Page 140 of Homebound
“Only scratches.” He gently but firmly unlatched her from his chest. “I will let you doctor me later. I promise.”
She took several steps on her own, a little unsteady. “Can we go home now? My head hurts something awful.” She was spent. The idea of returning to the Tana-Tana’s hovel and crawling into bed began to eclipse all other thoughts that crowded together in her feverish brain.
With Simon carrying her, they made it to the junkyard without running into trouble. But all was not well.
A distant rumble of approaching reinforcements penetrated the din in Gemma’s ears. Her eyes flew to Simon’s face in alarm.
Without saying a word, Simon kept on walking past the Tana-Tana’s hideout, heading down a familiar path among the junkyard’s unique array of rusty and jagged sepulchral sculptures. He didn’t stop until they reached Butan.
“They are still looking for us,” Gemma said with dismay when the sounds of manhunt reached this remote place.
He already knew. “They are heavy-duty militant forces, spread out and working a grid pattern. The prison bust was a big deal.”
“Then we have nowhere to hide.” She wanted to cry. This nightmare would never end.
Simon put a lid on Gemma’s bubbling distress with a curt, “We’re done here. Get inside. We’re flying out.”
“Inside Butan?” She stared stupidly at the black cylindrical shape rising from the darkness. “You never said… about today.”
Everything slowed down. She smelled the crisp winter air tinted by the smog, so familiar and suddenly so very dear.
They were leaving Earth today?
A gentle touch of the clawed fingers on the side of her face brought him back in focus. “We’re surrounded. And liquid nitrogen evaporates fast. Now’s the time.”
She blinked. “But it’s dark!”
She thought he smiled a little. “It’s darker where we’re going.” He hesitated a tiny bit, unwittingly showing a hint of emotion. “You’ve been through so much, beautiful Gemma. Stay strong for me for just a little longer.”
“Funny. You never called me that,” she smiled, momentarily distracted as had likely been his intent.
“No, because that asshole Arc called you that. But that’s how I always thought of you. My beautiful Gemma.”
He opened his palm, inviting her to take his hand. Taking his hand meant rolling the dice for an unknown future, going on a trip into open space neither of them was likely to survive.
Not taking his hand never crossed her mind.
Their hands linked. She sighed, feeling all out of sorts. The person she had once been was slowly slipping away into the past, and a new Gemma was emerging, more adventurous, a risk-taker with a thirst to live and love so powerful she hardly recognized herself.
Simon yanked the door open, and she clambered inside the dimly lit interior registering the smell of metals, plastics, and musty insulation. He got in after her and shut the door, sealing it by turning the levers.
“Buckle in. The oxygen mask is attached to your chair. Get it ready, you will need air at takeoff.”
Gemma did as he instructed by unhooking the mask from its slot on the side of her chair. She held it in her sweaty hands, telling herself that there was nothing to be afraid of.
Something whirred, and she heard Simon open and close another door and flip switches. Butan shuddered, and deep down, the rumbling started.
He dropped into the captain’s chair next to her, buckled in as well, and busily worked the control panel.
“Strap the mask to your face.”
She did and gripped the chair armrests tight.
“What do I do now?”
He didn’t look at her, preoccupied with what he was doing. The rumbling of the engines had become a roar.
“Count backward from fifteen.”
