The Hollow City (28 page)

The name is familiar: in my mind I can see it in a crime report; in a newspaper article; on a list of names from the FBI. “You were one of the other children,” I say. “You were born here, like,” I almost say “me,” “like Michael, twenty years ago.”

She has no smile, but I can tell she’s pleased—the same lifeless pleasure I felt from Ellie. No, not lifeless; not completely. Arlene feels things more warmly than Ellie does.

“Come inside,” says Ellie, pushing us gently toward the door. “It’s time for the meeting to start.”

I climb the stairs and go inside, shooting one last glance at Cerny’s old house. How do these people know me so well, and yet not know me at all? I haven’t seen Arlene since we were three months old—there’s no way she could remember me, as Michael or as Ambrose Vanek. And yet she does. Whatever replaced her remembers whatever replaced me.

Then why does she still have her own name?

The room is full of people, their blank faces blurring almost imperceptibly as they whisper and turn their heads. Ellie pushes me into a back corner and picks up a lamp—not an electric light but a real, oil-based lamp. A match flares to life, the brightest thing I’ve seen since I got here, and she lights the wick carefully and caps it with a glass tube. The blank faces follow her as she walks to the front of the room.

“I don’t like her,” whispers Lucy.

“I think you are her,” I whisper back, being careful that no one overhears us. “I can’t see the face, obviously, but the hair and the body are pretty exact, not to mention the voice, and the … feeling.”

“I’m not that old,” Lucy protests.

“Not now, but you will be in about twenty years. I’m guessing she was here with Cerny, helping with his abductions and his murders and everything else. When I created you, I must have based you on an old memory from this place.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I have no idea.”

Ellie reaches the front of the room, sets the lamp on a table, and addresses the crowd. “Thank you all for coming. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, so there’s no point trying to build up to a dramatic reveal: after twenty years, Dr. Vanek has returned to us.”

Given how excited everyone seems to be I expect them to cheer or applaud—something to express emotion—but they simply turn and look at me, silent and watching. I smile nervously, nodding. After a moment they turn back, still silent, to look at Ellie.

“Who do you suppose she is?” I whisper.

“She might be your mother.”

I shake my head, suddenly hot and angry. “My mother’s dead.”

“That’s what they told you,” says Lucy, “but how do you know for sure? You were three months old.”

Ellie speaks again. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, the doctor’s return heralds a new age for us. There will be many blessings, but there will be work as well. We have much to do.”

“The police said there were two mothers left alive when they raided Cerny’s house,” I say softly. “Both women were shot during the raid.”

“So where was Ellie?” asks Lucy.

“I have no idea.”

Ellie points at a man in the first row. “Charles, section reports.”

The man stands up. “The crops are strong, the animals are healthy, and food stand sales are strong. We expect the orchard to produce a bumper crop this year, and we’d like to expand the operation to start making apple juice as well.”

“And our money?”

“The Children are completely self-sustaining. With the third well finished, we don’t need the city’s water anymore.”

“Then stop using it immediately,” says Ellie. “I want every one of us drinking well water exclusively, starting as soon as possible to get us in the habit. Assign some of the Phase Threes to fetch and carry.”

I ignore the words and focus on his face, musing quietly to Lucy. “Somehow the blur is replacing our faces,” I say, “just like the mind behind it is replacing our minds. All my life I’ve seen things that others couldn’t see—and it was real all along.”

“That’s why you solved it when nobody else could,” says Lucy. “You can see what the rest of us can’t.”

“Can you see their faces?”

“I only see what you do.”

I fight the urge to look at her, still keeping my voice down. “What do you see when you see me?”

Lucy doesn’t have to hide her movement like I do; she steps in front of me, staring into my eyes. “A memory, I think. Your own image of yourself.”

“Then I’m sorry.” I look down. “I must look horrible.”

“It’s not the way you look now,” she says, “it’s the way you want to look. You created me to see the best in you.”

I laugh—a short, voiceless huff. “Even the best can’t be all that great.”

Lucy puts a hand on my face, and I close my eyes at the aching softness of her fingers on my skin. “You’re better than you think you are,” she whispers.

“Phase Three is progressing well,” says the man at the front of the circle. “Most of our women are pregnant, and there have been no miscarriages since Adrianne’s in May. We think she’s ready to be safely impregnated again.”

“Good,” says Ellie. “I trust you’ll assign one of the Halseys?”

“Normally yes,” the man says, “but we’ve grown concerned lately about the limited genetic variance we might be creating. I recommend we go with someone new.”

“Very well,” says Ellie. “And the Process?”

“The Process continues at full capacity,” says the man. “One more generation, maybe two, and we will all be protected.”

“Excellent,” says Ellie. “Then it is time to begin Phase Four.” She looks at me. “We’ve waited so long for this—nearly fifty years, though it feels like even more. At last the time has come. Dr. Vanek, would you like to do the honors?”

I grow pale, and Lucy clutches my arm in terror. “The honors?”

“Yes,” she says. “It is your plan, after all, and now that you’ve returned it should be you who presents it. With only a few exceptions this is the full council—we would be … thrilled … if you would come to the front and explain Phase Four in detail.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

ONCE AGAIN THE FACES
turn to me, blank and impassionate. I stare back, trying to think of what to do. I let go of Lucy’s hand, afraid that they’d see the way my hand is shaped and put all the pieces together:
he’s schizophrenic, he sees people who aren’t there, we can’t trust him.
Without Lucy’s hand I don’t know what to do with my arms; I hold them at my sides, too stiff to be natural. I fold them; I unfold them.

“Doctor?” asks Ellie. She’s doing this on purpose—she’s testing me.
How much does he really know? How much of him is Vanek, and how much is still Michael?
I look at Lucy, eyes desperate; I can’t talk now that everyone’s looking at me. If she’s in my mind, do I even have to?

Help me.

She spreads her hands and shrugs. “I can’t. I don’t know anything about this.”

Neither do I.

“No, you don’t,” says Lucy, “but he does.” She points, and I see Vanek standing at the front of the room.

Vanek. I look at him, directing my thoughts and knowing he can hear them.
What did you do in the car?

“We’ll talk about that later,” he says. “They’re waiting for you.”

I lean away from the wall, walking slowly toward the front to give myself time to think.

I won’t do this.

“You have to do this,” says Vanek. “Do you know what Phase Four is?”

I don’t. I walk slowly. Phase Three has something to do with babies. Was I part of Phase Three? But no; it’s too recent. Peter talked about it as if I’d never seen it in action. I was a part of Phase Two, maybe, or even One.

“You were Phase Two,” says Vanek. I reach the front and turn to face the crowd, flanked on each side by Ellie and Vanek. “They’re waiting,” he says. “Instruct them.”

You know I can’t.

“Then let me do it.” His smile is smug and self-satisfied.

That’s exactly what you want—to control my mind.

“If you say no,” he says, “you’re exposed as a fraud and they kill you now. Or worse.”

“Doctor?” asks Ellie.

“Just a moment,” I say. “I’m … figuring out the best way to say this.”

“Remember the policeman,” says Lucy. “He can talk without controlling you.”

How do I know you won’t expose us?

“Because if you die, I die,” he says. “Believe me, Michael—if I could escape you by killing you, you’d have been dead long ago.”

I stare at Lucy, not daring to look to either side.

“Is something wrong?” asks Ellie.

“Phase One nearly killed us,” says Vanek, addressing the council. They turn to face me, listening raptly. “Phase One taught us that imprinting ourselves on adults took too long, incapacitated us too thoroughly. We’re lucky we left one of the humans empty, to take care of the bodies, or we would have starved to death. Eliska and I merged in this phase, along with Cerny and a few others.”

“One of the humans,” he said. What are they, if not human? I think of the maggot, shiver, and push it out of my mind. It has to be something else—the maggots aren’t real. They can’t be.

“They know all of this,” says Ellie.

“Allow me my moment,” says Vanek. “I created this plan, I’m more than a little proud of it. Plus the more I talk the more I cement my control over this schizophrenic meatbag.” He rolls his head to the side, glancing at me sidelong. “They didn’t hear that last part; that was just for you.”

You can’t control me. I can barely control myself.

“Phase Two were the babies,” says Vanek. “The more we learned about human physiology the more we realized—well, the more
I
realized—that children’s brains were more malleable, more open to the patterns we need to create in order to control them. The Process would take longer, but the results would be better, more complete. Most of the subjects in Phase Two were new, but I joined in again. I thought a newer, better link would be worth the time. You can’t imagine how many times I’ve regretted that decision.”

“But you’re okay now?” asks Ellie.

I nod, wrestling control back from Vanek. “It’s just…” What can I say? Lucy smiles encouragement from the back of the room. “It’s so much to take in,” I say. “I haven’t been here since Phase Two, and to see how far you’ve come without me is … it’s amazing.”

“That’s right,” says Vanek, “feed her ego.”

Now tell the rest.

“You can guess the rest,” he says, speaking only to me, “can’t you? Phase Two worked, in theory, but we were caught. You people get so defensive when your young are threatened, and Cerny and some of the others ended up dead, though not, apparently, Eliska. She was away from the farm, working on one of the external projects, and when the dust settled it was up to her to take the next logical step.”

I look at the council, at the audience full of pregnant women.
Phase Three was impregnation
, I think, looking at Vanek,
but after Cerny you couldn’t steal babies anymore, so you had to make your own.

“All part of the plan,” says Vanek. “My plan, I should say, though more than ably carried out by Ellie.”

And that means Phase Four is …

“You still don’t know,” says Vanek. “All those hints, and you still can’t figure it out.”

Help me.

“Do you see now how you rely on me? How you can’t even function without me?”

“Don’t listen to him, Michael,” says Lucy. “You’re stronger than he is.”

Tell them about Phase Four.

“No.”

I pause, still resolutely avoiding Vanek’s eyes.
Why won’t you tell them?

“I might eventually, but first I want to watch you squirm a little. Twist in the wind.”

I look over the crowd. They’ll find me out—one wrong word out of my mouth and they’ll know I’m an impostor, and then I’ll be sweeping the floor with a stick like that journalist—back and forth, a mind as hollow as the houses. I should have turned and run. I should have gone with the police.

The police. That’s how I can do this.

“I’ve waited too long for this,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “Twenty years. But tonight we have far more urgent concerns to deal with.” I glance at Ellie. “I did not come here peacefully—men on the outside, the police, were trying to catch me and detain me. When I crossed the fence and entered the compound they said they’d return with a warrant. They’ve wanted to come in here since we bought the place, they’ve wanted to look around and see what we’re doing and put a stop to everything, but they’ve never had an excuse before. I’m afraid I’ve given them that excuse.”

I expect them to stir and fidget, to whisper anxiously with each other, but they merely nod, accepting my words. I glance at Ellie again, looking for her reaction; she seems bothered. I was hoping my warning would pass her test, but does she know I merely sidestepped it? Why would she be so disturbed?

Vanek glowers at me, but stays silent.

“He’s right,” says Arlene. “If the police return with a warrant to search the compound, they’ll find the nursery. They’ll find the Home. We can’t allow it to happen.”

Ellie’s mood darkens—I can feel it like an aura around her, sparking invisibly. She’s not suspicious of me, she’s angry: I know enough of authority to recognize its hackles when I challenge it. Vanek said to feed her ego, and he was right; I was a leader here, or he was, but we’ve been gone too long and Ellie has taken over. Even deferring to me as she did, asking for me to explain Phase Four, was a way of exerting control over the group—to show them that even Ellie can command the great Dr. Vanek. By changing the subject I’ve usurped her position. I need to give it back to her.

I step back and gesture to Ellie. “When I left, our group was smaller, and twenty years later I don’t presume to know how best to lead it. Ellie is the expert here.”

She hesitates a moment—just a fraction of a second, watching me—then steps back to the foreground. “Dr. Vanek is right—the police will return in the morning, or even sooner. We must prepare.” She looks at Charles. “The nursery is our prime concern—there will be no way to conceal our plans if they find the children.”