Treacherous

***Disclaimer: If you've heard of it, I don't own it and am getting nothing from it.

Bell leaned against the hot metal of the small building that she had claimed as her own. The blue sun had passed its zenith, leaving one side of the building with an appreciated shadow. It wasn't much cooler in the shade, but she'd take it. The suns had the ability to sap the liquid from your very body when you were in it too long.

It was 'night', or what the small band of castaways had designated to be 'night'. As a way to organize them all Johns and Fry, with the company of Imam and that whiny Paris, had set some ground rules. Bell had yet to read them all. Any 'organization' that left people to rot was nothing she wanted to be a compatriot of.

She was watching the pathetic sight before her, hoping to see some sort of movement. There was none. Slowly she stepped out of the shelter of the building. Her eyes darted back and forth, searching for any sign that she was being watched. The sun's bright glare made the shadows of the buildings pitch black. Even if someone were standing in the door next to her she probably wouldn't be able to see it.

Before her the object of her attention was chained to a pole in the center of the encampment as he had been for days. For days she'd been sneaking out to him, giving him as much water as she could. He'd refused food, preferring to suck greedily at the water she brought. But each time he drank less. Each day he showed less signs of caring where he was or what was happening to him. She couldn't put up with it any longer.

Richard B. Riddick might be a criminal to be punished when off this rock, but here he was just another survivor, though that fact was about to be revised. Bell was no doctor, but she could guess that he wouldn’t survive much longer with the treatment he was receiving.

The first day she'd come to him he'd told her that Johns wouldn't kill him, that he was worth too much. But Johns had yet to relent on the harsh punishment, and time was running out. On the second day Riddick hadn't spoken, and hadn’t since. He'd come to alert as she had approached him each time, seeming as if he was either scenting her or the water.

She’d heard the kid Jack arguing with Johns about Riddick being chained. Bell was impressed. Obviously she wasn’t the only one who disagreed with the torture. Jack had surprised Bell by continuously bringing up the subject, approaching Johns repeatedly and in more public places. Of course he refused him or to even listen to him, but Jack had a future in politics if he really knew what he was doing. By reminding the other survivors of Johns’ faults he was affecting the support they gave him. They didn’t want to think about Riddick was Bell’s guess. ‘Just let our capable cop Johns handle the prisoner and forget about it’. Jack wasn’t letting them forget, and with his arguments he was reminding them all that Riddick wasn’t an animal.

Impressive, but unfortunately not bringing results fast enough. By the time Johns caved or any of the others built up courage to stand against him Riddick would be a skeleton. Bell didn’t plan on letting that happen. At the end of the second day, she’d started to make her plans.

Now, as she slowly crept closer, Riddick didn't move at all. She didn't take that as a good sign.

"Riddick?" she whispered, hoping she wasn't too late, and cursing herself for waiting this long.

There was no response. From what she'd seen of his wary demeanor she figured this was very bad. Riddick had appeared the type to not let his guard down around anyone, but now he was as defenseless as a child. He was obviously so weak that he couldn't move, so how in the hell was she going to move him?

"Riddick?" She touched him. It was the first time she'd brought herself to do so. His restrained posture didn’t hide the power of his impressive physique and up until now she hadn't been able to deny her underlying fear of him.

Her touch seemed to revive him, or at least brought him around enough for his head lift in her direction. He couldn't open his eyes, blinded too much by the planet's infernal sunlight, but he still managed to seem capable without that sense.

“Can you move?” She found she was whispering, some unconscious attempt to keep from being heard, though there was very little chance of that. Wind whipped and whistled across the dry flat land and between the buildings of the settlement.

“No,” he croaked, his voice a harsh whisper that sounded like something from the other side of the grave. His restraints rattled and she saw his fists clench, his wrists twisting.

Duh. No shit he couldn’t move.

“If I cut your chains?”

His head lifted, though he made sure to keep his face turned from the sun, keeping his eyes in shadow. “Will you leave if I say no?”

Bell shook her head at her stupidity. She wanted to blame the heat, the fear of discovery, the fear of him, anything, but being this close to him was causing her brain to scatter.

No, she wouldn’t leave him. If she had to drag him away, she’d still make the attempt.

“No.” With a clear train of thought, she moved around him and cut the chains holding his manacled wrists together and to the post.

She tossed away the cutters, then instantly regretted it as the metal tool nearly rang with sound on the hard packed ground. A furtive glance around showed no movement in any of the surrounding buildings, yet. That was good at least.

Riddick didn’t move. With a deep breath of resolve, she lifted one of his great arms, now red and peeling from the sun, and lifted.

They both groaned in unison. The movement obviously hurt him. Having his arms behind his back for so long would have left them feeling dead and she was sure moving at all would be painful. As she lifted him, though she had to wonder how much of the actual lifting she was doing. He was huge, tall and broad and thick, and HEAVY!

Finally they were standing. He leaned heavily against her, his arm around her shoulders feeling as if it weighed a metric ton.

“Can you walk?” she whispered, watching him scowl with bowed head as he stretched his arms and back slowly.

“Do I have a choice?”

Did he ever speak without the attitude? She was trying to save his fucking life here, at risk of her own. Some gratitude at this point wouldn’t be wasted she was thinking.

Instead of venting her thoughts at him, she just started to move.

One stumbling step and then she was groaning as he nearly fell forward, using her as a leaning post to keep him upright.

“Water,” he croaked in that low raw voice.

She turned within his hold and was struck dumb by several things at once. First was his size. She’d seen him upright when Johns had brought him to the settlement. But from a distance and he’d been bent with the amount of weight they’d forced him to drag. That had been before Shazza got the Sandkat running. Now, standing beside her, literally OVER her, she felt dwarfed. The second and the far more important at the moment was the SMELL. She could barely breathe! With his arm lifted, the source of his abominable stink was nearly in her face.

She pulled a bottle of water from the bag she was carrying and opened it for him. Bell had to admire the water guzzling out of the clear bottle into his mouth and down his working throat. Half of the liter bottle was gone before she could reach out and stop him. He pulled it from her grasp like a starving man protecting his food, which in essence was true.

“Drugs,” she blurted, hoping to stall him killing her for the water.

With his eyes still closed there was no way for him to see that she held her hand out. “What do you got?”

“Codeine.”

He gave an imperceptible nod and opened his mouth. Bloody chapped lips parted for her.

Bell wanted to kick herself for being so distracted, or for finding anything about this man attractive. When given all the facts she was surprised she wasn’t running in blind fear. She was a nobody with limited experience outside her boring life. He was a notorious convicted mass-murderer with an escape record to rival Houdini and a purported affinity for drinking his victim’s blood. And here she was risking whatever punishment the ‘leaders’ of the group would have for helping him escape. On top of all those perfectly legitimate reasons there was the fact that he looked and smelled so bad. Left to sweat and starve in the endless sun of the planet he was in dire need of a shower and shave.

Despite the danger to herself, even if that came at his hands, she had to help him. It wasn’t in her to allow him to just remain in the blazing sun to die of exposure. She wouldn’t allow anyone to die in such a way, and especially not this man.

Having defined this last resolve to herself didn’t change how strange it felt to be doing something so unconventional.

Bell nearly tossed the pills into his mouth in an attempt not to touch him, then watched him finish draining the bottle.

“Thanks.”

She figured that word was very difficult for him, but it was what she’d needed. Most likely he would be an intolerable person to be around, with an attitude to match his physique. That was IF he allowed her to live. Now, despite how demanding he became she would know that he’d said that word at least once.

“You’re welcome.”

They started moving again, much to Bell’s relief. She was starting to feel like they would never even leave the courtyard where he’d been tied. He was moving better now, though she was still feeling him lean against her with every other step. And since he couldn’t see at all, she knew he couldn’t move at all without her leading.

She led him behind the building that was at the farthest ‘Northern’ point of the settlement. Compasses didn’t work, but the rising and setting suns had defined ‘East’ and ‘West’ to the survivors.

Riddick must have sensed immediately what was about him. He released her as soon as she halted and leaned a hand on the tin of the building on his other side. Bell spent a moment thinking of what he would be able to sense. They were on the lee side of the building. Less wind, he’d feel that. And the shade of the building, his light sensitive eyes would detect that. She was sure her ORDINARY eyes would be able to perceive that. But for the life of her she couldn’t guess how he’d known that the side of the building was within range for him to touch.

Bell wrestled a crate from where it set against the building. She’d chosen the one in the center of three in hopes that it wouldn’t be as obvious to anyone who happened by that it had been moved. An opening in the back side revealed her stash.

“Can you carry something?”

He snorted as if she was stupid for having asked. “What is your plan here, little girl?”

Bell rolled his eyes at his cynical tone. “I was going to lead you out into the middle of the desert and leave you. Does that suit you?”

He didn’t respond and she instantly felt bad for goading him. The man had been tied to a post for three days, a humiliating position for anyone, but she was sure it was especially so for someone of his…profession. Then his ‘rescuer’ was a WOMAN, and he was completely dependent on her. Yeah, she guessed that would all explain the surliness.

“Sorry.” She finished pulling the things from the crate. Four containers of water, all twenty-liters jugs. Three bags she’d stocked with stuff she figured they’d need, one was rather large, with two blankets rolled and strapped to it.

“You got enough water?”

“Probably not, but it’s all the containers I could find.”

“How long we got?”

“Before someone notices you’re gone? Hard to say. It’s only been two hours or so since Johns went to bed. I don’t know how often he checks on you.”

Riddick growled at hearing the name. “Pretty fuckin’ often knowing Johns.”

“Then let’s get going.”


AUTHOUR'S NOTE: I love to hear from readers. Reviews are wonderful, but even simple feedback is greatly appreciated. All stories are works in progress. If you see any mistakes or feel strongly about anything I'd love to hear it. Email if you like, or whatever is most convenient. Thanks for reading! -Chris