From Chains

Chapter 9: Confidence

Pip and I both bend over to grab it. "Count to ten, then make a run for it," I whisper to her before standing up.

"Let's see." She presses a button on her computer. "One dose of Iberpol is... one hundred Ren."

One hundred Ren for one shot? That means that all three shots will cost almost as much as Pip herself. "Wow, that's a lot for a human. I'll never understand why people want these things." I pretend to dig in my pockets for money I don't have.

"She's not yours?"

Right on cue, Pip lunges for the door. I grab her shirt and yank her back in place.

She struggles to regain her balance. I slap her across the face. "Bad human!"

She raises her hand to her cheek in shock. I'm sorry, Pip. I wouldn't do it unless I had to.

I turn back to the receptionist, keeping a tight grip on Pip's shirt. "Sorry about that. She's only just been captured. Michael ordered a wild human, and he requested that I take it to the vet before delivering it to him."

"Oh, I see."

"Do you happen to know him? Michael Osner? It's not his first human."

"Yes, I know him. He comes here from time to time."

"Well," I pretend to search my pocket. "He told-" I cut myself off. "Shit."

"What?"

"I forgot to get his payment card. He was supposed to pay for this."

"Well someone has to pay."

I dial a fake number. "He isn't picking up." I put down the phone. "Well, I've already been paid, and I'm not sitting here all day until he decides to show up. I'll just leave the human with you, and Michael can pay when he picks her up."

"What? That's a wild human. You can't just leave her here."

"Well what am I supposed to do? I don't have the money on me, and I'm not spending the day waiting around."

"Take her with you, and I'll just put it on Michael's tab."

Bingo.

"Fine by me." I head to the door and pull Pip along by her shirt.

We exit the building and walk around the block. "That went better than I thought. We didn't even have to run."

We turn the corner to where I parked the truck. She's looking at her feet.

"Pip?"

I stop in my tracks. Something's wrong.

I kneel in front of her. She's distraught. "Hey, hey, what's the matter? You're going to be cured soon. Aren't you glad?"

I brush the hair out of her face, and she flinches away. She's afraid. I've never hit her before, but I made sure the slap was light. Surely a slap is worth it if it cures her disease?

"I'm sorry that I slapped you. I didn't mean it. It was just acting."

Her eyes well up with tears. Words aren't getting through to her.

I wrap my arms around her and pull her into a hug. "It's okay. It wasn't real. It's okay," I repeat over and over, stroking her back.

She sniffs. I keep her in my embrace.

Eventually, she presses her head against my shirt. I lift her up and hold her in my arms. There's a public park a few blocks down. I told Jack that if he doesn't take the batteries from me today, then I'm going somewhere else, so I've got a couple more hours to kill.

I carry Pip to the park and sit on a bench. She's still hanging onto me.

"Feeling better?" I ask.

"Yea." She lets go and sits next to me. I take out my phone and start reading the news.

Her excitement grows as her eyes wonder around the park.

"Go ahead," I encourage her.

She hurries off to the foursquare courts. There are a bunch of parbeing kids her age playing with a ball. I'm too far away to hear, but it looks like she's introducing herself. She's trying to make friends.

The next time I look up, she's sitting alone in the court. I'm sorry, Pip. You're a human. Making friends just isn't in the cards.

I sigh and get up from my comfortable seat.

I stand in the opposite court and stretch my arms.

She hasn't noticed yet.

"So are you going to serve the ball or what?" I call.

Her eyes land on me, and she lights up. "Oh, um, yes." She jumps to her feet and hits the ball my way.

I deflect it back, and we continue on and on.

It takes a good hour to tire her out. We grab some food and eat together on the bench. It's not long before she's playing on the jungle gym. She's a bit old for it, but I won't ruin her fun.

A yelp pulls my attention away from my phone. A parbeing boy shoved her to the ground. He's on his own and isn't much bigger than her, so I'm not concerned.

She gets up and dusts herself off. It sounds like the boy is cursing at her. She looks back at me. I curl my fingers into a fist, signalling the go-ahead.

She swings around and decks him. I burst out laughing. One solid fist to the face sent him flying. Poor kid didn't stand a chance. Imagine getting knocked over by a little slave girl? We'll I guess they're both little, but he's still bigger.

I can't quite see, but it looks like the boy is in tears. A woman storms towards them. It must be his mother.

She scolds Pip. The punch was my instruction, so I'm not sure what she's hoping to achieve.

She grabs Pip's arm. Okay, that crosses a line.

"Hey!" I shout. "Get your grubby hands off my slave!"

"Your stupid human attacked my boy!" she shouts back, not releasing Pip.

Time to put an end to this. I get up from my bench.

The middle-aged woman is half my weight and a head shorter than me. It's almost evening, so the park's abandoned. She lets go of Pip and starts backpedalling when she realises the situation she's in.

She grabs her boy and hurries away. Pip's grinning.

"Nice shot," I start laughing again, and she joins in.

My phone buzzes. I open it up and read the message: '41 Wilson Street'. It's from Jack. He made it just in time. I was about to give up on him.

We hop in the truck and get going. It's dark by the time we reach our destination – an old abandoned church. I park in the garden and jump out. Pip can wait in the passenger seat till we need her to unload.

The tall stone structure looms over me. It's boarded up windows and overgrown garden are anything but welcoming. That's probably why he chose this place. The last thing we need is some nosey person getting wind of this transaction.

I need both arms to push the giant door open. Its old wooden frame scrapes against the concrete floor.

There's a figure sitting in the pews. It's Jack himself. "Jack?"

"Robert," he greets with a smile.

Author's note:

Did you notice it?