Stephenie Meyer - The Host

“Oh,” Doc muttered. “You’ve slept even less than I have, haven’t you, Wanda? We should let you get some rest.”

“’M fine,” I mumbled, but I didn’t open my eyes.

“That’s just great,” someone said under his breath. “We’ve got a bloody queen mother alien living with us. She could blow into a million new buggers at any moment.”

“Shh.”

“They couldn’t hurt you,” I told whoever it was, not opening my eyes. “Without host bodies, they would die quickly.” I winced, imagining the unimaginable grief. A million tiny, helpless souls, tiny silver babies, withering…

No one answered me, but I could feel their relief in the air.

I was so tired. I didn’t care that Kyle was three feet from me. I didn’t care that two of the men in the room would side with Kyle if he came around. I didn’t care about anything but sleep.

Of course, that was when Walter woke up.

“Uuuh,” he groaned, just a whisper. “Gladdie?”

With a groan of my own, I rolled toward him. The pain in my leg made me wince, but I couldn’t twist my torso. I reached out to him, found his hand.

“Here,” I whispered.

“Ahh,” Walter sighed in relief.

Doc hushed the men who began to protest. “Wanda’s given up sleep and peace to help him through the pain. Her hands are bruised from holding his. What have you done for him?”

Walter groaned again. The sound began low and guttural but turned quickly to a high-pitched whimper.

Doc winced. “Aaron, Andy, Wes… would you, ah, go get Sharon for me, please?”

“All of us?”

“Get out,” Jeb translated.

The only answer was a shuffling of feet as they left.

“Wanda,” Doc whispered, close beside my ear. “He’s in pain. I can’t let him come all the way around.”

I tried to breathe evenly. “It’s better if he doesn’t know me. It’s better if he thinks Gladdie is here.”

I pulled my eyes open. Jeb was beside Walter, whose face still looked as if he slept.

“Bye, Walt,” Jeb said. “See you on the other side.”

He stepped back.

“You’re a good man. You’ll be missed,” Jared murmured.

Doc was fumbling in the package of morphine again. The paper crackled.

“Gladdie?” Walt sobbed. “It hurts.”

“Shhh. It won’t hurt much longer. Doc will make it stop.”

“Gladdie?”

“Yes?”

“I love you, Gladdie. I’ve loved you my whole life long.”

“I know, Walter. I-I love you, too. You know how I love you.”

Walter sighed.

I closed my eyes when Doc leaned over Walter with the syringe.

“Sleep well, friend,” Doc murmured.

Walter’s fingers relaxed, loosened. I held on to them-I was the one clinging now.

The minutes passed, and all was quiet except my breathing. It was hitching and breaking, tending toward quiet sobs.

Someone patted my shoulder. “He’s gone, Wanda,” Doc said, his voice thick. “He’s out of pain.”

He pulled my hand free and rolled me carefully out of my awkward position into one that was less agonizing. But only slightly so. Now that I knew Walter wouldn’t be disturbed, the sobs were not so quiet. I clutched at my side, where it throbbed.

“Oh, go ahead. You won’t be happy otherwise,” Jared muttered in a grudging tone. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t do it.

Something stung my arm. I didn’t remember having hurt my arm. And in such a strange place, just inside my elbow…

Morphine, Melanie whispered.

We were already drifting now. I tried to be alarmed, but I couldn’t be. I was too far gone.

No one said goodbye, I thought dully. I couldn’t expect Jared… but Jeb… Doc… Ian wasn’t here…

No one’s dying, she promised me. Just sleeping this time…

When I woke, the ceiling above me was dim, starlit. Nighttime. There were so many stars. I wondered where I was. There were no black obstructions, no pieces of ceiling in my view. Just stars and stars and stars…

Wind fanned my face. It smelled like… dust and… something I couldn’t put my finger on. An absence. The musty smell was gone. No sulfur, and it was so dry.

“Wanda?” someone whispered, touching my good cheek.

My eyes found Ian’s face, white in the starlight, leaning over me. His hand on my skin was cooler than the breeze, but the air was so dry it wasn’t uncomfortable. Where was I?

“Wanda? Are you awake? They won’t wait any longer.”

I whispered because he did. “What?”

“They’re starting already. I knew you would want to be here.”

“She comin’ around?” Jeb’s voice asked.

“What’s starting?” I asked.

“Walter’s funeral.”

I tried to sit up, but my body was all rubbery. Ian’s hand moved to my forehead, holding me down.

I twisted my head under his hand, trying to see…

I was outside.

Outside.

On my left, a rough, tumbled pile of boulders formed a miniature mountain, complete with scrubby brush. On my right, the desert plain stretched away from me, disappearing in the darkness. I looked down past my feet, and I could see the huddle of humans, ill at ease in the open air. I knew just how they felt. Exposed.

I tried to get up again. I wanted to be closer, to see. Ian’s hand restrained me.

“Easy there,” he said. “Don’t try to stand.”

“Help me,” I pleaded.

“Wanda?”

I heard Jamie’s voice, and then I saw him, his hair bobbing as he ran to where I was lying.

My fingertips traced the edges of the mat beneath me. How did I get here, sleeping under the stars?

“They didn’t wait,” Jamie said to Ian. “It will be over soon.”

“Help me up,” I said.

Jamie reached for my hand, but Ian shook his head. “I got her.”

Ian slid his arms under me, very careful to avoid the worst of the sore spots. He pulled me up off the ground, and my head spun like a ship about to capsize. I groaned.

“What did Doc do to me?”

“He gave you a little of the leftover morphine, so that he could check you out without hurting you. You needed sleep anyway.”

I frowned, disapproving. “Won’t someone else need the medicine more?”

“Shh,” he said, and I could hear a low voice in the distance. I turned my head.

I could see the group of humans again. They stood at the mouth of a low, dark, open space carved out by the wind under the unstable-looking pile of boulders. They stood in a ragged line, facing the shadowed grotto.

I recognized Trudy’s voice.

“Walter always saw the bright side of things. He could see the bright side of a black hole. I’ll miss that.”

I saw a figure step forward, saw the gray-and-black braid swing as she moved, and watched Trudy toss a handful of something into the darkness. Sand scattered from her fingers, falling to the ground with a faint hiss.

She went back to stand beside her husband. Geoffrey moved away from her, stepped forward toward the black space.

“He’ll find his Gladys now. He’s happier where he is.” Geoffrey threw his handful of dirt.

Ian carried me to the right side of the line of people, close enough to see into the murky grotto. There was a darker space on the ground in front of us, a big oblong around which the entire human population stood in a loose half circle.

Everyone was there-everyone.

Kyle stepped forward.

I trembled, and Ian squeezed me gently.

Kyle did not look in our direction. I saw his face in profile; his right eye was nearly swollen shut.

“Walter died human,” Kyle said. “None of us can ask for more than that.” He threw a fistful of dirt into the dark shape on the ground.

Kyle rejoined the group.