Eyes In Darkness

Chapter 4

I sat in the shade of the ship, Ali curled in my lap and Jack leaning against my shoulder. The heat shimmered off the dunes, and the group moved slowly among the wreckage, searching for anything that might help us survive.

Johns dropped down a few inches away, his mirrored shades hiding eyes I didn't trust. The way he looked at me made my stomach twist.
He opened his mouth, started to say something crude—something about me and him that would never happen—when a deep growl rumbled through the air.

Johns froze.

Riddick stepped out of the ship, calm as ever, and sat down right beside me. The look on Johns's face as he scrambled to his feet and backed off nearly made me laugh out loud. He walked away fast, not quite running.

I giggled. "Guess he didn't expect that."
Riddick's mouth curved into the faintest smile. Jack and Ali laughed too, their small voices cutting through the heavy air.

After a while, I decided to check the wreck again. Maybe we'd missed something the first time through. Picking my way around twisted metal, I spotted a familiar strap poking from under a slab of hull plating — my bag, half-buried.
The problem was the weight of the metal; it would take more than me to move it.

I turned—and ran right into a wall of muscle.

Strong hands caught my waist before I could stumble back.
Riddick.

For a heartbeat he didn't move, holding me steady. His grip eased slowly, like he had to remind himself to let go.

"What'd you find?" he asked, voice low.

"My bag. It's under that piece of metal." I pointed. "Too heavy for me."

"Show me," he said.

I led him over, and he lifted the chunk of wreckage like it weighed nothing. Once I was clear, he dropped it aside with a metallic thud. I crouched to grab the bag, brushing off sand. Riddick's gaze lingered as he checked me over for cuts, his expression unreadable but intent. Satisfied, he nodded for us to head back.

Jack and Ali were still where I'd left them. I set the bag down, unzipped it, and smiled. The four bottles of water were intact, along with two bags of cheese crackers and one of peanut butter.

"Lucky day," I murmured.

I handed Jack a bottle, then held another to Ali's lips. He drank greedily before giggling, water dribbling down his chin. I took a sip myself and offered the third bottle to Riddick. He looked surprised for a second—like no one had ever offered him something that wasn't out of fear—but took it, nodding once in thanks. I tucked the last bottle and the crackers away for later.

I didn't tell the others. Johns would've taken everything "for the group," and the kids would've gone hungry. He wasn't a cop; not really. I'd met enough mercenaries in my time to recognize one pretending to be something else.

Imam appeared a while later, holding a pair of dusty binoculars.
"There's a structure," he said, pointing to the horizon. "Not far—perhaps a kilometer."

The decision was made quickly. We'd move before the suns got worse.
Everyone packed what they could. Even Jack carried two small bags, refusing to be left out. Johns, of course, only took his own. Typical.

Riddick hefted the heaviest load without a word. I grabbed what I could and fell in step beside him, Ali dozing on my hip as the group began the long walk toward whatever waited beyond the dunes.