Stephenie Meyer - The Host

I kept myself focused on the task at hand.

Jared laid the Seeker’s inert form on the cot with exceptional gentleness. This might have bothered me before, but now it touched me. I understood that he did this for me, wishing that he could have treated me this way in the beginning.

“Doc, where’s the No Pain?”

“I’ll get it for you,” he murmured.

I stared at the Seeker’s face while I waited, wondering what it would look like when her host was free. Would anything be left? Would the host be empty or would the rightful owner reassert herself? Would the face be less repugnant to me when another awareness looked out of those eyes?

“Here you go.” Doc put the canister in my hand.

“Thanks.”

I pulled out one thin tissue square and handed the container back to him.

I found myself reluctant to touch the Seeker, but I made my hands move swiftly and purposefully as I pulled her chin down and put the No Pain on her tongue. Her face was very small-it made my hands feel big. Her tiny size always threw me off. It seemed so inappropriate.

I closed her mouth again. It was moist-the medicine would dissolve quickly.

“Jared, could you please roll her onto her stomach?” I asked.

He did as I asked-again, gently. Just then, the propane lantern flared to life. The cave was suddenly bright, almost like daylight. I glanced up instinctively and saw that Doc had covered the big holes in the roof with tarps to keep our light from escaping. He’d done a lot of preparation in our absence.

It was very quiet. I could hear the Seeker breathing evenly in and out. I could hear the faster, tenser breathing of the men in the room with me. Someone shifted from one foot to the other, and sand ground against rock under his heel. Their stares had a physical weight on my skin.

I swallowed, hoping I could keep my voice normal. “Doc, I need Heal, Clean, Seal, and Smooth.”

“Right here.”

I brushed the Seeker’s coarse black hair out of the way, exposing the little pink line at the base of her skull. I stared at her olive tan skin and hesitated.

“Would you cut, Doc? I don’t… I don’t want to.”

“No problem, Wanda.”

I saw only his hands as he came to stand across from me. He set a little row of white cylinders on the cot next to the Seeker’s shoulder. The scalpel winked in the bright light, flashing across my face.

“Hold her hair out of the way.”

I used both hands to clear her neck.

“Wish I could scrub up,” Doc muttered to himself, obviously feeling underprepared.

“It’s not really necessary. We have Clean.”

“I know.” He sighed. What he really wanted was the routine, the mental cleansing that the old habits had given him.

“How much room do you need?” he asked, hesitating with the point of the blade an inch from her skin.

I could feel the heat of the other bodies behind me, squeezing in to get a better view. They were careful not to touch either of us.

“Just the length of the scar. That will be enough.”

This didn’t seem like enough to him. “You sure?”

“Yes. Oh, wait!”

Doc pulled back.

I realized I was doing this all backward. I was no Healer. I wasn’t cut out for this. My hands were shaking. I couldn’t seem to look away from the Seeker’s body.

“Jared, could you get one of those tanks for me?”

“Of course.”

I heard him walk the few steps away, heard the dull, metallic clunk of the tank he chose knocking against the others.

“What now?”

“There’s a circle on top of the lid. Press it in.”

I heard the low hum of the cryotank as it powered on. The men muttered and shuffled their feet, moving away from it.

“Okay, on the side there should be a switch… more like a dial, actually. Can you see it?”

“Yes.”

“Spin it all the way down.”

“Okay.”

“What color is the light on top of the tank?”

“It’s… it’s just turning from purple to… bright blue. Light blue now.”

I took a deep breath. At least the tanks were functional.

“Great. Pop the lid and wait for me.”

“How?”

“Latch under the lip.”

“Got it.” I heard the click of the latch, and then the whir of the mechanism. “It’s cold! ”

“That’s sort of the point.”

“How does it work? What’s the power source?”

I sighed. “I knew the answers when I was a Spider. I don’t understand it now. Doc, you can go ahead. I’m ready.”

“Here we go,” Doc whispered as he slid the blade of the scalpel deftly, almost gracefully, through the skin. Blood coursed down the side of her neck, pooling on the towel Doc had placed underneath.

“A tiny bit deeper. Just under the edge -”

“Yes, I see.” Doc was breathing fast, excited.

Silver glinted out from the red.

“That’s good. Now you hold the hair.”

Doc switched places with me in a smooth, swift movement. He was good at his Calling. He would have made quite a Healer.

I didn’t try to hide what I was doing from him. The movements were too minute for him to have any chance of seeing. He would not be able to do this until I explained.

I slid one fingertip carefully along the back ridge of the tiny silver creature until my finger was almost entirely inserted into the hot opening at the base of the host body’s neck. I traced my way to the anterior antennae, feeling the taut lines of the bound attachments stretched tight like harp strings into the deeper recesses of her head.

I twisted my finger around the underside of the soul’s body, caressing down from the first segment along the other line of attachments, as stiff and profuse as the bristles of a brush.

I felt carefully at the juncture of these tight strings, at the tiny joints, no bigger than pinheads. I stroked my way about a third of the way down. I could have counted, but that would have taken a very long time. It would be the two hundred seventeenth connection, but there was another way to find it. There it was, the little ridge that made this joint just a bit bigger-a seed pearl rather than a pinhead. It was smooth under my fingertip.

I pressed against it with gentle pressure, tenderly massaging. Kindness was always the way of the souls. Never violence.

“Relax,” I breathed.

And, though the soul could not hear me, it obeyed. The harp strings loosened, went slack. I could feel the slither as they retracted, feel the slight swelling of the body as it absorbed them. The process took no more than a few beats of my heart. I held my breath until I felt the soul undulate under my touch. Wriggling free.

I let it twist itself a little farther out, and then I curled my fingers gently around the tiny, fragile body. I lifted it, silver and gleaming, wet with blood that was quickly shed from the smooth casing, and cradled it in my hand.

It was beautiful. The soul whose name I’d never known billowed like a silver wave in my hand… a lovely feathered ribbon.

I couldn’t hate the Seeker in this form. An almost maternal love swept through me.

“Sleep well, little one,” I whispered.

I turned toward the faint hum of the cryotank, just to my left. Jared held it low and angled, so it was a simple matter for me to ease the soul into the shockingly cold air that gusted from the opening. I let it slide into the small space and then carefully relatched the lid.

I took the cryotank from Jared, easing it rather than tugging it, turning it with care until it was vertical, and then I hugged it to my chest. The outside of the tank was the same temperature as the warm room. I cradled it to my body, protective as any mother.

I looked back at the stranger on the table. Doc was already dust-ing Smooth over the sealed wound. We made a good team: one attending to the soul, the other to the body. Everyone was taken care of.