A Dark Horizon (PB2): Chapter Three-Part Two-Inhabitants
Cassandra's offices looked more like a medieval torture chamber than a place
of medicine. Unsanitary, dirty, splashes of blood on the walls and floors and
tables. High-tech electronic equipment had been pulled from the walls and
consoles by the fleeing inhabitants and replaced with various sorts of primative
equipment salvaged from many different areas of the settlement including cutlery
from the kitchens. Jackie felt faint when Redding explained it had been used as
an autopsy room and morgue during the outbreak. "It looks like you've been
through a lot," Cassandra observed as Riddick walked in. "You're
done," she said to Jackie. The young girl hopped off the examination table
and the doctor turned to Riddick. "You're next, big guy. I wanna have a
look at that leg of yours."
He complied and took a seat on the edge of the table. Jackie stayed in
the room, interested, maybe a bit jealous, and Riddick nodded towards her,
asking Cassandra, "She okay?"
"Well," Redding sighed, kneeling down infront of him and taking
his leg into her hands, gently feeling around his tough skin, searching for
signs of infection around his gaping wound, "she seems okay for now, but
I'd like to do regular check-ups to make sure she stays that way. She just has a
few cuts and bruises, nothing to write home about, but you... This looks pretty
bad. What happened to you anyways?"
"Just a little accident," Riddick smiled menacingly,
though his heart was doing backflips as he remembered facing those two
creatures, and what came afterwards. How helpless he was, how he couldn't even
balance on two legs. How Carolyn had come back for him, how tightly and tenderly
she'd held him as she helped him to his feet and tried to get him moving to the
skiff. How, in that one life changing moment, she'd given her life for him.
"Yeah, right," Redding smirked knowingly, "an 'accident'.
Sorry, it's none of my business, I shouldn't have even asked. If it's not too
much though, I would like a name. Y'know, anything, just something to call
you."
"Johns," he replied after a moment of thought, "I'm
a merc. I was chasin' someone down, a dirty crim who escaped from slam, when we
met our little accident." Cassandra raised an eyebrow and asked why a merc
would travel with a priest and a kid, and Riddick grinned sharply and
answered," They wouldn't." He cringed slightly as she began digging
dirt out of his wound and cleaning it with some sort of foul smelling solution.
What had he once said? The pain reminded him he was alive. "I get the
feeling you don't entirely trust me," he said smuggly, only half-joking.
"And I get the feeling you don't trust anyone," she sighed,
wrapping a bandage around his leg, "so we're even. There, all done,"
she told him, standing. She ran a diagnostic scanning screen over his body and
nodded, satisfied. "Just as I thought, all clear. The eyes are
interesting," she commented, leaning closer to examine them, so close he
couldn't help but breathe in her light, intoxicating scent. He didn't shy away
from her touch as she took his face in her small hands so she could better study
him.. Her skin was soft against his, like silk against leather, and her hair
fell around her like an angel. "What do they do, I mean what is thier
purpose?"
"It's called a shine job," he told her. "I can see
in the dark with them. Riddick felt her small gasp of excitement brush his cheek
and his senses began to soar. What did he just say about reminders of being
alive?
"Fantastic," she said in awe. "Are they sensative to
light?" she asked reaching for her hand held examination light. He caught
her wrist to prevent her from holding it up to him and replied calmly 'very'.
She became slowly aware of his closeness and his response to her's and she
backed away suddenly, a thousand screaming thoughts ripping at her brain at
once. "Well then, I guess we're done here. You can... you can go now, Mr.
Johns."
"What was that all about?" Jackie asked Riddick as the
two of them left, side by side. He just gave an innocent little shrug and kept
walking. Cassandra was alone, flushed and appalled by the conflicting emotions
she was feeling. She slammed a drawer angrily just to let off some steam, and a
metal object fell to the floor, clattering as it teetered then settled. She bent
over and picked it up, holding it to the light, turning it between her fingers.
It was a knife, a sharp one, probably originally used for carving meat. It was
covered in black, dried blood, though impossibly still sticky. She regarded it
guiltily, her expression turning sullen and intense. Her stomach wrenched and
she suddenly felt like vomiting. She took a moment to collect herself then left
the building.