The Host (The Host #1)(67)

“That’s right. Dries out pretty quick in this heat.”

I nodded in agreement. It was still early, I guessed, but I was already sweaty. The heat from the intense radiance overhead was stifling in the caves. I tried to examine the ceiling again, but it was too bright to stare at.

I tugged Jeb’s sleeve and squinted up at the dazzling light. “How?”

Jeb smiled, seeming thrilled with my curiosity. “Same way the magicians do it—with mirrors, kid. Hundreds of ’em. Took me long enough to get them all up there. It’s nice to have extra hands around here when they need cleaning. See, there’s only four small vents in the ceiling here, and that wasn’t enough light for what I had in mind. What do you think of it?”

He pulled his shoulders back, proud again.

“Brilliant,” I whispered. “Astonishing.”

Jeb grinned and nodded, enjoying my reaction.

“Let’s keep on,” he suggested. “Got a lot to do today.”

He led me to a new tunnel, a wide, naturally shaped tube that ran off from the big cave. This was new territory. My muscles all locked up; I moved forward with stiff legs, unbending knees.

Jeb patted my hand but otherwise ignored my nerves. “This is mostly sleeping quarters and some storage. The tubes are closer to the surface here, so it was easier to get some light.”

He pointed up at a bright, slender crack in the tunnel ceiling overhead. It threw a hand-sized spot of white onto the floor.

We reached a broad fork—not really a fork, because there were too many tines. It was an octopus-like branching of passageways.

“Third from the left,” he said, and looked at me expectantly.

“Third from the left?” I repeated.

“That’s right. Don’t forget. It’s easy to get lost around here, and that wouldn’t be safe for you. Folks’d just as soon stab you as send you in the right direction.”

I shuddered. “Thanks,” I muttered with quiet sarcasm.

He laughed as if my answer had delighted him. “No point in ignoring the truth. Doesn’t make it worse to have it said out loud.”

It didn’t make it better, either, but I didn’t say that. I was beginning to enjoy myself just a little. It was so nice to have someone talk to me again. Jeb was, if nothing else, interesting company.

“One, two, three,” he counted off, then he led me down the third hallway from the left. We started passing round entrances covered by a variety of makeshift doors. Some were curtained off with patterned sheets of fabric; others had big pieces of cardboard duct-taped together. One hole had two real doors—one red-painted wood, one gray metal—leaning over the opening.

“Seven,” Jeb counted, and stopped in front of a smallish circle, the tallest point just a few inches higher than my head. This one protected its privacy with a pretty jade green screen—the kind that might divide the space in an elegant living room. There was a pattern of cherry blossoms embroidered across the silk.

“This is the only space I can think of for now. The only one that’s fitted up decent for human habitation. It will be empty for a few weeks, and we’ll figure something better out for you by the time it’s needed again.”

He folded the screen aside, and a light that was brighter than that in the hallway greeted us.

The room he revealed gave me a strange feeling of vertigo—probably because it was so much taller than it was wide. Standing inside it was like standing in a tower or a silo, not that I had ever been in such places, but those were the comparisons Melanie made. The ceiling, twice as high as the room was wide, was a maze of cracks. Like vines of light, the cracks circled around and almost met. This seemed dangerous to me—unstable. But Jeb showed no fear of cave-ins as he led me farther in.

There was a double-sized mattress on the floor, with about a yard of space on three sides of it. The two pillows and two blankets twisted into two separate configurations on either half of the mattress made it look as if this room housed a couple. A thick wooden pole—something like a rake handle—was braced horizontally against the far wall at shoulder height with the ends lodged in two of the Swiss cheese holes in the rock. Over it were draped a handful of T-shirts and two pairs of jeans. A wooden stool was flush with the wall beside the makeshift clothes rack, and on the floor beneath it was a stack of worn paperback books.

“Who?” I said to Jeb, whispering again. This space so obviously belonged to someone that I no longer felt like we were alone.

“Just one of the guys out on the raid. Won’t be back for a while. We’ll find you something by then.”

I didn’t like it—not the room, but the idea of staying in it. The presence of the owner was strong despite the simple belongings. No matter who he was, he would not be happy to have me here. He would hate it.

Jeb seemed to read my mind—or maybe the expression on my face was clear enough that he didn’t have to.

“Now, now,” he said. “Don’t worry about that. This is my house, and this is just one of my many guest rooms. I say who is and isn’t my guest. Right now, you are my guest, and I am offering you this room.”

I still didn’t like it, but I wasn’t going to upset Jeb, either. I vowed that I would disturb nothing, if it meant sleeping on the floor.

“Well, let’s keep moving. Don’t forget: third from the left, seventh in.”