Title: I Want You To Need Me
Author: Mary (SlayerKnight2@aol.com)
I Want You To Need Me 9
I could smell him from my cryosleep tube. Johns. Softly scented vanilla from his shampoo, his body sweating from the drop in the cryotube pressure.
Something was wrong with the ship. I could feel my survival instincts heightened suddenly, the drop in pressure making me feel lightheaded as I felt myself lean downwards. We're crashing. I hear him move, groggy from the unnatural sleep. I can feel his gaze on me. Don't worry, Johns, I'm still packed away safe and sound which is where you better stay if you want to survive this.
I would have warned him but the bit in my mouth prevented me from making any kind of sound that would have been heard through the thick plexi-glass. So, I just remained as still as possible, hoping that he wouldn't open his container to come and check on me. Too late. I hear the door open and a grunt of pain as he lands hard on the unforgiving floor. Bad move, Billy.
The floor is like ice, burning my hands and face. My mind is muddled from the sleep as much as my body is but the primitive side of me is wide awake.
Something's wrong. The same thought keeps running through my mind. I can't form a solution yet, hell I barely even recognize where I am.
I always remember Riddick, though. He's kind of hard to forget no matter how long you've been in a coma. Especially considering what had happened before the Hunter-Graztner. He's still in his pod, still asleep as far as I can tell. I've always had a sort of warning system in me, alerts me when danger's near. I wouldn't have lasted in the game for long if I didn't have it. Mercs have to corner their prey and usually they're not happy about it and they're hardened criminals who wouldn't think twice about killing you in your sleep.
For some reason, my mind won't work. Been asleep too long, need the morphine to calm my nerves. Why am I awake? Just as the question hits me, all hell breaks loose. The ship starts disintegrating before my eyes. The walls and the floor of the machine peel away like paper and a bright, glaring light nearly blinds me. I can feel the intense heat outside, pounding on my skin.
For a moment I think I really am in hell. And Riddick's with me. How convenient.
I turn to run but realize that there's nowhere to go, so I grab onto a pole for my life, praying that I'll be able to hold on long enough. Finally, the ship comes to a jolting stop and I crash into a pile of metal, smashing my skull. Darkness.
Gotta thank the pilot later for the expert landing. Instead of almost killing me, the jolt knocking the door loose. I could hear people calling out for friends and loved ones in the thick, dusty air. I'm sore but otherwise okay. Can't say the same for Johns. I spot him a few feet away from my cryo-tube. Leaning over him I can see that there's a nasty gash on the side of his head. Probably banged it pretty good on the console. Well, he'll recover. If anything, Johns had a hard head.
Time to hide until I can get out of these cuffs. I notice there's a ladder leading into the cargo apartment. I manage to grab his gun and jump down.
Pain. My head would probably fall off if I let it. I try vainly to focus my blurry eyes ahead of me. Riddick. I swing my head around to look. His pod's empty. A sick feeling settles in my stomach. I reach for my gun. Not there.
In the middle of nowhere.
Despite the fact that I know Riddick's weaknesses, I can feel my palms start to sweat, my pulse start to race. I grab a flashlight and start looking for him everywhere he might be. Nothing. My guard slowly lowers as I think that maybe he died in the crash and was thrown from the ship. For some reason, that thought makes me more sick and I continue to look. I drop down lithely into the cargo apartment.
I watch him as he scans his light over the consoles and headboards. No gun. Brave little fucker to go after a big guy like me with nothin' but a stick.
For some reason, I'm fascinated with him. My eyes follow his every move. He's graceful but walks with a certain self-confidence that's been honed by fights and wins. He knows he's good but he knows that someone's always going to be better.
He sees his gun. Probably thought that he caught a break. I swing my legs down to capture him around the neck with the chain. He panics, clawing at the chain. Primitive instinct. It'll get him killed one day. Lucky for him I don't want kill him, just incapacitate him.
But he isn't a mind reader and he thinks I'm going to kill him. Grabbing his baton, he starts wailing away at my legs. He thinks that the dinky little stick hurts like hell. It stings but I've survived much worse. Besides, he ain't that strong with such little air left. I find myself hoping that he'll just pass out so that I don't have to hurt him.
He pulls me forward and I fall to the floor, stunned. He goes to hit me again but stops. Didn't think he could take care of himself but that'll teach me not to underestimate him.
He looks at me with a mixture of fear and understanding. He finally realized that I hadn't tried to kill him. Nonetheless, he's out of breathe and shaking.
"Somebody's going to get hurt one of these days. And it ain't gonna be me."
He's smiling, he's survived this one but he also knew that he didn't earn it. All he knows is that he won this round. Ego-boost. Just like a little child.
He pulls me up and ties me to a pole without anymore brutality. He's forced to lean over me to hook the cuffs behind the pole. His head is next to mine and I nuzzle his throat to smell his cologne. Nice. He practically jumps out of his skin. He looks at me incredulously. He stands up quickly, his eyes are dazed, as though he's debating something in his mind.
I rush out of the cargo bay. What the hell was that? A serial killer presses up against my neck and I'm arguing with myself on whether or not to lean in again. No, I can't do this, not again. God, that felt good. Too good. Well, now I know how I won the fight. He doesn't want to kill me, he wants to fuck me, again. Outside, the heated air helped clear my mind somewhat. I took out my compass, not really seeing the arrow. I kept replaying the scenes through my head.
I'm free. Sort of. Johns' smart, he'll find me sooner or later. And half of me can't wait to see him again, the other half never wants to see him again.
These feelings are so strange to me. Knows I'm a serial killer, doesn't care, but also doesn't want to become my next victim. Like Keen.
I see him walking along the bones, trying to find me. He's so aware of his surroundings, searching for me. I land on the ground behind the woman. Kill her and take her oxygen tank. Easy. My shiv glistens in the sunlight.
Suddenly, Johns appears. I recoil back into the shadows and stare at him.
He's wearing a navy hat to shade his eyes, giving him a boyish look. The woman noticed, too.
Johns took a swig of the alcohol, obviously trying to drown out memories. He offered the bottle to the woman. " Drink?"
She glanced at him again, then the bottle. Grabbing it, she murmured more to herself than anyone else. "Probably shouldn't do this. Dehydrates you even more."
Johns shrugged, possibly thinking the woman was a little nuts to give out health advice when they were in hell's backyard." Yeah, probably right."
The woman winced at the acidic taste as Johns continued small talk. "You know you probably should have stayed on the ship."
The woman leaned her head back. "I wanted to get away."
That's interesting. Seems Johns picked up on that, too. Clever boy. "Never seen a captain so eager to leave her ship."
The captain stood up, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation. There was something she was hidin' and Johns knew it. She was no longer in the chatting mood, though. "I think that we should keep moving."
But Johns wouldn't let it rest. I'd once taken a look at the merc's file. It said that he had a possible Obsessive Compulsive behavior but hell most bounty hunters do. It comes with the territory. "What did Owens mean when he said 'don't touch the handle.'" The woman remained unresponsive, thinking it over. Johns stood up, pulling his cap off casually as he did so. His golden hair was a halo by the sunlight behind him. He turned on the old charms for the young woman. " This is between you and me, Carolyn."
I moved closer to her, tired of the banter and I didn't like the way the conversation was heading. Kill her before they hook up, best scenario. I moved swiftly and silently up behind her. Sweat glistening on her back, her curly hair matted with the salty water.
She looked at Johns, gazing right into those same blue eyes that captured me and just about everyone else who looked into them. There was something about them that spoke to people, made them trust him, like him. Someone once told me a long time ago that the eyes are the windows to the soul. That statement was made for Johns. All you had to do was meet his gaze and you instantly knew what he was thinking and feeling. The woman fell for his puppy-dog-you-can-trust-me look. "I'm not your captain. During the landing, when things were at their worst, Owens was at his best.-"
My shiv neared her, close. Almost. My pulse races as I anticipate the kill.
"-He's the one that stopped the docking pilot from purging the main cabin, the passengers."
I freeze. Now this is interesting. A fellow killer in the midst of all the chaos. Well, I suppose I'll let her live, for now. Us murderers got to stick together.
"And the docking pilot being?" Johns had his theories but he wanted her to say it, to confirm it.
I slice off a piece of her hair. She smells good. Johns is a challenge but she's an easy lay and I'm beginning to like her. Johns nodded slightly, grinning as he put his hat on Carolyn's head. "Guess I'm more happy to be alive than I thought."
He walked away, followed by the woman.
Physco-bitch. She was going to kill us all. Looks like I'll store that little bit of information way for later use. She looks like she'll be trouble and it doesn't hurt to have an ace card hidden away. My nerves are heightened as I search for Riddick. No sign of him. I don't acknowledge the disappointment.
The Muslim kids find some sort of toy. Dammit! I can't seem to focus on anything. We find a settlement, looks to be abandoned - a long time ago. Dust coats everything and there's a feeling of emptiness and unrest. Something bad happened here.
Fry's working on the powergrid of a small escape ship we found. I'm replaying the images of the day back through my head trying to make some sort of sense of it. Humans have an uncanny ability of rationalizing things. I hear a shot ring out. It's soft, muffled by the distance. The stupid woman doesn't hear it, too focused on hearing her own voice as she drones on about the ship. I snap at her to shut-up.
The sound fades as quickly as it had began. I apologize halfheartedly to Fry.
We start back for the main ship - or what's left of it. My pulse is racing as I anticipate running into my quarry.
Go back to Part 8
Go on to Part 10