Home > The Host (The Host #1)(112)

The Host (The Host #1)(112)
Author: Stephenie Meyer

Our combined weight had broken the brittle lip of the hole. As Kyle stumbled away, the crumbling followed his heavy steps. It was faster than he was.

A piece of the floor disappeared from under his heel, and he went down with a thud. My weight pushed him back hard, and his head smacked sharply against a stone pillar. His arms fell away from me, limp.

The cracking of the floor settled into a sustained groan. I could feel it shiver beneath Kyle’s body.

I was on his chest. Our legs dangled above empty space, the steam condensing into a million drops on our skin.

“Kyle?”

There was no answer.

I was afraid to move.

You’ve got to get off him. You’re too heavy together. Carefully—use the pillar. Pull away from the hole.

Whimpering in fear, too terrified to think for myself, I did as Melanie ordered. I freed my fingers from Kyle’s hair and climbed gingerly over his unconscious form, using the pillar as an anchor to pull myself forward. It felt steady enough, but the floor still moaned under us.

I pulled myself past the pillar and onto the ground beyond it. This ground stayed firm under my hands and knees, but I scrambled farther away, toward the safety of the exit tunnel.

There was another crack, and I glanced back. One of Kyle’s legs drooped farther down as a rock fell from beneath it. I heard the splash this time as the chunk of stone met the river below. The ground shuddered under his weight.

He’s going to fall, I realized.

Good, Melanie snarled.

But… !

If he falls, he can’t kill us, Wanda. If he doesn’t fall, he will.

I can’t just…

Yes, you can. Walk away. Don’t you want to live?

I did. I wanted to live.

Kyle could disappear. And if he did, there was a chance that no one would ever hurt me again. At least not among the people here. There was still the Seeker to consider, but maybe she would give up someday, and then I could stay here indefinitely with the humans I loved.…

My leg throbbed, pain replacing some of the numbness. Warm fluid trickled down my lips. I tasted the moisture without thinking and realized it was my blood.

Walk away, Wanderer. I want to live. I want a choice, too.

I could feel the tremors from where I stood. Another piece of floor splashed into the river. Kyle’s weight shifted, and he slid an inch toward the hole.

Let him go.

Melanie knew better than I what she was talking about. This was her world. Her rules.

I stared at the face of the man who was about to die—the man who wanted me dead. With him unconscious, Kyle’s face was no longer that of an angry animal. It was relaxed, almost peaceful.

The resemblance to his brother was very apparent.

No! Melanie protested.

I crawled back to him on my hands and knees—slowly, feeling the ground with care before each inch I moved. I was too afraid to go beyond the pillar, so I hooked my good leg around it, an anchor again, and leaned around to wedge my hands under Kyle’s arms and over his chest.

I heaved so hard I nearly pulled my arms from their sockets, but he didn’t move. I heard a sound like the trickle of sand through an hourglass as the floor continued to dissolve into tiny pieces.

I yanked again, but the only result was that the trickle sped up. Shifting his weight was breaking the floor faster.

Just as I thought that, a large chunk of rock plummeted into the river, and Kyle’s precarious balance was overthrown. He began to fall.

“No!” I screamed, the siren bursting from my throat again. I flattened myself against the column and managed to pin him to the other side, locking my hands around his wide chest. My arms ached.

“Help me!” I shrieked. “Somebody! Help!”

CHAPTER 33

Doubted

Another splash. Kyle’s weight tortured my arms.

“Wanda? Wanda!”

“Help me! Kyle! The floor! Help!”

I had my face pressed against the stone, my eyes toward the cave entrance. The light was bright overhead as the day dawned. I held my breath. My arms screamed.

“Wanda! Where are you?”

Ian leaped through the door, the rifle in his hands, held low and ready. His face was the angry mask his brother had worn.

“Watch out!” I screamed at him. “The floor is breaking up! I can’t hold him much longer!”

It took him two long seconds to process the scene that was so different from the one he’d been expecting—Kyle, trying to kill me. The scene that had been, just seconds ago.

Then he threw the gun to the cave floor and started toward me with a long stride.

“Get down—disperse your weight!”

He dropped to all fours and scuttled to me, his eyes burning in the light of dawn.

“Don’t let go,” he cautioned.

I groaned in pain.

He assessed for another second, and then slid his body behind mine, pushing me closer to the rock. His arms were longer than mine. Even with me in the way, he was able to get his hands around his brother.

“One, two, three,” he grunted.

He pulled Kyle up against the rock, much more securely than I’d had him. The movement smashed my face into the pillar. The bad side, though—it couldn’t get much more scarred at this point.

“I’m going to pull him to this side. Can you squeeze out?”

“I’ll try.”

I loosened my hold on Kyle, feeling my shoulders ache in relief, making sure Ian had him. Then I wriggled out from between Ian and the rock, careful not to put myself on a dangerous section of the floor. I crawled backward a few feet toward the door, ready to make a grab for Ian if he started slipping.

Ian hauled his inert brother around one side of the pillar, dragging him in jerks, a foot at a time. More of the floor crumbled, but the foundation of the pillar remained intact. A new shelf formed about two feet out from the column of rock.

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