I wasn’t sure exactly what I was in a hurry for, though. To be out of this, I supposed. Out of pain, out of sadness, out of aching for lost and hopeless loves. Did that mean out of this body? I couldn’t think of any other answer. I would still ask my questions of the Healer, but it felt as though the decision was made. Skipper. Quitter. I tested the words in my head, trying to come to terms with them.
If I could find a way, I would keep Melanie out of the Seeker’s hands. It would be very hard. No, it would be impossible.
I would try.
I promised her this, but she wasn’t listening. She was still dreaming. Giving up, I thought, now that it was too late for giving up to help.
I tried to stay clear of the red canyon in her head, but I was there, too. No matter how hard I tried to see the cars zooming beside me, the shuttles gliding in toward the port, the few, fine clouds drifting overhead, I couldn’t pull completely free of her dreams. I memorized Jared’s face from a thousand different angles. I watched Jamie shoot up in a sudden growth spurt, always skin and bones. My arms ached for them both-no, the feeling was sharper than an ache, blade-edged and violent. It was intolerable. I had to get out.
I drove almost blindly along the narrow two-lane freeway. The desert was, if anything, more monotonous and dead than before. Flatter, more colorless. I would make it to Tucson long before dinnertime. Dinner. I hadn’t eaten yet today, and my stomach rumbled as I realized that.
The Seeker would be waiting for me there. My stomach rolled then, hunger momentarily replaced with nausea. Automatically, my foot eased off the gas.
I checked the map on the passenger seat. Soon I would reach a little pit stop at a place called Picacho Peak. Maybe I would stop to eat something there. Put off seeing the Seeker a few precious moments.
As I thought of this unfamiliar name-Picacho Peak-there was a strange, stifled reaction from Melanie. I couldn’t make it out. Had she been here before? I searched for a memory, a sight or a smell that corresponded, but found nothing. Picacho Peak. Again, there was that spike of interest that Melanie repressed. What did the words mean to her? She retreated into faraway memories, avoiding me.
This made me curious. I drove a little faster, wondering if the sight of the place would trigger something.
A solitary mountain peak-not massive by normal standards, but towering above the low, rough hills closer to me-was beginning to take shape on the horizon. It had an unusual, distinctive shape. Melanie watched it grow as we traveled, pretending indifference to it.
Why did she pretend not to care when she so obviously did? I was disturbed by her strength when I tried to find out. I couldn’t see any way around the old blank wall. It felt thicker than usual, though I’d thought it was almost gone.
I tried to ignore her, not wanting to think about that-that she was growing stronger. I watched the peak instead, tracing its shape against the pale, hot sky. There was something familiar about it. Something I was sure I recognized, even as I was positive that neither of us had been here before.
Almost as if she was trying to distract me, Melanie plunged into a vivid memory of Jared, catching me by surprise.
I shiver in my jacket, straining my eyes to see the muted glare of the sun dying behind the thick, bristly trees. I tell myself that it is not as cold as I think it is. My body just isn’t used to this.
The hands that are suddenly there on my shoulders do not startle me, though I am afraid of this unfamiliar place and I did not hear his silent approach. Their weight is too familiar.
“You’re easy to sneak up on.”
Even now, there is a smile in his voice.
“I saw you coming before you took the first step,” I say without turning. “I have eyes in the back of my head.”
Warm fingers stroke my face from my temple to my chin, dragging fire along my skin.
“You look like a dryad hidden here in the trees,” he whispers in my ear. “One of them. So beautiful that you must be fictional.”
“We should plant more trees around the cabin.”
He chuckles, and the sound makes my eyes close and my lips stretch into a grin.
“Not necessary,” he says. “You always look that way.”
“Says the last man on Earth to the last woman on Earth, on the eve of their separation.”
My smile fades as I speak. Smiles cannot last today.
He sighs. His breath on my cheek is warm compared to the chill forest air.
“Jamie might resent that implication.”
“Jamie’s still a boy. Please, please keep him safe.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” Jared offers. “You keep yourself safe, and I’ll do my best. Otherwise, no deal.”
Just a joke, but I can’t take it lightly. Once we are apart, there are no guarantees. “No matter what happens,” I insist.
“Nothing’s going to happen. Don’t worry.” The words are nearly meaningless. A waste of effort. But his voice is worth hearing, no matter the message.
“Okay.”
He pulls me around to face him, and I lean my head against his chest. I don’t know what to compare his scent to. It is his own, as unique as the smell of juniper or the desert rain.
“You and I won’t lose each other,” he promises. “I will always find you again.” Being Jared, he cannot be completely serious for more than a heartbeat or two. “No matter how well you hide. I’m unstoppable at hide-and-seek.”
“Will you give me to the count of ten?”
“Without peeking.”
“You’re on,” I mumble, trying to disguise the fact that my throat is thick with tears.
“Don’t be afraid. You’ll be fine. You’re strong, you’re fast, and you’re smart.” He’s trying to convince himself, too.
Why am I leaving him? It’s such a long shot that Sharon is still human.
But when I saw her face on the news, I was so sure.
It was just a normal raid, one of a thousand. As usual when we felt isolated enough, safe enough, we had the TV on as we cleaned out the pantry and fridge. Just to get the weather forecast; there isn’t much entertainment in the dead-boring everything-is-perfect reports that pass for news among the parasites. It was the hair that caught my eye-the flash of deep, almost pink red that I’d only ever seen on one person.
I can still see the look on her face as she peeked at the camera from the corner of one eye. The look that said, I’m trying to be invisible; don’t see me. She walked not quite slowly enough, working too hard at keeping a casual pace. Trying desperately to blend in.
No body snatcher would feel that need.
What is Sharon doing walking around human in a huge city like Chicago? Are there others? Trying to find her doesn’t even seem like a choice, really. If there is a chance there are more humans out there, we have to locate them.
And I have to go alone. Sharon will run from anyone but me-well, she will run from me, too, but maybe she will pause long enough for me to explain. I am sure I know her secret place.
“And you?” I ask him in a thick voice. I’m not sure I can physically bear this looming goodbye. “Will you be safe?”
“Neither heaven nor hell can keep me apart from you, Melanie.”
Without giving me a chance to catch my breath or wipe away the fresh tears, she threw another at me.
Jamie curls up under my arm-he doesn’t fit the way he used to. He has to fold in on himself, his long, gangly limbs poking out in sharp angles. His arms are starting to turn hard and sinewy, but in this moment he’s a child, shaking, cowering almost. Jared is loading the car. Jamie would not show this fear if he were here. Jamie wants to be brave, to be like Jared.
“I’m scared,” he whispers.
I kiss his night-dark hair. Even here among the sharp, resinous trees, it smells like dust and sun. It feels like he is part of me, that to separate us will tear the skin where we are joined.
“You’ll be fine with Jared.” I have to sound brave, whether I feel that way or not.
“I know that. I’m scared for you. I’m scared you won’t come back. Like Dad.”