- •Stephenie Meyer The Host
- •I was surprised at his accusation, at his tone. This discussion was almost like… an argument. Something my host was familiar with but that I’d never experienced.
- •I did not open my eyes. I didn’t want to be distracted. My mind gave me the words I needed, and the tone that would convey what I couldn’t say without using many words.
- •I decided to open my eyes. I felt the need to double-check the Healer’s promises and make sure the rest of me worked.
- •It took me a moment before I could speak. Even then, my voice was just a breath. “What happened to them?”
- •I nodded in understanding. We’d had a name for it on my other worlds. On no world was it smiled upon. So I quit quizzing the Seeker and gave her what I could.
- •I tried.
- •I stared down at my hands and said nothing.
- •I thought her question through carefully. “I don’t think so. Not so I’ve noticed.”
- •I coughed twice and shook my head. I was sure it was over; my stomach was empty.
- •I took a deep breath and resisted the urge to shake her again. She was a full head shorter than I was. It was a fight I would win.
- •I faced the Seeker now, curious to judge the impact of my words. She was impassive, staring at the white nothingness of the bare wall across the room.
- •I jerked away from her, my face flushing.
- •I shrug, and my stomach flutters. “It’s beautiful here.”
- •I let the engine idle as I tried to think of options besides sleeping in the car, surrounded by the black emptiness of the desert night. Melanie waited patiently, knowing I would find none.
- •I was able to contain my anxiety as I walked hesitantly to the vacant door frame; we must be just as alone here as we had been all day and all yesterday.
- •I cringed, shoving the paper away from me, back into the dark cupboard.
- •I pulled the stiff door back and found the mother lode.
- •I’d turned my back on the east to get the sun off my face for a moment.
- •I laughed at her now. The sound was sucked away by the scorching wind.
- •I don’t know, I’ve never died before.
- •I tasted blood inside my cheek.
- •I shivered in the oven-hot air.
- •I looked for only one thing-where Jared was, so that I could put myself between him and his attackers.
- •I’m not ready to die right this second.
- •I was surprised that the strangely fluid babble did not respond in any way to our entrance. Perhaps they couldn’t see us yet, either.
- •I stood where he’d left me, trying to keep my eyes off Jamie’s face and failing.
- •In spite of myself, I smiled at his unwilling interest. “Far away. Another planet.”
- •Ian and the doctor both raised their hands above their heads.
- •I closed my eyes.
- •I folded my arms across my body.
- •It was quiet for a moment, just the sounds of our footsteps echoing, low and muffled, from the tunnel walls.
- •I thought about the word misfit for a moment. It might have been the truest description of me I’d ever heard. Where had I ever fit in?
- •I could feel my cheeks getting warm.
- •I was in about my fourth week as an informal teacher when life in the caves changed again.
- •I glanced at him wildly, searching for that same guilt on his face. I didn’t find it, only a defensive tightening around his vivid eyes as he stared at the newcomers.
- •I peeked through narrowed eyes as Jared whirled to assess the truth of Jeb’s claim.
- •I realized now that Jamie was just as sad as everyone else here.
- •I appraised his fierce expression-the fire in his brilliant eyes.
- •I noticed how he said when, not if. No matter what promises he’d made, he didn’t see me lasting in the long term.
- •I hated this room. In the darkness, with the odd shadows thrown by the weak glow, it seemed only more forbidding. There was a new smell-the room reeked of slow decay and stinging alcohol and bile.
- •I don’t know. This is all my fault!
- •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.
- •It was over, and I knew it.
- •I didn’t answer. I was afraid of giving him something to use against Kyle.
- •I let him have the gun willingly. He laughed again at my expression.
- •I took a deep breath.
- •I shrugged. “a million or so.”
- •I closed my eyes, wishing my mouth had stayed closed. I felt dizzy. Was I just tired or was it my head wound?
- •I was so tired. I didn’t care that Kyle was three feet from me. I didn’t care that two of the men in the room would side with Kyle if he came around. I didn’t care about anything but sleep.
- •Ian started to stand beside me.
- •Ian stared at his brother for a moment, then sat on the ground beside me again.
- •Ian started to rise again.
- •Ian didn’t give him a chance to answer. He yanked the door out of his way-roughly but very quietly-and then slid into his room and put the door back in its place.
- •I didn’t know what I thought. About any of it.
- •I nodded. “Yes. More than strange. Impossible.”
- •I nodded at that, but he kept going, ignoring me.
- •It made a squishing sound and a thud-that was the first thing I noticed-and then the shock of the blow wore off, and I felt it, too.
- •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.
- •I laughed. “It’s amazing. If you stab yourself, I could show you… That’s a joke.”
- •I don’t think it’s the No Pain. Not for either of us.
- •I tuned them out. Once Ian and Kyle got started, they usually went on for a while. I consulted the map.
- •I tried to smile remorsefully. I could tell I sounded stiff, like the too-careful actors on the television.
- •I jumped, startled, and the little pill slipped from my fingers. It dropped to the metal floor with a faintly audible clink. I felt the blood drain from my face as though a plug had been pulled.
- •I looked back at the truck, too, a forced smile on my face. I couldn’t see who was driving. My eyes reflected the headlights, shot out faint beams of their own.
- •I shuddered.
- •I hadn’t decided if I wanted to talk to her. At least, that was what I’d told Jeb.
- •I slowed myself to a walk before I interrupted him. I didn’t want to scare him, to make him think there was an emergency.
- •I heard the double meaning in his words.
- •I considered this as we ran through the desert in the growing light of dawn-ran because, with the Seekers looking, we shouldn’t be out in the daylight.
- •It was a story I’d never told them before, for obvious reasons. It was one of my best. Lots of action. Jamie would have loved it. I sighed and began in a low voice.
- •I paused to shudder.
- •I paused to laugh quietly to myself.
- •I nodded, not convinced. “I won’t show you unless I believe that.”
- •I shook my head. “I think he sees where this is going. He must guess my plan.”
- •In answer to my earlier question to myself, no, the face was not less repugnant with a different awareness behind it. Because the awareness was not so very different, in the end.
- •Ironically enough, Ian was the one who took my side and helped hurry the raid along. He still didn’t see where this would lead.
- •I stroked her soft cheek, but there was no response, so I took her limp hand in mine again. I gazed at the blue sky through the holes in the high ceiling. My mind wandered.
- •It just wasn’t as shocking as it used to be.
- •I saw Jeb’s eyes brighten with his unquenchable curiosity.
- •I took a deep breath and walked slowly into Doc’s place. I announced my presence in a low, even voice. “Hello.”
- •I winced-I had a more recent memory.
- •I could hear Trudy talking to the Healer’s host, but I tuned out the words. Let the humans take care of their own for the moment.
- •I stared at him for a few seconds, and then my eyes grew wide. “Sunny’s gone? Already?”
- •Ian lurched to his feet.
- •I turn to look at her, and I don’t know the face, either. She’s pretty.
- •Ian was happy. This insight made my worry suddenly much lighter, easier to bear.
- •Ian squeezed my hand and leaned in to whisper through all the hair. His voice was so low that I was the only one who could hear. “I held you in my hand, Wanderer. And you were so beautiful.”
It made a squishing sound and a thud-that was the first thing I noticed-and then the shock of the blow wore off, and I felt it, too.
“Ungh,” I groaned. I hadn’t meant to make any sound. I knew that would make it worse for him. But so much was involuntary with this body. Tears sprang up in my eyes, and I coughed to hide a sob. My head rang, vibrated in aftershock.
“Wanda? Mel? I’m sorry!”
His arms wrapped around us, pulled us into his chest.
“’S okay,” I whimpered. “We’re okay. Did you get it all?”
His hand touched my chin, turned my head.
“Ahh,” he gasped, sickened. “I took half your face off. I’m so sorry.”
“No, that’s good. That’s good. Let’s go.”
“Right.” His voice was still weak, but he leaned me back into my seat, settling me carefully, and then the car rumbled beneath us.
Ice-cold air blew in my face, shocking me, stinging my raw cheek. I’d forgotten what air-conditioning felt like.
I opened my eyes. We were driving down a smooth wash-smoother than it should have been, carefully altered to be this way. It snaked away from us, coiling around the brush. I couldn’t see very far ahead.
I pulled the visor down and flipped open the mirror. In the shadowy moonlight, my face was black and white. Black all across the right side, oozing down my chin, dripping across my neck, and seeping into the collar of my new, clean shirt.
My stomach heaved.
“Good job,” I whispered.
“How much pain are you in?”
“Not much,” I lied. “Anyway, it won’t hurt much longer. How far are we from Tucson?”
Just then, we reached pavement. Funny how the sight of it made my heart race in panic. Jared stopped, keeping the car hidden in the brush. He got out and removed the tarps and chains from the bumper, putting them in the trunk. He got back in and eased the car forward, checking carefully to make sure the highway was empty. He reached for the headlights.
“Wait,” I whispered. I couldn’t speak louder. I felt so exposed here. “Let me drive.”
He looked at me.
“It can’t look like I walked to the hospital like this. Too many questions. I have to drive. You hide in the back and tell me where to go. Is there something you can hide under?”
“Okay,” he said slowly. He put the car into reverse and pulled it back into the deeper brush. “Okay. I’ll hide. But if you take us somewhere I don’t tell you to go…”
Oh! Melanie was stung by his doubt, as was I.
My voice was flat. “Shoot me.”
He didn’t answer. He got out, leaving the engine running. I slid across the cup holders into his seat. I heard the trunk slam.
Jared climbed into the backseat, a thick plaid blanket under his arm.
“Turn right at the road,” he said.
The car was an automatic, but it had been a long time and I was unsure behind the wheel. I moved ahead carefully, pleased to find that I remembered how to drive. The highway was still empty. I pulled out onto the road, my heart reacting to the open space again.
“Lights,” Jared said. His voice came from low on the bench.
I searched till I found the switch, then flicked them on. They seemed horribly bright.
We weren’t far from Tucson -I could see a yellowish glow of color against the sky. The lights of the city ahead.
“You could drive a little faster.”
“I’m right at the limit,” I protested.
He paused for a second. “Souls don’t speed?”
I laughed. The sound was only a tad hysterical. “We obey all laws, traffic laws included.”
The lights became more than a glow-they turned into individual points of brightness. Green signs informed me of my exit options.
“ Take Ina Road.”
I followed his instructions. He kept his voice low, though, enclosed as we were, we could both have shouted.
It was hard to be in this unfamiliar city. To see houses and apartments and stores with signs lit up. To know I was surrounded, outnumbered. I imagined what it must feel like for Jared. His voice was remarkably calm. But he’d done this before, many times.
Other cars were on the road now. When their lights washed my windshield, I cringed in terror.
Don’t fall apart now, Wanda. You have to be strong for Jamie. This won’t work if you can’t do that.
I can. I can do it.
I concentrated on Jamie, and my hands were steadier on the wheel.
Jared directed me through the mostly sleeping city. The Healing facility was just a small place. It must have been a medical building once-doctors’ offices, rather than an actual hospital. The lights were bright through most of the windows, through the glass front. I could see a woman behind a greeting desk. She didn’t look up at my headlights. I drove to the darkest corner of the parking lot.
I slid my arms through the straps of the backpack. It wasn’t new, but it was in good shape. Perfect. There was just one more thing to do.
“Quick, give me the knife.”
“Wanda… I know you love Jamie, but I really don’t think you could use it. You’re not a fighter.”
“Not for them, Jared. I need a wound.”
He gasped. “You have a wound. That’s enough!”
“I need one like Jamie’s. I don’t know enough about Healing. I have to see exactly what to do. I would have done it before, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to drive.”
“No. Not again.”
“Give it to me now. Someone will notice if I don’t go inside soon.”
Jared thought it through quickly. He was the best, as Jeb had said, because he could see what had to be done and do it fast. I heard the steely sound of the knife coming out of the sheath.
“Be very careful. Not too deep.”
“You want to do it?”
He inhaled sharply. “No.”
“Okay.”
I took the ugly knife. It had a heavy handle and was very sharp; it came to a tapered point at the tip.
I didn’t let myself think about it. I didn’t want to give myself a chance to be a coward. The arm, not the leg-that’s all I paused to decide. My knees were scarred. I didn’t want to have to hide that, too.
I held my left arm out; my hand was shaking. I braced it against the door and then twisted my head so that I could bite down on the headrest. I held the knife’s handle awkwardly but tightly in my right hand. I pressed the point against the skin of my forearm so I wouldn’t miss. Then I closed my eyes.
Jared was breathing too hard. I had to be fast or he would stop me.
Just pretend it’s a shovel opening the ground, I told myself.
I jammed the knife into my arm.
The headrest muffled my scream, but it was still too loud. The knife fell from my hand-jerking sickeningly out from the muscle-and then clunked against the floor.
“Wanda!” Jared rasped.
I couldn’t answer yet. I tried to choke back the other screams I felt coming. I’d been right not to do this before driving.
“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?”