In The Dark

Five: Gifts and Grim Discoveries

Gifts and Grim Discoveries

I kept my eyes on my feet for the first few minutes of walking—making sure I didn't trip and ruin the man's good work. It felt strange, having a wound bandaged by a convict. Considering what he was apprehended for in the first place, it was abnormal to think of him as the restorative type. Usually he'd be doing the exact opposite.

When I finally did look up, everyone was staring at me again—eyes filled with surprise. Still, I blushed, but a small beam accompanied the pink tint to my cheeks. Shazza smiled at me past her still angered grimace. Jack smirked, and Imam put his hands together in a praying gesture and nodded his head gratefully—even though he didn't know me very well, he still worried for my well-being. It made a genuine feeling of hope for these few rise in my chest, and my smile grew.

When my eyes landed on Carolyn and Johns, however, it faded. The cop had blood running from his nose, down past his chin—the heavy crimson dripping onto the sand. His jaw was tightened in anger—his eyes directed away from the group. His hands were on his hips, as if trying to keep them from tangling around someone's neck. Carolyn was crying in silence—clamping her mouth shut and letting large tears rush from her unfocused eyes. Her face held a mix between anger and revulsion. While I stared, I didn't notice Jack walk up beside me.

"Zeke mentioned the morphine," his quiet voice startled me, but I didn't look at him. I figured that was why Johns had a bloody nose—someone hit him. I knew somehow that it wasn't Zeke—if he had gotten ahold of the merc, he wouldn't have a bloody nose. Hell, he wouldn't have a nose. Then I saw the same cerise color dripping from Carolyn's knuckles. My eyes widened, and Jack snorted.

"If you give her a reason to be, she's more than just a tight-wad nag," he informed me. I didn't take her for a fighter. She just didn't seem like one. But then I remembered that, though they were kind enough, these people were strangers—there was much more to them than I knew. I had to remind myself that I couldn't assume anything about my fellow castaways. I couldn't afford to. The only one who seemed to be as he was labeled was Riddick. And as soon as he crossed my mind, it seemed he was the object of everyone else's thoughts as well.

"Where's Riddick?" Johns looked at me as he wiped his lip—smudging the blood that was resting there. My brows wrinkled together in confusion.

"He's right—" I pointed behind me as I swiveled to look over my shoulder. But the man in question was nowhere in sight. "He was just here..." I said softly, and my confusion was met with heated shouting.

"Absolutely fucking fabulous! The bastard could be anywhere now—I'm surprised you didn't notice him sneak away, you had your fucking eyes glued to him the whole damn time!" Johns yelled, pointing accusingly at me. My eyes went wide and my mouth dropped open in shock at the accusation. I wasn't sure why. I knew he spoke the truth Maybe I wanted the others to believe I wanted nothing to do with him as much as I wanted myself to believe it.

It was hard though. He peaked my curiosity terribly. There was something about his governing aura that made me want to know everything I could. But still, my mind was at conflict with my heart. One wanted me to follow him and watch—just to observe his behaviors. The other wanted me to spit on the ground he walked on. And I was afraid of one of them winning. Argument broke me from my thoughts, and I saw Zeke pointing his own accusing finger at Johns, a nasty black look on his face.

"Don't you dare yell at the Sheila, you son of a bitch! She must've been terrified!" Shazza had to hold him by the arm, though the look on her face said that she'd much rather let him at the cop's throat.

"Oh sure, terrified. She sure put up a hell of a fight when the bastard was carrying her—am I the only person around here with the RIGHT FUCKIN' MIND?! THERE IS A MURDERER OUT LOOSE SOME-FUCKING-WHERE!" Johns yelled back, but not particularly at Zeke. It was directed to all of us, but no one felt concerned as long as it was Johns who was speaking. He had lost the trust of the majority of us.