The Host(90)

I put Jared’s pillow back where it belonged, and then stretched out on the mat.

Well, I thought, I just hurled myself out of the frying pan. But I was too tired to care what this would mean tomorrow. Within seconds, I was unconscious.

When I woke, the crevices in the ceiling were bright with echoed sunlight, and someone was whistling.

The whistling stopped.

“Finally,” Jeb muttered when my eyes fluttered.

I rolled onto my side so that I could look at him; as I moved, Jamie’s hand slid from my arm. Sometime in the night he must have reached out to me—well, not to me, to his sister.

Jeb was leaning against the natural rock door frame, his arms folded across his chest. “Morning,” he said. “Get enough sleep?”

I stretched, decided that I felt acceptably rested, and then nodded.

“Oh, don’t give me the silent treatment again,” he complained, scowling.

“Sorry,” I murmured. “I slept well, thank you.”

Jamie stirred at the sound of my voice.

“Wanda?” he asked.

I was ridiculously touched that it was my silly nickname that he spoke on the edge of sleep.

“Yes?”

Jamie blinked and pulled his tangled hair out of his eyes. “Oh, hey, Uncle Jeb.”

“My room not good enough for you, kid?”

“You snore real loud,” Jamie said, and then yawned.

“Haven’t I taught you anything?” Jeb asked him. “Since when do you let a guest and a lady sleep on the floor?”

Jamie sat up suddenly, staring around, disoriented. He frowned.

“Don’t upset him,” I told Jeb. “He insisted on taking the mat. I moved him when he was asleep.”

Jamie snorted. “Mel always used to do that, too.”

I widened my eyes slightly at him, trying to convey a warning.

Jeb chuckled. I looked up at him, and he had that same pouncing-cat expression he’d had yesterday. The solved-puzzle expression. He walked over and kicked the edge of the mattress.

“You’ve already missed your morning class. Sharon’s bound to be testy about that, so get a move on.”

“Sharon is always testy,” Jamie complained, but he got to his feet quickly.

“On your way, boy.”

Jamie looked at me again, then he turned and disappeared into the hall.

“Now,” Jeb said as soon as we were alone. “I think all this baby-sitting nonsense has gone on long enough. I’m a busy man. Everyone is busy here—too busy to sit around playin’ guard. So today you’re going to have to come along with me while I get my chores done.”

I felt my mouth pop open.

He stared at me, no smile.

“Don’t look so terrified,” he grumbled. “You’ll be fine.” He patted his gun. “My house is no place for babies.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I took three quick, deep breaths, trying to steady my nerves. Blood pulsed so loudly in my ears that his voice seemed quiet in comparison when he spoke again.

“C’mon, Wanda. Day’s wasting.”

He turned and stomped out of the room.

I was frozen for a moment, and then I lurched out after him. He wasn’t bluffing—he was already invisible around the first corner. I raced after him, horrified by the thought that I might run into someone else in this obviously inhabited wing. I caught up to him before he reached the big intersection of the tunnels. He didn’t even look at me as I slowed beside him to match his pace.

“’Bout time that northeast field was planted. We’ll have to work the soil first. Hope you don’t mind getting your hands dirty. After we’re done, I’ll see that you get a chance to clean yourself up. You need it.” He sniffed pointedly, then laughed.

I felt the back of my neck get hot, but I ignored the last part. “I don’t mind getting my hands dirty,” I murmured. As I recalled, the empty northeastern field was out of the way. Perhaps we would be able to work alone.

Once we got to the big plaza cave, we started passing humans. They all stared, infuriated, as usual. I was beginning to recognize most of them: the middle-aged woman with the long salt-and-pepper braid I had seen with the irrigation team yesterday. The short man with the round belly, thinning sandy hair, and ruddy cheeks had been with her. The athletic-looking woman with the caramel brown skin had been the one bent to tie her shoe the first time I’d come out here during the day. Another dark-skinned woman with thick lips and sleepy eyes had been in the kitchen, near the two black-haired children—perhaps she was their mother? Now we passed Maggie; she glowered at Jeb and turned her face away from me. We passed a pale, sick-looking man with white hair whom I was sure I’d never seen before. Then we passed Ian.