Dark Eyes (A Riddick Story)

Rain of Freedom

            There had been three people killed by the hell hounds. Two were injured and in the wing. I could smell the blood everywhere, and the lack of food made it appetizing to my senses. I leaned against the wall outside of the infirmary and tried to let my heart rate slow. This would be something Riddick didn’t have to live with. He would never understand. I took a breath in, the blood filling my nose and the cramp in my stomach became worse. I ran up the stairs because I had to get away from the smell before someone saw me.

            I passed by a few people, but none of them looked at me like there was something wrong thankfully. I got about four floors up before I couldn’t smell it any more. I looked at the people that were there, at the eight rooms that all seemed empty. It seemed that most of them had not left wherever they had gone. I walked toward the cells and saw as many of them had accumulated stuff. There were pieces of clothing, I had guessed came from the dead, strung on the hard mattresses to make them a little softer. The people on the lower floor had probably been here a long time. Of course, they would have first pick.

            They also had food accumulated in their cells, and the sight was only making me hungry. I took the bread from my pocket and tore half of it away and munched on it as I looked over the railing. The ground toward the corner where the woman must have been torn to pieces was covered in blood. People were starting to come out of the tunnel just as I could hear rushing water flowing through the walls all around me. Suddenly the top of the mountain opened up as an iron gate with holes closed so that no one could escape.

            It was raining, and the sky was dark, but I could tell it was good for the people. I heard them moaning in pleasure as they looked up at the sky and washed the dirt off their bodies. I wondered if this happened every time after the wolves attacked—to wash the blood from the floors. I noticed that people were rushing to get their clothes off, getting buckets to collect water in, and washed themselves with their hands or a piece of ripped clothing.

            I jumped over the railing and landed on a rock right below it, out of sight of anyone that would come on the floor, and hung my legs over the side. I let the rain drip off the rocks above me and hit me in the face. It didn’t take long to become completely soaked. My hair was still a little dry, but if they left it open for another ten minutes I would be completely drenched. It was a hard rain, and made me wonder even more where this mountain rested.

            I layed down and let the water rush over my closed eyes. It reminded me of the first time I had even escaped from Injecco. The time I had broken out of their facility and ran into the forest that surrounded them. I dug under their fence, careful of its electricity, and ran into an open field. It was raining and it was dark, and I just layed there in the tall grass, letting the rain hit me because I was free. The rain had felt so good against my scars that I had gotten from them, the injection marks and the surgical scars. It felt nice.

            I let one leg drape over the side, my arms were by my side face up, and I felt free. I could feel myself drifting, drifting into a sleep that was heavy and tempting. I was never one to pass up something good, especially in a situation where everything seemed lost anyway.

            I opened my eyes and it was quiet. The lights seemed dimmer than before, and the rain had stopped a long time ago. Though there was no telling how much time had went by, it didn’t matter to me because it was such a wonderful sleep. I felt so energized and worry-free that I didn’t even care that I had no clue what time it was. I stood up and looked into the cells. Everything was dry now, though thankfully the annoying rock dust was nowhere to be found.

            Inside of the cells there were people sleeping soundly. I climbed over the side and used my stealth to creep to the stairs and made my way down. The smell of blood was still there, but it was nowhere near as powerful as it had been. The rain had washed away most of the blood that had been there, though I didn’t know where. There didn’t seem to be any drains, but if the smell was gone there had to be somewhere.