Page 94 of Homebound
The sounds of loud slurping and mindless growling reached them from the cell. Indeed, spoons were overrated.
After all their prisoners received food, Arlo’s enthusiasm tanked.
“I’m tired,” he declared as they sat down on the floor to rest.
Gemma resisted a scoff. They did run around more than usual, but on a scale of one to ten, this morning ranked at maybe a six. Nothing like scrubbing off a dirty protest residue.
“I think they’re about finished.” Arlo peered at the nearest cell. “Can you start picking up the bowls? I’ll join you in a minute.”
From Gemma’s experience,in a minutein Arlo speak meantmaybe I will help you when you’re almost done. Sighing, she rose. As always, her right ankle responded with a pinch.
“One day, someone will call you on your BS, Arlo,” she promised him.
“Don’t hold your breath. I’ve got this shit down to a science.”
“No, you don’t. I can see right through it.”
“But you buy into it anyway,” he countered with a sly grin. “That’s the important part.”
The truth was, Gemma didn’t mind going to collect bowls without him. It would give her a chance to stop by Simon’s cell to exchange a few words with him without Arlo hovering. Of course, Simon might choose to ignore her, but it was a risk she was willing to undertake. She had ceased to be intimidated by his moods.
In general, Gemma was so damn tired of worrying. She’d had it with being scared of what the next day would bring. If she continued to be stressed by every obstacle that arose on her path, she’d end up like Aunt Herise, miserable and unhappy, with no joy left in life save for the satisfaction of pilfering mackerel from the barracks’ kitchens.
Today, right now, Gemma had a job. She had Ruby to cover her back on most days. And she had Simon.
She was approaching cell 35 where he was resting in deceptive repose when suddenly he flew off his cot and rushed to meet her. His eyes blazed with black fire.
“Gemma, look out!” His deep and rusty baritone, music to her ears, roared.
Arrested by his behavior, Gemma stumbled and stopped.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
She felt it, the moist breath, the animal heat of a great shape behind her.
Slowly, she turned her head and knew what primal fear felt like - like being dropped into an ice-cold torrent of a mountain river that sucked her in, and spun her around, and threw her against hard rocks.
She let out a wailing scream bolting away from the Obu who had materialized out of nowhere, but he caught her in a crushing embrace before she had a chance to take a step. He roared in victory and licked her face in long slobbery flicks of the thick tongue leaving her eyes and nostrils full of rancid saliva.
Simon threw himself against the door making the whole wall vibrate under the impacts of his body, but the iron bars were no joke. He couldn't break free.
The Obu, frenzied and giddy at having caught her, pawed her with his huge hands like she was a wad of molding clay.
Managing to free one hand, Gemma yanked her taser from its belt but he was on to her tricks. Wrestling the only weapon she possessed from her hand - and nearly breaking her wrist bones - he bent the taser in the middle and threw it aside.
Using her chance when his hands withdrew to mutilate her weapon, Gemma made another attempt to break free but the Obu caught her again and pushed her down to the floor. She landed hard on her side. The Obu came down to his knees and roughly groped her crotch. Hysterical, she became aware that he wasn’t trying to hurt her. He was only acting according to the instinct raging deep inside his animal body, the instinct demanding him to satisfy his mating urge.
There was no reasoning with the Obu. No way to make him understand that he was going to kill her if he tried to mate with her. The only option left to Gemma was to fight, and she did, pushing and hitting, scratching his tough hide for what it was worth.
The Obu was immensely strong. Gemma’s frantic kicks and slaps felt like she was beating on a hairy boulder for all the reaction she got from him. He never even winced.
“Gemma!” Simon snarled her name.
Gemma threw a desperate and apologetic glance in his direction noting that he was holding on to the iron bars with a death grip. She hated that he had to witness her being raped and killed by the Obu. She was sorry their story would end on this garbled note. They’d never had a chance, she and Simon, but she’d never imagined the end to be quite this appalling.
The Obu bore down on her flipping her to her back and covering her with his body. She struck out blindly and got him in the eye. He grunted and shook her, rattling her insides and banging her head against the floor hard enough to scramble her brains.
When she could breathe again, he was busily tugging at her clothing.
