Stephenie Meyer - The Host

Doc began to shuffle through some papers, humming almost inaudibly to himself. I drifted off to the sound of the gentle rustling.

Walter recognized me in the morning.

He didn’t wake until Ian showed up to escort me back; the cornfield was due to be cleared of the old stalks. I promised Doc I would bring him breakfast before I got to work. The very last thing I did was to carefully loosen my numb fingers, freeing them from Walter’s grasp.

His eyes opened. “Wanda,” he whispered.

“Walter?” I wasn’t sure how long he would know me, or if he would remember last night. His hand clutched at the empty air, so I gave him my left, the one that wasn’t dead.

“You came to see me. That was nice. I know… with the others back… must be hard… for you… Your face…”

He seemed to be having a difficult time making his lips form the words, and his eyes went in and out of focus. How like him, that his first words to me would be full of concern.

“Everything’s fine, Walter. How are you feeling?”

“Ah -” He groaned quietly. “Not so… Doc?”

“Right here,” Doc murmured, close behind me.

“Got any more liquor?” he gasped.

“Of course.”

Doc was already prepared. He held the mouth of a thick glass bottle to Walter’s slack lips and carefully poured the dark brown liquid in slow drips into his mouth. Walter winced as each sip burned down his throat. Some of it trickled out the side of his mouth and onto his pillow. The smell stung my nose.

“Better?” Doc asked after a long moment of slow pouring.

Walter grunted. It didn’t sound like assent. His eyes closed.

“More?” Doc asked.

Walter grimaced and then moaned.

Doc cursed under his breath. “Where’s Jared?” he muttered.

I stiffened at the name. Melanie stirred and then drifted again.

Walter’s face sagged. His head rolled back on his neck.

“Walter?” I whispered.

“The pain’s too much for him to stay conscious. Let him be,” Doc said.

My throat felt swollen. “What can I do?”

Doc’s voice was desolate. “About as much as I can. Which is nothing. I’m useless.”

“Don’t be like that, Doc,” I heard Ian murmur. “This isn’t your fault. The world doesn’t work the way it used to. No one expects more of you.”

My shoulders hunched inward. No, their world didn’t work the same way anymore.

A finger tapped my arm. “Let’s go,” Ian whispered.

I nodded and started to pull my hand free again.

Walter’s eyes rolled open, unseeing. “Gladdie? Are you here?” he implored.

“Um… I’m here,” I said uncertainly, letting his fingers lock around mine.

Ian shrugged. “I’ll get you both some food,” he whispered, and then he left.

I waited anxiously for him to return, unnerved by Walter’s misconception. Walter murmured Gladys’s name over and over, but he didn’t seem to need anything from me, for which I was grateful. After a while, half an hour maybe, I began listening for Ian’s footsteps in the tunnel, wondering what could be taking him so long.

Doc stood by his desk the whole time, staring into nothing with his shoulders slumped. It was easy to see how useless he felt.

And then I did hear something, but it wasn’t footsteps.

“What is that?” I asked Doc in a whisper; Walter was quiet again, maybe unconscious. I didn’t want to disturb him.

Doc turned to look at me, cocking his head to the side at the same time to listen.

The noise was a funny thrumming, a fast, soft beat. I thought I heard it get just a little louder, but then it seemed quieter again.

“That’s weird,” Doc said. “It almost sounds like…” He paused, his forehead furrowing in concentration as the unfamiliar sound faded.

We were listening intently, so we heard the footsteps when they were still far away. They did not match the expected, even pace of Ian’s return. He was running-no, sprinting.

Doc reacted immediately to the sound of trouble. He jogged quickly out to meet Ian. I wished I could see what was wrong, too, but I didn’t want to upset Walter by trying to free my hand again. I listened hard instead.

“Brandt?” I heard Doc say in surprise.

“Where is it? Where is it? ” the other man demanded breathlessly. The running footsteps only paused for a second, then started up again, not quite as fast.

“What are you talking about?” Doc asked, calling back this way.

“The parasite!” Brandt hissed impatiently, anxiously, as he burst through the arched entry.

Brandt was not a big man like Kyle or Ian; he was probably only a few inches taller than me, but he was thick and solid as a rhinoceros. His eyes swept the room; his piercing gaze focused on my face for half a second, then took in Walter’s oblivious form, and then raced around the room only to end up on me again.

Doc caught up with Brandt then, his long fingers gripping Brandt’s shoulder just as the broader man took the first step in my direction.

“What are you doing?” Doc asked, his voice the closest to a growl I’d ever heard it.

Before Brandt answered, the odd sound returned, going from soft to screaming loud to soft again with a suddenness that had us all frozen. The beats thudded right on top of one another, shaking the air when they were at their loudest.

“Is that-is that a helicopter?” Doc asked, whispering.

“Yes,” Brandt whispered back. “It’s the Seeker-the one from before, the one who was looking for it. ” He jerked his chin at me.

My throat was suddenly too small-the breaths moving through it were thin and shallow, not enough. I felt dizzy.

No. Not now. Please.

What is her problem? Mel snarled in my head. Why can’t she leave us alone?

We can’t let her hurt them!

But how do we stop her?

I don’t know. This is all my fault!

Mine, too, Wanda. Ours.

“Are you sure?” Doc asked.

“Kyle got a clear view through the binoculars while it was hovering. Same one he saw before.”

“Is it looking here? ” Doc’s voice was suddenly horrified. He half spun, eyes flashing toward the exit. “Where’s Sharon?”

Brandt shook his head. “It’s just running sweeps. Starts at Picacho, then fans out in spokes. Doesn’t look like it’s focusing on anything close. Circled around a few times where we dumped the car.”

“Sharon?” Doc asked again.

“She’s with the kids and Lucina. They’re fine. The boys are getting things packed in case we have to roll tonight, but Jeb says it’s not likely.”

Doc exhaled, then paced over to his desk. He slouched against it, looking as if he’d just run a long race. “So it’s nothing new, really,” he murmured.

“Naw. Just have to lay low for a few days,” Brandt reassured him. His eyes were flickering around the room again, settling on me every other second. “Do you have any rope handy?” he asked. He pulled up the edge of the sheet on an empty cot, examining it.

“Rope?” Doc echoed blankly.

“For the parasite. Kyle sent me out here to secure it.”

My muscles contracted involuntarily; my hand gripped Walter’s fingers too tightly, and he whimpered. I tried to force it to relax while I kept my eyes on Brandt’s hard face. He was waiting for Doc, expectant.

“You’re here to secure Wanda?” Doc said, his voice hard again. “And what makes you think that’s necessary?”

“Come on, Doc. Don’t be stupid. You’ve got some big vents in here, and a lot of reflective metal.” Brandt gestured to a file cabinet against the far wall. “You let your attention wander for half a minute, and it’ll be flashing signals to that Seeker.”