into bed," he instructed Sarge. "You come back and see me when you got the goods." She nodded with a slight cringe, and Riddick smirked. Teach her for making bets when she's got a savings goal, he thought. A hoarse groan echoed off the walls as he stood slowly, following Sarge back down the maze of hallways to their cell.
"I'll be back," she said quietly, once he was tucked safely under his blankets. He watched her tuck an array of makeshift weapons in various locations with an arched brow, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail as she left the room. Nice hiding places, he thought with a smirk.
"What'd the good doctor say?" Riddick opened his eyes and groaned as Twosy arranged himself on Sarge's cot.
"The usual."
"Ah, yes. Plenty of fluids, piss in dark corner, and stay warm." Riddick snickered. "Best advice anyone could ever give you, even under the best of circumstances." Twosy's shoulders twitched in an awkward shrug. "It goes away with time."
"Just the mixture, Sarge said," Riddick commented, watching Twosy nod slowly.
"They haven't gotten the ratios quite right yet, but it's gotten better. It's mostly the decontamination fog they use. Not meant to be used in a closed room, but they do it anyway. More secure, in theory."
"I figured it was all the drugs."
"Well, that's another possibility," Twosy granted with a nod of the head to the side. "Some people don't take the sedatives very well. They don't last long, but they pack quite a mean punch."
"No shit," Riddick moaned, suddenly annoyed by a twitching muscle in the back of his shoulder. He swatted at it, succeeding only in making it worse.
"She's taken to you, you know," Twosy offered quietly. "That doesn't happen often."
"No promises, Twosy," Riddick moaned. "I told you that. Hell, I don't even know if it's worth the fucking effort any more."
"The great Richard Riddick finally giving up and accepting his fate in the penal system," Twosy said with a muted chuckle. "I never thought that would happen."
"I'm getting too old to keep trying," Riddick said with a dismissive shrug. "Prison life is comfortable."
"Prison life is anything but comfortable, Richard, and you should be damned for even speaking that way," the old man snapped.
"There's nothing on the outside for me anymore," Riddick pressed, his insistence only half-hearted.
"The death of a loved one is no reason to give up hope."
"Hope is for pussies."
"You're a strong soul, Riddick. The day you give up is the day we're all doomed." Riddick's eyebrow rose.
"Don't make me out to be a fuckin' savior, old man."
"Merely an idol, Richard. As long as there's one convict out there that keeps fighting the system, there's hope left in us all."
"No reason for hope. Just gets you killed," Riddick sighed.
"What would Jack say to that?" Twosy nearly crawled out of the room at the look Riddick sent him, but didn't. "She held out hope you would return to her, and you did. She held out hope she could get through that thick skull of yours and open up your heart, and she did. She held out hope that everything she risked herself for would pay off in the end, and it did." Riddick shook his head, hunkering down in the covers in an attempt to get Twosy's voice to go away. "She held out hope that you were still capable of loving, and you were."
"What the fuck do you know about Jack anyway?" Riddick finally exploded, sending the blankets flying off the bed.
"An old friend of mine still writes now and again," he said quietly, fishing out a small stack of crumpled papers and flipping through them. "A mutual friend, I believe, from a long time ago." Riddick glanced down at the package Twosy held out to him, nostrils flaring with the remaining anger. The convict just shrugged and placed the letters on Sarge's bed, giving them a gentle pat with a somewhat longing gaze. He stood slowly, eyes meeting Riddick's again before leaving the man standing there in the center of the room, glancing between the cell door and the papers left on the bed. Once the hallway was quiet again, Riddick sighed, rubbing his forehead as he reached for them.
Dear friend: I was sad to hear of your incarceration, but as a man of faith, I believe that, unfortunately, justice has been served. My prayers are with you, old friend, and I hope your good character remains in tact.
I have just reached Helion Prime after a long and fateful voyage, finally arriving in New Mecca. What a Hajj it turned out to be! By now I'm sure you've heard of the crash of the ship known as the Hunter-Gratzner, and, in a way, I hope you'd not heard that I'd been traveling upon that cursed transport when it crashed on a planet known as T2. As I'm sure you are expecting, though the situation worsened as time pressed on, the good always prevails.
Though I lost my three beloved sons, I gained a daughter. Her given name is Jacqueline Phillips, though she prefers to be called Jack. We presumed she was a boy, but in the wake of such tragic events as took place on T2, her true identity was revealed in order for her to be better protected.
Perhaps you had heard a convict called Richard Riddick was aboard the ship as well. Were it not for him, you would not be holding this letter, as he saved our lives. Allah works in mysterious ways, no? I do not know where he plans to go, nor what he plans to do, but I am eternally grateful for his change of heart. He cares so much for Jack, and she for him. I only hope that one day she will understand why he felt he must leave her, even after he let her stay with him for a short while. She is in so much pain right now, but it is all for the best.
I will write again, soon, old friend. Allah be with you.
- Imam
Riddick sighed. He should have known. Twosy just knew too much. He reached out and picked up the next slip of paper.
Dear friend: Jack graduated from high school today. A proud but bittersweet moment. Hassan would have been her age, had he survived. I am so delighted, however, that Jack has remained in my home for as long as she has. When Mr. Riddick returned her to my supervision, I feared she would go after him. I'm certain she considered it, at least for a while.
She plans to go to technical school in the following weeks. I shall miss her, but she is beginning a life of her own, and for that I am doubly proud. It was my greatest fear that she would descend into the ways of her hero, but she's chosen an honest path. He left a good impression on her – that she must be strong and independent, which makes me feel her survival is inevitable. I only wish she would embrace her true character and leave this phase of deceit. She still insists upon being called Jack, and concealing herself in men's clothing. A comfort from the past, perhaps.
I wish you could meet her, as I'm sure you would enjoy her character. Though she can be rather crude and a test of my patience at times, she has a good heart, and a resilient spirit.
I will write again soon, old friend. Allah be with you.
- Imam
Riddick closed his eyes, feeling her lips on his, that sparkle in her eye. Imam was so proud she chose a life unlike Riddick's, and he dragged her back into it. It was his fault she died. Back into the mud that was his universe.
Dear friend: The house is so quiet and empty without my Jack. She came to be a family to me, and without her presence, my surroundings have turned cold once again. Mr. Riddick surprised me with a visit yesterday, inquiring about Jack's location. Allah forgive me, I lied. I'm sure he knew it – Mr. Riddick is an excellent judge of character; an odd trait for a man of his reputation, it would seem. Deep down, however, I do believe there is still some light in him, perhaps rekindled by my young Jack.
His eyes are usually cold and emotionless, but a mention of Jack sparks something – what exactly that emotion is I doubt I could ever understand, but the simple idea she touched his heart somehow gives me hope. Perhaps you will meet him one day and see what I see in him. He pretends to be heartless, but there must be a place in him for even a fleeting emotion. His life was, as far as I could gather, anything but blessed, and though he's chosen his path, there is a good man hiding in his hardened soul.
He cares for her.
I know one day he will find her, and I shudder to think how she will regard him when he does. Perhaps their fate is together. If that is the case, I pray she opens his heart to humanity and cultivates the good in him.
I will write again soon, old friend. Allah be with you.
- Imam
"What are you reading?" He glanced up at the doorway, then back down at the
papers in his hands. She sighed and plopped onto her bed.
"Who bit it?" She laughed lightly.
"You smelled it, huh?" He only looked over his shoulder at her. "Yeah, uh, business called."
"Dangerous field down here, Sarge," he commented, turning the paper over into the already read stack and lifting a new sheet of paper. "Don't get caught."
"Don't worry. The evidence will be gone after lockdown."
"Convenient."
"Seriously, Riddick. What are you reading?" she pressed, propping her chin on a hand to look at him.
"Letters." Her eyebrow rose. "Twosy thought I'd be interested."
"Are you?" No answer.
Dear friend: Jack called me this afternoon, crying. I was heartbroken. She told me a man had visited her workplace and inquired about hiring someone, and he had Mr. Riddick's voice. She was so upset it wasn't him. The man has a chilling voice, David, one could hardly forget it easily. I would never have believed two people could share a voice so dark. She said his eyes didn't fit, however. I'm sure you can deduce why, living a life so similar to his in a prison.
I couldn't comfort her. She aches for him so terribly, and it scares me so. She's only twenty-one, and is convinced they are meant to be together. I am torn on what advice I should give. The human in me wants her to find him and bring out what good still resides there, but the father in me wants to protect her from him. Allah will guide her.
Old friend, how I wish you could respond to my letters. It disappoints me that the authorities will not allow you to have mutual contact with the outside world. I do miss your babble.
I will write again soon, old friend. Allah be with you.
- Imam
"I heard a nasty rumor we get showered tomorrow." Her voice cut into his concentration again. He sighed and turned the letter over, restacking the collection. He'd finish them later. She sighed. "Are you feeling any better?"
"Not really," he responded, reaching for his canteen of water. She watched the muscles in his throat contract as he swallowed slowly, eyeing her.
"Fights are tonight, in case you're interested," she said with a bored shrug.
"Fights?"
"Yeah. Every now and then a bunch of people get together for a melee or whatever," she explained, playing with the frayed edge of her blanket.
"You don't strike me as the type to get involved," he noted. She shook her head.
"Fucking sausage fest," she snorted. "That's my quiet time." His eyebrow rose. "I usually do a little yoga while the boys are distracted." She yawned. "You planning on going?"
"Probably not."
"Damn." He chuckled.
"You can still do yoga," he insisted. "I won't tell anyone." She shrugged. "Got a question for you." Her eyes lit up.
"Shoot."
"Tagged." Her eyes fell, fingers absentmindedly rubbing over her forearm. His was in the same place.
"Electronic tracking. We're all coded." She shook her head. "Numbers in the system. If there's a break, they know it." His eyebrows furled. "It's kinda like GPS, but not really. Actually, it's more like radar in a way, so I've heard."
"You know, Orbis 12 tried something like that," he offered, watching her eyes rise slowly to meet his. "Except they added in a little packet of neurotoxin that would break if someone were to stray too far from the boundaries, if you know what I mean."
"I don't know," she said, catching the coded question in his words. "I can ask Doc, but no promises."
"Don't worry about it." She stared at him. "I'm not planning on going anywhere."
"Big Evil's gonna just sit back and accept his incarceration?"
"Where did you hear that name?" he growled.
"What name?" She watched him carefully, his jaw rippling as his teeth clenched.
"Big Evil." She laughed.
"Twosy. He said he heard one of the guards talking about Big Evil and assumed it was you." Riddick snorted. "Fitting nickname, don't you think?" No answer. "I mean, you're a big guy, long rap sheet. I think it suits you well." She cocked her head at him. "Why?"
"No reason."
"Liar."
"You're one to talk," he retorted. "Tell me something." Her eyes narrowed. "Did you check him for goods?" Her lips twitched, slowly curling upwards. "Good girl." She nodded in satisfaction. "What's the count?"
"Twenty-five."
"And five to go."