The Host (41 page)

“Everyone's back and well,” Trudy assured me.

My eyes swept the big cave. “Where are they?”

“Uh… getting cleaned up, unloading…”

I wanted to offer my help–anything that would get me to where Jared was so I could see with my own eyes that he was safe–but I knew I wouldn't be allowed to see where the goods were coming in.

“You look like you need a bath,” I told Jamie, rumpling his dirty, knotted hair without letting go of him.

“He's supposed to go lie down,” Trudy said.

“Trudy,”
Jamie muttered, giving her a dark look.

Trudy glanced at me quickly, then looked away.

“Lie down… ?” I stared at Jamie, pulling back to get a good look at him. He didn't seem tired–his eyes were bright, and his cheeks flushed under his tan. My eyes raked over him once and then froze on his right leg.

There was a ragged hole in his jeans a few inches above his knee. The fabric around the hole was a dark reddish brown, and the ominous color spread in a long stain all the way to the cuff.

Blood,
Melanie realized with horror.

“Jamie! What happened?”

“Thanks, Trudy.”

“She was going to notice soon enough. C'mon, we'll talk while you limp.” Trudy put her arm under his and helped him hop forward one slow step at a time, keeping his weight on his left leg.

“Jamie, tell me what happened!” I put my arm around him from the other side, trying to carry as much of his weight as I could.

“It's really stupid. And totally my fault.
And
it could have happened here.”

“Tell me.”

He sighed. “I tripped with a knife in my hand.”

I shuddered. “Shouldn't we be taking you the other way? You need to see Doc.”

“That's where I'm coming from. That's where we went first.”

“What did Doc say?”

“It's fine. He cleaned it and bandaged it and said to go lie down.”

“And have you walk all this way? Why didn't you stay in the hospital?” Jamie made a face and glanced up at Trudy, like he was looking for an answer.

“Jamie will be more comfortable on his bed,” she suggested.

“Yeah,” he agreed quickly. “Who wants to lie around on one of those awful cots?” I looked at them and then behind me. The crowd was gone. I could hear their voices echoing back down the southern corridor.

What was that about?
Mell wondered warily.

It occurred to me that Trudy wasn't a much better liar than I was. When she'd said the others from the raid were unloading and cleaning up, there was a false note to her voice. I thought I remembered her eyes flickering to the right, back toward that tunnel.

“Hey, kid! Hey, Trudy!” Ian had caught up to us.

“Hi, Ian,” they greeted him at the same time.

“What happened here?”

“Fell on a knife,” Jamie grunted, ducking his head.

Ian laughed.

“I don't think it's funny,” I told him, my voice tight. Melanie, frantic with worry in my head, imagined slapping him. I ignored her.

“Could happen to anybody,” Ian said, planting a light punch on Jamie's arm.

“Right,” Jamie muttered.

“Where's everybody?”

I watched Trudy from the corner of my eye as she answered him.

“They, uh, had some unloading to finish up.” This time her eyes moved toward the southern tunnel very deliberately, and Ian's expression hardened, turned enraged for half a second. Then Trudy glanced back at me and caught me watching.

Distract them,
Melanie whispered.

I looked down at Jamie quickly.

“Are you hungry?” I asked him.

“Yeah.”

“When
aren't
you hungry?” Ian teased. His face was relaxed again. He was better at deception than Trudy.

When we reached our room, Jamie sank gratefully onto the big mattress.

“You sure you're okay?” I checked.

“It's nothing. Really. Doc says I'll be fine in a few days.” I nodded, though I was not convinced.

“I'm going to go clean up,” Trudy murmured as she left.

Ian propped himself against the wall, going nowhere.

Keep your face down when you lie,
Melanie suggested.

“Ian?” I stared intently at Jamie's bloody leg. “Do you mind getting us some food? I'm hungry, too.”

“Yeah. Get us something good.”

I could feel Ian's eyes on me, but I didn't look up.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I'll be back in just a second.” He emphasized the short time.

I kept my gaze down, as if I were examining the wound, until I heard his footsteps fade.

“You aren't mad at me?” Jamie asked.

“Of course not.”

“I know you didn't want me to go.”

“You're safe now; that's all that matters.” I patted his arm absentmindedly. Then I got to my feet and let my hair, now chin length, fall forward to hide my face.

“I'll be right back–I forgot something I wanted to tell Ian.”

“What?” he asked, confused by my tone.

“You'll be okay here by yourself?”

“Course I will,” he retorted, sidetracked.

I ducked out around the screen before he could ask anything else.

The hall was clear, Ian out of sight. I had to hurry. I knew he was already suspicious. He'd noticed that
I'd
noticed Trudy's awkward and artificial explanation. He wouldn't be gone long.

I walked quickly, but didn't run, as I moved through the big plaza. Purposeful, as if I were on an errand. There were only a few people there–Reid, headed for the passageway that led to the bathing pool; Ruth Ann and Heidi, paused by the eastern corridor, chatting; Lily and Wes, their backs to me, holding hands. No one paid me any attention. I stared ahead as if I were not focused on the southern tunnel, only turning in at the very last second.

As soon as I was in the pitch-black of the corridor, I sped up, jogging along the familiar path.

Some instinct told me this was the same thing–that this was a repeat of the last time Jared and the others had come home from a raid, and everyone was sad, and Doc had gotten drunk, and no one would answer my questions. It was happening again, whatever I wasn't supposed to know about. What I didn't want to know about, according to Ian. I felt prickles on the back of my neck. Maybe I
didn't
want to know.

Yes, you do. We both do.

I'm frightened.

Me, too.

I ran as quietly as I could down the dark tunnel.

Islowed when I heard the sound of voices. I was not close enough to the hospital for it to be Doc. Others were on their way back. I pressed myself against the rock wall and crept forward as quietly as I could. My breathing was ragged from running. I covered my mouth with my hand to stifle the sound.

“. . . why we keep doing this,” someone complained.

I wasn't sure whose voice it was. Someone I didn't know well. Maybe Violetta? It held that same depressed tone that I recognized from before. It erased any notion that I'd been imagining things.

“Doc didn't want to. It was Jared's idea this time.”

I was sure that it was Geoffrey who spoke now, though his voice was a little changed by the subdued revulsion in it. Geoffrey had been with Trudy on the raid, of course. They did everything together.

“I thought he was the biggest opponent to this business.”

That was Travis, I guessed.

“He's more… motivated now,” Geoffrey answered. His voice was quiet, but I could tell he was angry about something.

They passed just half a foot from where I cringed into the rocks. I froze, holding my breath.

“I think it's sick,” Violetta muttered. “Disgusting. It's never going to work.” They walked slowly, their steps weighted with despair.

No one answered her. No one spoke again in my hearing. I stayed motionless until their footsteps had faded a little, but I couldn't wait until the sound disappeared completely. Ian might be following me already.

I crept forward as quickly as I could and then started jogging again when I decided it was safe.

I saw the first faint hints of daylight streaming around the curving tunnel ahead, and I shifted into a quieter lope that still kept me moving swiftly. I knew that once I was around the gradual arc, I would be able to see the doorway into Doc's realm. I followed the bend, and the light grew brighter.

I moved cautiously now, putting each foot down with silent care. It was very quiet. For a moment, I wondered if I was wrong and there was no one here at all. Then, as the uneven entrance came into view, throwing a block of white sunlight against the opposite wall, I could hear the sound of quiet sobbing.

I tiptoed right to the edge of the gap and paused, listening.

The sobbing continued. Another sound, a soft, rhythmic thudding, kept time with it.

“There, there.” It was Jeb's voice, thick with some emotion. “'S okay. 'S okay, Doc. Don't take it so hard.”

Hushed footsteps, more than one set, were moving around the room. Fabric rustling. A brushing sound. It reminded me of the sounds of cleaning.

There was a smell that didn't belong here. Strange… not quite metallic, but not quite anything else, either. The smell was not familiar–I was sure I had never smelled it before–and yet I had an odd feeling that it
should
be familiar to me.

I was afraid to move around the corner.

What's the worst they will do to us?
Mell pointed out.
Make us leave?

You're right.

Things had definitely changed if that was the worst I could fear from the humans now.

I took a deep breath–noticing again that strange,
wrong
smell–and eased around the rocky edge into the hospital.

No one noticed me.

Doc was kneeling on the floor, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders heaving. Jeb leaned over him, patting his back.

Jared and Kyle were laying a crude stretcher beside one of the cots in the middle of the room.

Jared's face was hard–the mask had come back while he was away.

The cots were not empty, as they usually were. Something, hidden under dark green blankets, filled the length of both of them. Long and irregular, with familiar curves and angles…

Doc's homemade table was arranged at the head of these cots, in the brightest spot of sunlight.

The table glittered with silver–shiny scalpels and an assortment of antiquated medical tools that I couldn't put a name to.

Brighter than these were other silver things. Shimmering segments of silver stretched in twisted, tortured pieces across the table… tiny silver strands plucked and naked and scattered…

splatters of silver liquid smeared on the table, the blankets, the walls…

The quiet in the room was shattered by my scream. The whole
room
was shattered. It spun and shook to the sound, whirled around me so that I couldn't find the way out. The walls, the silver-stained walls, rose up to block my escape no matter which way I turned.

Someone shouted my name, but I couldn't hear whose voice it was. The screaming was too loud. It hurt my head. The stone wall, oozing silver, slammed into me, and I fell to the floor.

Heavy hands held me there.

“Doc, help!”

“What's wrong with her?”

“Is it having a fit?”

“What did she see?”

“Nothing–nothing. The bodies were covered!”

That was a lie! The bodies were hideously uncovered, strewn in obscene contortions across the glittering table. Mutilated, dismembered, tortured bodies, ripped into grotesque shreds…

I had clearly seen the vestigial feelers still attached to the truncated anterior section of a child.

Just a child! A baby! A baby thrown haphazardly in maimed pieces across the table smeared with its own blood…

My stomach rolled like the walls were rolling, and acid clawed its way up my throat.

“Wanda? Can you hear me?”

“Is she conscious?”

“I think she's going to throw up.”

The last voice was right. Hard hands held my head while the acid in my stomach violently overflowed.

“What do we do, Doc?”

“Hold on to her–don't let her hurt herself.”

I coughed and squirmed, trying to escape. My throat cleared.

“Let me go!” I was finally able to choke out. The words were garbled. “Get away from me! Get away; you're monsters! Torturers!”

I shrieked wordlessly again, twisting against the restraining arms.

“Calm down, Wanda! Shh! It's okay!” That was Jared's voice. For once, it didn't matter that it was Jared.

“Monster!” I screamed at him.

“She's hysterical,” Doc told him. “Hold on.”

A sharp, stinging blow whipped across my face.

There was a gasp, far away from the immediate chaos.

“What are you
doing?
” Ian roared.

“It's having a seizure or something, Ian. Doc's trying to bring it around.” My ears were ringing, but not from the slap. It was the smell–the smell of the silver blood dripping down the walls–the smell of the blood of souls. The room writhed around me as though it were alive. The light twisted into strange patterns, curved into the shapes of monsters from my past. A Vulture unfurled its wings… a claw beast swung its heavy pincers toward my face… Doc smiled and reached for me with silver trickling from his fingertips…

The room spun once more, slowly, and then went black.

Unconsciousness didn't claim me for long. It must have been only seconds later when my head cleared. I was all too lucid; I wished I could stay oblivious longer.

I was moving, rocking back and forth, and it was too black to see. Mercifully, the horrible smell had faded. The musty, humid air of the caves was like perfume.

The feeling of being carried, being cradled, was familiar. That first week after Kyle had injured me, I'd traveled many places in Ian's arms.

“. . . thought she'd have guessed what we were up to. Looks like I was wrong,” Jared was murmuring.

“You think that's what happened?” Ian's voice cut hard in the quiet tunnel. “That she was scared because Doc was trying to take the other souls out? That she was afraid for herself?” Jared didn't answer for a minute. “You don't?”

Ian made a sound in the back of his throat. “No. I don't. As disgusted as
I
am that you would bring back more… victims for Doc, bring them back
now!
–as much as that turns my stomach, that's not what upset her. How can you be so blind? Can't you imagine what that must have looked like to her in there?”

“I know we had the bodies covered before –”

“The
wrong bodies,
Jared. Oh, I'm sure Wanda would be upset by a human corpse–she's so gentle; violence and death aren't a part of her normal world. But think what the things on that table must have meant to her.”

It took him another moment. “Oh.”

“Yes. If you or I had walked in on a human vivisection, with torn body parts, with blood splattered on everything, it wouldn't have been as bad for us as it was for her. We'd have seen it all before–even before the invasion, in horror movies, at least. I'd bet she's never been exposed to anything like that in all her lives.”

I was getting sick again. His words were bringing it back. The sight. The smell.

“Let me go,” I whispered. “Put me down.”

“I didn't mean to wake you. I'm sorry.” The last words were fervent, apologizing for more than waking me.

“Let me go.”

“You're not well. I'll take you to your room.”

“No. Put me down now.”

“Wanda –”

“Now!” I shouted. I shoved against Ian's chest, kicking my legs free at the same time. The ferocity of my struggle surprised him. He lost his hold on me, and I half fell into a crouch on the floor.

I sprang up from the crouch running.

“Wanda!”

“Let her go.”

“Don't touch me! Wanda, come back!”

It sounded like they were wrestling behind me, but I didn't slow. Of course they were fighting.

They were humans. Violence was pleasure to them.

I didn't pause when I was back in the light. I sprinted through the big cavern without looking at any of the monsters there. I could feel their eyes on me, and I didn't care.

I didn't care where I was going, either. Just somewhere I could be alone. I avoided the tunnels that had people near them, running down the first empty one I could find.

It was the eastern tunnel. This was the second time I'd sprinted through this corridor today.

Last time in joy, this time in horror. It was hard to remember how I'd felt this afternoon, knowing the raiders were home. Everything was dark and gruesome now, including their return.

The very stones seemed evil.

This way was the right choice for me, though. No one had any reason to come here, and it was empty.

I ran to the farthest end of the tunnel, into the deep night of the empty game room. Could I really have played games with them such a short time ago? Believed the smiles on their faces, not seeing the beasts underneath…

I moved forward until I stumbled ankle deep into the oily waters of the dark spring. I backed away, my hand outstretched, searching for a wall. When I found a rough ridge of stone–sharp-edged beneath my fingers–I turned into the depression behind the protrusion and curled myself into a tight ball on the ground there.

It wasn't what we thought. Doc wasn't hurting anyone on purpose; he was just trying to save –

GET OUT OF MY HEAD!
I shrieked.

As I thrust her away from me–gagged her so that I wouldn't have to bear her justifications–I realized how weak she'd grown in all these months of friendliness. How much I'd been allowing.

Encouraging.

It was almost too easy to silence her. As easy as it should have been from the beginning.

It was only me now. Just me, and the pain and the horror that I would never escape. I would never
not
have that image in my head again. I would never be free of it. It was forever a part of me.

I didn't know how to mourn here. I could not mourn in human ways for these lost souls whose names I would never know. For the broken child on the table.

I had never had to mourn on the Origin. I didn't know how it was done there, in the truest home of my kind. So I settled for the way of the Bats. It seemed appropriate, here where it was as black as being blind. The Bats mourned with silence–not singing for weeks on end until the pain of the nothingness left behind by the lack of music was worse than the pain of losing a soul. I'd known loss there. A friend, killed in a freak accident, a falling tree in the night, found too late to save him from the crushed body of his host. Spiraling… Upward… Harmony; those were the words that would have held his name in this language. Not exact, but close enough.

There had been no horror in his death, only grief. An accident.

The bubbling stream was too discordant to remind me of our songs. I could grieve beside its harmony-free clatter.

I wrapped my arms tightly around my shoulders and mourned for the child and the other soul who had died with it. My siblings. My family. If I had found a way free of this place, if I had warned the Seekers, their remains would not be so casually mangled and mixed together in that blood-steeped room.

I wanted to cry, to keen in misery. But that was the human way. So I locked my lips and hunched in the darkness, holding the pain inside.

My silence, my mourning, was stolen from me.

It took them a few hours. I heard them looking, heard their voices echo and warp in the long tubes of air. They were calling for me, expecting an answer. When they received no answer, they brought lights. Not the dim blue lanterns that might never have revealed my hiding place here, buried under all this blackness, but the sharp yellow lances of flashlights. They swept back and forth, pendulums of light. Even with the flashlights, they didn't find me until the third search of the room. Why couldn't they leave me alone?

When the flashlight's beam finally disinterred me, there was a gasp of relief.

“I found her! Tell the others to get back inside! She's in here after all!” I knew the voice, but I didn't put a name to it. Just another monster.

“Wanda? Wanda? Are you all right?”

I didn't raise my head or open my eyes. I was in mourning.

“Where's Ian?”

“Should we get Jamie, do you think?”

“He shouldn't be on that leg.”

Jamie. I shuddered at his name. My Jamie. He was a monster, too. He was just like the rest of them. My Jamie. It was a physical pain to think of him.

“Where is she?”

“Over here, Jared. She's not… responding.”