I was not quite asleep when Jared started awake, rolling to his knees in a swift movement. He came up with the gun in his hands and a curse on his lips.
“Easy,” a voice murmured from the distance. “I come in peace.”
“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying,” Jared growled.
“I just want to talk.” The voice came closer. “You’re buried down here, missing the important discussions.… We miss your take on things.”
“I’m sure,” Jared said sarcastically.
“Oh, put the gun down. If I was planning to fight you, I would have come with four guys this time.”
There was a short silence, and when Jared spoke again, his voice carried a hint of dark humor. “How’s your brother these days?” he asked. Jared seemed to enjoy the question. It relaxed him to tease his visitor. He sat down and slouched against the wall halfway in front of my prison, at ease, but with the gun still ready.
My neck ached, seeming to comprehend that the hands that had crushed and bruised it were very close by.
“He’s still fuming about his nose,” Ian said. “Oh, well—it’s not the first time it’s been broken. I’ll tell him you said you were sorry.”
“I’m not.”
“I know. No one is ever sorry for hitting Kyle.”
They laughed quietly together; there was a sense of camaraderie in their amusement that seemed wildly out of place while Jared held a gun loosely pointed in Ian’s direction. But then, the bonds that were forged in this desperate place must have been very strong. Thicker than blood.
Ian sat down on the mat next to Jared. I could see his profile in silhouette, a black shape against the blue light. I noticed that his nose was perfect—straight, aquiline, the kind of nose that I’d seen in pictures of famous sculptures. Did that mean that others found him more bearable than the brother whose nose was often broken? Or that he was better at ducking?
“So what do you want, Ian? Not just an apology for Kyle, I imagine.”
“Did Jeb tell you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“They’ve given up the search. Even the Seekers.”
Jared didn’t comment, but I could feel the sudden tension in the air around him.
“We’ve been keeping a close watch for some change, but they never seemed overly anxious. The search never strayed from the area where we abandoned the car, and for the past few days they were clearly looking for a body rather than a survivor. Then two nights ago we caught a lucky break—the search party left some trash in the open, and a pack of coyotes raided their base camp. One of them was coming back late and surprised the animals. The coyotes attacked and dragged the Seeker a good hundred yards into the desert before the rest of them heard its screams and came to the rescue. The other Seekers were armed, of course. They scared the coyotes off easily, and the victim wasn’t seriously hurt, but the event seems to have answered any questions they might have had about what happened to our guest here.”
I wondered how they were able to spy on the Seekers who searched for me—to see so much. I felt strangely exposed by the idea. I didn’t like the picture in my head: the humans invisible, watching the souls they hated. The thought made the skin on the back of my neck prickle.
“So they packed up and left. The Seekers gave up the search. All the volunteers went home. No one is looking for it.” His profile turned toward me, and I hunched down, hoping it was too dark to see me in here—that, like his face, I would appear as only a black shape. “I imagine it’s been declared officially dead, if they keep track of those things the way we used to. Jeb’s been saying ‘I told you so’ to anyone who’ll stand still long enough to hear it.”
Jared grumbled something incoherent; I could only pick out Jeb’s name. Then he inhaled a sharp breath, blew it out, and said, “All right, then. I guess that’s the end of it.”
“That’s what it looks like.” Ian hesitated for a moment and then added, “Except… Well, it’s probably nothing at all.”
Jared tensed again; he didn’t like having his intelligence edited. “Go on.”
“No one but Kyle thinks much of it, and you know how Kyle is.”
Jared grunted his assent to that.
“You’ve got the best instincts for this kind of thing; I wanted your opinion. That’s why I’m here, taking my life into my hands to infiltrate the restricted area,” Ian said dryly, and then his voice was utterly serious again. “You see, there’s this one… a Seeker, no doubt about that—it packs a Glock.”
It took me a second to understand the word he used. It wasn’t a familiar part of Melanie’s vocabulary. When I understood that he was talking about a kind of gun, the wistful, envious tone in his voice made me feel slightly ill.
“Kyle was the first to notice how this one stood out. It didn’t seem important to the rest—certainly not part of the decision-making process. Oh, it had suggestions enough, from what we could see, but no one seemed to listen to it. Wish we could’ve heard what it was saying.…”
My skin prickled anxiously again.
“Anyway,” Ian continued, “when they called off the search, this one wasn’t happy with the decision. You know how the parasites are always so… very pleasant? This was weird—it’s the closest I’ve ever seen them come to an argument. Not a real argument, because none of the others argued back, but the unhappy one sure looked like it was arguing with them. The core group of Seekers disregarded it—they’re all gone.”