The Host 29 page

“They aren’t suspicious. Not at all. Even if I’m a horrible liar, they would never suspect me of anything. They wouldn’t be listening for lies. Of course not. I’m one of them. They would do anything to help me. I’d say I got hurt hiking or something… and then I’d find a way to be alone and I’d take as much as I could hide. Think of it! I could get enough to heal everyone here. To last for years. And Jamie would be fine! Why didn’t I think of this before? Maybe it wouldn’t have been too late even for Walter.”

I looked up then, with shining eyes. It was just so perfect!

So perfect, so absolutely right, so obvious to me, that it took me forever to understand the expressions on their faces. If Kyle’s had not been so explicit, it might have taken me longer.

Hatred. Suspicion. Fear.

Even Jeb’s poker face was not enough. His eyes were tight with mistrust.

Every face said no.

Are they insane? Can’t they see how this would help us all?

They don’t believe me. They think I’ll hurt them, hurt Jamie!

“Please,” I whispered. “It’s the only way to save him.”

“Patient, isn’t it?” Kyle spit. “Bided its time well, don’t you think?”

I fought the desire to choke him again.

“Doc?” I begged.

He didn’t meet my eyes. “Even if there was any way we could let you outside, Wanda… I just couldn’t trust drugs I don’t understand. Jamie’s a tough kid. His system will fight this off.”

“We’ll go out again, Wanda,” Ian murmured. “We’ll find something. We won’t come back until we do.”

“That’s not good enough.” The tears were pooling in my eyes. I looked to the one person who might possibly be in as much pain as I was. “Jared. You know. You know I would never let anything hurt Jamie. You know I can do this. Please.”

He met my gaze for one long moment. Then he looked around the room, at every other face. Jeb, Doc, Kyle, Ian, Trudy. Out the door at the silent audience whose expressions mirrored Kyle’s: Sharon, Violetta, Lucina, Reid, Geoffrey, Heath, Heidi, Andy, Aaron, Wes, Lily, Carol. My friends mixed in with my enemies, all of them wearing Kyle’s face. He stared at the next row, which I couldn’t see. Then he looked down at Jamie. There was no sound of breathing in the whole room.

“No, Wanda,” he said quietly. “No.”

A sigh of relief from the rest.

My knees buckled. I fell forward and yanked free of Ian’s hands when he tried to pull me back up. I crawled to Jamie and pushed Trudy aside with my elbow. The silent room watched. I took the compress from his head and refilled the melted ice. I didn’t meet the stares I could feel on my skin. I couldn’t see anyway. The tears swam in front of my eyes.

“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” I crooned. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie.”

I couldn’t seem to do anything but sob out his name and touch the packets of ice over and over, waiting for the moment they would need changing.

I heard them leave, a few at a time. I heard their voices, mostly angry, fade away down the halls. I couldn’t make sense of the words, though.

Jamie, Jamie, Jamie…

“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie…”

Ian knelt beside me when the room was almost empty.

“I know you wouldn’t… but Wanda, they’ll kill you if you try,” he whispered. “After what happened… in the hospital. They’re afraid you have good reason to destroy us… Anyway, he’ll be all right. You have to trust that.”

I turned my face from him, and he went away.

“Sorry, kid,” Jeb mumbled when he left.

Jared left. I didn’t hear him go, but I knew when he was gone. That seemed right to me. He didn’t love Jamie the way we did. He had proved that. He should go.

Doc stayed, watching helplessly. I didn’t look at him.

The daylight faded slowly, turned orange and then gray. The ice melted and was gone. Jamie started to burn alive under my hands.

“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie…” My voice was cracked and hoarse now, but I couldn’t stop. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie…”

The room turned black. I couldn’t see Jamie’s face. Would he leave in the night? Had I already seen his face, his living face, for the last time?

His name was just a whisper on my lips now, low enough that I could hear Doc’s quiet snoring.

I wiped the tepid cloth across his body without ceasing. As the water dried, it cooled him a little. The burn lessened. I began to believe that he wouldn’t die tonight. But I wouldn’t be able to hold him here forever. He would slip away from me. Tomorrow. The next day. And then I would die, too. I would not live without Jamie.

Jamie, Jamie, Jamie… Melanie groaned.

Jared didn’t believe us. The lament was both of ours. We thought it at the same time.

It was still silent. I didn’t hear anything. Nothing alerted me.

Then, suddenly, Doc cried out. The sound was oddly muffled, like he was shouting into a pillow.

My eyes couldn’t make sense of the shapes in the darkness at first. Doc was jerking strangely. And he seemed too big‑like he had too many arms. It was terrifying. I leaned over Jamie’s inert form, to protect him from whatever was happening. I could not flee while he lay helpless. My heart pounded against my ribs.

Then the flailing arms were still. Doc’s snore started up again, louder and thicker than before. He slumped to the ground, and the shape separated. A second figure pulled itself away from his and stood in the darkness.

“Let’s go,” Jared whispered. “We don’t have time to waste.”

My heart nearly exploded.

He believes.

I jumped to my feet, forcing my stiff knees to unbend. “What did you do to Doc?”

“Chloroform. It won’t last long.”

I turned quickly and poured the warm water over Jamie, soaking his clothes and the mattress. He didn’t stir. Perhaps that would keep him cool until Doc woke up.

“Follow me.”

I was on his heels. We moved silently, almost touching, almost running but not quite. Jared hugged the walls, and I did the same.

He stopped when we reached the light of the moon‑bright garden room. It was deserted and still.

I could see Jared clearly for the first time. He had the gun slung behind his back and a knife sheathed at his waist. He held out his hands, and there was a length of dark fabric in them. I understood at once.

The whispered words raced out of my mouth. “Yes, blindfold me.”

He nodded, and I closed my eyes while he tied the cloth over them. I would keep them closed anyway.

The knot was quick and tight. When he was done, I spun myself in a fast circle‑once, twice…

His hands stopped me. “That’s okay,” he said. And then he gripped me harder and lifted me off the ground. I gasped in surprise as he threw me against his shoulder. I folded there, my head and chest hanging over his back, beside the gun. His arms held my legs against his chest, and he was already moving. I bounced as he jogged, my face brushing against his shirt with each stride.

I had no sense of which way we were going; I didn’t try to guess or think or feel. I concentrated only on the bouncing of his gait, counting steps. Twenty, twenty‑one, twenty‑two, twenty‑three…

I could feel him lean as the path took him down and then up. I tried not to think about it.

Four hundred twelve, four hundred thirteen, four hundred fourteen…

I knew when we were out. I smelled the dry, clean breeze of the desert. The air was hot, though it had to be close to midnight.

He pulled me down and set me on my feet.

“The ground is flat. Do you think you can run blindfolded?”

“Yes.”

He grabbed my elbow tightly in his hand and took off, setting a rigorous pace. It wasn’t easy. He caught me time and time again before I could fall. I started to get used to it after a while, and I kept my balance better over the tiny pits and rises. We ran until we were both gasping.

“If… we can get… to the jeep… we’ll be in… the clear.”

The jeep? I felt a strange wave of nostalgia. Mel hadn’t seen the jeep since the first leg of that disastrous trip to Chicago, hadn’t known it had survived.

“If we… can’t?” I asked.

“They catch us… they’ll kill you. Ian’s… right about… that part.”

I tried to run faster. Not to save my life, but because I was the only one who could save Jamie’s. I stumbled again.

“Going to… take off the blindfold. You’ll be… faster.”

“You sure?”

“Don’t… look around. ’Kay?”

“Promise.”

He yanked at the knots behind my head. As the fabric fell away from my eyes, I focused them only on the ground at my feet.

It made a world of difference. The moonlight was bright, and the sand was very smooth and pale. Jared dropped his arm and broke into a faster stride. I kept up easily now. Distance running was familiar to my body. I settled into my preferred stride. Just over a six‑minute mile, I’d guess. I couldn’t keep up that pace forever, but I’d run myself into the ground trying.

“You hear… anything?” he asked.

I listened. Just two sets of running feet on the sand.

“No.”

He grunted in approval.

I guessed this was the reason he’d stolen the gun. They couldn’t stop us from a distance without it.

It took about an hour more. I was slowing then, and so was he. My mouth burned for water.

I’d never looked up from the ground, so it startled me when he put his hand over my eyes. I faltered, and he pulled us to a walk.

“We’re okay now. Just ahead…”

He left his hand over my eyes and tugged me forward. I heard our footsteps echo off something. The desert wasn’t as flat here.

“Get in.”

His hand disappeared.

It was nearly as dark as it was with him covering my eyes. Another cave. Not a deep one. If I turned around, I would be able to see out of it. I didn’t turn.

The jeep faced into the darkness. It looked just the same as I remembered it, this vehicle I had never seen. I swung myself over the door into the seat.

Jared was in his seat already. He leaned over and tied the blindfold over my eyes again. I held still to make it easier.

The noise of the engine scared me. It seemed too dangerous. There were so many people who shouldn’t find us now.

We moved in reverse briefly, and then the wind was blasting my face. There was a funny sound behind the jeep, something that didn’t fit Melanie’s memories.

“We’re going to Tucson,” he told me. “We never raid there‑it’s too close. But we don’t have time for anything else. I know where a small hospital is, not too deep into town.”

“Not Saint Mary’s?”

He heard the alarm in my voice. “No, why?”

“I know someone there.”

He was quiet for a minute. “Will you be recognized?”

“No. No one will know my face. We don’t have… wanted people. Not like you did.”

“Okay.”

But he had me thinking now, thinking about my appearance. Before I could voice my concerns, he took my hand and folded it around something very small.

“Keep that close to you.”

“What is it?”

“If they guess that you’re… with us, if they’re going to… put someone else in Mel’s body, you put that in your mouth and bite down on it hard.”

“Poison?”

“Yes.”

I thought about that for a moment. And then I laughed; I couldn’t help it. My nerves were frayed with worry.

“It’s not a joke, Wanda,” he said angrily. “If you can’t do it, then I have to take you back.”

“No, no, I can.” I tried to get a hold of myself. “I know I can. That’s why I’m laughing.”

His voice was harsh. “I don’t get the joke.”

“Don’t you see? For millions of my own kind, I’ve never been able to do that. Not for my own… children. I was always too afraid to die that final time. But I can do it for one alien child.” I laughed again. “It doesn’t make any sense. Don’t worry, though. I can die to protect Jamie.”

“I’m trusting you to do just that.”

It was silent for a moment, and then I remembered what I looked like.

“Jared, I don’t look right. For walking into a hospital.”

“We’ve got better clothes stashed with the… less‑conspicuous vehicles. That’s where we’re headed now. About five more minutes.”

That wasn’t what I meant, but he was right. These clothes would never do. I waited to talk to him about the rest. I needed to look at myself first.

The jeep stopped, and he pulled off the blindfold.

“You don’t have to keep your eyes down,” he told me when my head ducked automatically. “There’s nothing here to give us away. Just in case this place was ever discovered.”

It wasn’t a cave. It was a rock slide. A few of the bigger boulders had been carefully excavated, leaving clever dark spaces under them that no one would suspect of housing anything but dirt and smaller rocks.

The jeep was already lodged in a tight space. I was so close to the rock, I had to climb over the back of the jeep to get out. There was something odd attached to the bumper‑chains and two very dirty tarps, all ragged and torn.

“Here,” Jared said, and led the way to a shadowy crevice just a little shorter than he was. He brushed aside a dusty, dirt‑colored tarp and rifled through a pile hiding behind it. He pulled out a T‑shirt, soft and clean, with tags still attached. He ripped those off and threw the shirt to me. Then he dug until he found a pair of khaki pants. He checked the size, then flipped them to me, too.

“Put them on.”

I hesitated for a moment while he waited, wondering what my problem was. I flushed and then turned my back to him. I yanked my ragged shirt over my head and replaced it as quickly as my fumbling fingers could manage.

I heard him clear his throat. “Oh. I’ll, uh, get the car.” His footsteps moved away.

I stripped off my tattered cutoff sweats and pulled the crisp new pants into place. My shoes were in bad shape, but they weren’t that noticeable. Besides, comfortable shoes weren’t always easy to come by. I could pretend I had an attachment to this pair.

Another engine came to life, quieter than the jeep’s. I turned to see a modest, unremarkable sedan pull out of a deep shadow under a boulder. Jared got out and chained the tattered tarps from the jeep to this car’s rear bumper. Then he drove it to where I stood, and as I saw the heavy tarps wipe the tire tracks from the dirt, I comprehended their purpose.

Jared leaned across the seat to open the passenger door. There was a backpack on the seat. It lay flat, empty. I nodded to myself. Yes, this I needed.

“Let’s go.”

“Hold on,” I said.

I crouched to look at myself in the side mirror.

Not good. I flipped my chin‑length hair over my cheek, but it wasn’t enough. I touched my cheek and bit my lip.

“Jared. I can’t go in with my face like this.” I pointed to the long, jagged scar across my skin.

“What?” he demanded.

“No soul would have a scar like this. They would have had it treated. They’ll wonder where I’ve been. They’ll ask questions.”

His eyes widened and then narrowed. “Maybe you should have thought of this before I snuck you out. If we go back now, they’ll think it was a ploy for you to learn the way out.”

“We’re not going back without medicine for Jamie.” My voice was harder than his.

His got harder to match it. “What do you propose we do, then, Wanda?”

“I’ll need a rock.” I sighed. “You’re going to have to hit me.”

CHAPTER 44. Healed

Wanda…”

“We don’t have time. I’d do it myself, but I can’t get the angle right. There’s no other way.”

“I don’t think I can… do it.”

“For Jamie, even?” I pushed the good side of my face as hard as I could against the headrest of the passenger seat and closed my eyes.

Jared was holding the rough fist‑sized stone I’d found. He’d been weighing it in his hand for five minutes.

“You just have to get the first few layers of skin off. Just hide the scar, that’s all. C’mon, Jared, we have to hurry. Jamie…”

Tell him I said to do it now. And make it a good one.

“Mel says do it now. And make sure you do it hard enough. Get it all the first time.”

Silence.

“Do it, Jared!”

He took a deep breath, a gasp. I felt the air move and squeezed my eyes tighter.

It made a squishing sound and a thud‑that was the first thing I noticed‑and then the shock of the blow wore off, and I felt it, too.

“Ungh,” I groaned. I hadn’t meant to make any sound. I knew that would make it worse for him. But so much was involuntary with this body. Tears sprang up in my eyes, and I coughed to hide a sob. My head rang, vibrated in aftershock.

“Wanda? Mel? I’m sorry!”

His arms wrapped around us, pulled us into his chest.

“’S okay,” I whimpered. “We’re okay. Did you get it all?”

His hand touched my chin, turned my head.

“Ahh,” he gasped, sickened. “I took half your face off. I’m so sorry.”

“No, that’s good. That’s good. Let’s go.”

“Right.” His voice was still weak, but he leaned me back into my seat, settling me carefully, and then the car rumbled beneath us.

Ice‑cold air blew in my face, shocking me, stinging my raw cheek. I’d forgotten what air‑conditioning felt like.

I opened my eyes. We were driving down a smooth wash‑smoother than it should have been, carefully altered to be this way. It snaked away from us, coiling around the brush. I couldn’t see very far ahead.

I pulled the visor down and flipped open the mirror. In the shadowy moonlight, my face was black and white. Black all across the right side, oozing down my chin, dripping across my neck, and seeping into the collar of my new, clean shirt.

My stomach heaved.

“Good job,” I whispered.

“How much pain are you in?”

“Not much,” I lied. “Anyway, it won’t hurt much longer. How far are we from Tucson?”

Just then, we reached pavement. Funny how the sight of it made my heart race in panic. Jared stopped, keeping the car hidden in the brush. He got out and removed the tarps and chains from the bumper, putting them in the trunk. He got back in and eased the car forward, checking carefully to make sure the highway was empty. He reached for the headlights.

“Wait,” I whispered. I couldn’t speak louder. I felt so exposed here. “Let me drive.”

He looked at me.

“It can’t look like I walked to the hospital like this. Too many questions. I have to drive. You hide in the back and tell me where to go. Is there something you can hide under?”

“Okay,” he said slowly. He put the car into reverse and pulled it back into the deeper brush. “Okay. I’ll hide. But if you take us somewhere I don’t tell you to go…”

Oh! Melanie was stung by his doubt, as was I.

My voice was flat. “Shoot me.”

He didn’t answer. He got out, leaving the engine running. I slid across the cup holders into his seat. I heard the trunk slam.

Jared climbed into the backseat, a thick plaid blanket under his arm.

“Turn right at the road,” he said.

The car was an automatic, but it had been a long time and I was unsure behind the wheel. I moved ahead carefully, pleased to find that I remembered how to drive. The highway was still empty. I pulled out onto the road, my heart reacting to the open space again.

“Lights,” Jared said. His voice came from low on the bench.

I searched till I found the switch, then flicked them on. They seemed horribly bright.

We weren’t far from Tucson ‑I could see a yellowish glow of color against the sky. The lights of the city ahead.

“You could drive a little faster.”

“I’m right at the limit,” I protested.

He paused for a second. “Souls don’t speed?”

I laughed. The sound was only a tad hysterical. “We obey all laws, traffic laws included.”

The lights became more than a glow‑they turned into individual points of brightness. Green signs informed me of my exit options.

“ Take Ina Road.”

I followed his instructions. He kept his voice low, though, enclosed as we were, we could both have shouted.

It was hard to be in this unfamiliar city. To see houses and apartments and stores with signs lit up. To know I was surrounded, outnumbered. I imagined what it must feel like for Jared. His voice was remarkably calm. But he’d done this before, many times.

Other cars were on the road now. When their lights washed my windshield, I cringed in terror.

Don’t fall apart now, Wanda. You have to be strong for Jamie. This won’t work if you can’t do that.

I can. I can do it.

I concentrated on Jamie, and my hands were steadier on the wheel.

Jared directed me through the mostly sleeping city. The Healing facility was just a small place. It must have been a medical building once‑doctors’ offices, rather than an actual hospital. The lights were bright through most of the windows, through the glass front. I could see a woman behind a greeting desk. She didn’t look up at my headlights. I drove to the darkest corner of the parking lot.

I slid my arms through the straps of the backpack. It wasn’t new, but it was in good shape. Perfect. There was just one more thing to do.

“Quick, give me the knife.”

“Wanda… I know you love Jamie, but I really don’t think you could use it. You’re not a fighter.”

“Not for them, Jared. I need a wound.”

He gasped. “You have a wound. That’s enough!”

“I need one like Jamie’s. I don’t know enough about Healing. I have to see exactly what to do. I would have done it before, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to drive.”

“No. Not again.”

“Give it to me now. Someone will notice if I don’t go inside soon.”

Jared thought it through quickly. He was the best, as Jeb had said, because he could see what had to be done and do it fast. I heard the steely sound of the knife coming out of the sheath.

“Be very careful. Not too deep.”

“You want to do it?”

He inhaled sharply. “No.”

“Okay.”

I took the ugly knife. It had a heavy handle and was very sharp; it came to a tapered point at the tip.

I didn’t let myself think about it. I didn’t want to give myself a chance to be a coward. The arm, not the leg‑that’s all I paused to decide. My knees were scarred. I didn’t want to have to hide that, too.

I held my left arm out; my hand was shaking. I braced it against the door and then twisted my head so that I could bite down on the headrest. I held the knife’s handle awkwardly but tightly in my right hand. I pressed the point against the skin of my forearm so I wouldn’t miss. Then I closed my eyes.

Jared was breathing too hard. I had to be fast or he would stop me.

Just pretend it’s a shovel opening the ground, I told myself.

I jammed the knife into my arm.

The headrest muffled my scream, but it was still too loud. The knife fell from my hand‑jerking sickeningly out from the muscle‑and then clunked against the floor.

“Wanda!” Jared rasped.

I couldn’t answer yet. I tried to choke back the other screams I felt coming. I’d been right not to do this before driving.

“Let me see!”

“Stay there,” I gasped. “Don’t move.”

I heard the blanket rustling behind me despite my warning. I pulled my left arm against my body and yanked the door open with my right hand. Jared’s hand brushed my back as I half fell out the door. It wasn’t a restraint. It was comfort.

“I’ll be right back,” I coughed out, and then I kicked the door shut behind me.

I stumbled across the lot, fighting nausea and panic. They seemed to balance each other out‑one keeping the other from taking control of my body. The pain wasn’t too bad‑or rather, I couldn’t feel it as much anymore. I was going into shock. Too many kinds of pain, too close together. Hot liquid rolled down my fingers and dripped to the pavement. I wondered if I could move those fingers. I was afraid to try.

The woman behind the reception desk‑middle‑aged, with dark chocolate skin and a few silver threads in her black hair‑jumped to her feet when I lurched through the automatic doors.

“Oh, no! Oh, dear!” She grabbed a microphone, and her next words echoed from the ceiling, magnified. “Healer Knits! I need you in reception! This is an emergency!”

“No.” I tried to speak calmly, but I swayed in place. “I’m okay. Just an accident.”

She put the microphone down and hurried around to where I stood swaying. Her arm went around my waist.

“Oh, honey, what happened to you?”

“So careless,” I muttered. “I was hiking… I fell down the rocks. I was… cleaning up after dinner. A knife was in my hand…”

My hesitations seemed like part of the shock to her. She didn’t look at me with suspicion‑or humor, the way Ian sometimes did when I lied. Only concern.

“You poor dear! What’s your name?”

“Glass Spires,” I told her, using the rather generic name of a herd member from my time with the Bears.

“Okay, Glass Spires. Here comes the Healer. You’ll be fine in just a moment.”

I didn’t feel panicked at all anymore. The kindly woman patted my back. So gentle, so caring. She would never harm me.

The Healer was a young woman. Her hair, skin, and eyes were all a similar shade of light brown. It made her unusual looking‑monochromatic. She wore tan scrubs that only added to that impression.

“Wow,” she said. “I’m Healer Knits Fire. I’ll get you fixed up directly. What happened?”

I told my story again as the two women led me down a hallway and then through the very first door. They had me lie down on the paper‑covered bed.

The room was familiar. I’d been in only one place like this, but Melanie’s childhood was full of such memories. The short row of double cabinets, the sink where the Healer was washing her hands, the bright, clean white walls…

“First things first,” Knits Fire said cheerfully. She pulled a cabinet open. I tried to focus my eyes, knowing this was important. The cabinet was full of rows and rows of stacked white cylinders. She took one down, reaching for it without searching; she knew what she wanted. The small container had a label, but I couldn’t read it. “A little no pain should help, don’t you think?”

I saw the label again as she twisted the lid off. Two short words. No Pain? Was that what it said?

“Open your mouth, Glass Spires.”

I obeyed. She took a small, thin square‑it looked like tissue paper‑and laid it on my tongue. It dissolved at once. There was no flavor. I swallowed automatically.

“Better?” the Healer asked.

And it was. Already. My my head was clear‑I could concentrate without difficulty. The pain had melted away with the tiny square. Disappeared. I blinked, shocked.

“Yes.”

“I know you feel fine now, but please don’t move. Your injuries are not treated yet.”

“Of course.”

“Cerulean, could you get us some water? Her mouth seems dry.”

“At once, Healer Knits.”

The older woman left the room.

The Healer turned back to her cabinets, opening a different one this time. This, too, was filled with white containers. “Here we are.” She pulled one from the top of a stack, then took another from the other side.

Almost as if she were trying to help me fulfill my mission, she listed the names as she reached for them.

“Clean‑inside and out… Heal… Seal… And where is… ah, Smooth. Don’t want a scar on that pretty face, do we?”

“Ah… no.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be perfect again.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

She leaned over me with another white cylinder. The top of this one came off with a pop, and there was an aerosol spray nozzle underneath. She sprayed my forearm first, coating the wound with clear, odorless mist.

“Healing must be a fulfilling profession.” My voice sounded just right. Interested, but not unduly so. “I haven’t been in a Healing facility since insertion. This is very interesting.”

“Yes, I like it.” She started spraying my face.

“What are you doing now?”

She smiled. I guessed that I was not the first curious soul. “This is Clean. It will make sure nothing foreign stays in the wound. It kills off any of the microbes that might infect the wound.”

“Clean,” I repeated to myself.

“And the Inside Clean, just in case anything has snuck into your system. Inhale this, please.”

She had a different white cylinder in her hand, a thinner bottle with a pump rather than an aerosol top. She puffed a cloud of mist into the air above my face. I sucked in a breath. The mist tasted like mint.

“And this is Heal,” Knits Fire continued, twisting the cap off the next canister, revealing a small pouring spout. “It encourages your tissues to rejoin, to grow the way they should.”

She dribbled a tiny bit of the clear liquid into the wide cut on my arm, then she pushed the edges of the wound together. I could feel her touch, but there was no pain.

“I’ll seal this up before I move on.” She opened another container, this one a pliable tube, and then squeezed out a line of thick, clear jelly onto her finger. “Like glue,” she told me. “It holds everything together and lets the Heal do its job.” She wiped it over my arm in one swift pass. “Okay, you can move that now. Your arm is fine.”

Date: 2015-12-13; view: 450; Нарушение авторских прав