Page 103 of Homebound
He issued a pitiful scream and crumbled, effectively taken out of commission.
“She hit me in my poor arm, Herise! She hurt my arm!”
Breathing heavily, Gemma looked wildly around. Aunt Herise had dashed after Leena to Gemma’s room and when the two of them came out, their arms were full of Gemma’s belongings. At his mother’s nod, Ravi threw the door open and out went her things, thrown down the five stairs to the wet cold ground.
Her tin can got busted open upon impact and the few brass dollars she possessed spilled out into the dirty puddle, sinking to the bottom. Panicked, Gemma ran out of the door, skipped down the stairs, and dropped to her knees by the puddle thrusting her bare hands into the numbing cold water to salvage her pitiful savings.
The door above her closed, and the lock engaged. With it, the light abruptly ceased and she was left in the dark with elbows deep in ice-cold slush, feeling for coins with numb fingers.
Chapter 24
She had joined the ranks of the homeless.
Wedged in a crevice between the buildings where she had once hidden from a Perali during a riot, Gemma contemplated her situation. By morning, the shock had worn off, but feelings of despair, of worry and fear, never came like she had expected them to. She was simply numb on the inside.
She crawled out and stood up, stretching. She would never have thought that sleeping would be possible in these circumstances, but as soon as she had gotten herself situated in her hidey-hole, her body had given up and she passed out. The cold hadn’t woken her. The cramps in her curled up limbs had never affected her sleep. It wasn’t normal, but she didn’t care. She was grateful for the respite.
She cast a critical eye around. The place left much to be desired even as a temporary base, except it had protected her during the night from being scoped out by the sweepers. As far as the pluses went, it was a huge one.
Gemma stuffed a bundle containing her clothes inside the crevice and covered it up with loose bricks.
She took off her hat and smoothed the hair under it before pulling it back on. She brushed up and straightened her damp coat. It was paramount to appear decent to potential employers. Migrants, cripples, former convicts, and other bedraggled homeless folk had no chance of being considered.
Gemma left her grotto and spent the day walking along the same route as yesterday visiting the school, and the Comm Center, and all the other places where all the other people went seeking opportunities.
There were none.
All too soon the dusk had fallen, and this time there was no home, however unwelcoming, for her to look forward to at the end of the day.
Starved, Gemma bought a slice of bread and cheese at the market and ate them right by the stall under pitiful glances from the woman who sold them to her. Smiling weakly at the seller, she moved away and shuffled back to the grotto.
Her second night turned out to be a whole lot less peaceful. She huddled under a pile of clothes she’d freed from her bundle and shivered from the cold for hours. The rocky ledge was uncomfortable, hard, sharp, and slanting, making her body want to roll out. She was thirsty not having thought about water. Of course, there was no tap at the grotto. And she possessed no cup or pot to fill with water. She was well and truly destitute.
As a sudden idea occurred, she pawed her belongings until she located the tin can with the brass dollars she’d been able to find in the puddle. Opening the lid, she carefully emptied the dollars into her pocket and set the tin can under the rain. It would take a while, but if the rain persisted, come morning she’d have a nice drink.
Relieved at having solved at least one small problem, Gemma crawled back in and closed her eyes. But the sleep wouldn’t come. Distant sounds of another fight echoed off the old brick walls. Once they subsided, the rumble of sweepers patrolling the streets made Gemma’s stomach clench, and she tried to wedge her body tighter into the hole, becoming one with the wall.
Please, please,she silently prayed to ward off the sweepers. The feelers were designed to ignore enclosed structures like homes, but her little cave had no door.
The interminable night finally ended with gray winter dawn. It stopped raining, but her tin can had collected enough water for her to satisfy the worst of her thirst.
This time Gemma headed straight for the docks and took place in line. Her damp coat offered little protection against the morning chill. In this weather it would take days for the garment to dry, the days Gemma would spend in a state of permanent cold. It wasn’t the discomfort that worried her but the prospect of getting sick.
Inconspicuously, she sidled closer to a guy in front, using his bulky frame as a shield against the wind.
“What time do the docks open for business, do you know?” she inquired politely.
The guy turned and gave her an assessing look. “They never close. It’s the curfew that’s keeping people away at night. This your first time getting work here?” He looked like he’d been around the block and then some, with ruddy, scarred face and slanted, unfriendly eyes.
“Well, no, actually. I mean, I’ve stood in line, but so far no work… What about you?”
He scoffed and spit on the ground. “I get by alright.”
“Oh yes? That’s nice. Are you a mechanic?”
Her attempts at polite conversation seemed to puzzle the guy. Gemma was quickly figuring out the etiquette around here tended toward minding one’s own business.
“I can do basic repair stuff,” he shared with reluctance. “They mainly take me to take apart broken machinery, for parts. I’m fast like that.” He cracked his fingers.
