Page 108 of Homebound
“Hi,” she said, hoarse and low, not sure if she were dreaming.
He put out his hand and she took it, letting him pull her to her feet. She stood up, barely. The church swam before her eyes.
“It took me weeks to find you,” he sounded reproachful.
“I didn’t know you were looking. I thought you were long gone.”
He ignored her remark. “What happened to you?”
“Oh, this and that. I got fired from the prison.”
“Because of my escape?”
“Because of not sleeping with OO.”
He made a strange sound, but Gemma was too far gone to pay close attention. Standing upright took all the concentration she had.
“And then my relatives threw me out of the house - that was Dr. Delano’s fault. He stopped by to say hi. He was crushed at not finding you with me. So disappointed that he refused to treat Uncle Drexel.”
Simon said something in his strange language.
“Yes, he is a bastard. I think so too. And then I was looking for work but got robbed, and it kind of went downhill from there. And this one here,” Gemma motioned at the decapitated body, “wanted to eat me. Protein.”
She stopped to catch her breath. Talking exhausted her. “So, how have you been?”
Simon’s upper lip curled in a smile that revealed his teeth. How they had grown! Huge and sharp, they could snap her arm in half. Each the size of her little finger, his teeth were not white but clear amber.
Good thinghedidn’t want to eat her.
“I’ve been busy.”
She tried to smile back at him, but her facial muscles wouldn't obey. The world receded and she swayed. Simon caught her and swung her into his arms, cradling her close to his chest. His onyx eyes swirled with emotion.
“You weigh nothing, Gemma. It isn’t right.”
Her head spun. She was feeling so faint. Feebly, she clutched at him, but her fingers wouldn't form grips.
“I can’t walk.”
He adjusted his hold on her body. “You don’t have to. I’ve got it from here.”
Chapter 25
Gemma woke up to a feeling of long-forgotten warmth, heat even. Yes, she was hot, swaddled in covers. Where was she?
She turned her head blinking to clear her vision of sleep that clung to her senses. She lay on a low platform bed, on top of a mattress of relative thickness. It was comfortable, much softer than the sorry excuse for a pad at the McKinleys. For a few moments, Gemma absorbed the sensations. How good life could be!
He, her alien, was sitting on the backs of his heels on the floor in the middle of a small room. He was tinkering with a piece of equipment the size of an engine block. Multiple electronic chips decorated the contraption’s surface, with shiny coiled wires and hair-thin tubes circling it and sticking out. All of it looked complicated, but Simon’s long sharp-nailed fingers proficiently handled the minuscule components, arranging them into a format he clearly knew about.
She feasted on the sight of him. The threadbare shirt with pulled-up sleeves molded to his body and outlined the sizeable slant of his shoulders and taut flesh of his arms. He looked thicker than she remembered.
“Are you ready for another can of food?” he asked without turning. She hadn’t realized he knew she was awake.
“What fruit?”
He turned then to give her a very pointed look. “You called them pears.” He raised one arm and pointed to the corner of the room.
Gemma’s eyes followed. There, on a small counter, several opened cans were lined up in a row like little soldiers that had served their duty with honor.
