The Host (29 page)

He snatched my wrists in one hand and used this leverage to hurl me away from him, into the wall. The impact caught me by surprise, knocked the breath out of me. I rebounded off the stone wall to the floor, landing in the boxes again, making another crinkly crash as I shredded through more cellophane.

The pulse thudded in my head as I lay awkwardly bent over the boxes, and for a moment, I saw strange lights pass in front of my eyes.

“Coward!” Jamie screamed at Jared. “She wouldn't hurt you to save her own life! Why can't you leave her alone?”

I heard the boxes shifting and felt Jamie's hands on my arm. “Wanda? Are you okay, Wanda?”

“Fine,” I huffed, ignoring the throbbing in my head. I could see his anxious face hovering over me in the glow of the flashlight, which Jared must have dropped. “You should go now, Jamie,” I whispered. “Run.”

Jamie shook his head fiercely.

“Stay
away
from it!” Jared bellowed.

I watched as Jared grabbed Jamie's shoulders and yanked the boy up from his crouch. The boxes this displaced fell on me like a small avalanche. I rolled away, covering my head with my arms. A heavy one caught me right between the shoulder blades, and I cried out in pain.

“Stop hurting her!” Jamie howled.

There was a sharp crack, and someone gasped.

I struggled to pull myself out from under the heavy carton, rising up on my elbows dizzily.

Jared had one hand over his nose, and something dark was oozing down over his lips. His eyes were wide with surprise. Jamie stood in front of him with both hands clenched into fists, a furious scowl on his face.

Jamie's scowl melted slowly while Jared stared at him in shock. Hurt took its place–hurt and a betrayal so deep that it rivaled Jared's expression in the kitchen.

“You aren't the man I thought you were,” Jamie whispered. He looked at Jared as though Jared were very far away, as if there were a wall between them and Jamie was utterly isolated on his side.

Jamie's eyes started to swim, and he turned his head, ashamed of showing weakness in front of Jared. He walked away with quick, jerky movements.

We tried,
Melanie thought sadly. Her heart ached after the child, even as she longed for me to return my eyes to the man. I gave her what she wanted.

Jared wasn't looking at me. He was staring at the blackness into which Jamie had disappeared, his hand still covering his nose.

“Aw,
damn it!
” he suddenly shouted. “Jamie! Get back here!” There was no answer.

Jared threw one bleak glance in my direction–I cringed away, though his fury seemed to have faded–then scooped up the flashlight and stomped after Jamie, kicking a box out of his way.

“I'm sorry, okay? Don't cry, kid!” He called out more angry apologies as he turned the corner and left me lying in the darkness.

For a long moment, it was all I could do to breathe. I concentrated on the air flowing in, then out, then in. After I felt I had that part mastered, I worked on getting up off the floor. It took a few seconds to remember how to move my legs, and even then they were shaky and threatened to collapse under me, so I sat against the wall again, sliding over till I found my rice-filled pillow. I slumped there and took stock of my condition.

Nothing was broken–except maybe Jared's nose. I shook my head slowly. Jamie and Jared should not be fighting. I was causing them so much turmoil and unhappiness. I sighed and went back to my assessment. There was a vast sore spot in the center of my back, and the side of my face felt raw and moist where it had hit the wall. It stung when I touched it and left warm fluid on my fingers. That was the worst of it, though. The other bruises and scrapes were mild.

As I realized that, I was unexpectedly overwhelmed by relief.

I was alive. Jared had had his chance to kill me and he had not used it. He'd gone after Jamie instead, to make things right between them. So whatever damage I was doing to their relationship, it was probably not irreparable.

It had been a long day–the day had already been long even before Jared and the others had shown up, and that seemed like eons ago. I closed my eyes where I was and fell asleep on the rice.

It was disorienting to wake in the absolute dark. In the past months, I'd gotten used to having the sun tell me it was morning. At first I thought it must still be night, but then, feeling the sting of my face and the ache of my back, I remembered where I was.

Beside me, I could hear the sound of quiet, even breathing; it did not frighten me, because it was the most familiar of sounds here. I was not surprised that Jamie had crept back and slept beside me last night.

Maybe it was the change in my breathing that woke him; maybe it was just that our schedules had become synchronized. But seconds after I was conscious, he gave a little gasp.

“Wanda?” he whispered.

“I'm right here.”

He sighed in relief.

“It's really dark here,” he said.

“Yes.”

“You think it's breakfast time yet?”

“I don't know.”

“I'm hungry. Let's go see.”

I didn't answer him.

He interpreted my silence correctly, as the balk it was. “You don't have to hide out here, Wanda,” he said earnestly, after waiting a moment for me to speak. “I talked to Jared last night.

He's going to stop picking on you–he promised.”

I almost smiled. Picking on me.

“Will you come with me?” Jamie pressed. His hand found mine.

“Is that what you really want me to do?” I asked in a low voice.

“Yes. Everything will be the same as it was before.”

Mel? Is this best?

I don't know.
She was torn. She knew she couldn't be objective; she wanted to see Jared.

That's crazy, you know.

Not as crazy as the fact that you want to see him, too.

“Fine, Jamie,” I agreed. “But don't get upset when it's not the same as before, okay? If things get ugly… Well, just don't be surprised.”

“It'll be okay. You'll see.”

I let him lead the way out of the dark, towing me by the hand he still held. I braced myself as we entered the big garden cavern; I couldn't be sure of anyone's reaction to me today. Who knew what had been said as I slept?

But the garden was empty, though the sun was bright in the morning sky. It reflected off the hundreds of mirrors, momentarily blinding me.

Jamie was not interested in the vacant cave. His eyes were on my face, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as the light touched my cheek.

“Oh,” he gasped. “Are you okay? Does that hurt bad?”

I touched my face lightly. The skin felt rough–grit crusted in the blood. It throbbed where my fingers brushed.

“It's fine,” I whispered; the empty cavern made me wary–I didn't want to speak too loudly.

“Where is everybody?”

Jamie shrugged, his eyes still tight as they surveyed my face. “Busy, I guess.” He didn't lower his voice.

This reminded me of last night, of the secret he wouldn't tell me. My eyebrows pulled together.

What do you think he's not telling us?

You know what I know, Wanda.

You're human. Aren't you supposed to have intuition or something?

Intuition? My intuition tells me that we don't know this place as well as we thought we
did,
Melanie said.

We pondered the ominous sound of that.

It was almost a relief to hear the normal noises of mealtime coming from the kitchen corridor. I didn't particularly want to see anyone–besides the sick yearning to see Jared, of course–but the unpopulated tunnels, combined with the knowledge that something was being kept from me, made me edgy.

The kitchen was not even half full–an oddity for this time of the morning. But I barely noticed that, because the smell coming from the banked stone oven overruled every other thought.

“Oooh,” Jamie moaned. “Eggs!”

Jamie pulled me faster now, and I had no reluctance to keep pace with him. We hurried, stomachs growling, to the counter by the oven where Lucina, the mother, stood with a plastic ladle in her hand. Breakfast was usually serve-yourself, but then breakfast was also usually tough bread rolls.

She looked only at the boy as she spoke. “They tasted better an hour ago.”

“They'll taste just fine now,” Jamie countered enthusiastically. “Has everyone eaten?”

“Pretty much. I think they took a tray down to Doc and the rest.…” Lucina trailed off, and her eyes flickered to me for the first time; Jamie's eyes did the same. I didn't understand the expression that crossed Lucina's features–it disappeared too quickly, replaced by something else as she appraised the new marks on my face.

“How much is left?” Jamie asked. His eagerness sounded a trifle forced now.

Lucina turned and bent, tugging a metal pan off the hot stones in the bottom of the oven with the bowl of the ladle. “How much do you want, Jamie? There's plenty,” she told him without turning.

“Pretend I'm Kyle,” he said with a laugh.

“A Kyle-sized portion it is,” Lucina said, but when she smiled, her eyes were unhappy.

She filled one of the soup bowls to overflowing with slightly rubbery scrambled eggs, stood up, and handed it to Jamie.

She eyed me again, and I understood what
this
look was for.

“Let's sit over there, Jamie,” I said, nudging him away from the counter.

He stared in amazement. “Don't you want any?”

“No, I'm –” I was about to say “fine” again, when my stomach gurgled disobediently.

“Wanda?” He looked at me, then back at Lucina, who had her arms folded across her chest.

“I'll just have bread,” I muttered, trying to shove him away.

“No. Lucina, what's the problem?” He looked at her expectantly. She didn't move. “If you're done here, I'll take over,” he suggested, his eyes narrowing and his mouth setting in a stubborn line.

Lucina shrugged and set the ladle on the stone counter. She walked away slowly, not looking at me again.

“Jamie,” I muttered urgently under my breath. “This food isn't meant for me. Jared and the others weren't risking their lives so that I could have eggs for breakfast. Bread is fine.”

“Don't be stupid, Wanda,” Jamie said. “You live here now, just like the rest of us. Nobody minds it when you wash their clothes or bake their bread. Besides, these eggs aren't going to last much longer. If you don't eat them, they'll get thrown out.” I felt all the eyes in the room boring into my back.

“That might be preferable to some,” I said even more quietly. No one but Jamie could possibly hear.

“Forget that,” Jamie growled. He hopped over the counter and filled another bowl with eggs, which he then shoved at me. “You're going to eat every bite,” he told me resolutely.

I looked at the bowl. My mouth watered. I pushed the eggs a few inches away from me and then folded my arms.

Jamie frowned. “Fine,” he said, and shoved his own bowl across the counter. “You don't eat, I don't eat.” His stomach grumbled audibly. He folded his arms across his chest.

We stared at each other for two long minutes, both our stomachs rumbling as we inhaled the smell of the eggs. Every now and then, he would peek down at the food out of the corner of his eye. That's what beat me–the longing look in his eyes.

“Fine,” I huffed. I slid his bowl back to him and then retrieved my own. He waited until I took the first bite to touch his. I stifled a moan as the taste registered on my tongue. I knew the cooled, rubbery eggs weren't the best thing I'd ever tasted, but that's how it felt. This body lived for the present.

Jamie had a similar reaction. And then he started shoveling the food into his mouth so fast it seemed he didn't have time to breathe. I watched him to make sure he didn't choke.

I ate more slowly, hoping that I'd be able to convince him to eat some of mine when he was done.

That was when, with our minor standoff over and my stomach satisfied, I finally noticed the atmosphere in the kitchen.

I would have expected, with the excitement of eggs for breakfast after months of monotony, more of a feeling of celebration. But the air was somber, the conversations all whispered. Was this a reaction to the scene last night? I scanned the room, trying to understand.

People
were
looking at me, a few here and there, but they weren't the only ones talking in serious whispers, and the others paid me no mind at all. Besides, none of them seemed angry or guilty or tense or any of the other emotions I was expecting.

No, they were
sad.
Despair was etched on every face in the room.

Sharon was the last person I noticed, eating in a distant corner, keeping to herself as usual. She was so composed as she mechanically ate her breakfast that at first I didn't notice the tears dripping in streaks down her face. They fell into her food, but she ate as if she were beyond noticing.

“Is something wrong with Doc?” I whispered to Jamie, suddenly afraid. I wondered if I was being paranoid–maybe this had nothing to do with me. The sadness in the room seemed to be part of some other human drama from which I'd been excluded. Was this what was keeping everyone busy? Had there been an accident?

Jamie looked at Sharon and sighed before he answered me. “No, Doc's fine.”

“Aunt Maggie? Is she hurt?”

He shook his head.

“Where's Walter?” I demanded, still whispering. I felt a gnawing anxiety as I thought of harm befalling one of my companions here, even those who hated me.

“I don't know. He's fine, I'm sure.”

I realized now that Jamie was just as sad as everyone else here.

“What's wrong, Jamie? Why are you upset?”

Jamie looked down at his eggs, eating them slowly and deliberately now, and did not answer me.

He finished in silence. I tried to pass him what was left in my bowl, but he glowered so fiercely that I took it back and ate the rest without any more resistance.

We added our bowls to the big plastic bin of dirty dishes. It was full, so I took it from the counter. I wasn't sure what was going on in the caves today, but dishes ought to be a safe occupation.

Jamie came along beside me, his eyes alert. I didn't like that. I wouldn't allow him to act as my bodyguard, if the necessity arose. But then, as we made our way around the edge of the big field, my regular bodyguard found me, so it became a moot point.

Ian was filthy; light brown dust covered him from head to toe, darker where it was wet with his sweat. The brown streaks smeared across his face did not disguise the exhaustion there. I was not surprised to see that he was just as down as everyone else. But the dust did make me curious. It was not the purple black dust inside the caves. Ian had been outside this morning.

“There you are,” he murmured when he saw us. He was walking swiftly, his long legs cutting the distance with anxious strides. When he reached us, he did not slow, but rather caught me under the elbow and hurried me forward. “Let's duck in here for a minute.” He pulled me into the narrow tunnel mouth that led toward the eastern field, where the corn was almost ripe. He did not lead me far, just into the darkness where we were invisible from the big room. I felt Jamie's hand rest lightly on my other arm.

After half a minute, deep voices echoed through the big cavern. They were not boisterous–they were somber, as depressed as any of the faces I'd read this morning. The voices passed us, close by the crack where we hid, and Ian's hand tensed on my elbow, his fingers pressing into the soft spots above the bone. I recognized Jared's voice, and Kyle's. Melanie strained against my control, and my control was tenuous anyway. We both wanted to see Jared's face. It was a good thing Ian held us back.

“. . . don't know why we let him keep trying. When it's over, it's over,” Jared was saying.

“He really thought he had it this time. He was so sure.… Oh, well. It will be worth all this if he figures it out someday,” Kyle disagreed.

“If.”
Jared snorted. “I guess it's a good thing we found that brandy. Doc's going to blow through the whole crate by nightfall at the rate he's going.”

“He'll pass out soon enough,” Kyle said, his voice beginning to fade in the distance. “I wish Sharon would…” And then I couldn't make out any more.

Ian waited until the voices faded completely, and then a few minutes more, before he finally released my arm.

“Jared promised,” Jamie muttered to him.

“Yeah, but Kyle didn't,” Ian answered.

They walked back out into the light. I followed slowly behind them, not sure what I was feeling.

Ian noticed for the first time what I carried. “No dishes now,” he told me. “Let's give them a chance to clean up and move on.”

I thought about asking him why he was dirty, but probably, like Jamie, he would refuse to answer. I turned to stare at the tunnel that led toward the rivers, speculating.

Ian made an angry sound.

I looked back at him, frightened, and then realized what had upset him–he'd only just seen my face.

He raised his hand as if to lift my chin, but I flinched and he dropped it.

“That makes me so sick,” he said, and his voice truly did sound as if he were nauseated. “And worse, knowing that if I hadn't stayed behind, I might have been the one to do it.…” I shook my head at him. “It's nothing, Ian.”

“I don't agree with
that,
” he muttered, and then he spoke to Jamie. “You probably ought to get to school. It's better that we get everything back to normal as soon as possible.” Jamie groaned. “Sharon will be a
nightmare
today.”

Ian grinned. “Time to take one for the team, kid. I don't envy you.” Jamie sighed and kicked the dirt. “Keep an eye on Wanda.”

“Will do.”

Jamie shuffled away, casting glances back at us every few minutes until he disappeared into another tunnel.

“Here, give me those,” Ian said, pulling the bin of dishes from me before I could respond.

“They weren't too heavy for me,” I told him.

He grinned again. “I feel silly standing here with my arms empty while you lug these around.

Chalk it up to gallantry. C'mon–let's go relax somewhere out of the way until the coast is clear.” His words troubled me, and I followed him in silence. Why should gallantry apply to me?