The Host (30 page)

He walked all the way to the cornfield, and then into the cornfield, stepping in the low part of the furrow, between the stalks. I trailed behind him until he stopped, somewhere in the middle of the field, set the dishes aside, and sprawled out on the dirt.

“Well, this is out of the way,” I said as I settled to the ground beside him, crossing my legs.

“But shouldn't we be working?”

“You work too hard, Wanda. You're the only one who never takes a day off.”

“It gives me something to do,” I mumbled.

“Everyone is taking a break today, so you might as well.”

I looked at him curiously. The light from the mirrors threw double shadows through the cornstalks that crisscrossed over him like zebra stripes. Under the lines and the dirt, his pale face was weary.

“You look like you've been working.”

His eyes tightened. “But I'm resting now.”

“Jamie won't tell me what's going on,” I murmured.

“No. And neither will I.” He sighed. “It's nothing you want to know anyway.” I stared at the ground, at the dark purple and brown dirt, as my stomach twisted and rolled. I could think of nothing worse than not knowing, but maybe I was just lacking in imagination.

“It's not really fair,” Ian said after a silent moment, “seeing as I won't answer your question, but do you mind if I ask you one?”

I welcomed the distraction. “Go ahead.”

He didn't speak at once, so I looked up to find the reason for his hesitation. He was staring down now, looking at the dirt streaked across the backs of his hands.

“I know you're not a liar. I know that now,” he said quietly. “I'll believe you, whatever your answer is.”

I waited again while he continued to stare at the dirt on his skin.

“I didn't buy Jeb's story before, but he and Doc are pretty convinced.… Wanda?” he asked, looking up at me. “Is she still in there with you? The girl whose body you wear?” This was not just my secret anymore–both Jamie and Jeb knew the truth. Neither was it the secret that really mattered. At any rate, I trusted Ian not to go blabbing to anyone who would kill me over it. “Yes,” I told him. “Melanie is still here.” He nodded slowly. “What is it like? For you? For her?”

“It's… frustrating, for us both. At first I would have given anything to have her disappear the way she should have. But now I… I've gotten used to her.” I smiled wryly. “Sometimes it's nice to have the company. It's harder for her. She's like a prisoner in many ways. Locked away in my head. She prefers that captivity to disappearing, though.”

“I didn't know there was a choice.”

“There wasn't in the beginning. It wasn't until your kind discovered what was happening that any resistance started. That seems to be the key–knowing what's going to happen. The humans who were taken by surprise didn't fight back.”

“So if I were caught?”

I appraised his fierce expression–the fire in his brilliant eyes.

“I doubt you would disappear. Things have changed, though. When they catch full-grown humans now, they don't offer them as hosts. Too many problems.” I half smiled again.

“Problems like
me.
Going soft, getting sympathetic to my host, losing my way…” He thought about that for a long time, sometimes looking at my face, sometimes at the cornstalks, sometimes at nothing at all.

“What would they do with me, then, if they caught me now?” he finally asked.

“They'd still do an insertion, I think. Trying to get information. Probably they'd put a Seeker in you.”

He shuddered.

“But they wouldn't keep you as a host. Whether they found the information or not, you would be… discarded.” The word was hard to say. The idea sickened me. Odd–it was usually the human things that made me sick. But I'd never looked at the situation from the body's perspective before; no other planet had forced me to. A body that didn't function right was quickly and painlessly disposed of because it was as useless as a car that could not run. What was the point of keeping it around? There were conditions of the mind, too, that made a body unusable: dangerous mental addictions, malevolent yearnings, things that could not be healed and made the body unsafe to others. Or, of course, a mind with a will too strong to be erased.

An anomaly localized on this planet.

I had never seen the ugliness of treating an unconquerable spirit as a defect as clearly as I did now, looking into Ian's eyes.

“And if they caught
you?
” he asked.

“If they realized who I was… if anyone is still looking for me…” I thought of my Seeker and shuddered as he had. “They would take me out and put me in another host. Someone young, tractable. They would hope that I would be able to be myself again. Maybe they would ship me off-planet–get me away from the bad influences.”

“Would you be yourself again?”

I met his gaze. “I
am
myself. I haven't lost myself to Melanie. I would feel the same as I do now, even as a Bear or a Flower.”

“They wouldn't
discard
you?”

“Not a soul. We have no capital punishment for our kind. Or any punishment, really. Whatever they did, it would be to save me. I used to think there was no need for any other way, but now I have myself as proof against that theory. It would probably be right to discard me. I'm a traitor, aren't I?”

Ian pursed his lips. “More of an expatriate, I'd say. You haven't turned on them; you've just left their society.”

We were quiet again. I wanted to believe what he said was true. I considered the word
expatriate,
trying to convince myself that I was nothing worse.

Ian exhaled loudly enough to make me jump. “When Doc sobers up, we'll get him to take a look at your face.” He reached over and put his hand under my chin; this time I didn't flinch. He turned my head to the side so he could examine the wound.

“It's not important. I'm sure it looks worse than it is.”

“I hope so–it looks awful.” He sighed and then stretched. “I suppose we've hidden long enough that Kyle's clean and unconscious. Want some help with the dishes?” Ian wouldn't let me wash the dishes in the stream the way I usually did. He insisted that we go into the black bathing room, where I would be invisible. I scrubbed dishes in the shallow end of the dark pool, while he cleaned off the filth left behind by his mystery labors. Then he helped me with the last of the dirty bowls.

When we were done, he escorted me back to the kitchen, which was starting to fill up with the lunch crowd. More perishables were on the menu: soft white bread slices, slabs of sharp cheddar cheese, circles of lush pink bologna. People were scarfing down the delicacies with abandon, though the despair was still perceptible in the slump of their shoulders, in the absence of smiles or laughter.

Jamie was waiting for me at our usual counter. Two double stacks of sandwiches sat in front of him, but he wasn't eating. His arms were folded as he waited for me. Ian eyed his expression curiously but left to get his own food without asking.

I rolled my eyes at Jamie's stubbornness and took a bite. Jamie dug in as soon as I was chewing.

Ian was back quickly, and we all ate in silence. The food tasted so good it was hard to imagine a reason for conversation–or anything else that would empty our mouths.

I stopped at two, but Jamie and Ian ate until they were groaning in pain. Ian looked as though he was about to collapse. His eyes struggled to stay open.

“Get back to school, kid,” he said to Jamie.

Jamie appraised him. “Maybe I should take over.…”

“Go to school,” I told him quickly. I wanted Jamie a safe distance from me today.

“I'll see you later, okay? Don't worry about… about anything.”

“Sure.” A one-word lie wasn't quite so obvious. Or maybe I was just being sarcastic again.

Once Jamie was gone, I turned on the somnolent Ian. “Go get some rest. I'll be fine–I'll stay someplace inconspicuous. Middle of a cornfield or something.”

“Where did you sleep last night?” he asked, his eyes surprisingly sharp under his half-closed lids.

“Why?”

“I can sleep there now, and you can be inconspicuous beside me.” We were just murmuring, barely over a whisper now. No one paid us any attention.

“You can't watch me every second.”

“Wanna bet?”

I shrugged, giving up. “I was back at the… the hole. Where I was kept in the beginning.” Ian frowned; he didn't like that. But he got up and led the way back to the storage corridor. The main plaza was busy again now, full of people moving around the garden, all of them grave, their eyes on their feet.

When we were alone in the black tunnel, I tried to reason with him again.

“Ian, what's the point of this? Won't it hurt Jamie more, the longer I'm alive? In the end, wouldn't it be better for him if –”

“Don't think like that, Wanda. We're not animals. Your death is not an inevitability.”

“I don't think you're an animal,” I said quietly.

“Thanks. I didn't say that as an accusation, though. I wouldn't blame you if you did.” That was the end of our conversation; that was the moment we both saw the pale blue light reflecting dimly from around the next turn in the tunnel.

“Shh,” Ian breathed. “Wait here.”

He pressed my shoulder down gently, trying to stick me where I stood. Then he strode forward, making no attempt to hide the sound of his footsteps. He disappeared around the corner.

“Jared?” I heard him say, feigning surprise.

My heart felt heavy in my chest; the sensation was more pain than fear.

“I know it's with you,” Jared answered. He raised his voice, so that anyone between here and the main plaza would hear. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he called, his voice hard and mocking.

Maybe I should have run the other way. But no one was holding me back now, and though his voice was cold and angry, Jared was calling to me. Melanie was even more eager than I was as I stepped carefully around the corner and into the blue light; I hesitated there.

Ian stood just a few feet ahead of me, poised on the balls of his feet, ready for whatever hostile movement Jared might make toward me.

Jared sat on the ground, on one of the mats Jamie and I had left here. He looked as weary as Ian, though his eyes, too, were more alert than the rest of his exhausted posture.

“At ease,” Jared said to Ian. “I just want to talk to it. I promised the kid, and I'll stand by that promise.”

“Where's Kyle?” Ian demanded.

“Snoring. Your cave might shake apart from the vibrations.” Ian didn't move.

“I'm not lying, Ian. And I'm not going to kill it. Jeb is right. No matter how messed up this stupid situation is, Jamie has as much say as I do, and he's been totally suckered, so I doubt he'll be giving me the go-ahead anytime soon.”

“No one's been suckered,” Ian growled.

Jared waved his hand, dismissing the disagreement over terminology. “It's not in any danger from me, is my point.” For the first time he looked at me, evaluating the way I hugged the far wall, watching my hands tremble. “I won't hurt you again,” he said to me.

I took a small step forward.

“You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to, Wanda,” Ian said quickly. “This isn't a duty or a chore to be done. It's not mandatory. You have a choice.” Jared's eyebrows pulled low over his eyes–Ian's words confused him.

“No,” I whispered. “I'll talk to him.” I took another short step. Jared turned his hand palm up and curled his fingers twice, encouraging me forward.

I walked slowly, each step an individual movement followed by a pause, not part of a steady advance. I stopped a yard away from him. Ian shadowed each step, keeping close to my side.

“I'd like to talk to it alone, if you don't mind,” Jared said to him.

Ian planted himself. “I do mind.”

“No, Ian, it's okay. Go get some sleep. I'll be fine.” I nudged his arm lightly.

Ian scrutinized my face, his expression dubious. “This isn't some death wish? Sparing the kid?” he demanded.

“No. Jared wouldn't lie to Jamie about this.”

Jared scowled when I said his name, the sound of it full of confidence.

“Please, Ian,” I pleaded. “I want to talk to him.”

Ian looked at me for a long minute, then turned to scowl at Jared. He barked out each sentence like an order.

“Her name is
Wanda,
not
it.
You will not touch her. Any mark you leave on her, I will double on your worthless hide.”

I winced at the threat.

Ian turned abruptly and stalked into the darkness.

It was silent for a moment as we both watched the empty space where he had disappeared. I looked at Jared's face first, while he still stared after Ian. When he turned to meet my gaze, I dropped my eyes.

“Wow. He's not kidding, is he?” Jared said.

I treated that as a rhetorical question.

“Why don't you have a seat?” he asked me, patting the mat be-side him.

I deliberated for a moment, then went to sit against the same wall but close to the hole, putting the length of the mat between us. Melanie didn't like this; she wanted to be near him, for me to smell his scent and feel the warmth of his body beside me.

I did not want that–and it wasn't because I was afraid he would hurt me; he didn't look angry at the moment, only tired and wary. I just didn't want to be any closer to him. Something in my chest was hurting to have him so near–to have him hating me in such close proximity.

He watched me, his head tilted to the side; I could only meet his gaze fleetingly before I had to look away.

“I'm sorry about last night–about your face. I shouldn't have done that.” I stared at my hands, knotted together in a double fist on my lap.

“You don't have to be afraid of me.”

I nodded, not looking at him.

He grunted. “Thought you said you would talk to me?”

I shrugged. I couldn't find my voice with the weight of his antagonism in the air between us.

I heard him move. He scooted down the mat until he sat right beside me–the way Melanie had hoped for. Too close–it was hard to think straight, hard to breathe right–but I couldn't bring myself to scoot away. Oddly, for this was what she'd wanted in the first place, Melanie was suddenly irritated.

What?
I asked, startled by the intensity of her emotion.

I don't like him next to you. It doesn't feel right. I don't like the way you want him there.
For the first time since we'd abandoned civilization together, I felt waves of hostility emanating from her. I was shocked. That was hardly fair.

“I just have one question,” Jared said, interrupting us.

I met his gaze and then shied away–recoiling both from his hard eyes and from Melanie's resentment.

“You can probably guess what it is. Jeb and Jamie spent all night jabbering at me.…” I waited for the question, staring across the dark hall at the rice bag–last night's pillow. In my peripheral vision, I saw his hand come up, and I cringed into the wall.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” he said again, impatient, and cupped my chin in his rough hand, pulling my face around so I had to look at him.

My heart stuttered when he touched me, and there was suddenly too much moisture in my eyes.

I blinked, trying to clear them.

“Wanda.” He said my name slowly–unwillingly, I could tell, though his voice was even and toneless. “Is Melanie still alive–still part of you? Tell me the truth.” Melanie attacked with the brute strength of a wrecking ball. It was physically painful, like the sudden stab of a migraine headache, where she tried to force her way out.

Stop it! Can't you see?

It was so obvious in the set of his lips, the tight lines under his eyes. It didn't matter what I said or what she said.

I'm already a liar to him,
I told her.
He doesn't want the truth–he's just looking for evidence,
some way to prove me a liar, a Seeker, to Jeb and Jamie so that he'll be allowed to kill me.

Melanie refused to answer or believe me; it was a struggle to keep her silent.

Jared watched the sweat bead on my forehead, the strange shiver that shook down my spine, and his eyes narrowed. He held on to my chin, refusing to let me hide my face.

Jared, I love you,
she tried to scream.
I'm right here.

My lips didn't quiver, but I was surprised that he couldn't read the words spelled out plainly in my eyes.

Time passed slowly while he waited for my answer. It was agonizing, having to stare into his eyes, having to see the revulsion there. As if that weren't enough, Melanie's anger continued to slice at me from the inside. Her jealousy swelled into a bitter flood that washed through my body and left it polluted.

More time passed, and the tears welled up until they couldn't be contained in my eyes anymore.

They spilled over onto my cheeks and rolled silently into Jared's palm. His expression didn't change.

Finally, I'd had enough. I closed my eyes and jerked my head down. Rather than hurt me, he dropped his hand.

He sighed, frustrated.

I expected he would leave. I stared at my hands again, waiting for that. My heartbeat marked the passing minutes. He didn't move. I didn't move. He seemed carved out of stone beside me. It fit him, this stonelike stillness. It fit his new, hard expression, the flint in his eyes.

Melanie pondered this Jared, comparing him with the man he used to be. She remembered an unremarkable day on the run…

“Argh!” Jared and Jamie groan together.

Jared lounges on the leather sofa and Jamie sprawls on the carpet in front of him. They're watching a basketball game on the big-screen TV. The para-sites who live in this house are at work, and we've already filled the jeep with all it can hold. We have hours to rest before we need to disappear again.

On the TV, two players are disagreeing politely on the sideline. The cameraman is close; we can hear what they're saying.

“I believe I was the last one to touch it–it's your ball.”

“I'm not sure about that. I wouldn't want to take any unfair advantage. We'd better have the refs review the tape.”

The players shake hands, pat each other's shoulders.

“This is ridiculous,” Jared grumbles.

“I can't stand it,” Jamie agrees, mirroring Jared's tone perfectly; he sounds more like Jared every day–one of the many forms his hero worship has taken. “Is there anything else on?” Jared flips through a few channels until he finds a track and field meet. The parasites are holding the Olympics in Haiti right now. From what we can see, the aliens are all hugely excited about it. Lots of them have Olympic flags outside their houses. It's not the same, though.

Everyone who participates gets a medal now. Pathetic.

But they can't really screw up the hundred-meter dash. Individual parasite sports are much more entertaining than when they try to compete against each other directly. They perform better in separate lanes.

“Mel, come relax,” Jared calls.

I stand by the back door out of habit, not because I'm tensed to run. Not because I'm frightened. Empty habit, nothing more.

I go to Jared. He pulls me onto his lap and tucks my head under his chin.

“Comfortable?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, because I really, truly am entirely comfortable. Here, in an alien's house.

Dad used to say lots of funny things–like he was speaking his own language sometimes.

Twenty-three skidoo, salad days, nosy parker, bandbox fresh, the catbird seat, chocolate teapot, and something about Grandma sucking eggs. One of his favorites was
safe as houses.

Teaching me to ride a bike, my mother worrying in the doorway:
“Calm down, Linda, this street
is safe as houses.”
Convincing Jamie to sleep without his nightlight:
“It's safe as houses in here,
son, not a monster for miles.”

Then overnight the world turned into a hideous nightmare, and the phrase became a black joke to Jamie and me. Houses were the most dangerous places we knew.

Hiding in a patch of scrubby pines, watching a car pull out from the garage of a secluded home, deciding whether to make a food run, whether it was too dicey.
“Do you think the parasites'll be
gone for long?” “No way–that place is safe as houses. Let's get out of here.”
And now I can sit here and watch TV like it is five years ago and Mom and Dad are in the other room and I've never spent a night hiding in a drainpipe with Jamie and a bunch of rats while body snatchers with spotlights search for the thieves who made off with a bag of dried beans and a bowl of cold spaghetti.

I know that if Jamie and I survived alone for twenty years we would never find this feeling on our own. The feeling of safety. More than safety, even–happiness. Safe and happy, two things I thought I'd never feel again.

Jared makes us feel that way without trying, just by being Jared.

I breathe in the scent of his skin and feel the warmth of his body under mine.

Jared makes everything safe, everything happy. Even houses.

He still makes me feel safe,
Melanie realized, feeling the warmth where his arm was just half an inch from mine.
Though he doesn't even know I'm here.

I
didn't feel safe. Loving Jared made me feel less safe than anything else I could think of.

I wondered if Melanie and I would have loved Jared if he'd always been who he was now, rather than the smiling Jared in our memories, the one who had come to Melanie with his hands full of hope and miracles. Would she have followed him if he'd always been so hard and cynical?

If the loss of his laughing father and wild big brothers had iced him over the way nothing but Melanie's loss had?

Of course.
Mell was certain.
I would love Jared in any form. Even like this, he belongs with me.

I wondered if the same held true for me. Would I love him now if he were like this in her memory?

Then I was interrupted. Without any cue that I perceived, suddenly Jared was talking, speaking as if we were in the middle of a conversation.

“And so, because of you, Jeb and Jamie are convinced that it's possible to continue some kind of awareness after… being caught. They're both sure Mel's still kicking in there.” He rapped his fist lightly against my head. I flinched away from him, and he folded his arms.

“Jamie thinks she's talking to him.” He rolled his eyes. “Not really fair to play the kid like that–but that's assuming a sense of ethics that clearly does not apply.” I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Jeb does have a point, though–that's what's killing me! What
are
you after? The Seekers'

search wasn't well directed or even… suspicious. They only seemed to be looking for you–not for us. So maybe they didn't know what you were up to. Maybe you're freelancing? Some kind of undercover thing. Or…”

It was easier to ignore him when he was speculating so foolishly. I focused on my knees. They were dirty, as usual, purple and black.

“Maybe they're right–about the killing-you part, anyway.”

Unexpectedly, his fingers brushed lightly once across the goose bumps his words had raised on my arm. His voice was softer when he spoke again. “Nobody's going to hurt you now. As long as you aren't causing any trouble…” He shrugged. “I can sort of see their point, and maybe, in a sick way, it
would
be wrong, like they say. Maybe there is no justifiable reason to… Except that Jamie…”

My head flipped up–his eyes were sharp, scrutinizing my reaction. I regretted showing interest and watched my knees again.

“It scares me how attached he's getting,” Jared muttered. “Shouldn't have left him behind. I never imagined… And I don't know what to do about it now. He thinks Mel's alive in there.

What will it do to him when… ?”

I noticed how he said
when,
not
if.
No matter what promises he'd made, he didn't see me lasting in the long term.