Page 22 of Homebound
“Please, Arlo. It won’t take but two minutes of your time.”
He scowled but moved to open Simon’s cell where her charge was waiting, boots laced up and the newly acquired jacket buttoned all the way to his throat by Gemma.
She squeezed the wheelchair through the door opening and parked it next to the cot. Gently pulling at Simon’s upper body, she made him scoot closer to the cot’s edge and swung his legs over the edge so that his feet were touching the ground.
Arlo observed Simon with squeamish curiosity like one would roadkill with guts on display. He certainly wasn’t in a great rush to touch him.
“The sucker does nothing but lay around like a pile of shit all day,” he remarked. “They should've left him to rot at the lab, but I guess he’s been a bad boy.”
Gemma straightened up to look at Arlo. “What lab?”
“There’s only one, by the hospital. You need research done, that’s where you do it.”
“And Simon came from the lab?” Just the sound of it left a sour taste in Gemma’s mouth.
“That’s what I heard. They experimented on him and messed him up. Or maybe he had an allergic reaction to peanuts.”
She felt nauseous. “What did they do to him?”
Arlo shrugged, as usual concerned with no one except Arlo. “Whatever it is researchers do to all them alien intergalactic captures. Poke them with needles and see how they twitch. Listen, unlike you, I have no plans to stand here gabbing till my break’s over. Do you need help or not?”
“Yes, please.” Sick to her stomach, Gemma let the lab matter drop only because Arlo probably didn’t know much more than he’d already shared.
Moving Simon into the chair proved a surprisingly easy task. When Gemma and Arlo took hold of him under his arms and under his knees, one on each side, he flexed his body and kind of went with their momentum to pivot and lower him into the chair seat.
His one good deed accomplished for the day, Arlo left her and bounded down the stairs.
Gemma took Simon downstairs in the elevator and, after navigating several sticky obstacles in the form of protruding thresholds, wheeled him out to the sunshine.
The two guards manning the courtyard looked up with curiosity. The inmates openly stared at Simon, indifferent as always to the world.
Gemma found a bright spot away from the crowd and engaged the breaks, leaving him to bask in the sunshine as she went to talk to the guards. She wanted to assure them that she was utilizing the wheelchair with full permission from the medical staff. She wasn’t worried about potential inquiries from the prison management, but if she could avoid dealing with OO and his oily sticky eyes, she’d rather do that. A little bit of prevention went a long way.
The weather was relatively warm, the day quiet, and the guards, bored by their uneventful supervision task, amenable to the conversation. Gemma didn’t know how long she’d been swapping small talk with them when her peripheral vision caught a movement. The guards noticed, too.
She turned around with foreboding.
Simon and his wheelchair had all but disappeared inside a dense circle of inmates. They surrounded him like vultures zooming in on a fresh carcass. Only Birdies hung back, cooing to each other and holding hands.
“I don’t think they like your handicapped guy,” one of the guards remarked.
“He’s never been a problem before.” Gemma sounded worried to her own ears. The inmates were behaving aggressively, shouldering each other and edging closer and closer to Simon, chattering in strange languages. “I’m afraid your help might be needed.”
The guards remained unperturbed. “Unless they attack a human or try to escape, we don’t interfere.”
Gemma was outraged. “But they can hurt him!”
“It’s his problem,” came the final reply.
A Perali kicked Simon’s shin. Gemma saw red.
“Hey, you!” She took off in the direction of the cluster. “Don’t touch him!”
She might as well have been yelling at the sun to stop shining for all the effect her orders did to halt the brewing violence.
Another alien, a stocky one with the face resembling an old frying pan seized Simon’s braid and yanked his head back, exposing his throat above the collar of his jacket. Gemma’s blood froze in her veins. She barreled into the circle, shoving the bodies aside and making her way to the center.
“Let him go! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
