[科幻]宿主-第32部分

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Even　the　pain　of　the　slow　death　we　had　begun　dimmed　in　parison。

　What　do　you　think　is　out　there？she　asked　me　as　we　marched　on　toward　the　end。What　will　you　see；　

after　we’re　dead？

　Nothing。The　word　was　empty　and　hard　and　sure。There’s　a　reason　we　call　it　the　finaldeath。

　The　souls　have　no　belief　in　an　afterlife？

　We　have　so　many　lives。　Anything　more　would　be…　too　much　to　expect。　We　die　a　little　death　every　

time　we　leave　a　host。　We　live　again　in　another。　When　I　die　here；　that　will　be　the　end。

　There　was　a　long　pause　while　our　feet　moved　more　and　more　slowly。

　What　about　you？I　finally　asked。Do　you　still　believe　in　something　more；　even　after　all　of　this？　My　
thoughts　raked　over　her　memories　of　the　end　of　the　human　world。

　It　seems　like　there　are　some　things　thatcan’tdie。　

　

　Would　it　be　a　relief　to　be　free　of　it？　I　wasn’t　sure。　It　felt　like　it　was　part　of　who　I　was　now。

　We　only　lasted　a　few　hours。　Even　Melanie’s　tremendous　strength　of　mind　could　ask　no　more　than　that　of　
our　failing　body。　We　could　barely　see。　We　couldn’t　seem　to　find　the　oxygen　in　the　dry　air　we　sucked　in　
and　spit　back　out。　The　pain　brought　rough　whimpers　breaking　through　our　lips。

　You’ve　never　had　itthisbad；　I　teased　her　feebly　as　we　staggered　toward　a　dried　stick　of　a　tree　standing　
a　few　feet　taller　than　the　low　brush。　We　wanted　to　get　to　the　thin　streaks　of　shade　before　we　fell。

　No；she　agreed。Never　this　bad。

　We　attained　our　purpose。　The　dead　tree　threw　its　cobwebby　shadow　over　us；　and　our　legs　fell　out　from　
under　us。　We　sprawled　forward；　never　wanting　the　sun　on　our　face　again。　Our　head　turned　to　the　side　on　
its　own；　searching　for　the　burning　air。　We　stared　at　the　dust　inches　from　our　nose　and　listened　to　the　
gasping　of　our　breath。

　After　a　time；　long　or　short　we　didn’t　know；　we　closed　our　eyes。　Our　lids　were　red　and　bright　inside。　We　
couldn’t　feel　the　faint　web　of　shade；　maybe　it　no　longer　touched　us。

　How　long？I　asked　her。

　I　don’t　know；　I’ve　never　died　before。

　An　hour？　More？

　Your　guess　is　as　good　as　mine。

　Where’s　a　coyote　when　you　really　need　one？

　Maybe　we’ll　get　lucky…　escaped　claw　beast　or　something…Her　thought　trailed　off　incoherently。

　That　was　our　last　conversation。　It　was　too　hard　to　concentrate　enough　to　form　words。　There　was　more　
pain　than　we　thought　there　should　be。　All　the　muscles　in　our　body　rioted；　cramping　and　spasming　as　they　
fought　death。

　We　didn’t　fight。　We　drifted　and　waited；　our　thoughts　dipping　in　and　out　of　memories　without　a　pattern。　
While　we　were　still　lucid；　we　hummed　ourselves　a　lullaby　in　our　head。　It　was　the　one　we’d　used　to　
fort　Jamie　when　the　ground　was　too　hard；　or　the　air　was　too　cold；　or　the　fear　was　too　great　to　sleep。　
We　felt　his　head　press　into　the　hollow　just　below　our　shoulder　and　the　shape　of　his　back　under　our　arm。　
And　then　it　seemed　that　it　wasour　head　cradled　against　a　broader　shoulder；　and　a　new　lullaby　forted　
us。

　Our　lids　turned　black；　but　not　with　death。　Night　had　fallen；　and　this　made　us　sad。　Without　the　heat　of　
day；　we　would　probably　last　longer。

　It　was　dark　and　silent　for　a　timeless　space。　Then　there　was　a　sound。　

　

　Something　shook　us；　pulled　our　numb　arms；　dragged　at　them。　We　couldn’t　form　the　words　to　wish　that　it　
would　be　quick　now；　but　that　was　our　hope。　We　waited　for　the　cut　of　teeth。　Instead；　the　dragging　turned　
to　pushing；　and　we　felt　our　face　roll　toward　the　sky。

　It　poured　over　our　face—wet；　cool；　and　impossible。　It　dribbled　over　our　eyes；　washing　the　grit　from　
them。　Our　eyes　fluttered；　blinking　against　the　dripping。

　We　did　not　care　about　the　grit　in　our　eyes。　Our　chin　arched　up；　desperately　searching；　our　mouth　
opening　and　closing　with　blind；　pathetic　weakness；　like　a　newly　hatched　bird。

　We　thought　we　heard　a　sigh。

　And　then　the　water　flowed　into　our　mouth；　and　we　gulped　at　it　and　choked　on　it。　The　water　vanished　
while　we　choked；　and　our　weak　hands　grasped　out　for　it。　A　flat；　heavy　thumping　pounded　our　back　until　
we　could　breathe。　Our　hands　kept　clutching　the　air；　looking　for　the　water。

　We　definitely　heard　a　sigh　this　time。

　Something　pressed　to　our　cracked　lips；　and　the　water　flowed　again。　We　guzzled；　careful　not　to　inhale　it　
this　time。　Not　that　we　cared　if　we　choked；　but　we　did　not　want　the　water　taken　away　again。

　We　drank　until　our　belly　stretched　and　ached。　The　water　trickled　to　a　stop；　and　we　cried　out　hoarsely　in　
protest。　Another　rim　was　pressed　to　our　lips；　and　we　gulped　frantically　until　it　was　empty；　too。

　Our　stomach　would　explode　with　another　mouthful；　yet　we　blinked　and　tried　to　focus；　to　see　if　we　could　
find　more。　It　was　too　dark；　we　could　not　see　a　single　star。　And　then　we　blinked　again　and　realized　that　
the　darkness　was　much　closer　than　the　sky。　A　figure　hovered　over　us；　blacker　than　the　night。

　There　was　a　low　sound　of　fabric　rubbing　against　itself　and　sand　shifting　under　a　heel。　The　figure　leaned　
away；　and　we　heard　a　sharp　rip—the　sound　of　a　zipper；　deafening　in　the　absolute　stillness　of　the　night。

　Like　a　blade；　light　cut　into　our　eyes。　We　moaned　at　the　pain　of　it；　and　our　hand　flew　up　to　cover　our　
closed　eyes。　Even　behind　our　lids；　the　light　was　too　bright。　The　light　disappeared；　and　we　felt　the　breath　
of　the　next　sigh　hit　our　face。

　We　opened　our　eyes　carefully；　more　blind　than　before。　Whoever　faced　us　sat　very　still　and　said　nothing。　
We　began　to　feel　the　tension　of　the　moment；　but　it　felt　far　away；　outside　ourself。　It　was　hard　to　care　
about　anything　but　the　water　in　our　belly　and　where　we　could　find　more。　We　tried　to　concentrate；　to　see　
what　had　rescued　us。

　The　first　thing　we　could　make　out；　after　minutes　of　blinking　and　squinting；　was　the　thick　whiteness　that　
fell　from　the　dark　face；　a　million　splinters　of　pale　in　the　night。　When　we　grasped　that　this　was　a　
beard—like　Santa　Claus；　we　thought　chaotically—the　other　pieces　of　the　face　were　supplied　by　our　
memory。　Everything　fit　into　place：　the　big　cleft…tipped　nose；　the　wide　cheekbones；　the　thick　white　brows；　
the　eyes　set　deep　into　the　wrinkled　fabric　of　skin。　Though　we　could　see　only　hints　of　each　feature；　we　
knew　how　light　would　expose　them。

　“Uncle　Jeb；”　we　croaked　in　surprise。　“You　found　us。”　

　

　“Well；　now；”　he　said；　and　his　gruff　voice　brought　back　a　hundred　memories。　“Well；　now；　here’s　a　
pickle。”

　CHAPTER　13

　Sentenced

　Are　they　here？”　We　choked　out　the　words—they　burst　from　us　like　the　water　in　our　lungs　had；　expelled。　
After　water；　this　question　was　all　that　mattered。　“Did　they　make　it？”

　Uncle　Jeb’s　face　was　impossible　to　read　in　the　darkness。　“Who？”　he　asked。

　“Jamie；　Jared！”　Our　whisper　burned　like　a　shout。　“Jared　was　with　Jamie。　Our　brother！　Are　they　here？　
Did　they　e？　Did　you　find　them；　too？”

　There　was　barely　a　pause。

　“No。”　His　answer　was　forceful；　and　there　was　no　pity　in　it；　no　feeling　at　all。

　“No；”　we　whispered。　We　were　not　echoing　him；　we　were　protesting　against　getting　our　life　back。　What　
was　the　point？　We　closed　our　eyes　again　and　listened　to　the　pain　in　our　body。　We　let　that　drown　out　the　
pain　in　our　mind。

　“Look；”　Uncle　Jeb　said　after　a　moment。　“I；　uh；　have　something　to　take　care　of。　You　rest　for　a　bit；　and　
I’ll　be　back　for　you。”

　We　didn’t　hear　the　meaning　in　his　words；　just　the　sounds。　Our　eyes　stayed　closed。　His　footsteps　
crunched　quietly　away　from　us。　We　couldn’t　tell　which　direction　he　went。　We　didn’t　care　anyway。

　They　were　gone。　There　was　no　way　to　find　them；　no　hope。　Jared　and　Jamie　had　disappeared；　something　
they　knew　well　how　to　do；　and　we　would　never　see　them　again。

　The　water　and　the　cooler　night　air　were　making　us　lucid；　something　we　did　not　want。　We　rolled　over；　to　
bury　our　face　against　the　sand　again。　We　were　so　tired；　past　the　point　of　exhaustion　and　into　some　
deeper；　more　painful　state。　Surely　we　could　sleep。　All　we　had　to　do　was　not　think。　We　could　do　that。

　We　did。

　When　we　woke；　it　was　still　night；　but　dawn　was　threatening　on　the　eastern　horizon—the　mountains　were　
lined　with　dull　red。　Our　mouth　tasted　of　dust；　and　at　first　we　were　sure　that　we　had　dreamed　Uncle　Jeb’s　
appearance。　Of　course　we　had。

　Our　head　was　clearer　this　morning；　and　we　noticed　quickly　the　strange　shape　near　our　right　
cheek—something　that　was　not　a　rock　or　a　cactus。　We　touched　it；　and　it　was　hard　and　smooth。　We　
nudged　it；　and　the　delicious　sound　of　sloshing　water　came　from　inside。

　Uncle　Jeb　was　real；　and　he’d　left　us　a　canteen。　

　

　Our　fingers　were　stiff　and　clumsy　as　we　twisted　the　cap　from　the　top　of　the　canteen。　It　wasn’t　all　the　way　
full；　but　there　was　enough　water　to　stretch　the　walls　of　our　belly　again—it　must　have　shrunk。　We　drank　it　
all；　we　were　done　with　rationing。

　We　dropped　the　metal　canteen　to　the　sand；　where　it　made　a　dull　thud　in　the　predawn　silence。　We　felt　
wide　awake　now。　We　sighed；　preferring　unconsciousness；　and　let　our　head　fall　into　our　hands。　What　
now？

　“Why　did　you　give　it　water；　Jeb？”　an　angry　voice　demanded；　close　behind　our　back。

　We　whirled；　twisting　onto　our　knees。　What　we　saw　made　our　heart　falter　and　our　awareness　splinter　
apart。

　There　were　eight　humans　half…circled　around　where　I　knelt　under　the　tree。　There　was　no　question　they　
were　humans；　all　of　them。　I’d　never　seen　faces　contorted　into　such　expressions—not　on　my　kind。　These　
lips　twisted　with　hatred；　pulled　back　over　clenched　teeth　like　wild　animals。　These　brows　pulled　low　over　
eyes　that　burned　with　fury。

　Six　men　and　two　women；　some　of　them　very　big；　most　of　them　bigger　than　me。　I　felt　the　blood　drain　
from　my　face　as　I　realized　why　they　held　their　hands　so　oddly—gripped　tightly　in　front　of　them；　each　
balancing　an　object。　They　held　weapons。　Some　held　blades—a　few　short　ones　like　those　I　had　kept　in　
my　kitchen；　and　some　longer；　one　huge　and　menacing。　This　knife　had　no　purpose　in　a　kitchen。　Melanie　
supplied　the　name：　amachete。

　Others　held　long　bars；　some　metal；　some　wooden。　Clubs。

　I　recognized　Uncle　Jeb　in　their　midst。　Held　loosely　in　his　hands　was　an　object　I’d　never　seen　in　person；　
only　in　Melanie’s　memories；　like　the　big　knife。　It　was　a　rifle。

　I　saw　horror；　but　Melanie　saw　all　this　with　wonder；　her　mind　boggling　at　their　numbers。　Eight　human　
survivors。　She’d　thought　Jeb　was　alone　or；　in　the　best　case　scenario；　with　only　two　others。　To　see　so　
many　of　her　kind　alive　filled　her　with　joy。

　You’re　an　idiot；I　told　her。Look　at　them。　See　them。

　I　forced　her　to　see　it　from　my　perspective：　to　see　the　threatening　shapes　inside　the　dirty　jeans　and　light　
cotton　shirts；　brown　with　dust。　They　might　have　been　human—as　she　thought　of　the　word—once；　but　at　
this　moment　they　were　something　else。　They　were　barbarians；　monsters。　They　hung　over　us；　slavering　for　
blood。

　There　was　a　death　sentence　in　every　pair　of　eyes。

　Melanie　saw　all　this　and；　though　grudgingly；　she　had　to　admit　that　I　was　right。　At　this　moment；　her　
beloved　humans　were　at　their　worst—like　the　newspaper　stories　we’d　seen　in　the　abandoned　shack。　We　
were　looking　at　killers。

　We　should　have　been　wiser；　we　should　have　died　yesterday。　

　

　A　shiver　passed　through　me　at　the　thought。　I’d　skimmed　through　the　histories　of　human　atrocities。　I’d　
had　no　stomach　for　them。　Perhaps　I　should　have　concentrated　better。　I　knew　there　were　reasons　why　
humans　let　their　enemies　live；　for　a　little　while。　Things　they　wanted　from　their　minds　or　their　bodies…

　Of　course　it　sprang　into　my　head　immediately—the　one　secret　they　would　want　from　me。　The　one　I　
could　never；　never　tell　them。　No　matter　what　they　did　to　me。　I　would　have　to　kill　myself　first。

　I　did　not　let　Melanie　see　the　secret　I　protected。　I　used　her　own　defenses　against　her　and　threw　up　a　wall　
in　my　head　to　hide　behind　while　I　thought　of　the　information　for　the　first　time　since　implantation。　There　
had　been　no　reason　to　think　of　it　before。

　Melanie　was　hardly　even　curious　on　the　other　side　of　the　wall；　she　made　no　effort　to　break　through　it。　
There　were　much　more　immediate　concerns　than　the　fact　that　she　had　not　been　the　only　one　keeping　
information　in　reserve。

　Did　it　matter　that　I　protected　my　secret　from　her？　I　wasn’t　as　strong　as　Melanie；　I　had　no　doubt　she　
could　endure　torture。　How　much　pain　could　I　stand　before　I　gave　them　anything　they　wanted？

　My　stomach　heaved。　Suicide　was　a　repugnant　option—worse　because　it　would　be　murder；　too。　Melanie　
would　be　part　of　either　torture　or　death。　I　would　wait　for　that　until　I　had　absolutely　no　other　choice。

　No；　they　can’t。　Uncle　Jeb　would　never　let　them　hurt　me。

　Uncle　Jeb　doesn’t　know　you’re　here；I　reminded　her。

　Tell　him！

　I　focused　on　the　old　man’s　face。　The　thick　white　beard　kept　me　from　seeing　the　set　of　his　mouth；　but　his　
eyes　did　not　seem　to　burn　like　the　others’。　From　the　corner　of　my　eye；　I　could　see　a　few　of　the　men　shift　
their　gaze　from　me　to　him。　They　were　waiting　for　him　to　answer　the　question　that　had　alerted　me　to　their　
presence。　Uncle　Jeb　stared　at　me；　ignoring　them。

　I　can’t　tell　him；　Melanie。　He　won’t　believe　me。　And　if　they　think　I’m　lying　to　them；　they’ll　think　
I’m　a　Seeker。　They　must　have　experience　enough　to　know　that　only　a　Seeker　would　e　out　here　
with　a　lie；　a　story　designed　for　infiltration。

　Melanie　recognized　the　truth　of　my　thought　at　once。　The　very　wordSeeker　made　her　recoil　with　hatred；　
and　she　knew　these　strangers　would　have　the　same　reaction。

　It　doesn’t　matter　anyway。　I’m　a　soul—that’s　enough　for　them。

　The　one　with　the　machete—the　biggest　man　there；　black…haired　with　oddly　fair　skin　and　vivid　blue　
eyes—made　a　sound　of　disgust　and　spit　on　the　ground。　He　took　a　step　forward；　slowly　raising　the　long　
blade。

　Better　fast　than　slow。　Better　that　it　was　this　brutal　hand　and　not　mine　that　killed　us。　Better　that　I　didn’t　
die　a　creature　of　violence；　accountable　for　Melanie’s　blood　as　well　as　my　own。　

　

　“Why？　You　said　you　made　sure。　It’s　one　of　them。”

　I　recognized　the　voice—he　was　the　same　one　who’d　asked　Jeb　why　he’d　given　me　water。

　“Well；　yes；　she　surely　is。　But　it’s　a　little　plicated。”

　“How？”　A　different　man　asked　the　question。　He　stood　next　to　the　big；　dark…haired　Kyle；　and　they　
looked　so　much　alike　that　they　had　to　be　brothers。

　“See；　this　here　is　my　niece；　too。”

　“Not　anymore　she’s　not；”　Kyle　said　flatly。　He　spit　again　and　took　another　deliberate　step　in　my　
direction；　knife　ready。　I　could　see　from　the　way　his　shoulders　leaned　into　the　action　that　words　would　not　

stop　him　again。　I　closed　my　eyes。

　There　were　two　sharp　metallic　clicks；　and　someone　gasped。　My　eyes　flew　open　again。

　“I　said　hold　it；　Kyle。”　Uncle　Jeb’s　voice　was　still　relaxed；　but　the　long　rifle　was　gripped　tightly　in　his　

hands　now；　and　the　barrels　were　pointed　at　Kyle’s　back。　Kyle　was　frozen　just　steps　from　me；　his　
machete　hung　motionless　in　the　air　above　his　shoulder。

　“Jeb；”　the　brother　said；　horrified；　“what　are　you　doing？”

　“Step　away　from　the　girl；　Kyle。”

　Kyle　turned　his　back　to　us；　whirling　on　Jeb　in　fury。　“It’s　not　agirl；　Jeb！”

　Jeb　shrugged；　the　gun　stayed　steady　in　his　hands；　pointed　at　Kyle。　“There　are　things　to　be　di