The Host

Dreamed

It was too dark to be so hot, or maybe too hot to be so dark. One of the two is out of place.
I crouch in the darkness behind the weak protection of scrubby creosote bush, sweating out all the water left in my body. Its been fifteen minutes since the car left the garage. No lights have come on. The arcadia door is two inches, letting the swamp cooler do it's job. I can imagine the feel of the moist, cool air blowing through the screen. I wish it could reach me here.
I am so hungry
There is another need that is stronger-another hungry stomach hidden safely far away in the darkness, waiting alone in the rough cave that is our temporary home.
What will he do if I don't come back? All the pressure of motherhood with none of the knowledge or experience. I feel hideously helpless. Blake is hungry.
There are no other houses close to this one. I have been watching since the sun was still white hot in the sky, and I dont think there is a dog, either.
I ease up from my crouch, my calves burning as I stand up, but keep hunched at the waist, trying to be smaller than the bush.
The fence around the yard is only waist high. I get over easily, noiselessly. The yard is gravel, though, and I have to walk carefully to keep my weight from shifting it. I make it to the patio slab.
The blinds are open. The starlight is enough to see that the rooms are empty of movement. This couple goes for a spartan look, and im grateful. It makes it harder for someone to hide. Of course, that leaves no place for me to hide, either, but if it comes to hiding for me, it's too late anyway.
I ease the screen door open first, then the glass door. I place my feet carefully on the tile, but this is just out of habit. No one is waiting for me here. The kitchen is to my left. I can see the gleam of granite counters. I pull the canvas bag from my shoulder and start with the refrigerator. There is a moment of anxiety as the light comes on when the door opens, but I find the button and hold it down with my toe. My eyes are blind. I don't have time to let them adjust. I go by feel.
Milk, cheese slices, leftovers in a plastic bowl. I hope it's the chicken and rice thing I watched him cooking for dinner. We'll eat this tonight.
One more thing. I hurry to the sink and refill my bottle with water.
I start to feel panicked now that my job is done. I want to be out of here. Civilization is deadly.
I watch the floor on my way out, worried about tripping with my heavy bag, which is why I don't see the silhouetted black figure on the patio until my hand is on the door. I hear is mumbled oath at the same time that a stupid squeak of fear escapes my mouth. Before I had a chance to run, rough, hard hands grab my shoulders and wrench me back against his body. Too big, too strong to be a woman. The bass voice proves me right.
"One sound and you die."