Page 127 of Homebound
“Yes, sir.” Her legs shook from nerves as she approached.
“Slip?”
“I don’t have one. They told me I can’t get paid, so I’m outta here.”
Several men were walking in, and Gemma stepped away from the guard to let them pass.
The guard was frowning. “What’s wrong with you?”
The gate protected them from the wind, which meant the smoking action from the thermos got underway full-force, enveloping Gemma in a fluffy white cloud.
The incoming workers also threw her curious looks.
“Spilled chemicals on my coat. No biggie. Have a nice…” a loud boom cut off her last word. Everyone stopped and turned to look where the sound came from.
Gemma’s heart dropped from foreboding.
“There! The chick in the dark jacket!”
Whirling around, she spotted her red-eyed foreman with two big men on either side of him. All three were running in the direction of the foreman’s pointing finger. Toward her.
The busted nitrogen tank had been discovered.
At the same time, a siren shrieked, and an extractable shield started rising over the fuel storage area.
“Shit,” Gemma said out loud and bolted.
“Hold her, dammit! She’s responsible!”
The guard leapt from behind the partition where he was stationed and took off after her.
There were shouts, and other people joined in the pursuit, but Gemma didn’t stop to count how many. She flew for the junkyard, her only goal to pass the thermos to Simon. She’d come this far. She couldn't fail now. Simon had to go home. And maybe Butan could fly? Without the liquid nitrogen, they’d never know.
Something warm whizzed next to her ear, and she heard a zap of a laser gun. To her shock, it registered that her pursuers were armed and that they meant business.
She zig-zagged down the street like a rabbit, acting on pure instinct. Reaching the junkyard, she vaulted over the first piece of rusted junk with aplomb born of mortal fear, stumbling as she landed on her feet, bending low. More zaps crisscrossed the air around her, hitting metal parts and making smoking holes in them. Her throat felt constricted from sprinting in the cold, and her heartbeat so fast she thought it might burst from her chest.
She pushed forward, taking cover behind chunks of broken machinery.
Suddenly, a zap came from up ahead, and a well-aimed at that. A man behind her screamed, and she thought he fell, but she didn’t dare look back. Running and ducking took all she had as her tiring legs were quickly turning to noodles.
The thermos continued its cold steaming.
Coming to a decision, Gemma ripped open her coat and took it off, placing it on the ground next to a rusted sheet of metal. Simon would be able to find it later. She couldn't risk losing it for good if she got caught.
She plowed ahead, reminding herself to stay low. It was easier to run without the thermos. The shots quieted down - did her pursuers lose her? - and for a moment she thought she could get away.
And then it happened.
Her right foot twisted under her, sending a firework of sharp shocks blooming up her leg. Without proper support, her body hit the ground, sliding, skidding on ice, and coming to a stop with her head buried in iron debris. The impact set off an earthquake in her brain, and the lights went out.
Chapter 28
Gemma woke up alert. She opened her eyes, took a look at the ceiling above her, and closed her eyes again, wishing she never woke up at all.
First, because her head hurt like it never hurt in her life, with a kind of piercing, relentless pain that made her want to scream, except hearing the sound of her voice would probably make it worse. Could it be worse? She didn’t want to find out.
And secondly, because she knew where she was. In the second her hazy unfocused eyes latched onto the ceiling, the place registered. There could be no other peeling moldy yellow ceiling like this in the City. No smell like this, too. Her nose was off, but she could taste it all in the back of the throat: the boiled gruel, unclean toilets, and years upon years of sickly sweat.
