[科幻]宿主-第69部分

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purple　and　healing…bruise　purple。

　So　I　could　understand　Jeb’s　point—yes；　I　needed　a　bath。　And　a　change　of　clothes　as　well；　to　make　the　
bath　worth　the　effort。　Jeb　offered　me　some　of　Jamie’s　clothes　to　wear　while　mine　dried；　but　I　didn’t　want　
to　ruin　Jamie’s　few　things　by　stretching　them。　Thankfully；　he　didn’t　try　to　offer　me　anything　of　Jared’s。　I　
ended　up　with　an　old　but　clean　flannel　shirt　of　Jeb’s　that　had　the　sleeves　ripped　off；　and　a　pair　of　faded；　
holey　cutoff　sweatpants　that　had　gone　unclaimed　for　months。　These　were　draped　over　my　arm—and　a　
bumpy　mound　of　vile…smelling；　loosely　molded　chunks　that　Jeb　claimed　was　homemade　cactus　soap　was　
in　my　hand—as　I　followed　Jeb　to　the　room　with　the　two　rivers。

　Again　we　were　not　alone；　and　again　I　was　miserably　disappointed　that　this　was　the　case。　Three　men　and　
one　woman—the　salt…and…pepper　braid—were　filling　buckets　with　water　from　the　smaller　stream。　A　loud　

　

　“We’ll　just　wait　our　turn；”　Jeb　told　me。

　He　leaned　against　the　wall。　I　stood　stiffly　beside　him；　unfortably　conscious　of　the　four　pairs　of　eyes　
on　me；　though　I　kept　my　own　on　the　dark　hot　spring　rushing　by　underneath　the　porous　floor。

　After　a　short　wait；　three　women　exited　the　bathing　room；　their　wet　hair　dripping　down　the　backs　of　their　
shirts—the　athletic　caramel…skinned　woman；　a　young　blonde　I　didn’t　remember　seeing　before；　and　
Melanie’s　cousin　Sharon。　Their　laughter　stopped　abruptly　as　soon　as　they　caught　sight　of　us。

　“Afternoon；　ladies；”　Jeb　said；　touching　his　forehead　as　if　it　were　the　brim　of　a　hat。

　“Jeb；”　the　caramel　woman　acknowledged　dryly。

　Sharon　and　the　other　girl　ignored　us。

　“Okay；　Wanda；”　he　said　when　they’d　passed。　“It’s　all　yours。”

　I　gave　him　a　glum　look；　then　made　my　way　carefully　into　the　black　room。

　I　tried　to　remember　how　the　floor　went—I　was　sure　I　had　a　few　feet　before　the　edge　of　the　water。　I　
took　off　my　shoes　first；　so　that　I　could　feel　for　the　water　with　my　toes。

　It　was　just　so　dark。　I　remembered　the　inky　appearance　of　the　pool—ripe　with　suggestions　of　what　might　
lurk　beneath　its　opaque　surface—and　shuddered。　But　the　longer　I　waited；　the　longer　I　would　have　to　be　
here；　so　I　put　the　clean　clothes　next　to　my　shoes；　kept　the　smelly　soap；　and　shuffled　forward　carefully　
until　I　found　the　lip　of　the　pool。

　The　water　was　cool　pared　to　the　steamy　air　of　the　outer　cavern。　It　felt　nice。　That　didn’t　keep　me　
from　being　terrified；　but　I　could　still　appreciate　the　sensation。　It　had　been　a　long　time　since　anything　had　
beencool。　Still　fully　dressed　in　my　dirty　clothes；　I　waded　in　waist　deep。　I　could　feel　the　stream’s　current　
swirl　around　my　ankles；　hugging　the　rock。　I　was　glad　the　water　was　not　stagnant—it　would　be　upsetting　
to　sully　it；　filthy　as　I　was；　if　that　were　the　case。

　I　crouched　down　into　the　ink　until　I　was　immersed　to　my　shoulders。　I　ran　the　coarse　soap　over　my　
clothes；　thinking　this　would　be　the　easiest　way　to　make　sure　they　were　clean。　Where　the　soap　touched　
my　skin；　it　burned　mildly。

　I　took　off　the　soapy　clothes　and　scrubbed　them　under　the　water。　Then　I　rinsed　them　again　and　again　until　
there　was　no　way　any　of　my　sweat　or　tears　could　have　survived；　wrung　them　out；　and　laid　them　on　the　
floor　beside　where　I　thought　my　shoes　were。

　The　soap　burned　more　strongly　against　my　bare　skin；　but　the　sting　was　bearable　because　it　meant　I　
could　be　clean　again。　When　I　was　done　lathering；　my　skin　prickled　everywhere　and　my　scalp　felt　scalded。　
It　seemed　as　if　the　places　where　the　bruises　had　formed　were　more　sensitive　than　the　rest　of　me—they　
must　still　have　been　there。　I　was　happy　to　put　the　acidic　soap　on　the　rock　floor　and　rinse　my　body　again　
and　again；　the　way　I　had　my　clothes。

　It　was　with　a　strange　mingling　of　relief　and　regret　that　I　sloshed　my　way　out　of　the　pool。　The　water　was　
very　pleasant；　as　was　the　feeling　of　clean；　if　prickling；　skin。　But　I’d　had　quite　enough　of　the　blindness　and　

　

　Jeb　laughed　when　I　emerged；　his　eyes　were　on　the　soap　in　my　cautious　grasp。

　“Smarts　a　bit；　don’t　it？　We’re　trying　to　fix　that。”　He　held　out　his　hand；　protected　by　the　tail　of　his　shirt；　
and　I　placed　the　soap　in　it。　
I　didn’t　answer　his　question　because　we　weren’t　alone；　there　was　a　line　waiting　silently　behind　him—five　

people；　all　of　them　from　the　field　turning。　
Ian　was　first　in　line。　
“You　look　better；”　he　told　me；　but　I　couldn’t　tell　from　his　tone　if　he　was　surprised　or　annoyed　that　I　did。　
He　raised　one　arm；　extending　his　long；　pale　fingers　toward　my　neck。　I　flinched　away；　and　he　dropped　his　

hand　quickly。　
“Sorry　about　that；”　he　muttered。　
Did　he　mean　for　scaring　me　now　or　for　marking　up　my　neck　in　the　first　place？　I　couldn’t　imagine　that　he　

was　apologizing　for　trying　to　kill　me。　Surely　he　still　wanted　me　dead。　But　I　wasn’t　going　to　ask。　I　started　
walking；　and　Jeb　fell　into　step　behind　me。　
“So；　today　wasn’t　that　bad；”　Jeb　said　as　we　walked　through　the　dark　corridor。


　“Not　that　bad；”　I　murmured。　After　all；　I　hadn’t　been　murdered。　That　was　always　a　plus。　
“Tomorrow　will　be　even　better；”　he　promised。　“I　always　enjoy　planting—seeing　the　miracle　of　the　little　
dead…looking　seeds　having　so　much　life　in　them。　Makes　me　feel　like　a　withered　old　guy　might　have　some　
potential　left　in　him。　Even　if　it’s　only　to　be　fertilizer。”　Jeb　laughed　at　his　joke。


　When　we　got　to　the　big　garden　cavern；　Jeb　took　my　elbow　and　steered　me　east　rather　than　west。


　“Don’t　try　to　tell　me　you’re　not　hungry　after　all　that　digging；”　he　said。　“It’s　not　my　job　to　provide　room　
service。　You’re　just　going　to　have　to　eat　where　everyone　else　eats。”　
I　grimaced　at　the　floor　but　let　him　lead　me　to　the　kitchen。　
It　was　a　good　thing　the　food　was　exactly　the　same　thing　as　always；　because　if；　miraculously；　a　filet　


mignon　or　a　bag　of　Cheetos　had　materialized；　I　wouldn’t　have　been　able　to　taste　a　thing。　It　took　all　my　
concentration　just　to　make　myself　swallow—I　hated　to　make　even　that　small　sound　in　the　dead　silence　
that　followed　my　appearance。　The　kitchen　wasn’t　crowded；　just　ten　people　lounging　against　the　counters；　
eating　their　tough　rolls　and　drinking　their　watery　soup。　But　I　killed　all　conversation　again。　I　wondered　how　
long　things　could　last　like　this。

　The　answer　was　exactly　four　days。　
It　also　took　me　that　long　to　understand　what　Jeb　was　up　to；　what　the　motivation　was　behind　his　switch　
from　the　courteous　host　to　the　curmudgeonly　taskmaster。　


　

　Ian　worked　with　us；　when　it　was　clearly　not　his　turn；　and　this　bothered　me。

　I　had　to　eat　in　the　kitchen　again。　Jamie　was　there；　and　he　kept　the　room　from　total　silence。　I　knew　he　
was　too　sensitive　not　to　notice　the　awkward　hush；　but　he　deliberately　ignored　it；　seeming　to　pretend　that　
he　and　Jeb　and　I　were　the　only　people　in　the　room。　He　chattered　about　his　day　in　Sharon’s　class；　
bragging　a　little　about　some　trouble　he’d　gotten　into　for　speaking　out　of　turn；　and　plaining　about　the　
chores　she’d　given　him　as　punishment。　Jeb　chastised　him　halfheartedly。　They　both　did　a　very　good　job　of　
acting　normal。　I　had　no　acting　ability。　When　Jamie　asked　me　about　my　day；　the　best　I　could　do　was　stare　
intently　at　my　food　and　mumble　one…word　answers。　This　seemed　to　make　him　sad；　but　he　didn’t　push　
me。

　At　night　it　was　a　different　story—he　wouldn’t　let　me　stop　talking　until　I　begged　to　be　allowed　to　sleep。　
Jamie　had　reclaimed　his　room；　taking　Jared’s　side　of　the　bed　and　insisting　that　I　take　his。　This　was　very　
much　as　Melanie　remembered　things；　and　she　approved　of　the　arrangement。

　Jeb　did；　too。　“Saves　me　the　trouble　of　finding　someone　to　play　guard。　Keep　the　gun　close　and　don’t　
forget　it’s　there；”　he　told　Jamie。

　I　protested　again；　but　both　the　man　and　the　boy　refused　to　listen　to　me。　So　Jamie　slept　with　the　gun　on　
the　other　side　of　his　body　from　me；　and　I　fretted　and　had　nightmares　about　it。

　The　third　day　of　chores；　I　worked　in　the　kitchen。　Jeb　taught　me　how　to　knead　the　coarse　bread　dough；　
how　to　lay　it　out　in　round　lumps　and　let　it　rise；　and；　later　on；　how　to　feed　the　fire　in　the　bottom　of　the　big　
stone　oven　when　it　was　dark　enough　to　let　the　smoke　out。

　In　the　middle　of　the　afternoon；　Jeb　left。

　“I’m　gonna　get　some　more　flour；”　he　muttered；　playing　with　the　strap　that　held　the　gun　to　his　waist。

　The　three　silent　women　who　kneaded　alongside　us　didn’t　look　up。　I　was　up　to　my　elbows　in　the　sticky　
dough；　but　I　started　to　scrape　it　off　so　I　could　follow　him。

　Jeb　grinned；　flashed　a　look　at　the　unobserving　women；　and　shook　his　head　at　me。　Then　he　spun　around　
and　dashed　out　of　the　room　before　I　could　free　myself。

　I　froze　there；　no　longer　breathing。　I　stared　at　the　three　women—the　young　blonde　from　the　bathing　
room；　the　salt…and…pepper　braid；　and　the　heavy…lidded　mother—waiting　for　them　to　realize　that　they　
could　kill　me　now。　No　Jeb；　no　gun；　my　hands　trapped　in　the　gluey　dough—nothing　to　stop　them。

　But　the　women　kept　on　kneading　and　shaping；　not　seeming　to　realize　this　glaring　truth。　After　a　long；　
breathless　moment；　I　started　kneading　again；　too。　My　stillness　would　probably　alert　them　to　the　situation　
sooner　than　if　I　kept　working。

　Jeb　was　gone　for　an　eternity。　Perhaps　he　had　meant　that　he　needed　togrind　more　flour。　That　seemed　
like　the　only　explanation　for　his　endless　absence。　

　

just　my　imagination。　
Jeb　dropped　a　heavy　burlap　sack　to　the　floor　with　a　deep　thud。　“That’s　a　lot　of　flour　there。　You　try　
carryin’　it；　Trudy。”

　Trudy　snorted。　“I　imagine　it　took　a　lot　of　rest　stops　to　get　it　this　far。”　
Jeb　grinned　at　her。　“It　sure　did。”　
My　heart；　which　had　been　thrumming　like　a　bird’s　for　the　entire　episode；　settled　into　a　less　frantic　


rhythm。　
The　next　day　we　were　cleaning　mirrors　in　the　room　that　housed　the　cornfield。　Jeb　told　me　this　was　
something　they　had　to　do　routinely；　as　the　bination　of　humidity　and　dust　caked　the　mirrors　until　the　
light　was　too　dim　to　feed　the　plants。　It　was　Ian；　working　with　us　again；　who　scaled　the　rickety　wooden　
ladder　while　Jeb　and　I　tried　to　keep　the　base　steady。　It　was　a　difficult　task；　given　Ian’s　weight　and　the　
homemade　ladde