The Host (9 page)

I don't like this, for lots of reasons. Will he be leaving soon? Will he take us with him when he goes? Does he see this room assignment as a permanent thing?

He drops his arm around my shoulders and tucks me against his side. I scoot closer, though the heat of touching him has my heart aching again.

“Why the frown?” he asks.

“When will you… when will
we
have to leave again?”

He shrugs. “We scavenged enough on our way up that we're set for a few months. I can do a few short raids if you want to stay in one place for a while. I'm sure you're tired of running.”

“Yes, I am,” I agree. I take a deep breath to make me brave. “But if you go, I go.” He hugs me tighter. “I'll admit, I prefer it that way. The thought of being separated from you…” He laughs quietly. “Does it sound crazy to say that I'd rather die? Too melodramatic?”

“No, I know what you mean.”

He
must
feel the same way I do. Would he say these things if he thought of me as just another human, and not as a woman?

I realize that this is the first time we've ever been really alone since the night we met–the first time there's been a door to close between a sleeping Jamie and the two of us. So many nights we've stayed awake, talking in whispers, telling all of our stories, the happy stories and the horror stories, always with Jamie's head cradled on my lap. It makes my breath come faster, that simple closed door.

“I don't think you need to find a cot, not yet.”

I feel his eyes on me, questioning, but I can't meet them. I'm embarrassed now, too late. The words are out.

“We'll stay here until the food is gone, don't worry. I've slept on worse things than this couch.”

“That's not what I mean,” I say, still looking down.

“You get the bed, Mel. I'm not budging on that.”

“That's not what I mean, either.” It's barely a whisper. “I meant the couch is plenty big for Jamie. He won't outgrow it for a long time. I could share the bed with… you.” There is a pause. I want to look up, to read the expression on his face, but I'm too mortified.

What if he is disgusted? How will I stand it? Will he make me go away?

His warm, callused fingers tug my chin up. My heart throbs when our eyes meet.

“Mel, I…” His face, for once, has no smile.

I try to look away, but he holds my chin so that my gaze can't escape his. Does he not feel the fire between his body and mine? Is that all me? How can it all be me? It feels like a flat sun trapped between us–pressed like a flower between the pages of a thick book, burning the paper.

Does it feel like something else to him? Something bad?

After a moment, his head turns; he's the one looking away now, still keeping his grip on my chin. His voice is quiet. “You don't owe me that, Melanie. You don't owe me anything at all.” It's hard for me to swallow. “I'm not saying… I didn't mean that I felt
obligated.
And… you shouldn't, either. Forget I said anything.”

“Not likely, Mel.”

He sighs, and I want to disappear. Give up–lose my mind to the invaders if that's what it takes to erase this huge blunder. Trade the future to blot out the last two minutes of the past.

Anything.

Jared takes a deep breath. He squints at the floor, his eyes and jaw tight. “Mel, it doesn't have to be like that. Just because we're together, just because we're the last man and woman on Earth…” He struggles for words, something I don't think I've ever seen him do before. “That doesn't mean you have to do anything you don't want to. I'm not the kind of man who would expect… You don't have to…”

He looks so upset, still frowning away, that I find myself speaking, though I know it's a mistake before I start. “That's not what I mean,” I mutter. “'Have to' is not what I'm talking about, and I don't think you're 'that kind of man.' No. Of course not. It's just that –” Just that I love him. I grit my teeth together before I can humiliate myself more. I should bite my tongue off right now before it ruins anything else.

“Just that… ?” he asks.

I try to shake my head, but he's still holding my chin tight between his fingers.

“Mel?”

I yank free and shake my head fiercely.

He leans closer to me, and his face is different suddenly. There's a new conflict I don't recognize in his expression, and even though I don't understand it completely, it erases the feeling of rejection that's making my eyes sting.

“Will you talk to me? Please?” he murmurs. I can feel his breath on my cheek, and it's a few seconds before I can think at all.

His eyes make me forget that I am mortified, that I wanted to never speak again.

“If I got to pick anyone, anyone at all, to be stranded on a deserted planet with, it would be you,” I whisper. The sun between us burns hotter. “I always want to be with you. And not just… not just to talk to. When you touch me…” I dare to let my fingers brush lightly along the warm skin of his arm, and it feels like the flames are flowing from their tips now. His arm tightens around me. Does he feel the fire? “I don't want you to stop.” I want to be more exact, but I can't find the words. That's fine. It's bad enough having admitted this much. “If you don't feel the same way, I understand. Maybe it isn't the same for you. That's okay.” Lies.

“Oh, Mel,” he sighs in my ear, and pulls my face around to meet his.

More flames in his lips, fiercer than the others, blistering. I don't know what I'm doing, but it doesn't seem to matter. His hands are in my hair, and my heart is about to combust. I can't breathe. I don't
want
to breathe.

But his lips move to my ear, and he holds my face when I try to find them again.

“It was a miracle–more than a miracle–when I found you, Melanie. Right now, if I was given the choice between having the world back and having you, I wouldn't be able to give you up.

Not to save five billion lives.”

“That's wrong.”

“Very wrong but very true.”

“Jared,” I breathe. I try to reach for his lips again. He pulls away, looking like he has something to say. What more can there be?

“But…”

“But?” How can there be a
but?
What could possibly follow all this fire that starts with a
but?

“But you're seventeen, Melanie. And I'm twenty-six.”

“What's that got to do with anything?”

He doesn't answer. His hands stroke my arms slowly, painting them with fire.

“You've got to be kidding me.” I lean back to search his face. “You're going to worry about
conventions
when we're past the end of the world?” He swallows loudly before he speaks. “Most conventions exist for a reason, Mel. I would feel like a bad person, like I was taking advantage. You're very young.”

“No one's young anymore. Anyone who's survived this long is ancient.” There's a smile pulling up one corner of his mouth. “Maybe you're right. But this isn't something we need to rush.”

“What is there to wait for?” I demand.

He hesitates for a long moment, thinking.

“Well, for one thing, there are some… practical matters to consider.” I wonder if he is just searching for a distraction, trying to stall. That's what it feels like. I raise one eyebrow. I can't believe the turn this conversation has taken. If he really does want me, this is senseless.

“See,” he explains, hesitating. Under the deep golden tan of his skin, it looks like he might be blushing. “When I was stocking this place, I wasn't much planning for… guests. What I mean is…” The rest comes out in a rush. “Birth control was pretty much the last thing on my mind.” I feel my forehead crease. “Oh.”

The smile is gone from his face, and for one short second there is a flash of anger I've never seen there before. It makes him look dangerous in a way I hadn't imagined he could. “This isn't the kind of world I'd want to bring a child into.”

The words sink in, and I cringe at the thought of a tiny, innocent baby opening his eyes to this place. It's bad enough to watch Jamie's eyes, to know what this life will bring him, even in the best possible circumstances.

Jared is suddenly Jared again. The skin around his eyes crinkles. “Besides, we've got plenty of time to… think about this.” Stalling again, I suspect. “Do you realize how very, very little time we've been together so far? It's been just four weeks since we found each other.” This floors me. “That can't be.”

“Twenty-nine days. I'm counting.”

I think back. It's not possible that it has been only twenty-nine days since Jared changed our lives. It seems like Jamie and I have been with Jared every bit as long as we were alone. Two or three years, maybe.

“We've got time,” Jared says again.

An abrupt panic, like a warning premonition, makes it impossible for me to speak for a long moment. He watches the change on my face with worried eyes.

“You don't know that.” The despair that softened when he found me strikes like the lash of a whip. “You can't know how much time we'll have. You don't know if we should be counting in months or days or hours.”

He laughs a warm laugh, touching his lips to the tense place where my eyebrows pull together.

“Don't worry, Mel. Miracles don't work that way. I'll never lose you. I'll never let you get away from me.”

She brought me back to the present–to the thin ribbon of the highway winding through the Arizona wasteland, baking under the fierce noon sun–without my choosing to return. I stared at the empty place ahead and felt the empty place inside.

Her thought sighed faintly in my head:
You never know how much time you'll have.

The tears I was crying belonged to both of us.

Idrove quickly through the I-10 junction as the sun fell behind me. I didn't see much besides the white and yellow lines on the pavement, and the occasional big green sign pointing me farther east. I was in a hurry now.

I wasn't sure exactly what I was in a hurry
for,
though. To be out of this, I supposed. Out of pain, out of sadness, out of aching for lost and hopeless loves. Did that mean out of this body? I couldn't think of any other answer. I would still ask my questions of the Healer, but it felt as though the decision was made.
Skipper. Quitter.
I tested the words in my head, trying to come to terms with them.

If I could find a way, I would keep Melanie out of the Seeker's hands. It would be very hard.

No, it would be impossible.

I would try.

I promised her this, but she wasn't listening. She was still dreaming. Giving up, I thought, now that it was too late for giving up to help.

I tried to stay clear of the red canyon in her head, but I was there, too. No matter how hard I tried to see the cars zooming beside me, the shuttles gliding in toward the port, the few, fine clouds drifting overhead, I couldn't pull completely free of her dreams. I memorized Jared's face from a thousand different angles. I watched Jamie shoot up in a sudden growth spurt, always skin and bones. My arms ached for them both–no, the feeling was sharper than an ache, blade-edged and violent. It was intolerable. I had to get out.

I drove almost blindly along the narrow two-lane freeway. The desert was, if anything, more monotonous and dead than before. Flatter, more colorless. I would make it to Tucson long before dinnertime. Dinner. I hadn't eaten yet today, and my stomach rumbled as I realized that.

The Seeker would be waiting for me there. My stomach rolled then, hunger momentarily replaced with nausea. Automatically, my foot eased off the gas.

I checked the map on the passenger seat. Soon I would reach a little pit stop at a place called Picacho Peak. Maybe I would stop to eat something there. Put off seeing the Seeker a few precious moments.

As I thought of this unfamiliar name–Picacho Peak–there was a strange, stifled reaction from Melanie. I couldn't make it out. Had she been here before? I searched for a memory, a sight or a smell that corresponded, but found nothing. Picacho Peak. Again, there was that spike of interest that Melanie repressed. What did the words mean to her? She retreated into faraway memories, avoiding me.

This made me curious. I drove a little faster, wondering if the sight of the place would trigger something.

A solitary mountain peak–not massive by normal standards, but towering above the low, rough hills closer to me–was beginning to take shape on the horizon. It had an unusual, distinctive shape. Melanie watched it grow as we traveled, pretending indifference to it.

Why did she pretend not to care when she so obviously did? I was disturbed by her strength when I tried to find out. I couldn't see any way around the old blank wall. It felt thicker than usual, though I'd thought it was almost gone.

I tried to ignore her, not wanting to think about that–that she was growing stronger. I watched the peak instead, tracing its shape against the pale, hot sky. There was something familiar about it. Something I was sure I recognized, even as I was positive that neither of us had been here before.

Almost as if she was trying to distract me, Melanie plunged into a vivid memory of Jared, catching me by surprise.

I shiver in my jacket, straining my eyes to see the muted glare of the sun dying behind the thick, bristly trees. I tell myself that it is not as cold as I think it is. My body just isn't used to this.

The hands that are suddenly there on my shoulders do not startle me, though I am afraid of this unfamiliar place and I did not hear his silent approach. Their weight is too familiar.

“You're easy to sneak up on.”

Even now, there is a smile in his voice.

“I saw you coming before you took the first step,” I say without turning. “I have eyes in the back of my head.”

Warm fingers stroke my face from my temple to my chin, dragging fire along my skin.

“You look like a dryad hidden here in the trees,” he whispers in my ear. “One of them. So beautiful that you must be fictional.”

“We should plant more trees around the cabin.”

He chuckles, and the sound makes my eyes close and my lips stretch into a grin.

“Not necessary,” he says. “You always look that way.”

“Says the last man on Earth to the last woman on Earth, on the eve of their separation.” My smile fades as I speak. Smiles cannot last today.

He sighs. His breath on my cheek is warm compared to the chill forest air.

“Jamie might resent that implication.”

“Jamie's still a boy. Please, please keep him safe.”

“I'll make you a deal,” Jared offers. “You keep
yourself
safe, and I'll do my best. Otherwise, no deal.”

Just a joke, but I can't take it lightly. Once we are apart, there are no guarantees. “No matter what happens,” I insist.

“Nothing's going to happen. Don't worry.” The words are nearly meaningless. A waste of effort. But his voice is worth hearing, no matter the message.

“Okay.”

He pulls me around to face him, and I lean my head against his chest. I don't know what to compare his scent to. It is his own, as unique as the smell of juniper or the desert rain.

“You and I won't lose each other,” he promises. “I will always find you again.” Being Jared, he cannot be completely serious for more than a heartbeat or two. “No matter how well you hide.

I'm unstoppable at hide-and-seek.”

“Will you give me to the count of ten?”

“Without peeking.”

“You're on,” I mumble, trying to disguise the fact that my throat is thick with tears.

“Don't be afraid. You'll be fine. You're strong, you're fast, and you're smart.” He's trying to convince himself, too.

Why am I leaving him? It's such a long shot that Sharon is still human.

But when I saw her face on the news, I was so sure.

It was just a normal raid, one of a thousand. As usual when we felt isolated enough, safe enough, we had the TV on as we cleaned out the pantry and fridge. Just to get the weather forecast; there isn't much entertainment in the dead-boring everything-is-perfect reports that pass for news among the parasites. It was the hair that caught my eye–the flash of deep, almost pink red that I'd only ever seen on one person.

I can still see the look on her face as she peeked at the camera from the corner of one eye. The look that said,
I'm trying to be invisible; don't see me.
She walked not quite slowly enough, working too hard at keeping a casual pace. Trying desperately to blend in.

No body snatcher would feel that need.

What is Sharon doing walking around human in a huge city like Chicago? Are there others?

Trying to find her doesn't even seem like a choice, really. If there is a chance there are more humans out there, we have to locate them.

And I have to go alone. Sharon will run from anyone but me–well, she will run from me, too, but maybe she will pause long enough for me to explain. I am sure I know her secret place.

“And you?” I ask him in a thick voice. I'm not sure I can physically bear this looming goodbye.

“Will you be safe?”

“Neither heaven nor hell can keep me apart from you, Melanie.” Without giving me a chance to catch my breath or wipe away the fresh tears, she threw another at me.

Jamie curls up under my arm–he doesn't fit the way he used to. He has to fold in on himself, his long, gangly limbs poking out in sharp angles. His arms are starting to turn hard and sinewy, but in this moment he's a child, shaking, cowering almost. Jared is loading the car. Jamie would not show this fear if he were here. Jamie wants to be brave, to be like Jared.

“I'm scared,” he whispers.

I kiss his night-dark hair. Even here among the sharp, resinous trees, it smells like dust and sun.

It feels like he is part of me, that to separate us will tear the skin where we are joined.

“You'll be fine with Jared.” I have to sound brave, whether I feel that way or not.

“I know that. I'm scared for
you.
I'm scared you won't come back. Like Dad.” I flinch. When Dad didn't come back–though his body did eventually, trying to lead the Seekers to us–it was the most horror and the most fear and the most pain I'd ever felt. What if I do that to Jamie again?

“I'll come back. I always come back.”

“I'm scared,” he says again.

I have to be brave.

“I promise everything will be fine. I'm coming back. I promise. You know I won't break a promise, Jamie. Not to you.”

The shaking slows. He believes me. He trusts me.

And another:

I can hear them on the floor below. They will find me in minutes, or seconds. I scrawl the words on a dirty shred of newsprint. They are nearly illegible, but if he finds them, he will understand:

Not fast enough. Love you love Jamie. Don't go home.

Not only do I break their hearts, I steal their refuge, too. I picture our little canyon home abandoned, as it must be forever now. Or if not abandoned, a tomb. I see my body leading the Seekers to it. My face smiling as we catch them there…

“Enough,” I said out loud, cringing away from the whiplash of pain. “Enough! You've made your point! I can't live without them either now. Does that make you happy? Because it doesn't leave me many choices, does it? Just one–to get rid of you. Do you
want
the Seeker inside you?

Ugh!” I recoiled from the thought as if I would be the one to house her.

There
is
another choice,
Melanie thought softly.

“Really?” I demanded with heavy sarcasm. “Show me one.”

Look and see.

I was still staring at the mountain peak. It dominated the landscape, a sudden upthrust of rock surrounded by flat scrubland. Her interest pulled my eyes over the outline, tracing the uneven two-pronged crest.

A slow, rough curve, then a sharp turn north, another sudden turn back the other way, twisting back to the north for a longer stretch, and then the abrupt southern decline that flattened out into another shallow curve.

Not north and south, the way I'd always seen the lines in her piecemeal memories; it was up and down.

The profile of a mountain peak.

The lines that led to Jared and Jamie. This was the first line, the starting point.

I could find them.

We
could find them,
she corrected me.
You don't know all the directions. Just like with the cabin,
I never gave you everything.

“I don't understand. Where does it lead?
How
does a mountain lead us?” My pulse beat faster as I thought of it: Jared was close. Jamie, within my reach.

She showed me the answer.

“They're just lines. And Uncle Jeb is just an old lunatic. A nut job, like the rest of my dad's family.” I try to tug the book out of Jared's hands, but he barely seems to notice my effort.

“A nut job, like Sharon's mom?” he counters, still studying the dark pencil marks that deface the back cover of the old photo album. It's the one thing I haven't lost in all the running. Even the graffiti loony Uncle Jeb left on it during his last visit has sentimental value now.

“Point taken.” If Sharon is still alive, it will be because her mother, loony Aunt Maggie, could give loony Uncle Jeb a run for the title of Craziest of the Crazy Stryder Siblings. My father had been only slightly touched by the Stryder madness–he didn't have a secret bunker in the backyard or anything. The rest of them, his sister and brothers, Aunt Maggie, Uncle Jeb, and Uncle Guy, were the most devoted of conspiracy theorists. Uncle Guy had died before the others disappeared during the invasion, in a car accident so commonplace that even Maggie and Jeb had struggled to make an intrigue out of it.

My father always affectionately referred to them as
the Crazies.
“I think it's time we visited the Crazies,” Dad would announce, and then Mom would groan–which is why such announcements had happened so seldom.

On one of those rare visits to Chicago, Sharon had snuck me into her mother's hidey-hole. We got caught–the woman had booby traps every-where. Sharon was scolded soundly, and though I was sworn to secrecy, I'd had a sense Aunt Maggie might build a new sanctuary.

But I remember where the first is. I picture Sharon there now, living the life of Anne Frank in the middle of an enemy city. We have to find her and bring her home.

Jared interrupts my reminiscing. “Nut jobs are exactly the kind of people who will have survived. People who saw Big Brother when he wasn't there. People who suspected the rest of humanity before the rest of humanity turned dangerous. People with hiding places ready.” Jared grins, still study-ing the lines. And then his voice is heavier. “People like
my
father. If he and my brothers had hidden rather than fought.… Well, they'd still be here.” My tone is softer, hearing the pain in his. “Okay, I agree with the theory. But these lines don't
mean
anything.”

“Tell me again what he said when he drew them.”

I sigh. “They were arguing–Uncle Jeb and my dad. Uncle Jeb was trying to convince him that something was wrong, telling him not to trust anyone. Dad laughed it off. Jeb grabbed the photo album from the end table and started… almost
carving
the lines into the back cover with a pencil. Dad got mad, said my mom would be angry. Jeb said, 'Linda's mom asked you all to come up for a visit, right? Kind of strange, out of the blue? Got a little upset when only Linda would come? Tell you the truth, Trev, I don't think Linda will be minding anything much when she gets back. Oh, she might act like it, but you'll be able to tell the difference.' It didn't make sense at the time, but what he said really upset my dad. He ordered Uncle Jeb out of the house.

Jeb wouldn't leave at first. Kept warning us not to wait until it was too late. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me into his side. 'Don't let 'em get you, honey,' he whispered. 'Follow the lines. Start at the beginning and follow the lines. Uncle Jeb'll keep a safe place for you.' That's when Dad shoved him out the door.”