Plus, she just wanted desperately to be out of the stinking butcher’s shop filled with rotting humanoid body parts.
If I ever get out of here, I’m going vegetarian, she promised herself. Hell, I’ll go Vegan. I never want to see meat again!
But that was a promise she’d only be able to keep if she escaped in the first place. Hastily, she examined the cage, trying to find a weak point. If she just kept scooping chunks out of the metal, Ripper was bound to notice.
The latch on the front of the cage was held in place by the thick metal padlock the Trollox had used to lock her in. It was a massive piece of steel, as big as Jillian’s closed fist and quite heavy when she reached through the bars and weighed it in her hand. But the metal loop that held it in place was only about as thick as her pinky finger. Which was thick enough to keep just about anybody in…
Unless they happen to have an ion-scoop, Jillian thought. Removing just one chunk of metal in the right place ought to do it. She just needed to cut the lock from the latch and then she could swing the door open and run to freedom.
She waited until she was sure that both of Ripper’s heads were busy talking to all three of his customer’s heads. Then, when she was certain her captor was completely distracted, she reached her hands through the bars of the cage. She cupped the heavy lock in one hand and used the ion-scoop with the other.
As quietly as she could, she pressed the scoop to the loop of the lock, right in the center. This time the resistance was harder to push through—it was more like trying to cut through a thick, tough watermelon rind than aged cheese, Jillian thought, and she didn’t have a very good angle. But she gritted her teeth and kept pressing until at last, a large chunk was carved out of the loop and the heavy lock fell into her hand.
She nearly dropped the damn thing—it weighed a ton! But though she strained to hold it, she somehow managed to lower it down to the floor with a barely audible, chunk.
Jillian stole another glance at the other side of the room. Ripper had his back turned, getting something that smelled noxious and was covered in flies from a chest behind the case, and his customer was watching him eagerly with all three heads. It seemed like there would never be a better time to slip out.
Slowly, the ion scoop still clutched tight in her right hand, Jillian swung the cage door open and stepped out onto the cold, dirty floor. She was still barefoot, so she was able to creep almost silently across the shop, ducking low to avoid attention.
She had almost made it to the front door when one of the customer’s three heads turned in her direction and frowned.
“Hey,” it snarled loudly, to be heard over the babbling of the other two. “Ent that your fresh meat escapin’, Ripper?”
The huge Trollox turned around and both the yellow and the red set of eyes narrowed at once.
“Stop her!” the yellow-eyed head bellowed. “That’s the vessel I’m going to grow my heir in—don’t let her go!”
Panic clawed at Jillian’s throat and she lunged for the door. But she hadn’t counted on how heavy it was—it was solid iron or steel and had obviously been built for the Trollox and his fellow Trollox customers to use—not little humanoids, who were half their size. Though she pulled and dragged with all her might, the heavy door hardly budged.
Still, it did move some, and she had enough adrenaline flowing through her veins that she might have dragged the damn thing open… if Ripper hadn’t taken two long strides from behind the counter and leaned one massive hand against it.
“Now then, girly…” The enormous Trollox leaned down to her level, frowning as though she was a kid who’d been caught breaking the rules. “You can’t leave yet—you haven’t paid your debt!” the yellow-eyed head told her.
“What? You loaned me your handkerchief so I’m supposed to let you ‘borrow’ my womb in return? I don’t think so!” Jillian snarled.
All her life, she’d read about the “fight, flight, or freeze response”—the way a person instinctively reacts to any kind of life-threatening peril. Jillian had never been put into such imminent danger before and she’d had no idea what she would do if faced with such a situation.
Now it turned out that—at least in this situation—she was a fighter. When Ripper’s huge hands came around to grab her once more, she reached up with the ion-scoop and swiped at his face—neatly scooping one glowing yellow eyeball directly out of its socket.
16
“Our eye! Our eye!” Ripper roared, staggering backwards as black blood poured from the empty socket.