The Host 4 page

I was on my feet, shaking. The tears that came so easily were, for once, absent, and my hands trembled in tight fists.

“Wanderer?”

But I turned and ran for the door, fighting the words that could not come out of my mouth. Words that could not be my words. Words that made no sense unless they were hers, but they felt like mine. They couldn’t be mine. They couldn’t be spoken.

That’s killing him! That’s making him cease to be! I don’t want someone else. I want Jared, not a stranger in his body! The body means nothing without him.

I heard Kathy calling my name behind me as I ran into the road.

I didn’t live far from the Comforter’s office, but the darkness in the street disoriented me. I’d gone two blocks before I realized I was running in the wrong direction.

People were looking at me. I wasn’t dressed for exercise, and I wasn’t jogging, I was fleeing. But no one bothered me; they politely averted their eyes. They would guess that I was new to this host. Acting out the way a child would.

I slowed to a walk, turning north so that I could loop around without passing Kathy’s office again.

My walk was only slightly slower than a run. I heard my feet hitting the sidewalk too quickly, as though they were trying to match the tempo of a dance song. Slap, slap, slap against the concrete. No, it wasn’t like a drumbeat, it was too angry. Like violence. Slap, slap, slap. Someone hitting someone else. I shuddered away from the horrible image.

I could see the lamp on over my apartment door. It hadn’t taken me long to cover the distance. I didn’t cross the road, though.

I felt sick. I remembered what it felt like to vomit, though I never had. The cold wetness dewed on my forehead, the hollow sound rang in my ears. I was pretty sure I was about to have that experience for my own.

There was a bank of grass beside the walk. Around a streetlamp there was a well‑trimmed hedge. I had no time to look for a better place. I stumbled to the light and caught the post to hold myself up. The nausea was making me dizzy.

Yes, I was definitely going to experience throwing up.

“Wanderer, is that you? Wanderer, are you ill?”

The vaguely familiar voice was impossible to concentrate on. But it made things worse, knowing I had an audience as I leaned my face close to the bush and violently choked up my most recent meal.

“Who’s your Healer here?” the voice asked. It sounded far away through the buzzing in my ears. A hand touched my arched back. “Do you need an ambulance?”

I coughed twice and shook my head. I was sure it was over; my stomach was empty.

“I’m not ill,” I said I as pulled myself upright using the lamppost for support. I looked over to see who was watching my moment of disgrace.

The Seeker from Chicago had her cell phone in her hand, trying to decide which authority to call. I took one good look at her and bent over the leaves again. Empty stomach or no, she was the last person I needed to see right now.

But, as my stomach heaved uselessly, I realized that there would be a reason for her presence.

Oh, no! Oh, no no no no no no!

“Why?” I gasped, panic and sickness stealing the volume from my voice. “Why are you here? What’s happened?” The Comforter’s very uncomforting words pounded in my head.

I stared at the hands gripping the collar of the Seeker’s black suit for two seconds before I realized they were mine.

“Stop!” she said, and there was outrage on her face. Her voice rattled.

I was shaking her.

My hands jerked open and landed against my face. “Excuse me!” I huffed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was doing.”

The Seeker scowled at me and smoothed the front of her outfit. “You’re not well, and I suppose I startled you.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” I whispered. “Why are you here?”

“Let’s get you to a Healing facility before we speak. If you have a flu, you should get it healed. There’s no point in letting it wear your body down.”

“I don’t have a flu. I’m not ill.”

“Did you eat bad food? You must report where you got it.”

Her prying was very annoying. “I did not eat bad food, either. I’m healthy.”

“Why don’t you have a Healer check? A quick scan‑you shouldn’t neglect your host. That’s irresponsible. Especially when health care is so easy and effective.”

I took a deep breath and resisted the urge to shake her again. She was a full head shorter than I was. It was a fight I would win.

A fight? I turned away from her and walked swiftly toward my home. I was dangerously emotional. I needed to calm down before I did something inexcusable.

“Wanderer? Wait! The Healer ‑”

“I need no Healer,” I said without turning. “That was just… an emotional imbalance. I’m fine now.”

The Seeker didn’t answer. I wondered what she made of my response. I could hear her shoes‑high heels‑tapping after me, so I left the door open, knowing she would follow me in. I went to the sink and filled a glass with water. She waited silently while I rinsed my mouth and spat. When I was through, I leaned against the counter, staring into the basin.

She was soon bored.

“So, Wanderer… or do you still go by that name? I don’t mean to be rude in calling you that.”

I didn’t look at her. “I still go by Wanderer.”

“Interesting. I pegged you for one that would choose her own.”

“I did choose. I chose Wanderer.”

It had long been clear to me that the mild spat I’d overheard the first day I woke in the Healing facility was the Seeker’s fault. The Seeker was the most confrontational soul I’d come across in nine lives. My first Healer, Fords Deep Waters, had been calm, kind, and wise, even for a soul. Yet he had not been able to help reacting to her. That made me feel better about my own response.

I turned around to face her. She was on my small couch, nestled in comfortably as if for a long visit. Her expression was self‑satisfied, the bulging eyes amused. I controlled the desire to scowl.

“Why are you here?” I asked again. My voice was a monotone. Restrained. I would not lose control again in front of this woman.

“It’s been a while since I heard anything from you, so I thought I would check in personally. We’ve still made no headway in your case.”

My hands clamped down on the edge of the counter behind me, but I kept the wild relief from my voice.

“That seems… overzealous. Besides, I sent you a message last night.”

Her eyebrows came together in that way she had, a way that made her look angry and annoyed at the same time, as if you, not she, were responsible for her anger. She pulled out her palm computer and touched the screen a few times.

“Oh,” she said stiffly. “I haven’t checked my mail today.”

She was quiet as she scanned through what I had written.

“I sent it very early in the morning,” I said. “I was half asleep at the time. I’m not sure how much of what I wrote was memory or dream, or sleep‑typing, maybe.”

I went along with the words‑Melanie’s words‑as they flowed easily from my mouth; I even added my own lighthearted laugh at the end. It was dishonest of me. Shameful behavior. But I would not let the Seeker know that I was weaker than my host.

For once, Melanie was not smug at having bested me. She was too relieved, too grateful that I had not, for my own petty reasons, given her away.

“Interesting,” the Seeker murmured. “Another one on the loose.” She shook her head. “Peace continues to elude us.” She did not seem dismayed by the idea of a fragile peace‑rather, it seemed to please her.

I bit my lip hard. Melanie wanted so badly to make another denial, to claim the boy was just part of a dream. Don’t be stupid, I told her. That would be so obvious. It said much for the repellent nature of the Seeker that she could put Melanie and me on the same side of an argument.

I hate her. Melanie’s whisper was sharp, painful like a cut.

I know, I know. I wished I could deny that I felt… similarly. Hate was an unforgivable emotion. But the Seeker was… very difficult to like. Impossible.

The Seeker interrupted my internal conversation. “So, other than the new location to review, you have no more help for me on the road maps?”

I felt my body react to her critical tone. “I never said they were lines on a road map. That’s your assumption. And no, I have nothing else.”

She clicked her tongue quickly three times. “But you said they were directions.”

“That’s what I think they are. I’m not getting anything more.”

“Why not? Haven’t you subdued the human yet?” She laughed loudly. Laughing at me.

I turned my back to her and concentrated on calming myself. I tried to pretend that she wasn’t there. That I was all alone in my austere kitchen, staring out the window into the little patch of night sky, at the three bright stars I could see through it.

Well, as alone as I ever was.

While I stared at the tiny points of light in the blackness, the lines that I’d seen over and over again‑in my dreams and in my broken memories, cropping up at strange, unrelated moments‑flashed through my head.

The first: a slow, rough curve, then a sharp turn north, another sharp turn back the other way, twisting back to the north for a longer stretch, and then the abrupt southern decline that flattened out into another shallow curve.

The second: a ragged zigzag, four tight switchbacks, the fifth point strangely blunt, like it was broken…

The third: a smooth wave, interrupted by a sudden spur that swung a thin, long finger out to the north and back.

Incomprehensible, seemingly meaningless. But I knew this was important to Melanie. From the very beginning I’d known that. She protected this secret more fiercely than any other, next to the boy, her brother. I’d had no idea of his existence before the dream last night. I wondered what it was that had broken her. Maybe as she grew louder in my head, she would lose more of her secrets to me.

Maybe she would slip up, and I would see what these strange lines meant. I knew they meant something. That they led somewhere.

And at that moment, with the echo of the Seeker’s laugh still hanging in the air, I suddenly realized why they were so important.

They led back to Jared, of course. Back to both of them, Jared and Jamie. Where else? What other location could possibly hold any meaning for her? Only now I saw that it was not back, because none of them had ever followed these lines before. Lines that had been as much of a mystery to her as they were to me, until…

The wall was slow to block me. She was distracted, paying more attention to the Seeker than I was. She fluttered in my head at a sound behind me, and that was the first I was aware of the Seeker’s approach.

The Seeker sighed. “I expected more of you. Your track record seemed so promising.”

“It’s a pity you weren’t free for the assignment yourself. I’m sure if you’d had to deal with a resistant host, it would have been child’s play.” I didn’t turn to look at her. My voice stayed level.

She sniffed. “The early waves were challenging enough even without a resistant host.”

“Yes. I’ve experienced a few settlings myself.”

The Seeker snorted. “Were the See Weeds very difficult to tame? Did they flee?”

I kept my voice calm. “We had no trouble in the South Pole. Of course, the North was another matter. It was badly mishandled. We lost the entire forest.” The sadness of that time echoed behind my words. A thousand sentient beings, closing their eyes forever rather than accept us. They’d curled their leaves from the suns and starved.

Good for them, Melanie whispered. There was no venom attached to the thought, only approval as she saluted the tragedy in my memory.

It was such a waste. I let the agony of the knowledge, the feel of the dying thoughts that had racked us with our sister forest’s pain, wash through my head.

It was death either way.

The Seeker spoke, and I tried to concentrate on just one conversation.

“Yes.” Her voice was uncomfortable. “That was poorly executed.”

“You can never be too careful when it comes to doling out power. Some aren’t as careful as they should be.”

She didn’t answer, and I heard her move a few steps back. Everyone knew that the misstep behind the mass suicide belonged to the Seekers, who, because the See Weeds couldn’t flee, had underestimated their ability to escape. They’d proceeded recklessly, beginning the first settlement before we had adequate numbers in place for a full‑scale assimilation. By the time they realized what the See Weeds were capable of, were willing to do, it was too late. The next shipment of hibernating souls was too far away, and before they’d arrived, the northern forest was lost.

I faced the Seeker now, curious to judge the impact of my words. She was impassive, staring at the white nothingness of the bare wall across the room.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you further.” I said the words firmly, trying to make the dismissal clear. I was ready to have my house to myself again. To ourselves, Melanie inserted spitefully. I sighed. She was so full of herself now. “You really shouldn’t have troubled yourself to come so far.”

“It’s the job,” the Seeker said, shrugging. “You’re my only assignment. Until I find the rest of them, I may as well stick close to you and hope I get lucky.”

CHAPTER 7. Confronted

Yes, Faces Sunward?” I asked, grateful to the raised hand for interrupting my lecture. I did not feel as comfortable behind the lectern as I usually did. My biggest strength, my only real credential‑for my host body had had little in the way of a formal education, on the run since her early adolescence‑was the personal experience I usually taught from. This was the first world’s history I’d presented this semester for which I had no memories to draw upon. I was sure my students were suffering the difference.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but…” The white‑haired man paused, struggling to word his question. “I’m not sure I understand. The Fire‑Tasters actually… ingest the smoke from burning the Walking Flowers? Like food?” He tried to suppress the horror in his tone. It was not a soul’s place to judge another soul. But I was not surprised, given his background on the Planet of the Flowers, at his strong reaction to the fate of a similar life‑form on another world.

It was always amazing to me how some souls buried themselves in the affairs of whichever world they inhabited and ignored the rest of the universe. But, to be fair, perhaps Faces Sunward had been in hibernation when Fire World became notorious.

“Yes, they receive essential nutrients from this smoke. And therein lies the fundamental dilemma and the controversy of Fire World‑and the reason the planet has not been closed, though there has certainly been adequate time to populate it fully. There is also a high relocation percentage.

“When Fire World was discovered, it was at first thought that the dominant species, the Fire‑Tasters, were the only intelligent life‑forms present. The Fire‑Tasters did not consider the Walking Flowers to be their equals‑a cultural prejudice‑so it was a while, even after the first wave of settling, before the souls realized they were murdering intelligent creatures. Since then, Fire World scientists have focused their efforts on finding a replacement for the dietary needs of the Fire‑Tasters. Spiders are being transported there to help, but the planets are hundreds of light‑years apart. When this obstacle is overcome, as it will be soon, I’m sure, there is hope that the Walking Flowers might also be assimilated. In the meantime, much of the brutality has been removed from the equation. The, ah, burning‑alive portion, of course, and other aspects as well.”

“How can they…” Faces Sunward trailed off, unable to finish.

Another voice completed Faces Sunward’s thought. “It seems like a very cruel ecosystem. Why was the planet not abandoned?”

“That has been debated, naturally, Robert. But we do not abandon planets lightly. There are many souls for whom Fire World is home. They will not be uprooted against their will.” I looked away, back at my notes, in an attempt to end the side discussion.

“But it’s barbaric!”

Robert was physically younger than most of the other students‑closer to my age, in fact, than any other. And truly a child in a more important way. Earth was his first world‑the Mother in this case had actually been an Earth‑dweller, too, before she’d given herself‑and he didn’t seem to have as much perspective as older, better‑traveled souls. I wondered what it would be like to be born into the overwhelming sensation and emotion of these hosts with no prior experience for balance. It would be difficult to find objectivity. I tried to remember that and be especially patient as I answered him.

“Every world is a unique experience. Unless one has lived on that world, it’s impossible to truly understand the ‑”

“But you never lived on Fire World,” he interrupted me. “You must have felt the same way… Unless you had some other reason for skipping that planet? You’ve been almost everywhere else.”

“Choosing a planet is a very personal and private decision, Robert, as you may someday experience.” My tone closed the subject absolutely.

Why not tell them? You do think it’s barbaric‑and cruel and wrong. Which is pretty ironic if you ask me‑not that you ever do. What’s the problem? Are you ashamed that you agree with Robert? Because he’s more human than the others?

Melanie, having found her voice, was becoming downright unbearable. How was I supposed to concentrate on my work with her opinions sounding off in my head all the time?

In the seat behind Robert, a dark shadow moved.

The Seeker, clad in her usual black, leaned forward, intent for the first time on the subject of discussion.

I resisted the urge to scowl at her. I didn’t want Robert, already looking embarrassed, to mistake the expression as meant for him. Melanie grumbled. She wished I wouldn’t resist. Having the Seeker stalk our every footstep had been educational for Melanie; she used to think she couldn’t hate anything or anyone more than she hated me.

“Our time is almost up,” I announced with relief. “I’m pleased to inform you that we will have a guest speaker next Tuesday who will be able to make up for my ignorance on this topic. Flame Tender, a recent addition to our planet, will be here to give us a more personal account of the settling of Fire World. I know that you will give him all the courtesy you accord me, and be respectful of the very young age of his host. Thank you for your time.”

The class filed out slowly, many of the students taking a minute to chat with one another as they gathered their things. What Kathy had said about friendships ran through my head, but I felt no desire to join any of them. They were strangers.

Was that the way I felt? Or the way Melanie felt? It was hard to tell. Maybe I was naturally antisocial. My personal history supported that theory, I supposed. I’d never formed an attachment strong enough to keep me on any planet for more than one life.

I noticed Robert and Faces Sunward lingering at the classroom door, locked in a discussion that seemed intense. I could guess the subject.

“Fire World stories ruffle feathers.”

I started slightly.

The Seeker was standing at my elbow. The woman usually announced her approach with the quick tap of her hard shoes. I looked down now to see that she was wearing sneakers for once‑black, of course. She was even tinier without the extra inches.

“It’s not my favorite subject,” I said in a bland voice. “I prefer to have firsthand experience to share.”

“Strong reactions from the class.”

“Yes.”

She looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for more. I gathered my notes and turned to put them in my bag.

“You seemed to react as well.”

I placed my papers in the bag carefully, not turning.

“I wondered why you didn’t answer the question.”

There was a pause while she waited for me to respond. I didn’t.

“So… why didn’t you answer the question?”

I turned around, not concealing the impatience on my face. “Because it wasn’t pertinent to the lesson, because Robert needs to learn some manners, and because it’s no one else’s business.”

I swung my bag to my shoulder and headed for the door. She stayed right beside me, rushing to keep up with my longer legs. We walked down the hallway in silence. It wasn’t until we were outside, where the afternoon sun lit the dust motes in the salty air, that she spoke again.

“Do you think you’ll ever settle, Wanderer? On this planet, maybe? You seem to have an affinity for their… feelings.”

I bridled at the implied insult in her tone. I wasn’t even sure how she meant to insult me, but it was clear that she did. Melanie stirred resentfully.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Tell me something, Wanderer. Do you pity them?”

“Who?” I asked blankly. “The Walking Flowers?”

“No, the humans.”

I stopped walking, and she skidded to a halt beside me. We were only a few blocks from my apartment, and I’d been hurrying in hopes of getting away from her, though likely as not, she’d invite herself in. But her question caught me off guard.

“The humans?”

“Yes. Do you pity them?”

“Don’t you?”

“No. They were quite the brutal race. They were lucky to survive each other as long as they did.”

“Not every one of them was bad.”

“It was a predilection of their genetics. Brutality was part of their species. But you pity them, it seems.”

“It’s a lot to lose, don’t you think?” I gestured around us. We stood in a parklike space between two ivy‑covered dormitories. The deep green of the ivy was pleasing to the eye, especially in contrast to the faded red of the old bricks. The air was golden and soft, and the smell of the ocean gave a briny edge to the honey sweet fragrance of the flowers in the bushes. The breeze caressed the bare skin of my arms. “In your other lives, you can’t have felt anything so vivid. Wouldn’t you pity anyone who had this taken from them?” Her expression stayed flat, unmoved. I made an attempt to draw her in, to make her consider another viewpoint. “Which other worlds have you lived on?”

She hesitated, then squared her shoulders. “None. I’ve only lived on Earth.”

That surprised me. She was as much a child as Robert. “Only one planet? And you chose to be a Seeker in your first life?”

She nodded once, her chin set.

“Well. Well, that’s your business.” I started walking again. Maybe if I respected her privacy, she would return the favor.

“I spoke to your Comforter.”

And maybe not, Melanie thought sourly.

“What?” I gasped.

“I gather you’ve been having more trouble than just accessing the information I need. Have you considered trying another, more pliable host? She suggested that, did she not?”

“Kathy wouldn’t tell you anything!”

The Seeker’s face was smug. “She didn’t have to answer. I’m very good at reading human expressions. I could tell when my questions struck a nerve.”

“How dare you? The relationship between a soul and her Comforter ‑”

“Is sacrosanct, yes; I know the theory. But the acceptable means of investigation don’t seem to be working with your case. I have to get creative.”

“You think I’m keeping something from you?” I demanded, too angry to control the disgust in my voice. “You think I confided that to my Comforter?”

My anger didn’t faze her. Perhaps, given her strange personality, she was used to such reactions.

“No. I think you’re telling me what you know… But I don’t think you’re looking as hard as you could. I’ve seen it before. You’re growing sympathetic to your host. You’re letting her memories unconsciously direct your own desires. It’s probably too late at this point. I think you’d be more comfortable moving on, and maybe someone else will have better luck with her.”

“Hah!” I shouted. “Melanie would eat them alive!”

Her expression froze in place.

She’d had no idea, no matter what she thought she’d discerned from Kathy. She’d thought Melanie’s influence was from memories, that it was unconscious.

“I find it very interesting that you speak of her in the present tense.”

I ignored that, trying to pretend I hadn’t made a slip. “If you think someone else would have better luck breaking into her secrets, you’re wrong.”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Did you have someone in mind?” I asked, my voice frigid with aversion.

She grinned. “ I’ve gotten permission to give it a try. Shouldn’t take long. They’re going to hold my host for me.”

I had to breathe deeply. I was shaking, and Melanie was so full of hate that she was past words. The idea of having the Seeker inside me, even though I knew that I would not be here, was so repugnant that I felt a return of last week’s nausea.

“It’s too bad for your investigation that I’m not a skipper.”

The Seeker’s eyes narrowed. “Well, it does certainly make this assignment drag on. History was never of much interest to me, but it looks like I’m in for a full course now.”

“You just said that it was probably too late to get any more from her memories,” I reminded her, struggling to make my voice calm. “Why don’t you go back to wherever you belong?”

She shrugged and smiled a tight smile. “I’m sure it is too late… for voluntary information. But if you don’t cooperate, she might just lead me to them yet.”

“ Lead you?”

“When she takes full control, and you’re no better than that weakling, once Racing Song, now Kevin. Remember him? The one who attacked the Healer?”

I stared at her, eyes wide, nostrils flared.

“Yes, it’s probably just a matter of time. Your Comforter didn’t tell you the statistics, did she? Well, even if she did, she wouldn’t have the latest information that we have access to. The long‑term success rate for situations such as yours‑once a human host begins to resist‑is under twenty percent. Did you have any idea it was so bad? They’re changing the information they give potential settlers. There will be no more adult hosts offered. The risks are too great. We’re losing souls. It won’t be long before she’s talking to you, talking through you, controlling your decisions.”

I hadn’t moved an inch or relaxed a muscle. The Seeker leaned in, stretched up on her toes to put her face closer to mine. Her voice turned low and smooth in an attempt to sound persuasive.

“Is that what you want, Wanderer? To lose? To fade away, erased by another awareness? To be no better than a host body?”

I couldn’t breathe.

“It only gets worse. You won’t be you anymore. She’ll beat you, and you’ll disappear. Maybe someone will intervene… Maybe they’ll move you like they did Kevin. And you’ll become some child named Melanie who likes to tinker with cars rather than compose music. Or whatever it is she does.”

“The success rate is under twenty percent?” I whispered.

She nodded, trying to suppress a smile. “You’re losing yourself, Wanderer. All the worlds you’ve seen, all the experiences you’ve collected‑they’ll be for nothing. I saw in your file that you have the potential for Motherhood. If you gave yourself to be a Mother, at least all that would not be entirely wasted. Why throw yourself away? Have you considered Motherhood?”

I jerked away from her, my face flushing.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, her face darkening, too. “That was impolite. Forget I said that.”

“I’m going home. Don’t follow.”

“I have to, Wanderer. It’s my job.”

“Why do you care so much about a few spare humans? Why? How do you justify your job anymore? We’ve won! It’s time for you to join society and do something productive!”

My questions, my implied accusations, did not ruffle her.

“Wherever the fringes of their world touch ours there is death.” She spoke the words peacefully, and for a moment I glimpsed a different person in her face. It surprised me to realize that she deeply believed in what she did. Part of me had supposed that she only chose to seek because she illicitly craved the violence. “If even one soul is lost to your Jared or your Jamie, that is one soul too many. Until there is total peace on this planet, my job will be justified. As long as there are Jareds surviving, I am needed to protect our kind. As long as there are Melanies leading souls around by the nose…”

I turned my back on her and headed for my apartment with long strides that would force her to run if she wanted to keep up.

“Don’t lose yourself, Wanderer!” she called after me. “Time is running out for you!” She paused, then shouted more loudly. “Inform me when I’m to start calling you Melanie!”