The Host (46 page)

“Let me see!”

“Stay there,” I gasped. “Don't move.”

I heard the blanket rustling behind me despite my warning. I pulled my left arm against my body and yanked the door open with my right hand. Jared's hand brushed my back as I half fell out the door. It wasn't a restraint. It was comfort.

“I'll be right back,” I coughed out, and then I kicked the door shut behind me.

I stumbled across the lot, fighting nausea and panic. They seemed to balance each other out–one keeping the other from taking control of my body. The pain wasn't too bad–or rather, I couldn't feel it as much anymore. I was going into shock. Too many kinds of pain, too close together. Hot liquid rolled down my fingers and dripped to the pavement. I wondered if I could move those fingers. I was afraid to try.

The woman behind the reception desk–middle-aged, with dark chocolate skin and a few silver threads in her black hair–jumped to her feet when I lurched through the automatic doors.

“Oh, no! Oh, dear!” She grabbed a microphone, and her next words echoed from the ceiling, magnified. “Healer Knits! I need you in reception! This is an emergency!”

“No.” I tried to speak calmly, but I swayed in place. “I'm okay. Just an accident.” She put the microphone down and hurried around to where I stood swaying. Her arm went around my waist.

“Oh, honey, what happened to you?”

“So careless,” I muttered. “I was hiking.… I fell down the rocks. I was… cleaning up after dinner. A knife was in my hand.…”

My hesitations seemed like part of the shock to her. She didn't look at me with suspicion–or humor, the way Ian sometimes did when I lied. Only concern.

“You poor dear! What's your name?”

“Glass Spires,” I told her, using the rather generic name of a herd member from my time with the Bears.

“Okay, Glass Spires. Here comes the Healer. You'll be fine in just a moment.” I didn't feel panicked at all anymore. The kindly woman patted my back. So gentle, so caring.

She would never harm me.

The Healer was a young woman. Her hair, skin, and eyes were all a similar shade of light brown. It made her unusual looking–monochromatic. She wore tan scrubs that only added to that impression.

“Wow,” she said. “I'm Healer Knits Fire. I'll get you fixed up directly. What happened?” I told my story again as the two women led me down a hallway and then through the very first door. They had me lie down on the paper-covered bed.

The room was familiar. I'd been in only one place like this, but Melanie's childhood was full of such memories. The short row of double cabinets, the sink where the Healer was washing her hands, the bright, clean white walls…

“First things first,” Knits Fire said cheerfully. She pulled a cabinet open. I tried to focus my eyes, knowing this was important. The cabinet was full of rows and rows of stacked white cylinders. She took one down, reaching for it without searching; she knew what she wanted.

The small container had a label, but I couldn't read it. “A little no pain should help, don't you think?”

I saw the label again as she twisted the lid off. Two short words.
No Pain?
Was that what it said?

“Open your mouth, Glass Spires.”

I obeyed. She took a small, thin square–it looked like tissue paper–and laid it on my tongue. It dissolved at once. There was no flavor. I swallowed automatically.

“Better?” the Healer asked.

And it was. Already. My my head was clear–I could concentrate without difficulty. The pain had melted away with the tiny square. Disappeared. I blinked, shocked.

“Yes.”

“I know you feel fine now, but please don't move. Your injuries are not treated yet.”

“Of course.”

“Cerulean, could you get us some water? Her mouth seems dry.”

“At once, Healer Knits.”

The older woman left the room.

The Healer turned back to her cabinets, opening a different one this time. This, too, was filled with white containers. “Here we are.” She pulled one from the top of a stack, then took another from the other side.

Almost as if she were trying to help me fulfill my mission, she listed the names as she reached for them.

“Clean–inside and out… Heal… Seal… And where is… ah, Smooth. Don't want a scar on that pretty face, do we?”

“Ah… no.”

“Don't worry. You'll be perfect again.”

“Thank you.”

“You're very welcome.”

She leaned over me with another white cylinder. The top of this one came off with a pop, and there was an aerosol spray nozzle underneath. She sprayed my forearm first, coating the wound with clear, odorless mist.

“Healing must be a fulfilling profession.” My voice sounded just right. Interested, but not unduly so. “I haven't been in a Healing facility since insertion. This is very interesting.”

“Yes, I like it.” She started spraying my face.

“What are you doing now?”

She smiled. I guessed that I was not the first curious soul. “This is Clean. It will make sure nothing foreign stays in the wound. It kills off any of the microbes that might infect the wound.”

“Clean,” I repeated to myself.

“And the Inside Clean, just in case anything has snuck into your system. Inhale this, please.” She had a different white cylinder in her hand, a thinner bottle with a pump rather than an aerosol top. She puffed a cloud of mist into the air above my face. I sucked in a breath. The mist tasted like mint.

“And this is Heal,” Knits Fire continued, twisting the cap off the next canister, revealing a small pouring spout. “It encourages your tissues to rejoin, to grow the way they should.” She dribbled a tiny bit of the clear liquid into the wide cut on my arm, then she pushed the edges of the wound together. I could feel her touch, but there was no pain.

“I'll seal this up before I move on.” She opened another container, this one a pliable tube, and then squeezed out a line of thick, clear jelly onto her finger. “Like glue,” she told me. “It holds everything together and lets the Heal do its job.” She wiped it over my arm in one swift pass.

“Okay, you can move that now. Your arm is fine.”

I held it up to look. A faint pink line was visible under the shiny gel. The blood was still wet on my arm, but there was no source anymore. As I watched, the Healer cleaned my skin with one quick pass of a damp towel.

“Turn your face this way, please. Hmm, you must have hit those rocks just exactly wrong.

What a mess.”

“Yes. It was a bad fall.”

“Well, thank goodness you were able to drive yourself here.” She was lightly dripping Heal onto my cheek, smearing it with the tips of her fingers. “Ah, I love to watch it work. Looks much better already. Okay… around the edges.” She smiled to herself. “Maybe one more coat. I want this to be erased.” She worked for a minute longer. “Very nice.”

“Here's some water,” the older woman said as she came through the door.

“Thank you, Cerulean.”

“Let me know if you need anything more. I'll be up front.”

“Thanks.”

Cerulean left. I wondered if she was from the Flower Planet. Blue flowers were rare–one might take a name from that.

“You can sit now. How do you feel?”

I pulled myself up. “Perfect.” It was true. I hadn't felt so healthy in a long time. The sharp shift from pain to ease made the sensation more powerful.

“That's just how it should be. Okay, let's dust on a little Smooth.” She twisted the last cylinder's top and shook an iridescent powder into her hand. She patted it into my cheek, then patted another handful onto my arm.

“You'll always have a small line on your arm,” she said apologetically. “Like your neck. A deep wound…” She shrugged. Absentmindedly, she brushed the hair back from my neck and examined the scar. “This was nicely done. Who was your Healer?”

“Um… Faces Sunward,” I said, pulling the name from one of my old students. “I was in…

Eureka, Montana. I didn't like the cold. I moved south.”

So many lies. I felt a twist of anxiety in my stomach.

“I started out in Maine,” she said, not noticing anything amiss in my voice. As she spoke, she cleaned the blood from my neck. “It was too cold for me, too. What's your Calling?”

“Um… I serve food. In a Mexican restaurant in… Phoenix. I like spicy food.”

“Me, too.” She wasn't looking at me funny. She was wiping my cheek now.

“Very nice. No worries, Glass Spires. Your face looks great.”

“Thank you, Healer.”

“Of course. Would you like some water?”

“Yes, please.” I kept a grip on myself. It wouldn't do to bolt the glass down the way I wanted to. I wasn't able to stop myself from finishing it all, though. It tasted too good.

“Would you like more?”

“I… yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

“I'll be right back.”

The second she was out the door, I slid off the mattress. The paper crackled, freezing me in place. She didn't dart back in. I had only seconds. It had taken Cerulean a few minutes to get the water. Maybe it would take the Healer just as long. Maybe the cool, pure water was far away from this room. Maybe.

I ripped the pack off my shoulders and wrenched the drawstrings open. I started with the second cabinet. There was the stacked column of Heal. I grabbed the whole column and let it clatter quietly into the bottom of my pack.

What would I say if she caught me? What lie could I tell?

I took the two kinds of Clean next, from the first cabinet. There was a second stack behind the first of each, and I took half of those, too. Then the No Pain, both stacks of that. I was about to turn back for the Seal, when the label of the next row of cylinders caught my attention.

Cool. For fevers? There were no instructions, just the label. I took the stack. Nothing here would hurt a human body. I was sure of that.

I grabbed all the Seal and two cans of Smooth. I couldn't press my luck any further. I closed the cabinets quietly and threw my arms through the straps of the pack. I leaned against the mattress, making another crackle. I tried to look relaxed.

She didn't come back.

I checked the clock. It had been one minute. How far away was the water?

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Had my lies been as obvious to her as they were to me?

Sweat started to dew up on my forehead. I wiped it away quickly.

What if she brought back a Seeker?

I thought of the small pill in my pocket, and my hands shook. I could do it, though. For Jamie.

I heard quiet footsteps then, two sets, coming down the hall.

Healer Knits Fire and Cerulean walked through the door together. The Healer handed me a tall glass of water. It didn't feel as cold as the first–my fingers were cold with fear now. The dark-skinned woman had something for me, too. She handed me a flat rectangle with a handle.

“I thought you would want to see,” Knits Fire said with a warm smile.

The tension flooded out of me. There was no suspicion or fear. Just more kindness from the souls who had dedicated their lives to Healing.

Cerulean had given me a mirror.

I held it up and then tried to stifle my gasp.

My face looked the way I remembered it from San Diego. The face I'd taken for granted there.

The skin was smooth and peachy across my right cheekbone. If I looked carefully, it was just a little lighter and pinker in color than the tan on the other cheek.

It was a face that belonged to Wanderer, the soul. It belonged here, in this civilized place where there was no violence and no horror.

I realized why it was so easy to lie to these gentle creatures. Because it felt right to talk with them, because I understood their communication and their rules. The lies could be…

maybe
should
be true. I should be filling a Calling somewhere, whether teaching at a university or serving food in a restaurant. A peaceful, easy life contributing to a greater good.

“What do you think?” the Healer asked.

“I look perfect. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure to heal you.”

I looked at myself again, seeing details beyond the perfection. My hair was ragged–dirty, with uneven ends. There was no gloss to it–homemade soap and poor nutrition were to blame for that. Though the Healer had cleaned the blood from my neck, it was still smudged with purple dust.

“I think it's time I called the camping trip quits. I need to clean up,” I murmured.

“Do you camp often?”

“In all my free time, lately. I… can't seem to keep away from the desert.”

“You must be brave. I find the city much more comfortable.”

“Not brave–just different.”

In the mirror, my eyes were familiar rings of hazel. Dark gray on the outside, a circle of moss green, and then another circle of caramel brown around the pupil. Underlying it all, a faint shimmer of silver that would reflect the light, magnify it.

Jamie?
Mell asked urgently, beginning to feel nervous. I was too comfortable here. She could see the logic of the other path laid out before me, and that frightened her.

I know who I am,
I told her.

I blinked, then looked back at the friendly faces beside me.

“Thank you,” I said again to the Healer. “I suppose I'd better be on my way.”

“It's very late. You could sleep here if you'd like.”

“I'm not tired. I feel… perfect.”

The Healer grinned. “No Pain does that.”

Cerulean walked me to the reception area. She put her hand on my shoulder as I stepped through the door.

My heart beat faster. Had she noticed that my pack, once flat, was now bulging?

“Be more careful, dear,” she said, and patted my arm.

“I will. No more hikes in the dark.”

She smiled and went back to her desk.

I kept my pace even as I walked through the parking lot. I wanted to run. What if the Healer looked in her cabinets? How soon would she realize why they were half empty?

The car was still there, in the pocket of darkness created by a gap between streetlights. It looked empty. My breath came fast and uneven. Of course it should look empty. That was the whole point. But my lungs didn't calm until I could glimpse the vague shape under the blanket on the backseat.

I opened the door and put the backpack on the passenger seat–it settled there with a reassuring clatter–then I climbed in and shut the door. There was no reason to slam the locks down; I ignored the urge.

“Are you okay?” Jared whispered as soon as the door was closed. His voice was a strained, anxious rasp.

“Shh,” I said, keeping my lips as still as I could. “Wait.” I drove past the bright entrance and answered Cerulean's wave with one of my own.

“Making friends?”

We were on the dark road. No one was watching me anymore. I slumped in the seat. My hands started to shake. I could allow that, now that it was over. Now that I'd succeeded.

“All souls are friends,” I told him, using my normal volume.

“Are you all right?” he demanded again.

“I'm healed.”

“Let me see.”

I stretched my left arm across my body, so he could see the tiny pink line.

He sucked in a surprised breath.

The blanket rustled; he sat up and then climbed through the space between the seats. He pushed the backpack out of the way, then pulled it onto his lap, testing its weight.

He looked up at me as we passed under a streetlamp, and he gasped.

“Your face!”

“It's healed, too. Naturally.”

He raised one hand, holding it in the air near my cheek, unsure. “Does it hurt?”

“Of course not. It feels like nothing happened to it in the first place.” His fingers brushed the new skin. It tingled, but that was from his touch. Then he was back to business.

“Did they suspect anything? Do you think they'll call the Seekers?”

“No. I told you they wouldn't be suspicious. They didn't even check my eyes. I was hurt, so they healed me.” I shrugged.

“What did you get?” he asked, opening the drawstrings on the backpack.

“The right things for Jamie… if we get back in time…” I glanced at the clock on the dashboard automatically, though the hours it marked were meaningless. “And more for the future. I only took what I understood.”

“We'll be back in time,” he promised. He examined the white containers. “Smooth?”

“Not a necessity. But I know what it does, so…”

He nodded, digging through the bag. He muttered the names to himself. “No Pain? Does it work?”

I laughed. “It's amazing. If you stab yourself, I could show you.… That's a joke.”

“I know.”

He was staring at me with an expression I didn't understand. His eyes were wide, like something had deeply surprised him.

“What?” My joke hadn't been
that
bad.

“You did it.” His tone was full of wonder.

“Wasn't that the idea?”

“Yes, but… I guess I didn't really think we were going to make it out.”

“You didn't? Then why… ? Why did you let me try?”

He answered in a soft almost-whisper. “I figured it was better to die trying than to live without the kid.”

For a moment, my throat was choked with emotion. Mell was too overcome to speak as well.

We were a family in that one instant. All of us.

I cleared my throat. No need to feel things that would only come to nothing.

“It was very easy. Probably any of you could get away with it, if you acted naturally. She did look at my neck.” I touched it reflexively. “Your scar is too obviously homemade, but with the medicines I took, Doc could fix that.”

“I doubt any of us could act so natural.”

I nodded. “Yes. It's easy for me. I know what they expect.” I laughed briefly to myself. “I'm one of them. If you trusted me, I could probably get you anything in the world you wanted.” I laughed again. It was just the stress fading, making me giddy. But it was funny to me. Did he realize that I would do exactly that for him? Anything in the world he wanted.

“I do trust you,” he whispered. “With all our lives, I trust you.” And he
had
trusted me with every single human life. His, and Jamie's, and everyone else's.

“Thank you,” I whispered back.

“You did it,” he repeated in wonder.

“We're going to save him.”

Jamie is going to live,
Mell rejoiced.
Thank you, Wanda.

Anything for them,
I told her, and then I sighed, because it was so true.

After reattaching the tarps when we reached the wash, Jared took over the driving. The way was familiar to him, and he drove faster than I would have. He had me get out before he pulled the car into its impossibly small hiding place under the rock slide. I waited for the sound of rock against metal, but Jared found a way in.

And then we were back in the jeep and flying through the night. Jared laughed, triumphant, as we jolted across the open desert, and the wind carried his voice away.

“Where's the blindfold?” I asked.

“Why?”

I looked at him.

“Wanda, if you wanted to turn us in, you had your chance. No one can deny that you're one of us now.”

I thought about that. “I think some still could. It would make them feel better.”

“Your
some
need to get over themselves.”

I was shaking my head now, picturing our reception. “It's not going to be easy, getting back in.

Imagine what they're thinking right now. What they're waiting for…” He didn't answer. His eyes narrowed.

“Jared… if they… if they don't listen… if they don't wait…” I started talking faster, feeling a sudden pressure, trying to get him all the information before it was too late. “Give Jamie the No Pain first–lay that on his tongue. Then the Inside Clean spray–he just has to inhale it. You'll need Doc to –”

“Hey, hey! You're going to be the one giving the directions.”

“But let me tell you how –”

“No, Wanda. It's not going to go down that way. I'll shoot anyone who touches you.”

“Jared –”

“Don't panic. I'll aim low, and then you can use that stuff to heal 'em back up again.”

“If that's a joke, it's not funny.”

“No joke, Wanda.”

“Where's the blindfold?”

He pressed his lips together.

But I had my old shirt–Jeb's raggy hand-me-down. That would work almost as well.

“This will make it a little bit easier for them to let us in,” I said as I folded it up into a thick band. “And that means getting to Jamie faster.” I tied it over my eyes.

It was quiet for a time. The jeep bounced along the uneven terrain. I remembered nights like this when Melanie had been the passenger.…

“I'm taking us right to the caves. There's a place the jeep will be fairly well hidden for a day or two. It will save us time.”

I nodded. Time was the key now.

“Almost there,” he said after a minute. He exhaled. “They're waiting.” I heard him fumbling beside me, heard a metal clank as he pulled the gun from the backseat.

“Don't shoot anyone.”

“No promises.”

“Stop!” someone shouted. The sound carried in the empty desert air.

The jeep slowed and then idled.

“It's just us,” Jared said. “Yes, yes, look. See? I'm still me.” There was hesitation from the other side.

“Look–I'm bringing the jeep in under cover, okay? We've got meds for Jamie, and we're in a hurry. I don't care what you're thinking, you're not going to get in my way tonight.” The jeep pulled forward. The sound changed and echoed as he found his cover.

“Okay, Wanda, everything's fine. Let's go.”

I already had the pack on my shoulders. I got out of the jeep carefully, not sure where the wall was. Jared caught my searching hands.

“Up you go,” he said, and lifted me over his shoulder again.

I wasn't as secure as before. He used only one arm to hold me. The other must have had the gun. I didn't like that.

But I was worried enough to be grateful for it when I heard the running footsteps approaching.

“Jared, you
idiot!
” Kyle shouted. “What were you thinking?”

“Ease up, Kyle,” Jeb said.

“Is she hurt?” Ian demanded.

“Get out of my way,” Jared said, his voice calm. “I'm in a hurry. Wanda's in perfect shape, but she insisted on being blindfolded. How is Jamie?”

“Hot,” Jeb said.

“Wanda's got what we need.” He was moving fast now, sliding downhill.

“I can carry her.” Ian, of course.

“She's fine where she is.”

“I'm really okay,” I told Ian, my voice bouncing with Jared's movement.

Uphill again, a steady jog despite my weight. I could hear the others running with us.

I knew when we were through to the main cavern–the angry hiss of voices swelled around us, turning into a clamor of sound.

“Out of my way,” Jared roared over their voices. “Is Doc with Jamie?” I couldn't make out the answer. Jared could have put me down, but he was in too much of a hurry to pause for that second.

The angry voices echoed behind us, the sound constricting as we entered the smaller tunnel. I could feel where we were now, follow the turns in my head as we raced through the junction to the third sleeping hall. I could almost count the doors as they passed me invisibly.

Jared jerked to a halt and let the sudden stop slide me down from his shoulder. My feet hit the floor. He ripped the blindfold from my eyes.

Our room was lit by several of the dim blue lanterns. Doc was standing rigidly, as if he'd just sprung to his feet. Kneeling beside him, her hand still holding a wet cloth to Jamie's forehead, was Sharon. Her face was almost unrecognizable, it was so contorted with fury. Maggie was struggling to her feet on Jamie's other side.

Jamie still lay limp and red, eyes closed, his chest barely moving to pull in air.

“You!” Sharon spit, and then she launched herself from her crouch. Like a cat, she sprang at Jared, nails reaching for his face.

Jared caught her hands and twisted her away from him, pulling her arms behind her back.

Maggie looked as if she was about to join her daughter, but Jeb stepped around the struggling Sharon and Jared to stand toe-to-toe with her.

“Let her go!” Doc cried.

Jared ignored him. “Wanda–heal him!”

Doc moved to put himself between Jamie and me.

“Doc,” I choked. The violence in the room, swirling around Jamie's still form, scared me. “I need your help. Please. For Jamie.”

Doc didn't move, his eyes on Sharon and Jared.

“C'mon, Doc,” Ian said. The little room was too crowded, claustrophobic, as Ian came to stand with his hand on my shoulder. “You gonna let the kid die for your pride?”

“It's not pride. You don't know what these foreign substances will do to him!”