Page 83 of Homebound
Gemma paused. “Is that what you want to do?”
“Yes,” Leena smiled coyly as if she knew a secret that Gemma didn’t. “I’m pretty enough. If I am a good housekeeper, I can do alright by myself.”
“Great if you do. But what if you won’t find that nice wealthy man? It’s best to rely on yourself.”
Leena scoffed. “That’s what all ditched old maids say.”
Gemma’s brows rose. “Fine. Call me when the food’s ready. And the scrub for the pots is in the old jar behind the towels.” She went into her room and slammed the door.
She stretched out on her bed but her relaxation was short-lived. A soft knock sounded and Desh called her name from the other side of the door.
“Father asked to remind you about his doctor’s appointment.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
Crap. Desh was right, it was tonight. It completely slipped her mind. Frantically checking the time, Gemma threw her coat back on. What a perfectly rotten end to the day - spending the evening at Dr. Delano’s.
“Is he ready to go?” Gemma referred to her uncle.
“I think so.”
She sent Desh to check on Uncle Drexel’s preparedness. She hoped he had had time to dress. If he whined and required valet services from her, she was liable to strangle him with a scarf.
The trek to the clinic was excruciatingly long. Uncle Drexel, swaddled in blankets in the manure cart, broadcasted his complaints loudly, on occasion digressing into the specifics of repairing space freighters. Gemma blocked him out and didn’t respond, which, sadly, hadn’t deterred him. He was heavy and there was nothing wrong with his legs, and she privately thought that taking an occasional walk outside would aid significantly in his recovery.
At the sight of the hospital, a dark feeling settled in Gemma’s stomach. The prospect of coming face-to-face with the evil who had tortured her beautiful Simon and electrocuted him for the sake of the so-called science filled her with fine-tuned, murderous rage.
They settled to wait to be called in next to a couple with a relentlessly wailing infant.
The talk in the waiting room, or what Gemma was able to hear over the baby’s cries, revolved around four Perali dying violently the other day. Short on sympathy toward the slain aliens, people were actively speculating about who could have killed them. The consensus seemed to lean heavily toward agri-sector migrants armed with galvanized steel finger weeders. Those things were a menace if you knew how to wield them right.
Amazingly, another popular theory circulating the waiting room was the Perali murder-suicide. It made no sense but the patients in the waiting room seemed reluctant to let it go.
The speculations followed Gemma and Uncle Drexel to the examination room.
“Have you heard?” the nurse asked and tsk-tsked. “What has the world come to?”
Drexel glared. “Why are people so concerned over a handful of dirtbag Perali aliens who went and got themselves slaughtered?”
The nurse was taken aback by the vehemence. “It was senseless and mysterious. People want to know who killed them and why, Mr. McKinley. Don’t you?”
“No, I don’t. I say, let them all perish in senseless and mysterious ways.” Uncle Drexel shook his injured arm and winced. “Look at my arm! Just look. I have to make a living with it. An asteroid can fall out of the sky and wipe out alien life on my planet without a trace - I’ll be grateful and say Hallelujah! Enough is enough.”
“Your anger is understandable. Adjusting to life after an injury takes time, Mr. McKinley,” a suave voice intoned from behind them and Gemma’s insides turned to rocks.
It was him, Dr. Delano, the monster disguised as a healer by the lab coat and polished glasses. Now that she knew him for the black-hearted fiend he was, she could discern the cold, calculating gleam in his eyes where before she’d seen them as sharp and professionally unemotional.
“But my arm hurts!” Uncle Drexel whined in a tone so childish that Gemma cringed. His dignity was evaporating by the day.
“Now, now,” Dr. Delano placated, “we aren’t finished with our healing process. Keep your spirits up and the end will be in sight. The happy end, of course.” He winked at Gemma.
It took all she had to respond with a polite smile.
Dr. Delano bent his head low to assess the progress Drexel’s flesh was making in healing and she stared, imagining him bending his head in just this fashion down to another patient, an unwilling one, his tall body chained tightly to a gurney. She could see Dr. Delano cutting him up and watching the bluish blood flow out of his veins. He must have personally supervised the electrocutions, measured Simon’s body responses, signaled to the orderlies to increase the voltage.
Pressure circled her head with a tight band.
