The Host (The Host #1)(112)

“Gladys,” Walter muttered, surfacing from his dazed sleep. “You’re here.”

Too nervous to speak with Brandt watching, I just patted his hand. His clouded eyes searched my face, seeing features that weren’t there.

“It hurts, Gladdie. It hurts a lot.”

“I know,” I whispered. “Doc?”

He was already there, the brandy in hand. “Open up, Walter.”

The sound of the helicopter thumped quietly, far away but still much too close. Doc flinched, and a few drops of brandy splattered on my arm.

It was a horrible day. The worst of my life on this planet, even including my first day in the caves and the last hot, dry day in the desert, hours from death.

The helicopter circled and circled. Sometimes more than an hour would pass, and I would think it was finally over. Then the sound would come back, and I would see the Seeker’s obstinate face in my head, her protruding eyes scouring the blank desert for some sign of humans. I tried to will her away, concentrating hard on my memories of the desert’s featureless, colorless plain, as if I could somehow make sure she saw nothing else, as if I could bore her into leaving.

Brandt never took his suspicious stare off of me. I could always feel it, though I rarely looked at him. It got a little better when Ian came back with both breakfast and lunch. He was all dirty from packing in case of an evacuation—whatever that meant. Did they have anywhere to go? Ian scowled so hard he looked like Kyle when Brandt explained in clipped phrases why he was there. Then Ian dragged another empty cot beside mine, so that he could sit in Brandt’s line of sight and block his view.

The helicopter, Brandt’s distrustful watch, these were not really so bad. On an ordinary day—if there was really such a thing anymore—either one of these might have seemed agonizing. Today, they were nothing.

By noon, Doc had given Walter the last of the brandy. It seemed like only minutes later that Walter was writhing, moaning, and gasping for breath. His fingers bruised and chafed mine, but if I ever pulled away, his moans turned to shrill screams. I ducked out once to use the latrine; Brandt followed me, which made Ian feel like he had to come, too. By the time we got back—after nearly running the whole way—Walter’s screams no longer sounded human. Doc’s face was hollow with echoed agony. Walter quieted after I spoke to him for a moment, letting him think his wife was near. It was an easy lie, a kind one. Brandt made little noises of irritation, but I knew that he was wrong to be upset. Nothing mattered beside Walter’s pain.

The whimpers and the writhing continued, though, and Brandt paced back and forth at the other end of the room, trying to be as far from the sound as possible.

Jamie came looking for me, bringing food enough for four, when the light was growing orangey overhead. I wouldn’t let him stay; I made Ian take him back to the kitchen to eat, made Ian promise to watch him all night so he wouldn’t sneak back here. Walter couldn’t help shrieking when his twisting moved his broken leg, and the sound of it was nearly unbearable. Jamie shouldn’t have this night burned into his memory the way it would surely be burned into Doc’s and mine. Perhaps Brandt’s as well, though he did what he could to ignore Walter, plugging his ears and humming a dissonant tune.

Doc did not try to distance himself from Walter’s hideous suffering; instead, he suffered with him. Walter’s cries carved deep lines in Doc’s face, like claws raking his skin.

It was strange to see such depths of compassion in a human, particularly Doc. I couldn’t look at him the same way after watching him live Walter’s pain. So great was his compassion, he seemed to bleed internally with it. As I watched, it became impossible to believe that Doc was a cruel person; the man simply could not be a torturer. I tried to remember what had been said to found my conjectures—had anyone made the accusation outright? I didn’t think so. I must have jumped to false conclusions in my terror.

I doubted I could ever mistrust Doc again after this nightmarish day. However, I would always find his hospital a horrible place.

When the last of the daylight disappeared, so did the helicopter. We sat in the darkness, not daring to turn on even the dim blue light. It took a few hours before any of us would believe the hunt was over. Brandt was the first to accept it; he’d had enough of the hospital, too.

“Makes sense for it to give up,” he muttered, edging out the exit. “Nothing to see at night. I’ll just take your light with me, Doc, so that Jeb’s pet parasite can’t get up to anything, and be on my way.”

Doc didn’t respond, didn’t even look at the sullen man as he left.

“Make it stop, Gladdie, make it stop!” Walter begged me. I wiped the sweat from his face while he crushed my hand.

Time seemed to slow down and stop; the black night felt unending. Walter’s screams got more and more frequent, more and more excruciating.

Melanie was far away, knowing she could do nothing useful. I would have hidden, too, if Walter hadn’t needed me. I was all alone in my head—exactly what I had once wanted. It made me feel lost.

Eventually, a dim gray light started to creep in through the high vents overhead. I was hovering on the edge of sleep, Walter’s moans and screams keeping me from sinking under. I could hear Doc snoring behind me. I was glad that he’d been able to escape for a little while.

I didn’t hear Jared come in. I was mumbling weak assurances, barely coherent, trying to calm Walter.