I tried.
So many memories, all of them so colorful and sharp. I saw a hundred places I’d never been, heard their names for the first time. A house in Los Angeles, lined with tall fronded trees. A meadow in a forest, with a tent and a fire, outside Winslow, Arizona. A deserted rocky beach in Mexico. A cave, the entrance guarded by sheeting rain, somewhere in Oregon. Tents, huts, rude shelters. As time went on, the names grew less specific. She did not know where she was, nor did she care.
My name was now Wanderer, yet her memories fit it just as well as my own. Except that my wandering was by choice. These flashes of memory were always tinged with the fear of the hunted. Not wandering, but running.
I tried not to feel pity. Instead, I worked to focus the memories. I didn’t need to see where she’d been, only where she was going. I sorted through the pictures that tied to the word Chicago, but none seemed to be anything more than random images. I widened my net. What was outside Chicago? Cold, I thought. It was cold, and there was some worry about that.
Where? I pushed, and the wall came back.
I exhaled in a gust. “Outside the city—in the wilderness… a state park, away from any habitations. It’s not somewhere she’d been before, but she knew how to get there.”
“How soon?” the Seeker asked.
“Soon.” The answer came automatically. “How long have I been here?”
“We let the host heal for nine days, just to be absolutely sure she was recovered,” the Healer told me. “Insertion was today, the tenth day.”
Ten days. My body felt a staggering wave of relief.
“Too late,” I said. “For the rendezvous point… or even the note.” I could feel the host’s reaction to this—could feel it much too strongly. The host was almost… smug. I allowed the words she thought to be spoken, so that I could learn from them. “He won’t be there.”
“He?” The Seeker pounced on the pronoun. “Who?”
The black wall slammed down with more force than she’d used before. She was the tiniest fraction of a second too late.
Again, the face filled my mind. The beautiful face with the golden tan skin and the light-flecked eyes. The face that stirred a strange, deep pleasure within me while I viewed it so clearly in my mind.
Though the wall slapped into place with an accompanying sensation of vicious resentment, it was not fast enough.
“Jared,” I answered. As quickly as if it had come from me, the thought that was not mine followed the name through my lips. “Jared is safe.”
CHAPTER 4
Dreamed
It is too dark to be so hot, or maybe too hot to be so dark. One of the two is out of place.
I crouch in the darkness behind the weak protection of a scrubby creosote bush, sweating out all the water left in my body. It’s been fifteen minutes since the car left the garage. No lights have come on. The arcadia door is open two inches, letting the swamp cooler do its job. I can imagine the feel of the moist, cool air blowing through the screen. I wish it could reach me here.
My stomach gurgles, and I clench my abdominal muscles to stifle the sound. It is quiet enough that the murmur carries.
I am so hungry.
There is another need that is stronger—another hungry stomach hidden safely far away in the darkness, waiting alone in the rough cave that is our temporary home. A cramped place, jagged with volcanic rock. What will he do if I don’t come back? All the pressure of motherhood with none of the knowledge or experience. I feel so hideously helpless. Jamie is hungry.
There are no other houses close to this one. I’ve been watching since the sun was still white hot in the sky, and I don’t think there is a dog, either.
I ease up from my crouch, my calves screaming in protest, but keep hunched at the waist, trying to be smaller than the bush. The way up the wash is smooth sand, a pale pathway in the light of the stars. There are no sounds of cars on the road.
I know what they will realize when they return, the monsters who look like a nice couple in their early fifties. They will know exactly what I am, and the search will begin at once. I need to be far away. I really hope they are going out for a night on the town. I think it’s Friday. They keep our habits so perfectly, it’s hard to see any difference. Which is how they won in the first place.
The fence around the yard is only waist high. I get over easily, noiselessly. The yard is gravel, though, and I have to walk carefully to keep my weight from shifting it. I make it to the patio slab.
The blinds are open. The starlight is enough to see that the rooms are empty of movement. This couple goes for a spartan look, and I’m grateful. It makes it harder for someone to hide. Of course, that leaves no place for me to hide, either, but if it comes to hiding for me, it’s too late anyway.