Stephenie Meyer - The Host

“Fine,” Jared snapped. “But if you try cuddling up to me tonight… so help me, O’Shea.”

Ian chuckled. “Not to sound overly arrogant, but to be perfectly honest, Jared, were I so inclined, I think I could do better.”

Despite feeling a little guilty about wasting so much needed space, I probably did sleep better alone.

We didn’t have to go to a hotel again. The days started to pass more quickly, as if even the seconds were trying to run home. I could feel a strange western pull on my body. We were all eager to get back to our dark, crowded haven.

Even Jared got careless.

It was late, no sunlight left lingering behind the western mountains. Behind us, Ian and Kyle were taking turns driving the big moving truck loaded with our spoils, just as Jared and I took turns with the van. They had to drive the heavy vehicle more carefully than Jared did the van. The headlights had faded slowly into the distance, until they disappeared around a wide curve in the road.

We were on the homestretch. Tucson was behind us. In a few short hours, I would see Jamie. We would unload the welcome provisions, surrounded by smiling faces. A real homecoming.

My first, I realized.

For once the return would bring nothing but joy. We carried no doomed hostages this time.

I wasn’t paying attention to anything but anticipation. The road didn’t seem to be flying by too fast; it couldn’t fly past fast enough as far as I was concerned.

The truck’s headlights reappeared behind us.

“Kyle must be driving,” I murmured. “They’re catching up.”

And then the red and blue lights suddenly spun out in the dark night behind us. They reflected off all the mirrors, dancing spots of color across the roof, the seats, our frozen faces, and the dashboard, where the needle on the speed gauge showed that we were traveling twenty miles over the speed limit.

The sound of a siren pierced the desert calm.

The red and blue lights swirled in time with the siren’s cry.

Before the souls had come to this place, these lights and sounds had had only one meaning. The law, the keepers of the peace, the punishers of offenders.

Now, again, the flashing colors and angry noise had only one meaning. A very similar meaning. Still the keepers of the peace. Still the punishers.

Seekers.

It wasn’t as common a sight or sound as it had been before. The police force was only needed to help in cases of accidents or other emergencies, not to enforce laws. Most civil servants didn’t have vehicles with sirens, unless the vehicle was an ambulance or a fire truck.

This low, sleek car behind us was not for any accident. This was a vehicle made for pursuit. I’d never seen anything quite like it before, but I knew exactly what it meant.

Jared was frozen, his foot still pushing down on the gas pedal. I could see that he was trying to find a solution, a way to outrun them in this decrepit van or a way to evade them-to hide our wide white profile in the low, gaunt brush of the desert-without leading them back to the rest. Without giving everyone away. We were so close to the others now. They slumbered, unaware…

When he gave up after two seconds of frantic thought, he exhaled.

“I’m so sorry, Wanda,” he whispered. “I blew it.”

“Jared?”

He reached for my hand and eased up on the gas. The car started to slow.

“Got your pill?” he choked.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Can Mel hear me?”

Yes. The thought was a sob.

“Yes.” My voice only barely escaped being a sob, too.

“I love you, Mel. Sorry.”

“She loves you. More than anything.”

A short, aching silence.

“Wanda, I… I care about you, too. You’re a good person, Wanda. You deserve better than what I’ve given you. Better than this.”

He had something small, much too small to be so deadly, between his fingers.

“Wait,” I gasped.

He could not die.

“Wanda, we can’t take the chance. We can’t outrun them, not in this. If we try to run, a thousand of them will swarm after us. Think of Jamie.”

The van was slowing, drifting to the shoulder.

“Give me one try,” I begged. I fumbled quickly for the pill in my pocket. I pinched it between my thumb and forefinger and held it up. “Let me try to lie us out of this. I’ll swallow it right away if anything goes wrong.”

“You’ll never lie your way past a Seeker!”

“Let me try. Quick!” I pulled off my seat belt and crouched be-side him, unfastening his. “Switch with me. Fast, before they’re close enough to see.”

“Wanda -”

“One try. Hurry!”

He was the best at split-second decisions. Smooth and fast, he was out of the driver’s seat and over my crouched body. I rolled up into his seat while he took mine.

“Seat belt,” I ordered tersely. “Close your eyes. Turn your head away.”

He did as I said. It was too dark to see it, but his new soft pink scar would be visible from this angle.

I strapped my seat belt on and then leaned my head back.

Lying with my body, that was the key. It was simply a matter of the right movements. Imitation. Like the actors on the TV program, only better. Like a human.

“Help me, Mel,” I murmured.

I can’t help you be a better soul, Wanda. But you can do this. Save him. I know you can.

A better soul. I only had to be myself.

It was late. I was tired. I wouldn’t have to act that part.

I let my eyelids droop, let my body sag against the seat.

Chagrin. I could do chagrin. I could feel it now.

My mouth turned down into a sheepish grimace.

The Seekers’ car did not park behind us, the way I could feel Mel expected. It stopped across the road, on the shoulder, facing the wrong way for that lane’s traffic flow. A dazzling light exploded through the window of the other car. I blinked into it, raising my hand to shade my face with deliberate slowness. Faintly, past the glare of the spotlight, I saw the gleam of my eyes bounce against the road as I looked down.

A car door slammed. One set of footsteps made a pattern of low thuds as someone crossed the pavement. There was no sound of dirt or rocks, so the Seeker had emerged from the passenger side. Two of them, at least, but only one coming to interrogate me. This was a good sign, a sign of comfort and confidence.

My glowing eyes were a talisman. A compass that could not fail-like the North Star, undoubtable.

Lying with my body was not the key. Telling the truth with it was enough. I had something in common with the human baby in the park: nothing like me had ever existed before.

The Seeker’s body blocked the light, and I could see again.

It was a man. Probably middle-aged-his features conflicted with one another, making it hard to tell; his hair was all white, but his face was smooth and unwrinkled. He wore a T-shirt and shorts, a blocky gun clearly visible on his hip. One hand rested on the butt of the weapon. In his other hand was a dark flashlight. He didn’t turn it on.

“Having a problem, miss?” he said when he was a few feet away. “You were going much too fast for safety.”

His eyes were restless. They swiftly appraised my expression-which was, hopefully, sleepy-and then ran along the length of the van, darted into the darkness behind us, flashed forward to the stretch of highway ahead, lit by our headlights, and came back to my face. They repeated the course another time.

He was anxious. This knowledge made my palms sweaty, but I tried to keep the panic from my voice.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized in a loud whisper. I glanced at Jared, as if checking to see whether our words had woken him. “I think… well, I think I might have fallen asleep. I didn’t realize I was so tired.”