Page 17 of Homebound
Much later, well after dinner, Gemma finally got a chance to unlock Simon’s door and come in. She wondered if she should change his sheets, having suspected that they, like his clothes and hair, had been left alone for months, if not years. Because no one cared. Not. One. Soul.
Tired, she pulled up a chair and sat down next to him.
“What’s up, Simon? I see you didn’t eat your food.”
No reaction from the alien.
“You did so well yesterday! I saw you swallow a little. Can you try again? Pretty please?”
Like before, she dipped her finger into the porridge and rubbed his lips with it. With her other hand, she gently grasped his chin and brought his head back. Dipping her feeding finger in the bowl again, she pried his lips open a crack to make sure that the tiniest amount of boiled grains made its way inside his mouth. Satisfied that it did, she rubbed his throat to encourage swallowing.
He did.
She patted him on the knee. “Good alien.”
She repeated the process.
“Gemma!”
The shout made her jerk violently and smear the gruel across Simon’s cheek.
She turned her head. “What?”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Arlo was standing inside the entrance to Simon’s cell with an incredulous expression on his homely face.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I am trying to feed him.”
Arlo gaped at her in potent disbelief. “With your fingers?”
“He can’t do it himself. He is sick.”
“Yeah, he looks like he is. Why would you stick your fingers in his sick mouth? He might have chlamydia. Or he might chomp your hand off.”
“He isn’t able to eat mush, much less gnaw on bones.”
“Why do you bother? The critter is nothing but an empty shell.”
A surge of protectiveness so strong she nearly choked on it rose within Gemma. She wanted to lash out at Arlo and tell him that he could take his opinion of Simon and stuff it deep down his own scrawny stinky butt.
She was about to give a piece of her mind to her wayward co-worker when she became keenly aware that everyone within hearing distance of Simon’s cell was listening avidly.
Refusing to make a spectacle, she schooled her features into a pleasant expression and dramatically dipped her finger in the bowl.
“He needs to eat. If it’s the same with you, I’ll be out in a minute.”
A funny thing happened then, as if a blast of strong energy blew out of nowhere like a hot wind that didn’t rustle anything. Gemma’s stomach did a flip, and Arlo swiveled his head around, looking for the source of the disturbance. Spooked, he backed out of the cell and left, walking quickly toward the staircase and looking around in fear.
Uneasy, Gemma stood up and peered into the corridor, but nothing appeared out of place. Her heartbeat hammered inside her chest, and the small hairs at the nape of her neck had stood up and remained standing. The inside of the alien block had grown unusually, eerily quiet.
Simon slowly turned his head, and it dawned on Gemma.
“Simon?” she asked carefully.
He didn’t reply and never changed his position. Gradually, the pulsating energy subsided, retreated like seawater at low tide. He withdrew, but the feeling of fullness inside Gemma’s chest remained.
He’d been with her for a moment. He may not have been able to hear or see, but for a short few seconds, he’d beenaware.
His shell wasn’t empty, after all.
