Page 3 of Homebound
“Who knows? I don’t. We don’t ask.”
They went on past some really strange looking creatures that occupied two cells next to each other. Thin, with barely discernible shoulders, they had bodies that widened briefly around the middle and thinned out again, ending with a pair of spindly legs. Their bald heads were their most peculiar feature, for they were flattened on both sides, grotesquely so, like someone took a pair of cymbals and whacked them together real well on the ears. Their beady eyes rotated restlessly inside shallow sockets, giving them a wild and desperate look. That, together with a habit of cocking their heads this way and that, reminded Gemma strongly of chickens her Aunt Herise kept in the backyard.
“This starry couple,” Ruby pointed at the bird-looking aliens, “is special. Treat them like you would three-year-olds. They can’t speak normal languages, and we think they’re pretty brainless. They do tend to stay together, so that’s a good thing.”
“Noted,” Gemma acknowledged Ruby’s words of advice, while in her head she was trying to keep track of who was what.
Next were three cells with more Perali who glared at Ruby and Gemma with no real hatred but more to maintain the air of toughness. After the Perali, they reached a cute older man with greenish skin. He was small and skinny, with a compact potbelly, and his striped patchy hair stood on end. Gemma smiled at him, she couldn’t help it - all he needed was a pair of green pointy shoes to completely transform into an elf.
His demeanor, though, didn’t match the sweet picture. Upon seeing their approach, he unleashed a verbal torrent in the guttery language Gemma had never heard before. His face twisted into an angry red mask, and he jumped in place from baseless fury.
Ruby gave his cell a wide berth. “This one is rarely let out.”
“I can see why,” Gemma observed.
“Not even to shower. He bites and… other stuff.”
“Gotcha.”
They walked all the way around the quadrant that brought them to the same door Gemma had breached for the first time what seemed like ages ago.
Ruby explained that most aliens - whose variegated species and habits Gemma couldn’t keep straight in her head if her life depended on it - were allowed a few of the same freedoms as non-violent human offenders. They went outside to the prison courtyard daily, and they were escorted down to the basement to wash once a week. That was all.
“I noticed all the cells here are solo, and yet the prison is overcrowded on every other floor. Aliens can’t have cellmates?”
Arlo, who had joined them, screwed up his face. “Most aliens don’t do well when sharing space with humans. Either the alien dies or the human - kinda like on the outside. And some species don’t play well with certain others. Nobody wants to have to explain to the Magistrate why a native of such-and-such planet died and was half-eaten while in our custody. I know I don’t want to clean up the mess.”
Ruby placed a hand on Gemma’s arm in a gesture intended to comfort. “Don’t worry, Gemma. They aren’t all that scary. Treat them like you treat your human charges, and everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
Taking Ruby’s words to heart, Gemma went to work alongside her new teammates.
Breakfast was not provided to prisoners due to a lack of funding. Instead, all inmates were recommended to pray or meditate and were given warm water to stay hydrated - after all, Warden Heis prided his operation on being humane.
Gemma hauled a large pail of hot water from the kitchens in the rickety elevator, and Arlo and Ruby efficiently poured the water into tin mugs and shoved them between the bars into the cells. The water was gratefully accepted, as Gemma knew it would be, for at least it quenched thirst and warmed up bodies on this chilly morning.
After the mugs were collected and taken back to the kitchens by Arlo, Gemma and Ruby did another roll call, making sure every cell’s occupant was up and standing by the bars. Among other cells, Gemma ended up checking the green elf-looking alien who spat at her through the bars. She eyed the yellow spit spot on her gray coat with disgust and made a mental note to coast by his cell at full speed, protocol be damned.
After the “breakfast” the prisoners spent some time tidying up their cells under the helpers’ watchful eyes. Most of them simply idled inside their cells waiting for lunch to arrive. There were conversations, singing, and even arguments. The bird-looking aliens alternately crooned and shrieked at each other.
The corridor and cells had to be mopped on a schedule that Gemma was all too familiar with, and it seemed that the third floor didn’t differ in this regard from other areas of the prison. The three of them took the stairs down to get their janitorial supplies consisting of buckets with unpurified water and a previously used rag.
The corridor stayed filthy despite frequent mopping. Spit, boogers, and sometimes feces could be found splattered on the floor directly in front of certain barred doors. Some prisoners were simply gross, but she already knew that.
Preoccupied, Gemma mopped away without much sense of direction throwing furtive glances at the aliens. She couldn't help her curiosity. They were so very different from Earth’s native population, many markedly so.
She approached a cell with its tiny window boarded shut that she had assumed was empty. But now, standing in front of it, she saw that it wasn’t. Slowly, Gemma lowered her mop, cocking her head to one side to better understand what she was seeing. Arlo circled her with his bucket, on his way to the stairs.
“Who is that?” Gemma asked, pointing at the cell with the boarded window. “In there.”
“In where?” Arlo swiveled his round head in the direction of her pointing finger. “Oh, it’s Simon.”
“What is Simon?” Gemma couldn’t tear her eyes away from the white skeletal creature huddled on the cot. “I’ve never seen anyone like that.”
Arlo gurgled a rusty laugh. “Ain’t nobody there like our Simon.”
“Is he sick?”
“S’ppose so. Always been like this. I remember them bringing him in - hey, Ruby, how long ago did Simon come here? You recall?”
