Treacherous

Thirst was like a craving that brought fantasies to mind, sparkling waterfalls, deep clear pools, the pitter-patter sound of rain, the stink of wet asphalt and dirt, the sense of weightless floating. Glorious visions that were really just making the need worse.

Her tongue was swollen, almost filling her mouth. But she couldn’t open her mouth. Her lips had cracked, the blood drying and sticking them painfully together while she’d been unconscious.

Bell knew she was growing weaker. If something didn’t change soon she was going to die.

How many days had passed? How long since she’d beaten the meal delivery guy with the tray? They’d swarmed into the room, too late to help the servant, but that didn’t seem to bother them. Beaten into unconsciousness, there was no way to tell how long she’d been out.

She managed to get to her feet, having to hold onto the wall. Had to check the door. It was locked, as expected. She collapsed against the wall beside the door. Only minutes passed before she slowly lay over on her side, too weak to even sit.

Rough hands woke her. She was being dragged to her feet, arms stuffed into a cloak, the hood pulled down far enough to obscure her vision. Her hands were cuffed in front of her, then she was gripped by the upper arms and literally dragged out of the room. She fought as much as she could, useless struggles that they ignored. She was just too weak, and confused.

Was she dozing? The bruising grip held her upright, and it seemed they were going on forever, carrying her forward at a sickening pace. Every time she opened her eyes they were in a new part of the ship, passing different people. No one gave her more than a glance.

The slow whine of hydraulics caused as much excitement as she was capable of. Even in this she felt pathetic. No time to react, she was dragged down the opening hatch, and out into the night.

Fresh air. She sucked in the clean scent, tasting dust and ash. Where the hell were they? And how would she ever find a way back? Freedom without her kids was no freedom she wanted.

On through the night, down connecting dark streets. There were no people and nothing looked familiar.

“This good?” one of the men asked.

The other made a grunting sound of indifference. He didn’t care, and so they unceremoniously dumped her. By the time she’d gotten her breath back and turned over, having to throw off the hood, the men were retreating around a corner. She was alone.

Bell was torn between fear, relief, and now worry. She was free, and that was great. But the bastards still had her children. Now she had no idea where they were, or even where she was. She knew enough to know she was in another kind of danger now. Starvation would be an easy way to go compared to what inhabitants of some planets would do to her. There was nothing she could do about it though, except hope. Added on top of all that was her lack of will. All she wanted to do was lie here, maybe cry a bit, then sleep forever.

Thinking of her children gave her the motivation to pull herself up. She had to find someone, anyone, and just hope that the first person she came across was the right person to be at the mercy of. She didn’t have the strength to be choosy.

A soft tinkle of sound had her carefully digging through her pockets. Keys! She fit tiny key into tinier holes until she was finally free of the cuffs, throwing them aside. That was better.

Now, which way?

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Riddick saw men that were obviously not from Helion. Not many people would be visiting a planet still occupied by Necromongers, so it was easy to assume they were Militia.

On the rooftops, he moved to follow them when he saw that they’d left something behind. Anything Militia was discarding deserved a closer look.

He reached the rooftop across from the object. His vision let him see the person easily. By the distinct curves seen through the gapping cloak it could only be a woman. She was just freeing herself from cuffs on her wrists, tossing them aside roughly. He could scent blood, but couldn’t say if it was from her or not.

She stood against the wall breathing heavily, huddled in the cloak. Minutes passed before she took her first step, hand against the wall for support. Was she truly that weak? A few staggering steps and it was obvious that she was. She’d only gone a dozen steps when she fell to her knees. Riddick was impressed when she slowly dragged herself up. Strong woman.

He followed, openly walking above her at times. She was in no condition to be watching her back. They were moving away from the city center, but he doubted she knew it. A regularly used street was up ahead, intersecting the one she was on. He’d be surprised if she made it that far.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Bell couldn’t go on. She fell to her knees again, moaning from the pain. She’d drawn blood the last time she’d fallen and now was just grinding dirt into the fresh wounds.

She was so tired. Her eyes wanted to close on their own, and she had to fight to keep them open. The pressing helplessness weighyh on her as well. She was doomed to failure. Even if she walked another ten yards, or a mile after that, she knew she didn’t have the strength or the opportunity to find a way back to her children. They were beyond her reach and all she could do was kneel in the dust.

The sound of footsteps had her raising her head, slower than she wanted. Someone was nearby. She might have to draw attention to herself or they could miss her.

No chance of that. The sound amplified, echoing. There were many footsteps. She watched as a troop of heavily armored men appeared. Four rows of soldiers came at her. They split when they reached her, two rows going down either side, not slowing.

Her heart was beating so fast it hurt. She couldn’t think of a scenario where soldiers would be good, and for just a second she clung to the hope that they would just move right past her.

But then they stopped. They stayed in their rows, and faced off to her. Heavy weapons, some held double axes, some long handled scimitar looking blades, some guns, and all were raised in a stance that looked practiced, and threatening. She was surrounded and she was doomed.

Bell dragged herself up. Face to helm with the one in front of her. She realized that she knew who these people were, and felt instantly sick. They were Necromongers and meeting one was a death sentence. She turned to run, but hit another body that had been standing just behind her. A hard grip closing around her was too much. She blacked out.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Riddick watched the woman intercepted by the Necros. They closed around her and she panicked. A second later she was slumped in the arms of one of his generals.

He dropped fluidly to the ground within their midst. A second of surprise, then the closest were dropping to their knee, the rest quickly followed suit, leaving just him and the general standing.

“My Lord, this woman is injured.”

Riddick moved through the kneeling soldiers, his eyes on the woman slumped in General Farr’s arms. Her hood had fallen back and that hair seemed hauntingly familiar.

He stood before Farr and looked down at the woman. Unnaturally rapid breathing carried her scent, dehydration. Her weakness was like blood in the water, smelling sweet. Battered and bruised, eyes sunken in, but he recognized her. Bell.

Seeing her was a surprise, seeing her like this was a shock. What had Militia wanted with her? And why this level of neglect and abuse? He suspected the answers were the same and had something to do with him though he couldn’t guess how.

She needed help but her reaction to the Necros hadn’t been good. He couldn’t take her to them. Lajjun. Carefully he lifted her, tucking the cloak around her as he did. She was so light, bones easily felt where there should be rounded softness. His jaw ticked in anger. Militia had done this to her.

“Send Vaako and two female medics to this spot,” he ordered.

Farr gave him a questioning look, but it lasted only a second before he nodded and got the unit moving.

Imam’s house was only a few blocks over.

Lajjun let him in, but he could see the fear, not of him, but of what he might bring to her door again. He couldn’t blame her.

“She needs help.”

The widow’s worries for herself were replaced by concern for Bell as he laid her out on a sofa. “Riddick, I am no doctor,” she whispered in her heavy accent.

“I have medics coming.” At her startled glance he quickly added, “Women.”

She nodded slowly, then turned to the matter at hand. Bell. “We must bathe her. See all of her injuries.”

“I think she’s starving and dehydrated. She wasn’t this thin before.”

Lajjun nodded, “Was she unconscious when you found her?”

“Necros scared her,” he shrugged helplessly. “S’why I brought her here.”

“Bring her upstairs. We’ll get her in the bath and try to get some fluids in her.”

Riddick lifted Bell again, causing her to moan softly. Her head turned and one hand lifted as if to ward him off, but then she quieted, her face against his chest. That was the extent of her resistance? He couldn’t seem to form the thoughts of how bothered he was by seeing her this helpless.

As Lajjun ran the bath he carefully undressed Bell, seeing just how thin she’d become. With each new abuse he uncovered his rage increased. She didn’t deserve this.

She didn’t wake before he left to retrieve Vaako and the medics.