He paused for a moment.
“Spent a lot of time watching your kind. I was always waiting for them to change, you know, when they didn’t have to act like us anymore, because there was no one to act for. I kept on watching and waiting, but they just kept on actin’ like humans. Staying with their bodies’ families, going out for picnics in good weather, plantin’ flowers and paintin’ pictures and all the rest of it. I’ve been wondering if you all aren’t turning sort of human. If we don’t have some real influence, in the end.”
He waited, giving me a chance to respond. I didn’t.
“Saw something a few years ago that stuck with me. Old man and woman, well, the bodies of an old man and an old woman. Been together so long that the skin on their fingers grew in ridges around their wedding rings. They were holding hands, and he kissed her on her cheek, and she blushed under all those wrinkles. Occurred to me that you have all the same feelings we have, because you’re really us, not just hands in a puppet.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “We have all the same feelings. Human feelings. Hope, and pain, and love.”
“So, if you aren’t acting… well, then I’d swear to it that you loved them both. You do. Wanda, not just Mel’s body.”
I put my head down on my arms. The gesture was tantamount to an admission, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t hold it up anymore.
“So that’s you. But I wonder about my niece, too. What it was like for her, what it would be like for me. When they put somebody inside your head, are you just… gone? Erased? Like being dead? Or is it like being asleep? Are you aware of the outside control? Is it aware of you? Are you trapped there, screaming inside?”
I sat very still, trying to keep my face smooth.
“Plainly, your memories and behaviors, all that is left behind. But your consciousness… Seems like some people wouldn’t go down without a fight. Hell, I know I would try to stay—never been one to take no for an answer, anyone will tell you that. I’m a fighter. All of us who are left are fighters. And, you know, I woulda pegged Mel for a fighter, too.”
He didn’t move his eyes from the ceiling, but I looked at the floor—stared at it, memorizing the patterns in the purple gray dust.
“Yeah, I’ve wondered about that a lot.”
I could feel his eyes on me now, though my head was still down. I didn’t move, except to breathe slowly in and out. It took a great deal of effort to keep that slow rhythm smooth. I had to swallow; the blood was still flowing in my mouth.
Why did we ever think he was crazy? Mel wondered. He sees everything. He’s a genius.
He’s both.
Well, maybe this means we don’t have to keep quiet anymore. He knows. She was hopeful. She’d been very quiet lately, absent almost half the time. It wasn’t as easy for her to concentrate when she was relatively happy. She’d won her big fight. She’d gotten us here. Her secrets were no longer in jeopardy; Jared and Jamie could never be betrayed by her memories.
With the fight taken out of her, it was harder for her to find the will to speak, even to me. I could see how the idea of discovery—of having the other humans recognize her existence—invigorated her.
Jeb knows, yes. Does that really change anything?
She thought about the way the other humans looked at Jeb. Right. She sighed. But I think Jamie… well, he doesn’t know or guess, but I think he feels the truth.
You might be right. I guess we’ll see if that does him or us any good, in the end.
Jeb could only manage to keep quiet for a few seconds, and then he was off again, interrupting us. “Pretty interesting stuff. Not as much bang! bang! as the movies I used to like. But still pretty interesting. I’d like to hear more about those spider thingies. I’m real curious… real curious, for sure.”
I took a deep breath and raised my head. “What do you want to know?”
He smiled at me warmly, his eyes crinkling into half moons. “Three brains, right?”
I nodded.
“How many eyes?”
“Twelve—one at each juncture of the leg and the body. We didn’t have lids, just a lot of fibers—like steel wool eyelashes—to protect them.”
He nodded, his eyes bright. “Were they furry, like tarantulas?”
“No. Sort of… armored—scaled, like a reptile or a fish.”
I slouched against the wall, settling myself in for a long conversation.
Jeb didn’t disappoint on that count. I lost track of how many questions he asked me. He wanted details—the Spiders’ looks, their behaviors, and how they’d handled Earth. He didn’t flinch away from the invasion details; on the contrary, he almost seemed to enjoy that part more than the rest. His questions came fast on the heels of my answers, and his grins were frequent. When he was satisfied about the Spiders, hours later, he wanted to know more about the Flowers.