Eyes In Darkness

chapter 5

By the time we reached the structure, the suns were sinking low and the air shimmered with heat.
What looked like a cluster of small buildings surrounded a larger one in the center — maybe an old outpost or a homestead long abandoned.

We split up to search for supplies. Fry barked quick orders; Johns ignored half of them. Everyone moved like they'd done this before — survivors picking through ghosts.

The first building I entered smelled of dust and metal. Light poured in through cracked shutters, catching on a picture frame lying facedown on the floor. I bent to pick it up.
The glass was shattered, edges jagged, but the photograph beneath was still visible — a couple smiling at the camera, standing arm in arm. They looked happy. Ordinary. Like people who'd believed tomorrow would still be here.

I traced a thumb over the cracked glass.
What happened to them?
And what would happen to us if we never left this planet?

The air shifted. A weight, familiar and watchful, pressed against my back.
When I turned, Riddick stood in the doorway — silent, half-shadowed, his goggles catching the last bit of light.

"I thought you were checking the other building," I said, tucking the frame under my arm.

He shrugged. "Thought I'd help you instead. I'm... more comfortable around you than anyone else here."

It caught me off guard. "That's good to know," I said softly. "I feel the same way, though I'm not sure why."
A small smile tugged at his mouth — rare, almost shy — before he joined me, scanning the corners of the room for anything useful.

We searched together in quiet rhythm. A few tools, some old fabric, nothing worth much — but the silence felt easy. Comfortable, like maybe this ruined place wasn't so lonely anymore.

When we stepped back into the open, the group was gathering near the main house. Fry's eyes found us immediately. Her glare burned hotter than the suns.
I ignored it.

Jack waved when he saw me, Ali perched happily on his hip. The two of them had become brothers in all but name. I took Ali back, brushing sand from his curls, and carried him toward Imam, who was kneeling beside a rusted water pump with his sons.

After nearly an hour of coaxing and cursing, the pump sputtered — then roared to life, spilling clear water into the dust. The sound drew everyone close.
We found old glasses inside one of the side huts, and for the first time since the crash, we all drank something that didn't taste like fear.

Later, inside the largest building, we gathered in the shade. The walls hummed faintly with wind. People were quiet — exhausted, wary, lost in their own thoughts.

I sat between Riddick, Jack, and little Ali, listening to the creak of the floorboards and the soft rhythm of the children's breathing.
My mind wouldn't rest. Not yet.
Because I knew peace never lasted long in places like this.

And somewhere out there, beyond the dunes, something was still moving in the dark.