Stephenie Meyer - The Host

“You don’t have to keep your eyes down,” he told me when my head ducked automatically. “There’s nothing here to give us away. Just in case this place was ever discovered.”

It wasn’t a cave. It was a rock slide. A few of the bigger boulders had been carefully excavated, leaving clever dark spaces under them that no one would suspect of housing anything but dirt and smaller rocks.

The jeep was already lodged in a tight space. I was so close to the rock, I had to climb over the back of the jeep to get out. There was something odd attached to the bumper-chains and two very dirty tarps, all ragged and torn.

“Here,” Jared said, and led the way to a shadowy crevice just a little shorter than he was. He brushed aside a dusty, dirt-colored tarp and rifled through a pile hiding behind it. He pulled out a T-shirt, soft and clean, with tags still attached. He ripped those off and threw the shirt to me. Then he dug until he found a pair of khaki pants. He checked the size, then flipped them to me, too.

“Put them on.”

I hesitated for a moment while he waited, wondering what my problem was. I flushed and then turned my back to him. I yanked my ragged shirt over my head and replaced it as quickly as my fumbling fingers could manage.

I heard him clear his throat. “Oh. I’ll, uh, get the car.” His footsteps moved away.

I stripped off my tattered cutoff sweats and pulled the crisp new pants into place. My shoes were in bad shape, but they weren’t that noticeable. Besides, comfortable shoes weren’t always easy to come by. I could pretend I had an attachment to this pair.

Another engine came to life, quieter than the jeep’s. I turned to see a modest, unremarkable sedan pull out of a deep shadow under a boulder. Jared got out and chained the tattered tarps from the jeep to this car’s rear bumper. Then he drove it to where I stood, and as I saw the heavy tarps wipe the tire tracks from the dirt, I comprehended their purpose.

Jared leaned across the seat to open the passenger door. There was a backpack on the seat. It lay flat, empty. I nodded to myself. Yes, this I needed.

“Let’s go.”

“Hold on,” I said.

I crouched to look at myself in the side mirror.

Not good. I flipped my chin-length hair over my cheek, but it wasn’t enough. I touched my cheek and bit my lip.

“Jared. I can’t go in with my face like this.” I pointed to the long, jagged scar across my skin.

“What?” he demanded.

“No soul would have a scar like this. They would have had it treated. They’ll wonder where I’ve been. They’ll ask questions.”

His eyes widened and then narrowed. “Maybe you should have thought of this before I snuck you out. If we go back now, they’ll think it was a ploy for you to learn the way out.”

“We’re not going back without medicine for Jamie.” My voice was harder than his.

His got harder to match it. “What do you propose we do, then, Wanda?”

“I’ll need a rock.” I sighed. “You’re going to have to hit me.”

Wanda…”

“We don’t have time. I’d do it myself, but I can’t get the angle right. There’s no other way.”

“I don’t think I can… do it.”

“For Jamie, even?” I pushed the good side of my face as hard as I could against the headrest of the passenger seat and closed my eyes.

Jared was holding the rough fist-sized stone I’d found. He’d been weighing it in his hand for five minutes.

“You just have to get the first few layers of skin off. Just hide the scar, that’s all. C’mon, Jared, we have to hurry. Jamie…”

Tell him I said to do it now. And make it a good one.

“Mel says do it now. And make sure you do it hard enough. Get it all the first time.”

Silence.

“Do it, Jared!”

He took a deep breath, a gasp. I felt the air move and squeezed my eyes tighter.

It made a squishing sound and a thud-that was the first thing I noticed-and then the shock of the blow wore off, and I felt it, too.

“Ungh,” I groaned. I hadn’t meant to make any sound. I knew that would make it worse for him. But so much was involuntary with this body. Tears sprang up in my eyes, and I coughed to hide a sob. My head rang, vibrated in aftershock.

“Wanda? Mel? I’m sorry!”

His arms wrapped around us, pulled us into his chest.

“’S okay,” I whimpered. “We’re okay. Did you get it all?”

His hand touched my chin, turned my head.

“Ahh,” he gasped, sickened. “I took half your face off. I’m so sorry.”

“No, that’s good. That’s good. Let’s go.”

“Right.” His voice was still weak, but he leaned me back into my seat, settling me carefully, and then the car rumbled beneath us.

Ice-cold air blew in my face, shocking me, stinging my raw cheek. I’d forgotten what air-conditioning felt like.

I opened my eyes. We were driving down a smooth wash-smoother than it should have been, carefully altered to be this way. It snaked away from us, coiling around the brush. I couldn’t see very far ahead.

I pulled the visor down and flipped open the mirror. In the shadowy moonlight, my face was black and white. Black all across the right side, oozing down my chin, dripping across my neck, and seeping into the collar of my new, clean shirt.

My stomach heaved.

“Good job,” I whispered.

“How much pain are you in?”

“Not much,” I lied. “Anyway, it won’t hurt much longer. How far are we from Tucson?”

Just then, we reached pavement. Funny how the sight of it made my heart race in panic. Jared stopped, keeping the car hidden in the brush. He got out and removed the tarps and chains from the bumper, putting them in the trunk. He got back in and eased the car forward, checking carefully to make sure the highway was empty. He reached for the headlights.

“Wait,” I whispered. I couldn’t speak louder. I felt so exposed here. “Let me drive.”

He looked at me.

“It can’t look like I walked to the hospital like this. Too many questions. I have to drive. You hide in the back and tell me where to go. Is there something you can hide under?”

“Okay,” he said slowly. He put the car into reverse and pulled it back into the deeper brush. “Okay. I’ll hide. But if you take us somewhere I don’t tell you to go…”

Oh! Melanie was stung by his doubt, as was I.

My voice was flat. “Shoot me.”

He didn’t answer. He got out, leaving the engine running. I slid across the cup holders into his seat. I heard the trunk slam.

Jared climbed into the backseat, a thick plaid blanket under his arm.

“Turn right at the road,” he said.

The car was an automatic, but it had been a long time and I was unsure behind the wheel. I moved ahead carefully, pleased to find that I remembered how to drive. The highway was still empty. I pulled out onto the road, my heart reacting to the open space again.

“Lights,” Jared said. His voice came from low on the bench.

I searched till I found the switch, then flicked them on. They seemed horribly bright.

We weren’t far from Tucson -I could see a yellowish glow of color against the sky. The lights of the city ahead.

“You could drive a little faster.”

“I’m right at the limit,” I protested.

He paused for a second. “Souls don’t speed?”

I laughed. The sound was only a tad hysterical. “We obey all laws, traffic laws included.”

The lights became more than a glow-they turned into individual points of brightness. Green signs informed me of my exit options.

“ Take Ina Road.”

I followed his instructions. He kept his voice low, though, enclosed as we were, we could both have shouted.