The Host (26 page)

The meal continued as it had begun. My novelty had apparently worn off.

When the meal was over, Jeb said I deserved a rest. He walked me all the way to my door, playing the gentleman again.

“Afternoon, Wanda,” he said, tipping his imaginary hat.

I took a deep breath for bravery. “Jeb, wait.”

“Yes?”

“Jeb…” I hesitated, trying to find a polite way to put it. “I… well, maybe it's stupid of me, but I sort of thought we were friends.”

I scrutinized his face, looking for any change that might indicate that he was about to lie to me.

He only looked kind, but what did I know of a liar's tells?

“Of course we are, Wanda.”

“Then why are you trying to get me killed?”

His furry brows pulled together in surprise. “Now, why would you think that, honey?” I listed my evidence. “You didn't take the gun today. And yesterday you left me alone.” Jeb grinned. “I thought you hated that gun.”

I waited for an answer.

“Wanda, if I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have lasted that first day.”

“I know,” I muttered, starting to feel embarrassed without understanding why. “That's why it's all so
confusing.
”

Jeb laughed cheerfully. “No, I don't want you dead! That's the whole point, kid. I've been getting them all used to seeing you around, getting them to accept the situation without realizing it. It's like boiling a frog.”

My forehead creased at the eccentric comparison.

Jeb explained. “If you throw a frog in a pot of boiling water, it will hop right out. But if you put that frog in a pot of tepid water and slowly warm it, the frog doesn't figure out what's going on until it's too late. Boiled frog. It's just a matter of working by slow degrees.” I thought about that for a second–remembered how the humans had ignored me at lunch today.

Jeb had gotten them used to me. The realization made me feel strangely hopeful. Hope was a silly thing in my situation, but it seeped into me anyway, coloring my perceptions more brightly than before.

“Jeb?”

“Yeah?”

“Am I the frog or the water?”

He laughed. “I'll leave that one for you to puzzle over. Self-examination is good for the soul.” He laughed again, louder this time, as he turned to leave. “No pun intended.”

“Wait–can I ask one more?”

“Sure. I'd say it's your turn anyway, after all I've asked you.”

“
Why
are you my friend, Jeb?”

He pursed his lips for a second, considering his answer.

“You know I'm a curious man,” he began, and I nodded. “Well, I get to watch your souls a lot, but I never get to talk with 'em. I've had so many questions just piling up higher and higher.…

Plus, I've always thought that if a person wants to, he can get along with just about anybody. I like putting my theories to the test. And see, here you are, one of the nicest gals I ever met. It's real interesting to have a soul as a friend, and it makes me feel super special that I've managed it.”

He winked at me, bowed from the waist, and walked away.

Just because I now understood Jeb's plan, it didn't make things easier when he escalated it.

He never took the gun anywhere anymore. I didn't know where it was, but I was grateful that Jamie wasn't sleeping with it, at least. It made me a little nervous to have Jamie with me unprotected, but I decided he was actually in less danger without the gun. No one would feel the need to hurt him when he wasn't a threat. Besides, no one came looking for me anymore.

Jeb started sending me on little errands. Run back to the kitchen for another roll, he was still hungry. Go fetch a bucket of water, this corner of the field was dry. Pull Jamie out of his class, Jeb needed to speak with him. Were the spinach sprouts up yet? Go and check. Did I remember my way through the south caves? Jeb had a message for Doc.

Every time I had to carry out one of these simple directives, I was in a sweaty haze of fear. I concentrated on being invisible and walked as quickly as I could without running through the big rooms and the dark corridors. I tended to hug the walls and keep my eyes down.

Occasionally, I would stop conversation the way I used to, but mostly I was ignored. The only time I felt in immediate danger of death was when I interrupted Sharon's class to get Jamie. The look Sharon gave me seemed designed to be followed by hostile action. But she let Jamie go with a nod after I choked out my whispered request, and when we were alone, he held my shaking hand and told me Sharon looked the same way at anyone who interrupted her class.

The very worst was the time I had to find Doc, because Ian insisted on showing me the way. I could have refused, I suppose, but Jeb didn't have a problem with the arrangement, and that meant Jeb trusted Ian not to kill me. I was far from comfortable with testing
that
theory, but it seemed the test was inevitable. If Jeb was wrong to trust Ian, then Ian would find his opportunity soon enough. So I went with Ian through the long black southern tunnel as if it were a trial by fire.

I lived through the first half. Doc got his message. He seemed unsurprised to see Ian tagging along beside me. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I thought they exchanged a significant glance. I half expected them to strap me to one of Doc's gurneys at that point. These rooms continued to make me feel nauseated.

But Doc just thanked me and sent me on my way as if he were busy. I couldn't really tell what he was doing–he had several books open and stacks and stacks of papers that seemed to contain nothing but sketches.

On the way back, curiosity overcame my fear.

“Ian?” I asked, having a bit of difficulty saying the name for the first time.

“Yes?” He sounded surprised that I'd addressed him.

“Why haven't you killed me yet?”

He snorted. “That's direct.”

“You could, you know. Jeb might be annoyed, but I don't think he'd shoot you.” What was I saying? It sounded like I was trying to convince him. I bit my tongue.

“I know,” he said, his tone complacent.

It was quiet for a moment, just the sounds of our footsteps echoing, low and muffled, from the tunnel walls.

“It doesn't seem fair,” Ian finally said. “I've been thinking about it a lot, and I can't see how killing you would make anything right. It would be like executing a private for a general's war crimes. Now, I don't buy all of Jeb's crazy theories–it would be nice to believe, sure, but just because you want something to be true doesn't make it that way. Whether he's right or wrong, though, you don't appear to mean us any harm. I have to admit, you seem honestly fond of that boy. It's very strange to watch. Anyway, as long as you don't put us in danger, it seems…
cruel
to kill you. What's one more misfit in this place?”

I thought about the word
misfit
for a moment. It might have been the truest description of me I'd ever heard. Where had I ever fit in?

How strange that Ian, of all the humans, should have such a surprisingly gentle interior. I didn't realize that
cruelty
would seem a negative to him.

He waited in silence while I considered all this.

“If you don't want to kill me, then why did you come with me today?” I asked.

He paused again before answering.

“I'm not sure that…” He hesitated. “Jeb thinks things have calmed down, but I'm not completely sure about that. There're still a few people… Anyway, Doc and I have been trying to keep an eye on you when we can. Just in case. Sending you down the south tunnel seemed like pushing your luck, to me. But that's what Jeb does best–he pushes luck as far as it will go.”

“You… you and Doc are trying to
protect
me?”

“Strange world, isn't it?”

It was a few seconds before I could answer.

“The strangest,” I finally agreed.

Another week passed, maybe two–there seemed little point in keeping track of time here, where it was so irrelevant–and things only got stranger for me.

I worked with the humans every day, but not always with Jeb. Some days Ian was with me, some days Doc, and some days only Jamie. I weeded fields, kneaded bread, and scrubbed counters. I carried water, boiled onion soup, washed clothes in the far end of the black pool, and burned my hands making that acidic soap. Everyone did their part, and since I had no right to be here, I tried to work twice as hard as the others. I could not earn a place, I knew that, but I tried to make my presence as light a burden as possible.

I got to know a little about the humans around me, mostly just by listening to them. I learned their names, at least. The caramel-skinned woman was named Lily, and she was from Philadelphia. She had a dry sense of humor and got along well with everyone because she never got ruffled. The young man with the bristly black hair, Wes, stared at her a lot, but she never seemed to notice that. He was only nineteen, and he'd escaped from Eureka, Montana. The sleepy-eyed mother was named Lucina, and her two boys were Isaiah and Freedom–Freedom had been born right here in the caves, delivered by Doc. I didn't see much of these three; it seemed that the mother kept her children as separate from me as was possible in this limited space. The balding, red-cheeked man was Trudy's husband; his name was Geoffrey. They were often with another older man, Heath, who had been Geoffrey's best friend since early childhood; the three had escaped the invasion together. The pallid man with the white hair was Walter. He was sick, but Doc didn't know what was wrong with him–there was no way to find out, not without labs and tests, and even if Doc could diagnose the problem, he had no medicine to treat it. As the symptoms progressed, Doc was starting to think it was a form of cancer. This pained me–to watch someone actually
dying
from something so easily fixed. Walter tired easily but was always cheerful. The white-blond woman–her eyes contrastingly dark–who'd brought water to the others that first day in the field was Heidi. Travis, John, Stanley, Reid, Carol, Violetta, Ruth Ann… I knew all the names, at least. There were thirty-five humans in the colony, with six of them gone on the raid, Jared included. Twenty-nine humans in the caves now, and one mostly unwelcome alien.

I also learned more about my neighbors.

Ian and Kyle shared the cave on my hallway with the two real doors propped over the entrance.

Ian had begun bunking with Wes in another corridor in protest of my presence here, but he'd moved back after just two nights. The other nearby caves had also gone vacant for a while. Jeb told me the occupants were afraid of me, which made me laugh. Were twenty-nine rattlesnakes afraid of a lone field mouse?

Now Paige was back, next door, in the cave she shared with her partner, Andy, whose absence she mourned. Lily was with Heidi in the first cave, with the flowered sheets; Heath was in the second, with the duct-taped cardboard; and Trudy and Geoffrey were in the third, with a striped quilt. Reid and Violetta were one cave farther down the hall than mine, their privacy protected by a stained and threadbare oriental carpet.

The fourth cave in this corridor belonged to Doc and Sharon, and the fifth to Maggie, but none of these three had returned.

Doc and Sharon were partnered, and Maggie, in her rare moments of sarcastic humor, teased Sharon that it had taken the end of humanity for Sharon to find the perfect man: every mother wanted a doctor for her daughter.

Sharon was not the girl I'd seen in Melanie's memories. Was it the years of living alone with the dour Maggie that had changed her into a more brightly colored version of her mother? Though her relationship with Doc was newer to this world than I was, she showed none of the softening effects of new love.

I knew the duration of that relationship from Jamie–Sharon and Maggie rarely forgot when I was in a room with them, and their conversation was guarded. They were still the strongest opposition, the only people here whose ignoring me continued to feel aggressively hostile.

I'd asked Jamie how Sharon and Maggie had gotten here. Had they found Jeb on their own, beaten Jared and Jamie here? He seemed to understand the real question: had Melanie's last effort to find them been entirely a waste?

Jamie told me no. When Jared had showed him Melanie's last note, explained that she was gone–it took him a moment to be able to speak again after that word, and I could see in his face what this moment had done to them both–they'd gone to look for Sharon themselves. Maggie had held Jared at the point of an antique sword while he tried to explain; it had been a close thing.

It had not taken long with Maggie and Jared working together for them to decipher Jeb's riddle.

The four of them had gotten to the caves before I'd moved from Chicago to San Diego.

When Jamie and I spoke of Melanie, it was not as difficult as it should have been. She was always a part of these conversations–soothing his pain, smoothing my awkwardness–though she had little to say. She rarely spoke to me anymore, and when she did it was muted; now and then I wasn't sure if I really heard her or just my own idea of what she might think. But she made an effort for Jamie. When I heard her, it was always with him. When she didn't speak, we both felt her there.

“Why is Melanie so quiet now?” Jamie asked me late one night. For once, he wasn't grilling me about Spiders and Fire-Tasters. We were both tired–it had been a long day pulling carrots. The small of my back was in knots.

“It's hard for her to talk. It takes so much more effort than it takes you and me. She doesn't have anything she wants to say that badly.”

“What does she
do
all the time?”

“She listens, I think. I guess I don't know.”

“Can you hear her now?”

“No.”

I yawned, and he was quiet. I thought he was asleep. I drifted in that direction, too.

“Do you think she'll go away? Really gone?” Jamie suddenly whispered. His voice caught on the last word.

I was not a liar, and I don't think I could have lied to Jamie if I were. I tried not to think about the implications of my feelings for him. Because what did it mean if the greatest love I'd ever felt in my nine lives, the first true sense of family, of maternal instinct, was for an alien life-form? I shoved the thought away.

“I don't know,” I told him. And then, because it was true, I added, “I hope not.”

“Do you like her like you like me? Did you used to hate her, like she hated you?”

“It's different than how I like you. And I never really hated her, not even in the beginning. I was very afraid of her, and I was angry that because of her I couldn't be like everyone else. But I've always, always admired strength, and Melanie is the strongest person I've ever known.” Jamie laughed. “
You
were afraid of
her?
”

“You don't think your sister can be scary? Remember the time you went too far up the canyon, and when you came home late she 'threw a raging hissy fit,' according to Jared?” He chuckled at the memory. I was pleased, having distracted him from his painful question.

I was eager to keep the peace with all my new companions in any way I could. I thought I was willing to do anything, no matter how backbreaking or smelly, but it turned out I was wrong.

“So I was thinking,” Jeb said to me one day, maybe two weeks after everyone had “calmed down.”

I was beginning to hate those words from Jeb.

“Do you remember what I was saying about you maybe teaching a little here?” My answer was curt. “Yes.”

“Well, how 'bout it?”

I didn't have to think it through. “No.”

My refusal sent an unexpected pang of guilt through me. I'd never refused a Calling before. It felt like a selfish thing to do. Obviously, though, this was not the same. The souls would have never asked me to do something so suicidal.

He frowned at me, scrunching his caterpillar eyebrows together. “Why not?”

“How do you think Sharon would like that?” I asked him in an even voice. It was just one example, but perhaps the most forceful.

He nodded, still frowning, acknowledging my point.

“It's for the greater good,” he grumbled.

I snorted. “The greater good? Wouldn't that be shooting me?”

“Wanda, that's shortsighted,” he said, arguing with me as if my answer had been a serious attempt at persuasion. “What we have here is a very unusual opportunity for learning. It would be wasteful to squander that.”

“I really don't think anyone wants to learn from me. I don't mind talking to you or Jamie –”

“Doesn't matter what they want,” Jeb insisted. “It's what's good for them. Like chocolate versus broccoli. Ought to know more about the universe–not to mention the new tenants of our planet.”

“How does it help them, Jeb? Do you think I know something that could destroy the souls?

Turn the tide? Jeb, it's over.”

“It's not over while we're still here,” he told me, grinning so I knew he was teasing me again. “I don't expect you to turn traitor and give us some super-weapon. I just think we should know more about the world we live in.”

I flinched at the word
traitor.
“I couldn't give you a weapon if I wanted to, Jeb. We don't have some great weakness, an Achilles' heel. No archenemies out there in space who could come to your aid, no viruses that will wipe us out and leave you standing. Sorry.”

“Don't sweat it.” He made a fist and tapped it playfully against my arm. “You might be surprised, though. I told you it gets boring in here. People might want your stories more than you think.”

I knew Jeb would not leave it alone. Was Jeb capable of conceding defeat? I doubted it.

At mealtimes I usually sat with Jeb and Jamie, if he was not in school or busy elsewhere. Ian always sat near, though not really with us. I could not fully accept the idea of his self-appointed role as my bodyguard. It seemed too good to be true and thus, by human philosophy, clearly false.

A few days after I'd refused Jeb's request to teach the humans “for their own good,” Doc came to sit by me during the evening meal.

Sharon remained where she was, in the corner farthest from my usual place. She was alone today, without her mother. She didn't turn to watch Doc walking toward me. Her vivid hair was wound into a high bun, so I could see that her neck was stiff, and her shoulders were hunched, tense and unhappy. It made me want to leave at once, before Doc could say whatever he meant to say to me, so that I could not be considered in collusion with him.

But Jamie was with me, and he took my hand when he saw the familiar panicked look come into my eyes. He was developing an uncanny ability to sense when I was turning skittish. I sighed and stayed where I was. It should probably have bothered me more that I was such a slave to this child's wishes.

“How are things?” Doc asked in a casual voice, sliding onto the counter next to me.

Ian, a few feet down from us, turned his body so it looked like he was part of the group.

I shrugged.

“We boiled soup today,” Jamie announced. “My eyes are still stinging.” Doc held up a pair of bright red hands. “Soap.”

Jamie laughed. “You win.”

Doc gave a mocking bow from the waist, then turned to me. “Wanda, I had a question for you.…” He let the words trail off.

I raised my eyebrows.

“Well, I was wondering.… Of all the different planets you're familiar with, which species is physically the closest to humankind?”

I blinked. “Why?”

“Just good old-fashioned biological curiosity. I guess I've been thinking about your Healers.…

Where do they get the knowledge to cure, rather than just treat symptoms, as you said?” Doc was speaking louder than necessary, his mild voice carrying farther than usual. Several people looked up–Trudy and Geoffrey, Lily, Walter…

I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, trying to take up less space. “Those are two different questions,” I murmured.

Doc smiled and gestured with one hand for me to proceed.

Jamie squeezed my hand.

I sighed. “The Bears on the Mists Planet, probably.”

“With the claw beasts?” Jamie whispered.

I nodded.

“How are they similar?” Doc prodded.

I rolled my eyes, feeling Jeb's direction in this, but continued. “They're close to mammals in many ways. Fur, warm-blooded. Their blood isn't exactly the same as yours, but it does essentially the same job. They have similar emotions, the same need for societal interaction and creative outlets –”

“Creative?” Doc leaned forward, fascinated–or feigning fascination. “How so?” I looked at Jamie. “You know. Why don't you tell Doc?”

“I might get it wrong.”

“You won't.”

He looked at Doc, who nodded.

“Well, see, they have these awesome hands.” Jamie was enthusiastic almost immediately. “Sort of double-jointed–they can curl both ways.” He flexed his own fingers, as if trying to bend them backward. “One side is soft, like my palm, but the other side is like razors! They cut the ice–ice sculpting. They make cities that are all crystal castles that never melt! It's beautiful, isn't it, Wanda?” He turned to me for backup.

I nodded. “They see a different range of colors–the ice is full of rainbows. Their cities are a point of pride for them. They're always trying to make them more beautiful. I knew of one Bear who we called… well, something like Glitter Weaver, but it sounds better in that language, because of the way the ice seemed to know what he wanted and shaped itself into his dreams. I met him once and saw his creations. That's one of my most beautiful memories.”

“They dream?” Ian asked quietly.

I smiled wryly. “Not as vividly as humans.”

“How do your Healers get their knowledge about the physiology of a new species? They came to this planet prepared. I watched it start–watched the terminal patients walk out of the hospital whole.…” A frown etched a V-shaped crease into Doc's narrow forehead. He hated the invaders, like everyone, but unlike the others, he also envied them.