The Host(85)

I took a deep breath and raised my head. “What do you want to know?”

He smiled at me warmly, his eyes crinkling into half moons. “Three brains, right?”

I nodded.

“How many eyes?”

“Twelve—one at each juncture of the leg and the body. We didn’t have lids, just a lot of fibers—like steel wool eyelashes—to protect them.”

He nodded, his eyes bright. “Were they furry, like tarantulas?”

“No. Sort of… armored—scaled, like a reptile or a fish.”

I slouched against the wall, settling myself in for a long conversation.

Jeb didn’t disappoint on that count. I lost track of how many questions he asked me. He wanted details—the Spiders’ looks, their behaviors, and how they’d handled Earth. He didn’t flinch away from the invasion details; on the contrary, he almost seemed to enjoy that part more than the rest. His questions came fast on the heels of my answers, and his grins were frequent. When he was satisfied about the Spiders, hours later, he wanted to know more about the Flowers.

“You didn’t half explain that one,” he reminded me.

So I told him about that most beautiful and placid of planets. Almost every time I stopped to breathe, he interrupted me with a new question. He liked to guess the answers before I could speak and didn’t seem to mind getting them wrong in the least.

“So did ya eat flies, like a Venus flytrap? I’ll bet you did—or maybe something bigger, like a bird—like a pterodactyl!”

“No, we used sunlight for food, like most plants here.”

“Well, that’s not as much fun as my idea.”

Sometimes I found myself laughing with him.

We were just moving on to the Dragons when Jamie showed up with dinner for three.

“Hi, Wanderer,” he said, a little embarrassed.

“Hi, Jamie,” I answered, a little shy, not sure if he would regret the closeness we’d shared. I was, after all, the bad guy.

But he sat down right next to me, between me and Jeb, crossing his legs and setting the food tray in the middle of our little conclave. I was starving, and parched from all the talking. I took a bowl of soup and downed it in a few gulps.

“Shoulda known you were just being polite in the mess hall today. Gotta speak up when you’re hungry, Wanda. I’m no mind reader.”

I didn’t agree with that last part, but I was too busy chewing a mouthful of bread to answer.

“Wanda?” Jamie asked.

I nodded, letting him know that I didn’t mind.

“Kinda suits her, doncha think?” Jeb was so proud of himself, I was surprised he didn’t pat himself on the back, just for effect.

“Kinda, I guess,” Jamie said. “Were you guys talking about dragons?”

“Yeah,” Jeb told him enthusiastically, “but not the lizardy kind. They’re all made up of jelly. They can fly, though… sort of. The air’s thicker, sort of jelly, too. So it’s almost like swimming. And they can breathe acid—that’s about as good as fire, wouldn’t you say?”

I let Jeb fill Jamie in on the details while I ate more than my share of food and drained a water bottle. When my mouth was free, Jeb started in with the questions again.

“Now, this acid…”

Jamie didn’t ask questions the way Jeb did, and I was more careful about what I said with him there. However, this time Jeb never asked anything that might lead to a touchy subject, whether by coincidence or design, so my caution wasn’t necessary.

The light slowly faded until the hallway was black. Then it was silver, a tiny, dim reflection from the moon that was just enough, as my eyes adjusted, to see the man and the boy beside me.

Jamie edged closer to me as the night wore on. I didn’t realize that I was combing my fingers through his hair as I talked until I noticed Jeb staring at my hand.

I folded my arms across my body.

Finally, Jeb yawned a huge yawn that had me and Jamie doing the same.

“You tell a good story, Wanda,” Jeb said when we were all done stretching.

“It’s what I did… before. I was a teacher, at the university in San Diego. I taught history.”

“A teacher!” Jeb repeated, excited. “Well, ain’t that amazin’? There’s something we could use around here. Mag’s girl Sharon does the teaching for the three kids, but there’s a lot she can’t help with. She’s most comfortable with math and the like. History, now —”

“I only taught our history,” I interrupted. Waiting for him to take a breath wasn’t going to work, it seemed. “I wouldn’t be much help as a teacher here. I don’t have any training.”