The very worst was the time I had to find Doc, because Ian insisted on showing me the way. I could have refused, I suppose, but Jeb didn’t have a problem with the arrangement, and that meant Jeb trusted Ian not to kill me. I was far from comfortable with testing that theory, but it seemed the test was inevitable. If Jeb was wrong to trust Ian, then Ian would find his opportunity soon enough. So I went with Ian through the long black southern tunnel as if it were a trial by fire.
I lived through the first half. Doc got his message. He seemed unsurprised to see Ian tagging along beside me. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I thought they exchanged a significant glance. I half expected them to strap me to one of Doc’s gurneys at that point. These rooms continued to make me feel nauseated.
But Doc just thanked me and sent me on my way as if he were busy. I couldn’t really tell what he was doing—he had several books open and stacks and stacks of papers that seemed to contain nothing but sketches.
On the way back, curiosity overcame my fear.
“Ian?” I asked, having a bit of difficulty saying the name for the first time.
“Yes?” He sounded surprised that I’d addressed him.
“Why haven’t you killed me yet?”
He snorted. “That’s direct.”
“You could, you know. Jeb might be annoyed, but I don’t think he’d shoot you.” What was I saying? It sounded like I was trying to convince him. I bit my tongue.
“I know,” he said, his tone complacent.
It was quiet for a moment, just the sounds of our footsteps echoing, low and muffled, from the tunnel walls.
“It doesn’t seem fair,” Ian finally said. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I can’t see how killing you would make anything right. It would be like executing a private for a general’s war crimes. Now, I don’t buy all of Jeb’s crazy theories—it would be nice to believe, sure, but just because you want something to be true doesn’t make it that way. Whether he’s right or wrong, though, you don’t appear to mean us any harm. I have to admit, you seem honestly fond of that boy. It’s very strange to watch. Anyway, as long as you don’t put us in danger, it seems… cruel to kill you. What’s one more misfit in this place?”
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?
How strange that Ian, of all the humans, should have such a surprisingly gentle interior. I didn’t realize that cruelty would seem a negative to him.
He waited in silence while I considered all this.
“If you don’t want to kill me, then why did you come with me today?” I asked.
He paused again before answering.
“I’m not sure that…” He hesitated. “Jeb thinks things have calmed down, but I’m not completely sure about that. There’re still a few people… Anyway, Doc and I have been trying to keep an eye on you when we can. Just in case. Sending you down the south tunnel seemed like pushing your luck, to me. But that’s what Jeb does best—he pushes luck as far as it will go.”
“You… you and Doc are trying to protect me?”
“Strange world, isn’t it?”
It was a few seconds before I could answer.
“The strangest,” I finally agreed.
CHAPTER 25
Compelled
Another week passed, maybe two—there seemed little point in keeping track of time here, where it was so irrelevant—and things only got stranger for me.
I worked with the humans every day, but not always with Jeb. Some days Ian was with me, some days Doc, and some days only Jamie. I weeded fields, kneaded bread, and scrubbed counters. I carried water, boiled onion soup, washed clothes in the far end of the black pool, and burned my hands making that acidic soap. Everyone did their part, and since I had no right to be here, I tried to work twice as hard as the others. I could not earn a place, I knew that, but I tried to make my presence as light a burden as possible.
I got to know a little about the humans around me, mostly just by listening to them. I learned their names, at least. The caramel-skinned woman was named Lily, and she was from Philadelphia. She had a dry sense of humor and got along well with everyone because she never got ruffled. The young man with the bristly black hair, Wes, stared at her a lot, but she never seemed to notice that. He was only nineteen, and he’d escaped from Eureka, Montana. The sleepy-eyed mother was named Lucina, and her two boys were Isaiah and Freedom—Freedom had been born right here in the caves, delivered by Doc. I didn’t see much of these three; it seemed that the mother kept her children as separate from me as was possible in this limited space. The balding, red-cheeked man was Trudy’s husband; his name was Geoffrey. They were often with another older man, Heath, who had been Geoffrey’s best friend since early childhood; the three had escaped the invasion together. The pallid man with the white hair was Walter. He was sick, but Doc didn’t know what was wrong with him—there was no way to find out, not without labs and tests, and even if Doc could diagnose the problem, he had no medicine to treat it. As the symptoms progressed, Doc was starting to think it was a form of cancer. This pained me—to watch someone actually dying from something so easily fixed. Walter tired easily but was always cheerful. The white-blond woman—her eyes contrastingly dark—who’d brought water to the others that first day in the field was Heidi. Travis, John, Stanley, Reid, Carol, Violetta, Ruth Ann… I knew all the names, at least. There were thirty-five humans in the colony, with six of them gone on the raid, Jared included. Twenty-nine humans in the caves now, and one mostly unwelcome alien.