Author's note: Riddick's thoughts are italicized/separated since this is Lysia's narrative.
IF ANYONE WANTS E-MAIL UPDATES, SEND ME YOUR E-MAIL ADDRESS!
G-G
Chapter 4
G-G
While I'm slinking over to Justin, I grab the revolver that I swiped last night. I cock it and stick it in Justin's face.
"How'd you find my place, Justin? Don't you dare lie to me!" I yell just for emphasis. If I wanted to kill him, I would've grabbed a knife. If I ever let someone be close to me, they would know that with a knife in my hand, I mean business.
Justin's hands go up and his face turns white.
"Lysia, calm down! I got a note in my apartment to come here and make sure you had enough to eat!"
Who would send Justin a note about me? "Where's the body?" I press the gun to his nose.
"Body? What body?" Justin starts sweating.
I move the gun an inch from his head and shoot it, hitting one of the beat up counters.
"Get out of here, Justin!" He starts to protest, so I shoot again, this time it whizzes between his legs. "Now!"
He runs out looking like a frightened coyote, which is quite comical, but this isn't the time to laugh. Someone knows where I live, and now it's time to leave.
I grab my big black sports bag, toss it on the couch, and unzip it with one swipe. Blankets, my few dishes, my rope ladder, and all my artillery go in it. I only own a few changes of clothes, so they grace the top of the bag. I put on a turquoise top and a pair of black leather pants. My shorter knifes, the ones I use when I wear pants, go under my short sleeves, handles down and showing. People know I mean business with knife handles showing.
I hoist my bag up and pull my arms through the backpack straps. I look around the loft. I lived in this place the longest, almost a year. It was nice knowing I had a place to go at night that was safe. Now I would have to move every night until I scouted a safe place to stay. I have to leave the city and go somewhere else. I should look into another planet, but I don't feel like enduring cryo-sleep at the moment, not after Mr. Sexy-smell. With one last look at my home, I shut the door and leave the building.
G-G
R.B.R.
Where is the girl going? I thought if I got rid of the body and sent her friend over, she would think he was behind it. She's smarter than I thought. What is it about her that's so different from any other female? She looks normal to me. Except for the killer part, but that's hardly abnormal on this planet. Then again, I look normal to people too. Hmm. Maybe I should follow her and find what she's all about. God knows I need to keep moving to keep those Necromancers off my ass. I know I'm their leader and shit, but I need my space. I don't like being tied down with responsibilities. I told them I would be back in a few months. Those months will be over soon. Call in the cavalry!
I try not to think that my Necromancer excuse is just a cover-up, and force myself to NOT think what I'm trying to cover up. With my mind made up, I steal some gear and follow the girl.
G-G
Someone is following me. My killer instincts have confirmed it every step for the past five days. I can't get a whiff of the person. He must know I can smell him. Perfect. A hunter as good as I am. That's rare. Why hasn't he killed me already? He's hunting me and he's been doing so for five days. I've felt him since I left my loft. What's his deal? Quit beating around the bush already!
I sigh and rip open another bag of food. My uncle told me that the army on Earth eats this shit. No wonder they can't win any wars. Anyone who eats this for every meal is insane. I set the chemical reaction that heats up the meat and slurp up some dried apples while I wait for it to heat up.
I'd kill the bastard myself, but I'm too curious. Furyans are the best trackers. Everyone knows that. Maybe my stalker is Furyan. I cut the thought off quickly. I can't allow that kind of hope. There are no Furyans out there. He's just really good. Not a Furyan. Not.
I burn my hand on the meat from not paying attention.
"FUCK!" I shout in frustration. I kick my bag and in doing so, get dirt all over my dinner. "Damn it!" I shout again. I grab one of my short knives and throw it. It lands in the stream I camped next to. I slump down on the ground and admit to myself why I'm so angry.
I miss that Goddamn smell! That man smelled like heaven, and I fucking killed him! I got something special thrown at my feet and I stomped on it. I'm such an idiot. If I ever smell that smell again, I will not hesitate to throw myself in the man's arms and beg him to immerse me in it.
With a sigh, I get up and try to find my knife. I can't afford to start losing my weapons out in the wilderness. I'll need them when I find a new town. I find my knife in the stream, pinning a fish to the ground. The fish is a good size, so I use my knife to catch a few more. Anyone for sushi?
G-G
R.B.R.
We're coming close to a town. We should hit it tomorrow. Being in the wilderness for an entire week has made me realize how much I enjoy my primal instincts. Out here, everything is based on instincts. Where to find food, where the streams are, when a storm is coming. I don't have to worry about mechanical planning in the woods. It's sort of calming. Ever since that Godforsaken planet, every second has been part of a plan to save my skin. I haven't had a moment to relax since then. Did this girl make me feel this way? She seems to be just like me. Always watching for the attack that's sure to happen. Being tense every moment, even if nothing happens for years. It saves your skin when something does happen, even if being ready for an attack for that long is a pain in the ass.
If only there was a place where we could both relax. No mercs. No people trying to kill us for their territory. No jails, no metal gags; no people telling you what you can and can't do. Must be nice. Damn, this girl is growing on me. I can see my future with her. A quiet life where we can both relax. I might even take up a trade.
Okay, cut the touchy feely crap before I puke. Where the hell are my killer instincts? Furyans don't waste their time picking out curtains. We kill the person who owns the curtains and then steal the weapons hidden in the cellar.
Kill. Kill. Kill.
I repeat the mantra to myself and keep following the woman who is unraveling my sanity.
G-G
That Goddamn smell! I'm going insane in this fucking wilderness! I smelled that smell last night in my sleep and it was accompanied by an extremely vivid wet dream. Is it going to haunt me for the rest of my life?
I'm so angry, I pick up a knife and go hunting. I crouch low and start a feline run into the forest. I smell fur and blood. Not even paying attention to what I'm killing, I stab and stab, letting out my fury on whatever I captured.
Five minutes later, I finally wake up and see that I just hacked up a rabbit. Okay, that was stupid. I don't need my rabbit pre-jillioned. I hunt more, but the animals must have seen my lapse in sanity and gotten out of my range. Damn it. I am so not eating that army crap for another night. I walk back to my camp, angry, sorting through my mental list of army dinners, trying to pick the one that has the most appeal. My foot hits a rock, my decision still unmade, and I stumble in to my camp. When I open my eyes, I can't believe what's on the ground in front of me.
Two perfect coneys, ready for me to skin and cook. I immediately scan the area for whoever left them. Nothing. I get up and inspect the rabbits and immediately smell that man.
No. It's not him. You're imagining things. You KILLED him! He's gone. Bye bye. Now shut up and eat your bunnies.
G-G