The Host (The Host #1)(65)

Jeb shrugged. “I’ll do my best. That’s all I can do.”

Jared started to shake his head slowly back and forth.

“How long can you stay down here?” Jeb asked him.

“I don’t know,” Jared whispered.

There was a long silence. After a few minutes, Jeb began whistling tunelessly.

Finally, Jared let out a huge breath that I hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“I’ll leave tonight.” The words were slow, full of resignation but also relief. His voice changed slightly, got a little less defensive. It was as though he was making the transition back to who he’d been here before I showed up. Letting one responsibility slide from his shoulders and putting another, more welcome one in its place.

He was giving up on keeping me alive, letting nature—or rather mob justice—take its course. When he returned, and I was dead, he wouldn’t hold anyone responsible. He would not mourn. All this I could hear in those three words.

I knew the human exaggeration for sorrow—a broken heart. Melanie remembered speaking the phrase herself. But I’d always thought of it as a hyperbole, a traditional description for something that had no real physiological link, like a green thumb. So I wasn’t expecting the pain in my chest. The nausea, yes, the swelling in my throat, yes, and, yes, the tears burning in my eyes. But what was the ripping sensation just under my rib cage? It made no logical sense.

And it wasn’t just ripping, but twisting and pulling in different directions. Because Melanie’s heart broke, too, and it was a separate sensation, as if we’d grown another organ to compensate for our twin awarenesses. A double heart for a double mind. Twice the pain.

He’s leaving, she sobbed. We’ll never see him again. She didn’t question the fact that we were going to die.

I wanted to weep with her, but someone had to keep her head. I bit my hand to hold the moan back.

“That’s probably best,” Jeb said.

“I’ll need to get some things organized.…” Already Jared’s mind was far, far away from this claustrophobic corridor.

“I’ll take over here, then. Have a safe trip.”

“Thanks. Guess I’ll see you when I see you, Jeb.”

“Guess so.”

Jared handed the gun back to Jeb, stood up, and brushed absently at the dust on his clothes. Then he was off, hurrying down the hall with his familiar quick step, his mind on other things. Not one glance in my direction, not one more thought for my fate.

I listened to the fading sound of his footsteps until they were gone. Then, forgetting Jeb’s existence, I pressed my face into my hands and sobbed.

CHAPTER 20

Freed

Jeb let me cry myself out without interrupting. He didn’t comment all through the following sniffles. It was only when I’d been completely silent for a good half hour that he spoke.

“Still awake in there?”

I didn’t answer. I was too much in the habit of silence.

“You want to come out here and stretch?” he offered. “My back is aching just thinking about that stupid hole.”

Ironically, considering my week of maddening silence, I wasn’t in the mood for company. But his offer wasn’t one I could refuse. Before I could think about it, my hands were pulling me through the exit.

Jeb was sitting with crossed legs on the mat. I watched him for some reaction as I shook out my arms and legs and rolled my shoulders, but he had his eyes closed. Like the time of Jamie’s visit, he looked asleep.

How long had it been since I’d seen Jamie? And how was he now? My already sore heart gave a painful little lurch.

“Feel better?” Jeb asked, his eyes opening.

I shrugged.

“It’s going to be okay, you know.” He grinned a wide, face-stretching grin. “That stuff I said to Jared… Well, I won’t say I lied, exactly, because it’s all true if you look at it from a certain angle, but from another angle, it wasn’t so much the truth as it was what he needed to hear.”

I just stared; I didn’t understand a word of what he was saying.

“Anyway, Jared needs a break from this. Not from you, kid,” he added quickly, “but from the situation. He’ll gain some perspective while he’s away.”

I wondered how he seemed to know exactly which words and phrases would cut at me. And, more than that, why should Jeb care if his words hurt me, or even if my back was aching and throbbing? His kindness toward me was frightening in its own way because it was incomprehensible. At least Jared’s actions made sense. Kyle’s and Ian’s murder attempts, the doctor’s cheerful eagerness to hurt me—these behaviors also were logical. Not kindness. What did Jeb want from me?

“Don’t look so glum,” Jeb urged. “There’s a bright side to this. Jared was being real pigheaded about you, and now that he’s temporarily out of the picture, it’s bound to make things more comfortable.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to decide what he meant.

“For example,” he went on. “This space here we usually use for storage. Now, when Jared and the guys get back, we’re going to need someplace to put all the stuff they bring home with them. So we might as well find a new place for you now. Something a little bigger, maybe? Something with a bed?” He smiled again as he dangled the carrot in front of me.