[科幻]宿主-第47节

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us—it　was　the　most　horror　and　the　most　fear　and　the　most　pain　I’d　ever　felt。　What　if　I　do　that　to　Jamie　

again？

　“I’ll　e　back。　I　always　e　back。”

　“I’m　scared；”　he　says　again。

　I　have　to　be　brave。

　“I　promise　everything　will　be　fine。　I’m　ing　back。　I　promise。　You　know　I　won’t　break　a　promise；　

Jamie。　Not　to　you。”

　The　shaking　slows。　He　believes　me。　He　trusts　me。

　And　another：

　I　can　hear　them　on　the　floor　below。　They　will　find　me　in　minutes；　or　seconds。　I　scrawl　the　words　on　a　

dirty　shred　of　newsprint。　They　are　nearly　illegible；　but　if　he　finds　them；　he　will　understand：

　Not　fast　enough。　Love　you　love　Jamie。　Don’t　go　home。

　Not　only　do　I　break　their　hearts；　I　steal　their　refuge；　too。　I　picture　our　little　canyon　home　abandoned；　as　
it　must　be　forever　now。　Or　if　not　abandoned；　a　tomb。　I　see　my　body　leading　the　Seekers　to　it。　My　face　
smiling　as　we　catch　them　there…

　“Enough；”　I　said　out　loud；　cringing　away　from　the　whiplash　of　pain。　“Enough！　You’ve　made　your　point！　I　
can’t　live　without　them　either　now。　Does　that　make　you　happy？　Because　it　doesn’t　leave　me　many　
choices；　does　it？　Just　one—to　get　rid　of　you。　Do　youwant　the　Seeker　inside　you？　Ugh！”　I　recoiled　from　
the　thought　as　if　I　would　be　the　one　to　house　her。

　Thereisanother　choice；　Melanie　thought　softly。

　“Really？”　I　demanded　with　heavy　sarcasm。　“Show　me　one。”

　Look　and　see。

　I　was　still　staring　at　the　mountain　peak。　It　dominated　the　landscape；　a　sudden　upthrust　of　rock　
surrounded　by　flat　scrubland。　Her　interest　pulled　my　eyes　over　the　outline；　tracing　the　uneven　
two…pronged　crest。

　A　slow；　rough　curve；　then　a　sharp　turn　north；　another　sudden　turn　back　the　other　way；　twisting　back　to　
the　north　for　a　longer　stretch；　and　then　the　abrupt　southern　decline　that　flattened　out　into　another　shallow　
curve。

　Not　north　and　south；　the　way　I’d　always　seen　the　lines　in　her　piecemeal　memories；　it　was　up　and　down。

　The　profile　of　a　mountain　peak。　

　

　I　could　find　them。

　Wecould　find　them；　she　corrected　me。You　don’t　know　all　the　directions。　Just　like　with　the　cabin；　I　
never　gave　you　everything。

　“I　don’t　understand。　Where　does　it　lead？How　does　a　mountain　lead　us？”　My　pulse　beat　faster　as　I　
thought　of　it：　Jared　was　close。　Jamie；　within　my　reach。

　She　showed　me　the　answer。

　“They’re　just　lines。　And　Uncle　Jeb　is　just　an　old　lunatic。　A　nut　job；　like　the　rest　of　my　dad’s　family。”　I　try　
to　tug　the　book　out　of　Jared’s　hands；　but　he　barely　seems　to　notice　my　effort。

　“A　nut　job；　like　Sharon’s　mom？”　he　counters；　still　studying　the　dark　pencil　marks　that　deface　the　back　
cover　of　the　old　photo　album。　It’s　the　one　thing　I　haven’t　lost　in　all　the　running。　Even　the　graffiti　loony　
Uncle　Jeb　left　on　it　during　his　last　visit　has　sentimental　value　now。

　“Point　taken。”　If　Sharon　is　still　alive；　it　will　be　because　her　mother；　loony　Aunt　Maggie；　could　give　loony　
Uncle　Jeb　a　run　for　the　title　of　Craziest　of　the　Crazy　Stryder　Siblings。　My　father　had　been　only　slightly　
touched　by　the　Stryder　madness—he　didn’t　have　a　secret　bunker　in　the　backyard　or　anything。　The　rest　
of　them；　his　sister　and　brothers；　Aunt　Maggie；　Uncle　Jeb；　and　Uncle　Guy；　were　the　most　devoted　of　
conspiracy　theorists。　Uncle　Guy　had　died　before　the　others　disappeared　during　the　invasion；　in　a　car　
accident　so　monplace　that　even　Maggie　and　Jeb　had　struggled　to　make　an　intrigue　out　of　it。

　My　father　always　affectionately　referred　to　them　asthe　Crazies。　“I　think　it’s　time　we　visited　the　Crazies；”　
Dad　would　announce；　and　then　Mom　would　groan—which　is　why　such　announcements　had　happened　so　
seldom。

　On　one　of　those　rare　visits　to　Chicago；　Sharon　had　snuck　me　into　her　mother’s　hidey…hole。　We　got　
caught—the　woman　had　booby　traps　every…where。　Sharon　was　scolded　soundly；　and　though　I　was　
sworn　to　secrecy；　I’d　had　a　sense　Aunt　Maggie　might　build　a　new　sanctuary。

　But　I　remember　where　the　first　is。　I　picture　Sharon　there　now；　living　the　life　of　Anne　Frank　in　the　middle　
of　an　enemy　city。　We　have　to　find　her　and　bring　her　home。

　Jared　interrupts　my　reminiscing。　“Nut　jobs　are　exactly　the　kind　of　people　who　will　have　survived。　People　
who　saw　Big　Brother　when　he　wasn’t　there。　People　who　suspected　the　rest　of　humanity　before　the　rest　
of　humanity　turned　dangerous。　People　with　hiding　places　ready。”　Jared　grins；　still　study…ing　the　lines。　And　
then　his　voice　is　heavier。　“People　likemy　father。　If　he　and　my　brothers　had　hidden　rather　than　fought。…　
Well；　they’d　still　be　here。”

　My　tone　is　softer；　hearing　the　pain　in　his。　“Okay；　I　agree　with　the　theory。　But　these　lines　don’tmean　
anything。”

　“Tell　me　again　what　he　said　when　he　drew　them。”

　I　sigh。　“They　were　arguing—Uncle　Jeb　and　my　dad。　Uncle　Jeb　was　trying　to　convince　him　that　
something　was　wrong；　telling　him　not　to　trust　anyone。　Dad　laughed　it　off。　Jeb　grabbed　the　photo　album　
from　the　end　table　and　started…　almostcarving　the　lines　into　the　back　cover　with　a　pencil。　Dad　got　mad；　

　

　Jared　nods　absently；　still　studying。　“The　beginning…　the　beginning…　It　has　to　mean　something。”

　“Does　it？　They’re　just　squiggles；　Jared。　It’s　not　like　a　map—they　don’t　even　connect。”

　“There’s　something　about　the　first　one；　though。　Something　familiar。　I　could　swear　I’ve　seen　it　somewhere　
before。”

　I　sigh。　“Maybe　he　told　Aunt　Maggie。　Maybe　she　got　better　directions。”

　“Maybe；”　he　says；　and　continues　to　stare　at　Uncle　Jeb’s　squiggles。

　She　dragged　me　back　in　time；　to　a　much；　much　older　memory—a　memory　that　had　escaped　her　for　a　
long　while。　I　was　surprised　to　realize　that　she　had　only　put　these　memories；　the　old　and　the　fresh；　together　
recently。　After　I　was　here。　That　was　why　the　lines　had　slipped　through　her　careful　control　despite　the　fact　
that　they　were　one　of　the　most　precious　of　her　secrets—because　of　the　urgency　of　her　discovery。

　In　this　blurry　early　memory；　Melanie　sat　in　her　father’s　lap　with　the　same　album—not　so　tattered　
then—open　in　her　hands。　Her　hands　were　tiny；　her　fingers　stubby。　It　was　very　strange　to　remember　being　
a　child　in　this　body。

　They　were　on　the　first　page。

　“Do　you　remember　where　this　is？”　Dad　asks；　pointing　to　the　old　gray　picture　at　the　top　of　the　page。　The　
paper　looks　thinner　than　the　other　photographs；　as　if　it　has　worn　down—flatter　and　flatter　and　
flatter—since　some　great…great…grandpa　took　it。

　“It’s　where　we　Stryders　e　from；”　I　answer；　repeating　what　I’ve　been　taught。

　“Right。　That’s　the　old　Stryder　ranch。　You　went　there　once；　but　I　bet　you　don’t　remember　it。　I　think　you　
were　eighteen　months　old。”　Dad　laughs。　“It’s　been　Stryder　land　since　the　very　beginning。…”

　And　then　the　memory　of　the　picture　itself。　A　picture　she’d　looked　at　a　thousand　times　without　ever　
seeing　it。　It　was　black　and　white；　faded　to　grays。　A　small　rustic　wooden　house；　far　away　on　the　other　
side　of　a　desert　field；　in　the　foreground；　a　split…rail　fence；　a　few　equine　shapes　between　the　fence　and　the　
house。　And　then；　behind　it　all；　the　sharp；　familiar　profile…

　There　were　words；　a　label；　scrawled　in　pencil　across　the　top　white　border：

　Stryder　Ranch；　1904；　in　the　morning　shadow　of…

　“Picacho　Peak；”　I　said　quietly。　

　

　The　thought　had　her　so　filled　with　yearning　and　excitement　that　the　blank　wall　in　my　head　slipped　entirely。

　I　saw　the　whole　journey　now；　saw　her　and　Jared’s　and　Jamie’s　careful　trek　across　the　country；　always　
by　night　in　their　inconspicuous　stolen　vehicle。　It　took　weeks。　I　saw　where　she’d　left　them　in　a　wooded　
preserve　outside　the　city；　so　different　from　the　empty　desert　they　were　used　to。　The　cold　forest　where　
Jared　and　Jamie　would　hide　and　wait　had　felt　safer　in　some　ways—because　the　branches　were　thick　and　
concealing；　unlike　the　spindly　desert　foliage　that　hid　little—but　also　more　dangerous　in　its　unfamiliar　smells　
and　sounds。

　Then　the　separation；　a　memory　so　painful　we　skipped　through　it；　flinching。　Next　came　the　abandoned　
building　she’d　hidden　in；　watching　the　house　across　the　street　for　her　chance。　There；　concealed　within　the　
walls　or　in　the　secret　basement；　she　hoped　to　find　Sharon。

　I　shouldn’t　have　let　you　see　that；Melanie　thought。　The　faintness　of　her　silent　voice　gave　away　her　
fatigue。　The　assault　of　memories；　the　persuasion　and　coercion；　had　tired　her。You’ll　tell　them　where　to　
find　her。　You’ll　kill　her；　too。

　“Yes；”　I　mused　aloud。　“I　have　to　do　my　duty。”

　Why？she　murmured；　almost　sleepily。What　happiness　will　it　bring　you？

　I　didn’t　want　to　argue　with　her；　so　I　said　nothing。

　The　mountain　loomed　larger　ahead　of　us。　In　moments；　we　would　be　beneath　it。　I　could　see　a　little　rest　
stop　with　a　convenience　store　and　a　fast　food　restaurant　bordered　on　one　side　by　a　flat；　concrete　
space—a　place　for　mobile　homes。　There　were　only　a　few　in　residence　now；　with　the　heat　of　the　ing　
summer　making　things　unfortable。

　What　now？　I　wondered。　Stop　for　a　late　lunch　or　an　early　dinner？　Fill　my　gas　tank　and　then　continue　on　
to　Tucson　in　order　to　reveal　my　fresh　discoveries　to　the　Seeker？

　The　thought　was　so　repellent　that　my　jaw　locked　against　th