The Host (19 page)

My voice was soft as breathing. “Someone saw her go into a place that was off-limits. They knew something was wrong. They called the Seekers.”

He flinched at the title.

“The Seekers tried to get her to surrender. She ran from them. When they had her cornered, she jumped into an open elevator shaft.”

I recoiled from the memory of pain, and Jamie's face went white under his tan.

“She didn't die?” he whispered.

“No. We have very skilled Healers. They mended her quickly. Then they put me in her. They hoped I would be able to tell them how she had survived so long.” I had not meant to say so much; my mouth snapped shut. Jamie didn't seem to notice my slip, but Jeb's eyes opened slowly and fixed on my face. No other part of him moved, and Jamie didn't see the change.

“Why didn't you let her die?” he asked. He had to swallow hard; a sob was threatening in his voice. This was all the more painful to hear because it was not the sound a child makes, frightened of the unknown, but the fully comprehending agony of an adult. It was so hard not to reach out and put my hand on his cheek. I wanted to hug him to me and beg him not to be sad. I curled my hands into fists and tried to concentrate on his question. Jeb's eyes flickered to my hands and back to my face.

“I wasn't in on the decision,” I murmured. “I was still in a hibernation tank in deep space when that happened.”

Jamie blinked again in surprise. My answer was nothing he'd expected, and I could see him struggling with some new emotion. I glanced at Jeb; his eyes were bright with curiosity.

The same curiosity, though more wary, won out with Jamie. “Where were you coming from?” he asked.

In spite of myself, I smiled at his unwilling interest. “Far away. Another planet.”

“What was –” he started to ask, but he was interrupted by another question.

“What the hell?” Jared shouted at us, frozen with fury in the act of rounding the corner at the end of the tunnel. “Damn it, Jeb! We agreed not to –”

Jamie wrenched himself upright. “Jeb didn't bring me here. But
you
should have.” Jeb sighed and got slowly to his feet. As he did so, the gun rolled from his lap onto the floor. It stopped only a few inches from me. I scooted away, uncomfortable.

Jared had a different reaction. He lunged toward me, closing the length of the hallway in a few running strides. I cowered into the wall and covered my face with my arms. Peeking around my elbow, I watched him jerk the gun up from the floor.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” he almost screamed at Jeb, shoving the gun into the old man's chest.

“Calm down, Jared,” Jeb said in a tired voice. He took the gun in one hand. “She wouldn't touch this thing if I left it down here alone with her all night. Can't you see that?” He stabbed the barrel of the gun toward me, and I cringed away. “She's no Seeker, this one.”

“Shut up, Jeb, just shut up!”

“Leave him alone,” Jamie shouted. “He didn't do anything wrong.”

“You!” Jared shouted back, turning on the slim, angry figure. “You get out of here
now,
or so
help
me!”

Jamie balled his fists and stood his ground.

Jared's fists came up, too.

I was rooted in place with shock. How could they scream at each other this way? They were family, the bonds between them stronger than any blood tie. Jared wouldn't hit Jamie–he couldn't! I wanted to do something, but I didn't know what to do. Anything that brought me to their attention would only make them angrier.

For once, Melanie was calmer than I was.
He can't hurt Jamie,
she thought confidently.
It's not
possible.

I looked at them, facing off like enemies, and panicked.

We should never have come here. See how unhappy we've made them,
I moaned.

“You shouldn't have tried to keep this a secret from me,” Jamie said between his teeth. “And you shouldn't have hurt her.” One of his hands unclenched and flew out to point at my face.

Jared spit on the floor. “That's not Melanie. She's never coming back, Jamie.”

“That's her face,” Jamie insisted. “And her neck. Don't the bruises there
bother
you?” Jared dropped his hands. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You will either leave right now, Jamie, and give me some space, or I will
make
you leave. I am not bluffing. I can't deal with any more right now, okay? I'm at my limit. So can we please have this conversation later?” He opened his eyes again; they were full of pain.

Jamie looked at him, and the anger drained slowly from his face. “Sorry,” he muttered after a moment. “I'll go… but I'm not promising that I won't come back.”

“I can't think about that now. Go. Please.”

Jamie shrugged. He threw one more searching look at me, and then he left, his quick, long stride making me ache again for the time I'd missed.

Jared looked at Jeb. “You, too,” he said in a flat voice.

Jeb rolled his eyes. “I don't think you've had a long enough break, to be honest. I'll keep an eye on –”

“Go.”

Jeb frowned thoughtfully. “Okay. Sure.” He started down the hall.

“Jeb?” Jared called after him.

“Yeah?”

“If I asked you to shoot it right now, would you do it?”

Jeb kept walking slowly, not looking at us, but his words were clear. “I'd have to. I follow my own rules. So don't ask me unless you really mean it.”

He disappeared into the dark.

Jared watched him go. Before he could turn his glower on me, I ducked into my uncomfortable sanctuary and curled up in the back corner.

Ispent the rest of the day, with one brief exception, in total silence.

That exception occurred when Jeb brought food for both Jared and me several hours later. As he set the tray inside the entrance to my tiny cave, he smiled at me apologetically.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You're welcome,” he told me.

I heard Jared grunt, irritated by our small exchange.

That was the only sound Jared made all day. I was sure he was out there, but there was never so much as an audible breath to confirm that conviction.

It was a very long day–very cramped and very dull. I tried every position I could imagine, but I could never quite manage to get all of me stretched out comfortably at once. The small of my back began a steady throbbing.

Melanie and I thought a lot about Jamie. Mostly we worried that we had damaged him by coming here, that we were injuring him now. What was a kept promise in comparison with that?

Time lost meaning. It could have been sunset, it could have been dawn–I had no references here, buried in the earth. Melanie and I ran out of topics for discussion. We flipped through our joint memories apathetically, like switching TV channels without stopping to watch anything in particular. I napped once but could not fall soundly asleep because I was so uncomfortable.

When Jeb finally came back, I could have kissed his leathery face. He leaned into my cell with a grin stretching his cheeks.

“'Bout time for another walk?” he asked me.

I nodded eagerly.

“I'll do it,” Jared growled. “Give me the gun.”

I hesitated, crouched awkwardly in the mouth of my cave, until Jeb nodded at me.

“Go ahead,” he told me.

I climbed out, stiff and unsteady, and took Jeb's offered hand to balance myself. Jared made a sound of revulsion and turned his face away. He was holding the gun tightly, his knuckles white over the barrel. I didn't like to see it in his hands. It bothered me more than it did with Jeb.

Jared didn't make allowances for me the way Jeb had. He stalked off into the black tunnel without pausing for me to catch up.

It was hard–he didn't make much noise and he didn't guide me, so I had to walk with one hand in front of my face and one hand on the wall, trying not to run into the rock. I fell twice on the uneven floor. Though he did not help me, he did wait till he could hear that I was on my feet again to continue. Once, hurrying through a straighter section of the tube, I got too close and my searching hand touched his back, traced across the shape of his shoulders, before I realized that I hadn't reached another wall. He jumped ahead, jerking out from under my fingers with an angry hiss.

“Sorry,” I whispered, feeling my cheeks turn warm in the darkness.

He didn't respond, but sped his pace so that following was even more difficult.

I was confused when, finally, some light appeared ahead of me. Had we taken a different route?

This was not the white brilliance of the biggest cavern. It was muted, pale and silvery. But the narrow crevice we'd had to pass through seemed the same.… It wasn't until I was inside the giant, echoing space that I realized what caused the difference.

It was nighttime; the light that shone dimly from above mimicked the light of the moon rather than the sun. I used the less-blinding illumination to examine the ceiling, trying to ferret out its secret. High, so very high above me, a hundred tiny moons shone their diluted light toward the dim, distant floor. The little moons were scattered in patternless clusters, some farther away than others. I shook my head. Even though I could look directly at the light now, I still didn't understand it.

“C'mon,” Jared ordered angrily from several paces ahead.

I flinched and hurried to follow. I was sorry I'd let my attention wander. I could see how much it irritated him to have to speak to me.

I didn't expect the help of a flashlight when we reached the room with the rivers, and I didn't receive it. It was dimly lit now, too, like the big cave, but with only twenty-odd miniature moons here. Jared clenched his jaw and stared at the ceiling while I walked hesitantly into the room with the inky pool. I guessed that if I stumbled into the fierce underground hot spring and disappeared, Jared would probably see it as a kind intervention of fate.

I think he would be sad,
Melanie disagreed as I edged my way around the black bathing room, hugging the wall.
If we fell.

I doubt it. He might be reminded of the pain of losing you the first time, but he would be happy
if
I
disappeared.

Because he doesn't know you,
Melanie whispered, and then faded away as if she were suddenly exhausted.

I stood frozen where I was, surprised. I wasn't sure, but it felt as though Melanie had just given me a compliment.

“Move it,” Jared barked from the other room.

I hurried as fast as the darkness and my fear would allow.

When we returned, Jeb was waiting by the blue lamp; at his feet were two lumpy cylinders and two uneven rectangles. I hadn't noticed them before. Perhaps he'd gone to get them while we were away.

“Are you sleeping here tonight or am I?” Jeb asked Jared in a casual tone.

Jared looked at the shapes by Jeb's feet.

“I am,” he answered curtly. “And I only need one bedroll.”

Jeb raised a thick eyebrow.

“It's not one of us, Jeb. You left this on me–so butt out.”

“She's not an animal, either, kid. And you wouldn't treat a dog this way.” Jared didn't answer. His teeth ground together.

“Never figured you for a cruel man,” Jeb said softly. But he picked up one of the cylinders, put his arm through a strap, and slung it over his shoulder, then stuffed one rectangle–a pillow–under his arm.

“Sorry, honey,” he said as he passed me, patting my shoulder.

“Cut that out!” Jared growled.

Jeb shrugged and ambled away. Before he was out of sight, I hurried to disappear into my cell; I hid in its darkest reaches, coiling myself into a tight ball that I hoped was too small to see.

Instead of lurking silently and invisibly in the outside tunnel, Jared spread his bedroll directly in front of the mouth of my prison. He plumped his pillow a few times, possibly trying to rub it in that he had one. He lay down on the mat and crossed his arms over his chest. That was the piece of him that I could see through the hole–just his crossed arms and half of his stomach.

His skin was that same dark gold tan that had haunted my dreams for the last half year. It was very strange to have that piece of my dream in solid reality not five feet from me. Surreal.

“You won't be able to sneak past me,” he warned. His voice was softer than before–sleepy. “If you try…” He yawned. “I
will
kill you.”

I didn't respond. The warning struck me as a bit of an insult. Why would I try to sneak past him? Where would I go? Into the hands of the barbarians out there waiting for me, all of them wishing that I would make exactly that kind of stupid attempt? Or, supposing I
could
somehow sneak past them, back out into the desert that had nearly baked me to death the last time I'd tried to cross it? I wondered what he thought me capable of. What plan did he think I was hatching to overthrow their little world? Did I really seem so powerful? Wasn't it clear how pathetically defenseless I was?

I could tell when he was deeply asleep because he started twitching the way Melanie remembered he occasionally did. He only slept so restlessly when he was upset. I watched his fingers clench and unclench, and I wondered if he was dreaming that they were wrapped around my neck.

The days that followed–perhaps a week of them, it was impossible to keep track–were very quiet. Jared was like a silent wall between me and everything else in the world, good or bad.

There was no sound but that of my own breathing, my own movements; there were no sights but the black cave around me, the circle of dull light, the familiar tray with the same rations, the brief, stolen glimpses of Jared; there were no touches but the pitted rocks against my skin; there were no tastes but the bitter water, the hard bread, the bland soup, the woody roots, over and over again.

It was a very strange combination: constant terror, persistent aching physical discomfort, and excruciating monotony. Of the three, the killer boredom was the hardest to take. My prison was a sensory-deprivation chamber.

Together, Melanie and I worried that we were going to go mad.

We both hear a voice in our head,
she pointed out.
That's never a good sign.

We're going to forget how to speak,
I worried.
How long has it been since anyone talked to us?

Four days ago you thanked Jeb for bringing us food, and he said you were welcome. Well, I
think it was four days ago. Four long sleeps ago, at least.
She seemed to sigh.
Stop chewing your
nails–it took me years to break that habit.

But the long, scratchy nails bothered me.
I don't really think we need to worry about bad habits
in the long term.

Jared didn't let Jeb bring food again. Instead, someone brought it to the end of the hall and Jared retrieved it. I got the same thing–bread, soup, and vegetables–twice every day. Sometimes there were extra things for Jared, packaged foods with brand names I recognized–Red Vines, Snickers, Pop-Tarts. I tried to imagine how the humans had gotten their hands on these delicacies.

I didn't expect him to share–of course not–but I wondered sometimes if he thought I was hoping he would. One of my few entertainments was hearing him eat his treats, because he always did so ostentatiously, perhaps rubbing it in the way he had with the pillow that first night.

Once, Jared slowly ripped open a bag of Cheetos–showy about it as usual–and the rich smell of fake powdered cheese rolled through my cave… delicious, irresistible. He ate one slowly, letting me hear each distinct crunch.

My stomach growled loudly, and I laughed at myself. I hadn't laughed in so long; I tried to remember the last time and couldn't–just that strange bout of macabre hysteria in the desert, which really didn't count as
laughter.
Even before I'd come here, there hadn't been much I'd found funny.

But this seemed hilarious to me for some reason–my stomach yearning after that one small Cheeto–and I laughed again. A sign of madness, surely.

I didn't know how my reaction offended him, but he got up and disappeared. After a long moment, I could hear him eating the Cheetos again, but from farther away. I peeked out of the hole to see that he was sitting in the shadows at the end of the corridor, his back to me. I pulled my head inside, afraid he might turn and catch me watching. From then on, he stayed down at that end of the hall as much as possible. Only at night did he stretch out in front of my prison.

Twice a day–or rather twice a night, as he never took me when the others were about–I got to walk to the room with the rivers; it was a highlight, despite the terror, as it was the only time I was not hunched into the unnatural shapes my small cave forced on me. Each time I had to crawl back inside was harder than the last.

Three times that week, always during the sleeping hours, someone came to check on us.

The first time it was Kyle.

Jared's sudden lunge to his feet woke me. “Get out of here,” he warned, holding the gun ready.

“Just checking,” Kyle said. His voice was far away but loud and rough enough that I was sure it was not his brother. “Someday you might not be here. Someday you might sleep too soundly.” Jared's only answer was to cock the gun.

I heard Kyle's laughter trailing behind him as he left.

The other two times I didn't know who it was. Kyle again, or maybe Ian, or maybe someone whose name I hadn't learned. All I knew was that twice more I was woken by Jared jumping to his feet with the gun pointed at the intruder. No more words were spoken. Whoever was
just
checking
didn't bother to make conversation. When they were gone, Jared went back to sleep quickly. It took me longer to quiet my heart.

The fourth time was something new.

I was not quite asleep when Jared started awake, rolling to his knees in a swift movement. He came up with the gun in his hands and a curse on his lips.

“Easy,” a voice murmured from the distance. “I come in peace.”

“Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying,” Jared growled.

“I just want to talk.” The voice came closer. “You're buried down here, missing the important discussions.… We miss your take on things.”

“I'm sure,” Jared said sarcastically.

“Oh, put the gun down. If I was planning to fight you, I would have come with four guys this time.”

There was a short silence, and when Jared spoke again, his voice carried a hint of dark humor.

“How's your brother these days?” he asked. Jared seemed to enjoy the question. It relaxed him to tease his visitor. He sat down and slouched against the wall halfway in front of my prison, at ease, but with the gun still ready.

My neck ached, seeming to comprehend that the hands that had crushed and bruised it were very close by.

“He's still fuming about his nose,” Ian said. “Oh, well–it's not the first time it's been broken. I'll tell him you said you were sorry.”

“I'm not.”

“I know. No one is ever sorry for hitting Kyle.”

They laughed quietly together; there was a sense of camaraderie in their amusement that seemed wildly out of place while Jared held a gun loosely pointed in Ian's direction. But then, the bonds that were forged in this desperate place must have been very strong. Thicker than blood.

Ian sat down on the mat next to Jared. I could see his profile in silhouette, a black shape against the blue light. I noticed that his nose was perfect–straight, aquiline, the kind of nose that I'd seen in pictures of famous sculptures. Did that mean that others found him more bearable than the brother whose nose was often broken? Or that he was better at ducking?

“So what do you want, Ian? Not just an apology for Kyle, I imagine.”