The Host (The Host 1)

Jamie tried to talk me out of sleeping in the supply corridor, but his attempt was halfhearted. There just wasn't another place for me. Stubborn as usual, he insisted on sharing my quarters. I imagined Jared didn't like that, but as I didn't see him that night or the next day, I couldn't verify my theory.

It was awkward again, going about my usual chores, with the six raiders home-just like when Jeb had first forced me to join the community. Hostile stares, angry silences. It was harder for them than it was for me, though-I was used to it. They, on the other hand, were entirely unaccustomed to the way everyone else treated me. When I was helping with the corn harvest, for example, and Lily thanked me for a fresh basket with a smile, Andy's eyes bulged in their sockets at the exchange. Or when I was waiting for the bathing pool with Trudy and Heidi, and Heidi began playing with my hair. It was growing, always swinging in my eyes these days, and I was planning to shear it off again. Heidi was trying to find a style for me, flipping the strands this way and that. Brandt and Aaron-Aaron was the oldest man who'd gone on the long raid, someone I couldn't remember having seen before at all-came out and found us there, Trudy laughing at some silly atrocity Heidi was attempting to create atop my head, and both men turned a little green and stalked silently past us.

Of course, little things like that were nothing. Kyle roamed the caves now, and though he was obviously under orders to leave me in peace, his expression made it clear that this restriction was repugnant to him. I was always with others when I crossed his path, and I wondered if that was the only reason he did nothing more than glower at me and unconsciously curl his thick fingers into claws. This brought back all the panic from my first weeks here, and I might have succumbed to it-begun hiding again, avoiding the common areas-but something more important than Kyle's murderous glares came to my attention that second night.

The kitchen filled up again-I'm not sure how much was interest in my stories and how much was interest in the chocolate bars Jeb handed out. I declined mine, explaining to a disgruntled Jamie that I couldn't talk and chew at the same time; I suspected that he would save one for me, obstinate as ever. Ian was back in his usual hot seat by the fire, and Andy was there-eyes wary-beside Paige. None of the other raiders, including Jared, of course, was in attendance. Doc was not there, and I wondered if he was still drunk or perhaps hung-over. And again, Walter was absent.

Geoffrey, Trudy's husband, questioned me for the first time tonight. I was pleased, though I tried not to show it, that he seemed to have joined the ranks of the humans who tolerated me. But I couldn't answer his questions well, which was too bad. His questions were like Doc's.

"I don't really know anything about Healing," I admitted. "I never went to a Healer after. . . after I first got here. I haven't been sick. All I know is that we wouldn't choose a planet unless we were able to maintain the host bodies perfectly. There's nothing that can't be healed, from a simple cut, a broken bone, to a disease. Old age is the only cause of death now. Even healthy human bodies were only designed to last for so long. And there are accidents, too, I guess, though those don't happen as often with the souls. We're cautious. "

"Armed humans aren't just an accident," someone muttered. I was moving hot rolls; I didn't see who spoke, and I didn't recognize the voice.

"Yes, that's true," I agreed evenly.

"So you don't know what they use to cure diseases, then?" Geoffrey pressed. "What's in their medications?"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I don't. It wasn't something I was interested in, back when I had access to the information. I'm afraid I took it for granted. Good health is simply a given on every planet I've lived on. "

Geoffrey's red cheeks flushed brighter than usual. He looked down, an angry set to his mouth. What had I said to offend him?

Heath, sitting beside Geoffrey, patted his arm. There was a pregnant silence in the room.

"Uh-about the Vultures. . . " Ian said-the words were forced, a deliberate subject change. "I don't know if I missed this part sometime, but I don't remember you ever explaining about them being ??unkind'. . . ?"

It wasn't something I had explained, but I was pretty sure he wasn't really that interested-this was just the first question he'd been able to think of.

My informal class ended earlier than usual. The questions were slow, and most of them supplied by Jamie and Ian. Geoffrey's questions had left everyone else preoccupied.

"Well, we've got an early one tomorrow, tearing down the stalks. . . " Jeb mused after yet another awkward silence, making the words a dismissal. People rose to their feet and stretched, talking in low voices that weren't casual enough.

"What did I say?" I whispered to Ian.

"Nothing. They've got mortality on their minds. " He sighed.

My human brain made one of those leaps in understanding that they called intuition.

"Where's Walter?" I demanded, still whispering.

Ian sighed again. "He's in the south wing. He's. . . not doing well. "

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Things have been. . . difficult for you lately, so. . . "

I shook my head impatiently at that consideration. "What's wrong with him?"

Jamie was there beside me now; he took my hand.

"Some of Walter's bones snapped, they're so brittle," he said in a hushed voice. "Doc's sure it's cancer-final stages, he says. "

"Walt must have been keeping quiet about the pain for a long while now," Ian added somberly.

I winced. "And there's nothing to be done? Nothing at all?"

Ian shook his head, keeping his brilliant eyes on mine. "Not for us. Even if we weren't stuck here, there would be no help for him now. We never cured that one. "

I bit my lip against the suggestion I wanted to make. Of course there was nothing to do for Walter. Any of these humans would rather die slowly and in pain than trade their mind for their body's cure. I could understand that. . . now.

"He's been asking for you," Ian continued. "Well, he says your name sometimes; it's hard to tell what he means-Doc's keeping him drunk to help with the pain. "

"Doc feels real bad about using so much of the alcohol himself," Jamie added. "Bad timing, all around. "

"Can I see him?" I asked. "Or will that make the others unhappy?"

Ian frowned and snorted. "Wouldn't that be just like some people, to get worked up over this?" He shook his head. "Who cares, though, right? If it's Walt's final wish. . . "

"Right," I agreed. The word final had my eyes burning. "If seeing me is what Walter wants, then I guess it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, or if they get mad. "

"Don't worry about that-I'm not going to let anybody harass you. " Ian's white lips pressed into a thin line.

I felt anxious, like I wanted to look at a clock. Time had ceased to mean much to me, but suddenly I felt the weight of a deadline. "Is it too late to go tonight? Will we disturb him?"

"He's not sleeping regular hours. We can go see. "

I started walking at once, dragging Jamie because he still gripped my hand. The sense of passing time, of endings and finality, propelled me forward. Ian caught up quickly, though, with his long stride.

In the moonlit garden cavern, we passed others who for the most part paid us no mind. I was too often in the company of Jamie and Ian to cause any curiosity, though we weren't headed for the usual tunnels.

The one exception was Kyle. He froze midstride when he saw his brother beside me. His eyes flashed down to see Jamie's hand in mine, and then his lips twisted into a snarl.

Ian squared his shoulders as he absorbed his brother's reaction-his mouth curled into a mirror of Kyle's-and he deliberately reached for my other hand. Kyle made a noise like he was about to be sick and turned his back on us.

When we were in the blackness of the long tunnel south, I tried to free that hand. Ian gripped it tighter.

"I wish you wouldn't make him angrier," I muttered.

"Kyle is wrong. Being wrong is sort of a habit with him. He'll take longer than anyone else to get over it, but that doesn't mean we should make allowances for him. "

"He frightens me," I admitted in a whisper. "I don't want him to have more reasons to hate me. "

Ian and Jamie squeezed my hands at the same time. They spoke simultaneously.

"Don't be afraid," Jamie said.

"Jeb's made his opinion very clear," Ian said.

"What do you mean?" I asked Ian.

"If Kyle can't accept Jeb's rules, then he's no longer welcome here. "

"But that's wrong. Kyle belongs here. "

Ian grunted. "He's staying. . . so he'll just have to learn to deal. "

We didn't talk again through the long walk. I was feeling guilty-it seemed to be a permanent emotional state here. Guilt and fear and heartbreak. Why had I come?

Because you do belong here, oddly enough, Melanie whispered. She was very aware of the warmth of Ian's and Jamie's hands, wrapped around and twined with mine. Where else have you ever had this?

Nowhere, I confessed, feeling only more depressed. But it doesn't make me belong. Not the way you do.

We're a package deal, Wanda.

As if I needed reminding. . .

I was a little surprised to hear her so clearly. She'd been quiet the last two days, waiting, anxious, hoping to see Jared again. Of course, I'd been similarly occupied.

Maybe he's with Walter. Maybe that's where he's been, Melanie thought hopefully.

That's not why we're going to see Walter.

No. Of course not. Her tone was repentant, but I realized that Walter did not mean as much to her as he did to me. Naturally, she was sad that he was dying, but she had accepted that outcome from the beginning. I, on the other hand, could not bring myself to accept it, even now. Walter was my friend, not hers. I was the one he'd defended.

One of those dim blue lights greeted us as we approached the hospital wing. (I knew now that the lanterns were solar powered, left in sunny corners during the day to charge. ) We all moved more quietly, slowing at the same time without having to discuss it.

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.

Two of the cots were occupied. Doc's feet hung over the edge of one; I recognized his light snore. On the other, looking hideously withered and misshapen, Walter watched us approach.

"Are you up for visitors, Walt?" Ian whispered when Walter's eyes drifted in his direction.

"Ungh," Walter moaned. His lips drooped from his slack face, and his skin gleamed wetly in the low light.

"Is there anything you need?" I murmured. I pulled my hands free-they fluttered helplessly in the air between me and Walter.

His loosely rolling eyes searched the darkness. I took a step closer.

"Is there anything we can do for you? Anything at all?"

His eyes roamed till they found my face. Abruptly, they focused through the drunken stupor and the pain.

"Finally," he gasped. His breath wheezed and whistled. "I knew you would come if I waited long enough. Oh, Gladys, I have so much to tell you. "