The Host (The Host 1)

Chapter 18: Bored

I spent the rest of the day, with one brief exception, in total silence.

That exception occurred when Jeb brought food for both Jared and me several hours later. As he set the tray inside the entrance to my tiny cave, he smiled at me apologetically.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"You're welcome," he told me.

I heard Jared grunt, irritated by our small exchange.

That was the only sound Jared made all day. I was sure he was out there, but there was never so much as an audible breath to confirm that conviction.

It was a very long day-very cramped and very dull. I tried every position I could imagine, but I could never quite manage to get all of me stretched out comfortably at once. The small of my back began a steady throbbing.

Melanie and I thought a lot about Jamie. Mostly we worried that we had damaged him by coming here, that we were injuring him now. What was a kept promise in comparison with that?

Time lost meaning. It could have been sunset, it could have been dawn-I had no references here, buried in the earth. Melanie and I ran out of topics for discussion. We flipped through our joint memories apathetically, like switching TV channels without stopping to watch anything in particular. I napped once but could not fall soundly asleep because I was so uncomfortable.

When Jeb finally came back, I could have kissed his leathery face. He leaned into my cell with a grin stretching his cheeks.

"'Bout time for another walk?" he asked me.

I nodded eagerly.

"I'll do it," Jared growled. "Give me the gun. "

I hesitated, crouched awkwardly in the mouth of my cave, until Jeb nodded at me.

"Go ahead," he told me.

I climbed out, stiff and unsteady, and took Jeb's offered hand to balance myself. Jared made a sound of revulsion and turned his face away. He was holding the gun tightly, his knuckles white over the barrel. I didn't like to see it in his hands. It bothered me more than it did with Jeb.

Jared didn't make allowances for me the way Jeb had. He stalked off into the black tunnel without pausing for me to catch up.

It was hard-he didn't make much noise and he didn't guide me, so I had to walk with one hand in front of my face and one hand on the wall, trying not to run into the rock. I fell twice on the uneven floor. Though he did not help me, he did wait till he could hear that I was on my feet again to continue. Once, hurrying through a straighter section of the tube, I got too close and my searching hand touched his back, traced across the shape of his shoulders, before I realized that I hadn't reached another wall. He jumped ahead, jerking out from under my fingers with an angry hiss.

"Sorry," I whispered, feeling my cheeks turn warm in the darkness.

He didn't respond, but sped his pace so that following was even more difficult.

I was confused when, finally, some light appeared ahead of me. Had we taken a different route? This was not the white brilliance of the biggest cavern. It was muted, pale and silvery. But the narrow crevice we'd had to pass through seemed the same. . . It wasn't until I was inside the giant, echoing space that I realized what caused the difference.

It was nighttime; the light that shone dimly from above mimicked the light of the moon rather than the sun. I used the less-blinding illumination to examine the ceiling, trying to ferret out its secret. High, so very high above me, a hundred tiny moons shone their diluted light toward the dim, distant floor. The little moons were scattered in patternless clusters, some farther away than others. I shook my head. Even though I could look directly at the light now, I still didn't understand it.

"C'mon," Jared ordered angrily from several paces ahead.

I flinched and hurried to follow. I was sorry I'd let my attention wander. I could see how much it irritated him to have to speak to me.

I didn't expect the help of a flashlight when we reached the room with the rivers, and I didn't receive it. It was dimly lit now, too, like the big cave, but with only twenty-odd miniature moons here. Jared clenched his jaw and stared at the ceiling while I walked hesitantly into the room with the inky pool. I guessed that if I stumbled into the fierce underground hot spring and disappeared, Jared would probably see it as a kind intervention of fate.

I think he would be sad, Melanie disagreed as I edged my way around the black bathing room, hugging the wall. If we fell.

I doubt it. He might be reminded of the pain of losing you the first time, but he would be happy if I disappeared.

Because he doesn't know you, Melanie whispered, and then faded away as if she were suddenly exhausted.

I stood frozen where I was, surprised. I wasn't sure, but it felt as though Melanie had just given me a compliment.

"Move it," Jared barked from the other room.

I hurried as fast as the darkness and my fear would allow.

When we returned, Jeb was waiting by the blue lamp; at his feet were two lumpy cylinders and two uneven rectangles. I hadn't noticed them before. Perhaps he'd gone to get them while we were away.

"Are you sleeping here tonight or am I?" Jeb asked Jared in a casual tone.

Jared looked at the shapes by Jeb's feet.

"I am," he answered curtly. "And I only need one bedroll. "

Jeb raised a thick eyebrow.

"It's not one of us, Jeb. You left this on me-so butt out. "

"She's not an animal, either, kid. And you wouldn't treat a dog this way. "

Jared didn't answer. His teeth ground together.

"Never figured you for a cruel man," Jeb said softly. But he picked up one of the cylinders, put his arm through a strap, and slung it over his shoulder, then stuffed one rectangle-a pillow-under his arm.

"Sorry, honey," he said as he passed me, patting my shoulder.

"Cut that out!" Jared growled.

Jeb shrugged and ambled away. Before he was out of sight, I hurried to disappear into my cell; I hid in its darkest reaches, coiling myself into a tight ball that I hoped was too small to see.

Instead of lurking silently and invisibly in the outside tunnel, Jared spread his bedroll directly in front of the mouth of my prison. He plumped his pillow a few times, possibly trying to rub it in that he had one. He lay down on the mat and crossed his arms over his chest. That was the piece of him that I could see through the hole-just his crossed arms and half of his stomach.

His skin was that same dark gold tan that had haunted my dreams for the last half year. It was very strange to have that piece of my dream in solid reality not five feet from me. Surreal.

"You won't be able to sneak past me," he warned. His voice was softer than before-sleepy. "If you try. . . " He yawned. "I will kill you. "

I didn't respond. The warning struck me as a bit of an insult. Why would I try to sneak past him? Where would I go? Into the hands of the barbarians out there waiting for me, all of them wishing that I would make exactly that kind of stupid attempt? Or, supposing I could somehow sneak past them, back out into the desert that had nearly baked me to death the last time I'd tried to cross it? I wondered what he thought me capable of. What plan did he think I was hatching to overthrow their little world? Did I really seem so powerful? Wasn't it clear how pathetically defenseless I was?

I could tell when he was deeply asleep because he started twitching the way Melanie remembered he occasionally did. He only slept so restlessly when he was upset. I watched his fingers clench and unclench, and I wondered if he was dreaming that they were wrapped around my neck.

The days that followed-perhaps a week of them, it was impossible to keep track-were very quiet. Jared was like a silent wall between me and everything else in the world, good or bad. There was no sound but that of my own breathing, my own movements; there were no sights but the black cave around me, the circle of dull light, the familiar tray with the same rations, the brief, stolen glimpses of Jared; there were no touches but the pitted rocks again

st my skin; there were no tastes but the bitter water, the hard bread, the bland soup, the woody roots, over and over again.

It was a very strange combination: constant terror, persistent aching physical discomfort, and excruciating monotony. Of the three, the killer boredom was the hardest to take. My prison was a sensory-deprivation chamber.

Together, Melanie and I worried that we were going to go mad.

We both hear a voice in our head, she pointed out. That's never a good sign.

We're going to forget how to speak, I worried. How long has it been since anyone talked to us?

Four days ago you thanked Jeb for bringing us food, and he said you were welcome. Well, I think it was four days ago. Four long sleeps ago, at least. She seemed to sigh. Stop chewing your nails-it took me years to break that habit.

But the long, scratchy nails bothered me. I don't really think we need to worry about bad habits in the long term.

Jared didn't let Jeb bring food again. Instead, someone brought it to the end of the hall and Jared retrieved it. I got the same thing-bread, soup, and vegetables-twice every day. Sometimes there were extra things for Jared, packaged foods with brand names I recognized-Red Vines, Snickers, Pop-Tarts. I tried to imagine how the humans had gotten their hands on these delicacies.

I didn't expect him to share-of course not-but I wondered sometimes if he thought I was hoping he would. One of my few entertainments was hearing him eat his treats, because he always did so ostentatiously, perhaps rubbing it in the way he had with the pillow that first night.

Once, Jared slowly ripped open a bag of Cheetos-showy about it as usual-and the rich smell of fake powdered cheese rolled through my cave. . . delicious, irresistible. He ate one slowly, letting me hear each distinct crunch.

My stomach growled loudly, and I laughed at myself. I hadn't laughed in so long; I tried to remember the last time and couldn't-just that strange bout of macabre hysteria in the desert, which really didn't count as laughter. Even before I'd come here, there hadn't been much I'd found funny.

But this seemed hilarious to me for some reason-my stomach yearning after that one small Cheeto-and I laughed again. A sign of madness, surely.

I didn't know how my reaction offended him, but he got up and disappeared. After a long moment, I could hear him eating the Cheetos again, but from farther away. I peeked out of the hole to see that he was sitting in the shadows at the end of the corridor, his back to me. I pulled my head inside, afraid he might turn and catch me watching. From then on, he stayed down at that end of the hall as much as possible. Only at night did he stretch out in front of my prison.

Twice a day-or rather twice a night, as he never took me when the others were about-I got to walk to the room with the rivers; it was a highlight, despite the terror, as it was the only time I was not hunched into the unnatural shapes my small cave forced on me. Each time I had to crawl back inside was harder than the last.