Parallels

Chapter Nine: Cold and Hard

Eventually, the officer has everyone booked, and we all shuffle into the banks of rather tiny, cramped, musty and dark holding cells that the city has. They're awfully run down, and I wonder why, not that it really matters, of course, mostly just to keep my mind off the whole "I've gotten my dumb ass locked up" thing that is now pretty much the entirety of reality right about now, and I have to say that it's probably a good thing that I'm keeping my mind off of that particular topic.

On another paw, Mama still hasn't shown up yet, and nor has either Papa or Bianca. I can't help but wonder where they've gone off to, or maybe even if they've forgotten about us. I'm sincerely hoping and praying that it's not the second one of those possibilities, because I'm cold and scared, but thankfully, I'm not alone.

That, at the very least, is quite the reassurance, and I'm going to need a lot of reassurance over the course of however long this is going to be. I don't know how the human justice system works, and like I've said before, I was never one to get myself into any trouble back on Terra.

"Theo? Are you alright in there?" comes Jenna's whisper, snapping me any my mind out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm okay, Jenna," I say back. "Just cold, wet, tired and scared is all. How're you holding up? Everything all good in your corner of this jail?"

"Oh, it's just wonderful back here," she says, grinning. Thankfully, it's not so dark in here so as to make it so we can't see each other, so I can see that everyone's okay from my spot in the first cell near the door."

"How's everyone else holding up?" I as, rubbing my arms as the cold of this room starts to seep in through my fur, or maybe it already had and I just haven't noticed it until now with how tired and worn out I've been.

"A freaking ball of nerves, for one," Jenna says, to which everybody nods agreement. "Why can't this world be just a little fairer towards us mammals, eh? We've never done anything to them..."

"Well," I say, "I did kinda try to eat one of them, so I don't suppose that they appreciated that very much, does anyone else?"

"Yeah, no, I can't say that they'd appreciate it very much. I think that's what they call cannonballism."

"Trying to be a pirate?" Isaac asks, smiling broadly in the dim light. "It's cannibalism, Theo."

"Same difference," I grumble. "It's cold in here and I'm more concerned with not freezing than saying words that I've never heard before and trying to make sure that they're said the right way."

"Fair enough, mammal," Isaac says, his breath starting to steam up right in front of his face, and I can tell he hates it from the way his ears start to flatten.

"Are you alright, mam?" I ask, starting to feel worried now. "You don't look so hot."

"Oh, don't worry," Isaac says, starting to look pale, and before he can say anything else, he bends over the trash can that's out in the hallway (or, well, as close to that as he can manage).

Thankfully for him, most of the vomit ends up out in the hallway, but a good chunk of it ends up all over his front, splattering down his chin and all over the floor outside, making the whole area smell like bile.

"Urgh," Isaac groans, wiping the rest of the vomit off of his muzzle with the back of one paw and licking his lips, trying to get the rest of the bile off.

"Yech," Isaac groans. "That tastes awful..."

"I bet it does, mam," I say. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," he says, licking his lips in a rather vain effort to get the last remaining flecks of vomit off of his face. "I dunno why the heck I just threw up all over the place, but I can tell you that I absolutely hate the taste of my own bile."