The Host (33 page)

“You can go, Brandt,” Doc said in an icy tone. “I will keep an eye on Wanda.” Brandt raised one eyebrow. “What happened to you guys? To you and Ian and Trudy and the rest? It's like you're all hypnotized. If your eyes weren't right, I'd have to wonder…”

“Go ahead and wonder all you want, Brandt. But get out while you're doing it.” Brandt shook his head. “I've got a job to do.”

Doc walked toward Brandt, stopping when he was between Brandt and me. He folded his arms across his chest.

“You're not going to touch her.”

The throbbing helicopter blades sounded in the distance. We were all very still, not breathing, until they faded.

Brandt shook his head when it was quiet again. He didn't speak; he just went to the desk and picked up Doc's chair. He carried it to the wall by the file cabinet, slammed it to the ground, and then sat down hard, making the metal legs squeal against the stone. He leaned forward, his hands on his knees, and stared at me. A vulture waiting for a dying hare to stop moving.

Doc's jaw tightened, making a little popping noise.

“Gladys,” Walter muttered, surfacing from his dazed sleep. “You're here.” Too nervous to speak with Brandt watching, I just patted his hand. His clouded eyes searched my face, seeing features that weren't there.

“It hurts, Gladdie. It hurts a lot.”

“I know,” I whispered. “Doc?”

He was already there, the brandy in hand. “Open up, Walter.” The sound of the helicopter thumped quietly, far away but still much too close. Doc flinched, and a few drops of brandy splattered on my arm.

It was a horrible day. The worst of my life on this planet, even including my first day in the caves and the last hot, dry day in the desert, hours from death.

The helicopter circled and circled. Sometimes more than an hour would pass, and I would think it was finally over. Then the sound would come back, and I would see the Seeker's obstinate face in my head, her protruding eyes scouring the blank desert for some sign of humans. I tried to will her away, concentrating hard on my memories of the desert's featureless, colorless plain, as if I could somehow make sure she saw nothing else, as if I could bore her into leaving.

Brandt never took his suspicious stare off of me. I could always feel it, though I rarely looked at him. It got a little better when Ian came back with both breakfast and lunch. He was all dirty from packing in case of an evacuation–whatever that meant. Did they have anywhere to go? Ian scowled so hard he looked like Kyle when Brandt explained in clipped phrases why he was there. Then Ian dragged another empty cot beside mine, so that he could sit in Brandt's line of sight and block his view.

The helicopter, Brandt's distrustful watch, these were not really so bad. On an ordinary day–if there was really such a thing anymore–either one of these might have seemed agonizing. Today, they were nothing.

By noon, Doc had given Walter the last of the brandy. It seemed like only minutes later that Walter was writhing, moaning, and gasping for breath. His fingers bruised and chafed mine, but if I ever pulled away, his moans turned to shrill screams. I ducked out once to use the latrine; Brandt followed me, which made Ian feel like he had to come, too. By the time we got back–after nearly running the whole way–Walter's screams no longer sounded human. Doc's face was hollow with echoed agony. Walter quieted after I spoke to him for a moment, letting him think his wife was near. It was an easy lie, a kind one. Brandt made little noises of irritation, but I knew that he was wrong to be upset. Nothing mattered beside Walter's pain.

The whimpers and the writhing continued, though, and Brandt paced back and forth at the other end of the room, trying to be as far from the sound as possible.

Jamie came looking for me, bringing food enough for four, when the light was growing orangey overhead. I wouldn't let him stay; I made Ian take him back to the kitchen to eat, made Ian promise to watch him all night so he wouldn't sneak back here. Walter couldn't help shrieking when his twisting moved his broken leg, and the sound of it was nearly unbearable. Jamie shouldn't have this night burned into his memory the way it would surely be burned into Doc's and mine. Perhaps Brandt's as well, though he did what he could to ignore Walter, plugging his ears and humming a dissonant tune.

Doc did not try to distance himself from Walter's hideous suffering; instead, he suffered with him. Walter's cries carved deep lines in Doc's face, like claws raking his skin.

It was strange to see such depths of compassion in a human, particularly Doc. I couldn't look at him the same way after watching him live Walter's pain. So great was his compassion, he seemed to bleed internally with it. As I watched, it became impossible to believe that Doc was a cruel person; the man simply could not be a torturer. I tried to remember what had been said to found my conjectures–had anyone made the accusation outright? I didn't think so. I must have jumped to false conclusions in my terror.

I doubted I could ever mistrust Doc again after this nightmarish day. However, I would always find his hospital a horrible place.

When the last of the daylight disappeared, so did the helicopter. We sat in the darkness, not daring to turn on even the dim blue light. It took a few hours before any of us would believe the hunt was over. Brandt was the first to accept it; he'd had enough of the hospital, too.

“Makes sense for it to give up,” he muttered, edging out the exit. “Nothing to see at night. I'll just take your light with me, Doc, so that Jeb's pet parasite can't get up to anything, and be on my way.”

Doc didn't respond, didn't even look at the sullen man as he left.

“Make it stop, Gladdie, make it stop!” Walter begged me. I wiped the sweat from his face while he crushed my hand.

Time seemed to slow down and stop; the black night felt unending. Walter's screams got more and more frequent, more and more excruciating.

Melanie was far away, knowing she could do nothing useful. I would have hidden, too, if Walter hadn't needed me. I was all alone in my head–exactly what I had once wanted. It made me feel lost.

Eventually, a dim gray light started to creep in through the high vents overhead. I was hovering on the edge of sleep, Walter's moans and screams keeping me from sinking under. I could hear Doc snoring behind me. I was glad that he'd been able to escape for a little while.

I didn't hear Jared come in. I was mumbling weak assurances, barely coherent, trying to calm Walter.

“I'm here, I'm here,” I murmured as he cried out his wife's name. “Shh, it's okay.” The words were meaningless. It was something to say, though, and it did seem that my voice calmed the worst of his cries.

I don't know how long Jared watched me with Walter before I realized he was there. It must have been a while. I was sure his first reaction would be anger, but when I heard him speak, his voice was cool.

“Doc,” he said, and I heard the cot behind me shake. “Doc, wake up.” I jerked my hand free, whirling, disoriented, to see the face that went with the unmistakable voice.

His eyes were on me as he shook the sleeping man's shoulder. They were impossible to read in the dim light. His face had no expression at all.

Melanie jolted into awareness. She pored over his features, trying to read the thoughts behind the mask.

“Gladdie! Don't leave! Don't!” Walter's screech had Doc bolting upright, nearly capsizing his cot.

I spun back to Walter, shoving my sore hand into his searching fingers.

“Shhh, shhh! Walter, I'm here. I won't leave. I won't, I promise.” He quieted down, whimpering like a small child. I wiped the damp cloth over his forehead; his sob hitched and turned into a sigh.

“What's that about?” Jared murmured behind me.

“She's the best painkiller I've been able to find,” Doc said wearily.

“Well, I've found you something better than a tame Seeker.” My stomach knotted, and Melanie hissed in my head.
So stupidly, blindly stubborn!
she growled.
He wouldn't believe you if you told him the sun sets in the west.

But Doc was beyond caring about the slight to me. “You found something!”

“Morphine–there's not much. I would have gotten here sooner if the Seeker hadn't pinned me down out there.”

Doc was instantly in action. I heard him rustling through something papery, and he crowed in delight. “Jared, you're the miracle man!”

“Doc, just a sec…”

But Doc was at my side already, his haggard face alight with anticipation. His hands were busy with a small syringe. He stuck the tiny needle into the crease at Walter's elbow, on the arm that was attached to me. I turned my face away. It seemed so horribly invasive to stab something through his skin.

I couldn't argue with the results, though. Within half a minute, Walter's entire body relaxed, melting into a pile of loose flesh against the thin mattress. His breathing went from harsh and urgent to whispery and even. His hand relaxed, freeing mine.

I massaged my left hand with my right, trying to bring the blood back to my fingertips. Little prickles followed the flow of blood under my skin.

“Uh, Doc, there really isn't enough for that,” Jared murmured.

I looked up from Walter's face, peaceful at last. Jared had his back to me, but I could see the surprise in Doc's expression.

“Enough for what? I'm not going to save this for a rainy day, Jared. I'm sure we'll wish we had it again, and too soon, but I'm not going to let Walter scream in agony while I have a way to help him!”

“That's not what I meant,” Jared said. He spoke the way he did when he'd already thought about something long and hard. Slow and even, like Walter's breath.

Doc frowned, confused.

“There's enough to stop the pain for maybe three or four days, that's all,” Jared said. “If you give it to him in doses.”

I didn't understand what Jared was saying, but Doc did.

“Ah,” he sighed. He turned to look at Walter again, and I saw a rim of fresh tears start to pool above his lower lids. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

I wanted to know what they were talking about, but Jared's presence made me silent, brought back the reserve I rarely felt the need for anymore.

“You can't save him. You can only save him pain, Doc.”

“I know,” Doc said. His voice broke, like he was holding back a sob. “You're right.”
What's going on?
I asked. As long as Melanie was going to be around, I might as well make use of her.

They're going to kill Walter,
she told me matter-of-factly.
There's enough morphine to give him
an overdose.

My gasp sounded loud in the quiet room, but it was really just a breath. I didn't look up to see how the two healthy men would react. My own tears pooled as I leaned over Walter's pillow.

No,
I thought,
no. Not yet. No.

You'd rather he died screaming?

I just… I can't stand the… finality. It's so absolute. I'll never see my friend again.

How many of your other friends have you gone back to visit, Wanderer?

I've never had friends like this before.

My friends on other planets were all blurred together in my head; the souls were so similar, almost interchangeable in some ways. Walter was distinctly himself. When he was gone, there would be no one who could fill his place.

I cradled Walter's head in my arms and let my tears fall onto his skin. I tried to stifle my crying, but it made its way out regardless, a keening rather than sobs.

I know. Another first,
Melanie whispered, and there was compassion in her tone. Compassion for me–that was a first, too.

“Wanda?” Doc asked.

I just shook my head, not able to answer.

“I think you've been here too long,” he said. I felt his hand, light and warm, on my shoulder.

“You should take a break.”

I shook my head again, still keening softly.

“You're worn out,” he said. “Go clean up, stretch your legs. Eat something.” I glared up at him. “Will Walter be here when I get back?” I mumbled through my tears.

His eyes tightened anxiously. “Do you want that?”

“I'd like a chance to say goodbye. He's my friend.”

He patted my arm. “I know, Wanda, I know. Me, too. I'm in no hurry. You get some air and then come back. Walter will be sleeping for a while.”

I read his worn face, and I believed the sincerity there.

I nodded and carefully put Walter's head back on the pillow. Maybe if I got away from this place for a little bit, I'd find a way to handle this. I wasn't sure how–I had no experience with real goodbyes.

Because I was in love with him, no matter that it was unwilling, I had to look at Jared before I left. Mell wanted this, too, but wished that she could somehow exclude me from the process.

He was staring at me. I had a feeling his eyes had been on me for a long time. His face was carefully composed, but there was surprise and suspicion in there again. It made me tired. What would be the point of acting out a charade now, even if I were that talented a liar? Walter would never stand up for me again. I couldn't
sucker
him anymore.

I met Jared's gaze for one long second, then turned to hurry down the pitch-black corridor that was brighter than his expression.

The caves were quiet; the sun had not yet risen. In the big plaza, the mirrors were a pale gray with the coming dawn.

My few clothes were still in Jamie and Jared's room. I snuck in, glad that I knew where Jared was.

Jamie was sound asleep, curled into a tight ball in the top corner of the mattress. He didn't usually sleep so compactly, but he had good reason to at the moment. Ian was sprawled across the rest of the space, his feet and hands hanging off the edges, one appendage to each of the four sides.

For some reason, this was hysterical to me. I had to put my fist in my mouth to choke back the laughter as I quickly snatched up my old dirt-dyed T-shirt and shorts. I hurried into the hall, still stifling the giggles.

You're slaphappy,
Melanie told me.
You need some sleep.

I'll sleep later. When…
I couldn't finish the thought. It sobered me instantaneously, and everything was quiet again.

I was still rushing as I headed for the bathing room. I trusted Doc, but… Maybe he would change his mind. Maybe Jared would argue against what I wanted. I couldn't be all day.

I thought I heard something behind me when I reached the octopus-like juncture where all the sleeping halls met. I looked back, but I couldn't see anyone in the dim cave. People were beginning to stir. Soon it would be time for breakfast and another day of work. If they'd finished with the stalks, the ground in the east fields would need to be turned. Maybe I would have time to help… later…

I followed the familiar path to the underground rivers, my mind in a million other places. I couldn't seem to concentrate on anything in particular. Every time I tried to focus on a subject–Walter, Jared, breakfast, chores, baths–some other thought would pull my head away in seconds. Melanie was right; I needed to sleep. She was just as muddled. Her thoughts all spun around Jared, but she could make nothing coherent of them, either.

I'd gotten used to the bathing room. The utter blackness of it didn't bother me anymore. So many places were black here. Half my daylight hours were lived in darkness. And I'd been here too many times. There was never anything lurking under the water's surface, waiting to pull me under.

I knew I didn't have time to soak, though. Others would be up soon, and some people liked to start their day clean. I got to work, washing myself first, then moving on to my clothes. I scrubbed at my shirt fiercely, wishing I could scrub out my memory of the past two nights.

My hands were stinging when I was done, the dry cracks on my knuckles burning worst of all. I rinsed them in the water, but it made no noticeable difference. I sighed and climbed out to get dressed.

I'd left my dry clothes on the loose rocks in the back corner. I kicked a stone by accident, hard enough to hurt my bare foot, and it clattered loudly across the room, bouncing off the wall and landing with a plunk and a gurgle in the pool. The sound made me jump, though it wasn't all that loud next to the roar of the hot river in the outer room.

I was just shoving my feet into my scruffy tennis shoes when my turn was up.

“Knock, knock,” a familiar voice called from the dark entry.

“Good morning, Ian,” I said. “I'm just done. Did you sleep well?”

“Ian's still sleeping,” Ian's voice answered. “I'm sure that won't last forever, though, so we'd best get on with this.”

Splinters of ice pinned my joints in place. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.

I'd noticed it before, and then forgotten it in the long weeks of Kyle's absence: not only did Ian and his brother look very much alike, but–when Kyle spoke at a normal volume, which so rarely happened–they also had exactly the same voice.

There was no air. I was trapped in this black hole with Kyle at the door. There was no way out.

Keep quiet!
Melanie shrieked in my head.

I could do that. There was no air to scream with.

Listen!

I did as I was told, trying to focus in spite of the fear that stabbed through my head like a million slender spears of ice.

I couldn't hear anything. Was Kyle waiting for a response? Was he sneaking around the room in silence? I listened harder, but the rush of the river covered any sounds.

Quick, grab a rock!
Melanie ordered.

Why?

I saw myself crashing a rough stone against Kyle's head.

I can't do it!

Then we're going to die!
she screamed back at me.
I can do it! Let me!

There has to be another way,
I moaned, but I forced my ice-locked knees to bend. My hands searched the darkness and came up with a large, jagged rock and a handful of pebbles.

Fight or flight.

In desperation, I tried to unlock Melanie, to let her out. I couldn't find the door–my hands were still my own, clutched uselessly around the objects I could never make into weapons.

A noise. A tiny splash as something entered the stream that drained the pool into the latrine room. Only a few yards away.

Give me my hands!

I don't know how! Take them!

I started to creep away, close to the wall, toward the exit. Melanie struggled to find her way out of my head, but she couldn't find the door from her side, either.

Another sound. Not by the far stream. A breath, by the exit. I froze where I was.

Where is he?

I don't know!

Again, I could hear nothing but the river. Was Kyle alone? Was someone waiting by the door to catch me when he herded me around the pool? How close was Kyle now?

I felt the hairs on my arms and legs standing on end. There was some kind of pressure in the air, as though I could feel his silent movements. The door. I half turned, easing back in the direction I'd come, away from where I'd heard the breath.

He couldn't wait forever. The little he'd said told me he was in a hurry. Someone could come at any time. Odds were on his side, though. There were fewer who would be inclined to stop him than there were who might think this was for the best. And of those inclined to stop him, even fewer who'd have much of a chance of doing that. Only Jeb and his gun would make a difference. Jared was at least as strong as Kyle, but Kyle was more motivated. Jared would probably not fight him now.

Another noise. Was that a footstep by the door? Or just my imagination? How long had this silent standoff lasted? I couldn't guess how many seconds or minutes had passed.

Get ready.
Melanie knew that the stalling would soon be at an end. She wanted me to clench the rock tighter.

But I would give flight a chance first. I would not be an effective fighter, even if I could bring myself to try. Kyle was probably twice my weight, and he had a much longer reach.

I raised the hand with the pebbles and aimed them toward the back passage to the latrine.

Maybe I could make him think that I was going to hide and hope for rescue. I threw the handful of small stones and shied away from the noise when they clattered against the rock wall.

The breath at the door again, the sound of a light footfall headed toward my decoy. I edged as quietly along the wall as I could.

What if there are two?

I don't know.

I was almost to the exit. If I could just make the tunnel, I thought I could outrun him. I was lighter and fast.…

I heard a footstep, very clearly this time, disrupting the stream in the back of the room. I crept faster.

A gigantic splash shattered the tense standoff. Water pelted my skin, making me gasp. It spattered against the wall in a wave of wet sound.

He's coming through the pool! Run!

I hesitated just a second too long. Big fingers clutched at my calf, my ankle. I yanked against the pull, lurching forward. I stumbled, and the momentum that threw me down to the floor made his fingers slip. He caught my sneaker. I kicked it off, leaving it in his hand.

I was down, but he was down, too. It gave me enough time to scramble forward, ripping my knees against the rough stone.

Kyle grunted, and his hand clutched at my naked heel. There was nothing to catch hold of; I slid free again. I wrenched myself forward, pulling to my feet with my head still down, every second in danger of falling again because my body was moving almost parallel to the floor. I kept my balance through sheer force of will.

There was no one else. No one to catch me at the exit to the outer room. I sprinted forward, hope and adrenaline surging in my veins. I burst into the river room at full speed, my only thought to reach the tunnel. I could hear Kyle's heavy breath close behind but not close enough.

With each step, I pushed harder against the ground, throwing myself ahead of him.

Pain lanced through my leg, crumpling it.

Over the babble of the river, I heard two heavy stones hit the ground and roll–the one I'd been clutching and the one he'd thrown to cripple me. My leg twisted under me, spinning me backward to the ground, and in the same second he was on top of me.

His weight knocked my head against the rock in a ringing blow and pinned me flat against the floor. No leverage.

Scream!

The air blew out of me in a siren of sound that surprised us all. My wordless shriek was more than I'd hoped for–surely someone would hear it. Please let that someone be Jeb. Please let him have the gun.

“Uhng!” Kyle protested. His hand was big enough to cover most of my face. His palm mashed against my mouth, cutting off my scream.

He rolled then, and the motion so took me by surprise that I had no time to try to find an advantage in it. He pulled me swiftly over and under and over his body. I was dizzy and confused, my head still spinning, but I understood as soon as my face hit the water.

His hand locked on the back of my neck, forcing my face into the shallow stream of cooler water that wound its way into the bathing pool. It was too late to hold my breath. I'd already inhaled a mouthful of water.

My body panicked when the water hit my lungs. Its flailing was stronger than he'd expected.

My limbs all jerked and thrashed in different directions, and his grip on my neck slipped. He tried to get a better hold, and some instinct made me pull myself into him rather than away, as he was expecting. I only pulled half a foot closer to him, but that got my chin out of the stream, and enough of my mouth to choke some of the water back out and drag in a breath.

He fought to push me back into the stream, but I wriggled and wedged myself under him so that his own weight was working against his goal. I was still reacting to the water in my lungs, coughing and spasming out of control.

“Enough!” Kyle growled.

He pulled himself off me, and I tried to drag myself away.

“Oh, no, you
don't!
” he spit through his teeth.

It was over, and I knew it.

There was something wrong with my injured leg. It felt numb, and I couldn't make it do what I wanted. I could only push myself along the floor with my arms and my good leg. I was coughing too hard to do even that well. Too hard to scream again.

Kyle grabbed my wrist and yanked me up from the floor. The weight of my body made my leg buckle, and I slumped into him.

He got both my wrists in one hand and wrapped the other arm around my waist. He pulled me off the floor and into his side, like an awkward bag of flour. I twisted, and my good leg kicked against the empty air.

“Let's get this over with.”

He jumped over the smaller stream with a bound and carried me toward the closest sinkhole.

The steam from the hot spring washed my face.

He was going to throw me into the dark, hot hole and let the boiling water pull me into the ground as it burned me.

“No, no!” I shouted, my voice too hoarse and low to carry.

I writhed frantically. My knee knocked against one of the ropy rock columns, and I hooked my foot around it, trying to yank myself out of his grip. He jerked me free with an impatient grunt.

At least that loosened his hold enough that I could make one more move. It had worked before, so I tried it again. Instead of trying to free myself, I twisted in and wrapped my legs around his waist, locking the good ankle around the bad, trying to ignore the pain so that I could get a good hold there.

“Get
off
me, you –” He fought to knock me loose, and I jerked one of my wrists free. I wrapped that arm around his neck and grabbed his thick hair. If I was going into the black river, so was he.

Kyle hissed and stopped prying at my leg long enough to punch my side.

I gasped in pain but got my other hand into his hair.

He wrapped both arms around me, as if we were embracing rather than locked in a killing struggle. Then he grabbed my waist from both sides and heaved with all his strength against my hold.

His hair started to come out in my hands, but he just grunted and pulled harder.

I could hear the steaming water rushing close by, right below me, it seemed. The steam billowed up in a thick cloud, and for a minute I couldn't see anything but Kyle's face, twisted with rage into something beastlike and merciless.

I felt my bad leg giving. I tried to pull myself closer to him, but his brute strength was winning against my desperation. He would have me free in a moment, and I would fall into the hissing steam and disappear.

Jared! Jamie!
The thought, the agony, belonged to both Melanie and me. They would never know what had happened to me. Ian. Jeb. Doc. Walter. No goodbyes.

Kyle abruptly jumped into the air and came down with a thud. The jarring impact had the effect he wanted: my legs came loose.

But before he could take advantage, there was another result.

The cracking sound was deafening. I thought the whole cave was coming down. The floor shuddered beneath us.

Kyle gasped and jumped back, taking me–hands still locked in his hair–with him. The rock under his feet, with more cracking and groaning, began to crumble away.

Our combined weight had broken the brittle lip of the hole. As Kyle stumbled away, the crumbling followed his heavy steps. It was faster than he was.