The Hollow (Rose of the Dawn Series Book 2) (3 page)

“Just one more minute.”
Her voice is higher than before. She may be taller.
Is this the same nurse?
She tips me onto my side and empties the syringe into the line along my back.

“Why’re you –”

“Keeping you
comfortable,” she places me back and reclines the bed.

The cold courses
up and down my spine.

The nurse takes
my arms, returning them to my side. They’re numb again.

“Get some rest,”
she orders and walks over to the window, drawing the blinds, plummeting me into
darkness.

Again.

I wake up in a different room, a much
smaller room, but in the same bed. This room isn’t bright white. There is no
white actually, except for the sheets. The walls are gray and the ceiling is stained
yellow in spots. There is a dresser and a wooden chair in the corner.

Light is coming
in from somewhere on the ground. My eyes hurt. My hand reaches up to rub my
head. My legs twitch. I bend my knees and then draw them up to my chest. I
laugh out loud. I’m ecstatic. I’m going crazy. It’s more than just a reflex.

“I can move you,
too!” I push down the sheets and swing my legs over the side. They’re a bit
stiff, but they don’t hurt. I reach back, behind me and don’t feel a thing. Nothing.
There isn’t gauze or even a bandage. And there isn’t a wound. Leland was right.
I’m healed.

Pushing off the
bed, I brace myself. My legs give out anyway and I crumple to the ground. I
take a deep breath in and stand up again. There is a line of orange lights
wrapped in clear tubing, all around the base of the room.

“I’m going to
cross the room and you’re going to help me, legs.” My toes curl as they touch
the cold floor.

One foot in
front of the other, I make my way to the windows. There are no screens or
monitors in this room. There isn’t anything to hold myself up with either so I
take one step and stop to regain balance, take another step and stop. Step and
stop. It takes me forever.

I finally get to
the window and catch my breath. Only about fifteen feet from the bed to the
window and I’m exhausted. If I can walk, I can get out of here. I can get
outside. I don’t have to be stuck in here.

I steady myself
on the ledge and lift my arm, grabbing the drawstring for the blinds. These
pull up whereas the others slid open. I don’t have much strength, but I’m able
to hang on the cord to pull them open.

I squint,
anticipating brightness. Anticipating sunlight.

Nothing. The
color in the room doesn’t change. It remains gray.

The windows are bricked
up from the outside

I’m not getting
out.

I look up at the
window again. I press my hand to the red brick and mortar. It’s gritty and rough,
but warm. I bang my fist against it and severe pain sends shockwaves up my arm
and through my shoulders.

I ball my hand
up again and hit it a second time. Another sharp vibration shudders through my
fist and up my arm. I rub my hand while leaning against the wall. In a way it
feels good to feel, even though it hurts so much.

I laugh. I want
to hit the wall again, just to feel something. I want to feel the hurt that
comes with knowing I’m still here. That I’m still alive.

Pike! Come find
me! Wherever I am!

Instead of
hitting the window, I turn away, my back to the wall. I sink to the ground. My
feet slide out from beneath me. I hold my head in my hands.

How will I get
out of here? How is anyone going to find me?

Is anyone even
looking?

Tears burst from
my eyes and I can’t see across the room. A slice of light from under the door
streaks across my blurred vision.

The door has no
knob, no handle. No keyhole either. The outline of the door separates it from
the rest of the wall, but the door is still flush. I cry even more. I want my
mother. I want Dory.

“Where are you?
Why haven’t you found me?”

I’m being left
here to die. I’m going to die in here.

I sob louder and
louder, my voice echoes in my ears.

Dory. Jenny. The
conservatory at home. Sick. Pain. My liver. My father and Dr. Rush. Pike and
Ezekiel and Aegis. Hara. JJ and Patience. Puncture marks and running away. All
leading to one horrible bang.

My body
convulses with tears and I don’t notice the floor start to vibrate, like a tiny
tremor. I stop crying. I have nothing left. No tears. No pain. No energy. No
hope. Just memories.

The floor
shakes. An entire square tile a few feet away from me lifts up and moves out of
the way.

I try to get up
too quickly and my legs cramp. I’m brought back to the ground. Leland pulls
himself up through the tile space and helps me to my feet. His grasp is gentle,
but strong.

“You thought I
wouldn’t find you,” he laughs and dusts off.

“How did you
know - where to find me?” I point to the mortared-up window though I can’t get
anything more out and Leland doesn’t follow my gesture. His wrist lights up. A
flashpoint. A flashlight is embedded in his wrist. He swings it around the
room, which is now awash with his illumination. Even when he takes his hand
away, the light lingers in that spot.

“Your room isn’t
too bad. A little too gray and kinda dingy, don’t you think? I’m feeling more
blue for you, or even pink. Light pink.
Rose
pink.” He laughs.

I grimace. I
hate pink.

Leland smiles at
his own joke.

“It’s not too
bad, though, really. We all have rooms like this. Some a little bigger, some a
little smaller. You’ve got a sink. You’ve got a privy. And look at that view!”
He stares at the bricked-up window.

“Where am I?”

“You’ve been
moved from intake on the ground floor to a few floors up. It’s all bricked up
so you can’t get out.”

“What about
outside?”

“What about
outside? You wanna see outside? You wanna go outside? What?”

“Both?” I ask,
though I know the only way I am going to get outside is if I escape. “How can I
get outside?”

“You’ll see
outside when they take you for tests. You’ll invariably pass windows that will
show you what you are missing being in here. In order to get outside, well,
that’s a different story all together.” He walks over to the sink and runs the
water. “Amazing,” I hear him say under his breath.

He splashes
water on his face.

“Cold as
everything else in this place.” He dries his face on a small hand-towel. “Perfect!
You’ve got waterless shampoo if you need it. Better to conserve the water.
Sometimes they turn it off or a main breaks. Hang onto this.” He tosses a
small, sealed cardboard box up in the air and then places it back down near the
sink.

I notice he
isn’t wearing the hospital gown anymore, but jeans and a t-shirt. His feet are
still bare. He still looks green.

“I’m just a few
cells down. You’re locked in. We all are.”

“Then how—”

“There are
tunnels all over this place. And I heard you crying. That’s how I knew you were
here. I just followed the hopeless sounds of despair.”

“I was that loud?”
I touch my face. There are no tears. No streaks of water or salt residue. It
burns, raw.

“Nah. When I
went back up to see you, you had already been moved. I shoulda gone back sooner
to prepare you, but I couldn’t get down there without being noticed.”

“How long have I
been here? In this room?”

“Not long. A
day.”

“Why did they
move me at all?” I ask.

“Once the
Imperial Bead pronounces you dead—”

“That was the
Imperial Bead?” I am reminded of being stared at in the morgue by two men and a
doctor.

“That first day
when they pulled you from the freezer. The suits. That was the Imperial Bead
and most likely Dr. Flint. She oversees the regenerative program.”

“Was I dead?”

“Probably. Possibly.
If you weren’t, The Hollow may try to regenerate life with you. If it’s gonna
work with anyone, it’s gonna work with you.”

“Is that how it
happened to you?” I ask, wanting not to feel alone. Needing not to feel alone.

Leland shakes his
head.

“Another time,
another story. The Hollow has no need keeping the front of a regular hospital.
Its investors never audit. The Imperial Bead doesn’t care. Here you’ll be
monitored and kept alive –”

“For how long?
Until what?”

“Until they
don’t need you.”

I panic.
What
does that mean?
JJ said something about mismanagement of my traits.
Is
this what he meant?

My head spins. My
hands start trembling.

“Anyone who
knows you thinks you’re dead.” Leland states, a little too nonchalant.

“Dead?”
But
I’m alive!
“My parents? Dory? Evie?”

Pike.

“Everyone and
anyone,” Leland answers. “It might even have been made public with a memorial
or ceremony. Depending on who you are. Who are you, Roz?”

My head still
spins. Or is it the room?

Leland is still talking,
though I don’t know what he’s saying.

“It’s really a
homey little cell you have here, though I’m almost certain your home wasn’t
anything like this,” he spreads his arms out and moves them around.

I may throw up.
My hands shake now and they hold my head, keeping it from exploding.

“See, I have a
feeling they know, but they just don’t care since it doesn’t really bother
them. Some of us think it’s just a matter of time before they put an end to it
all.”

“They know what?
Put an end to what?” I can’t focus.
What is he talking about?

Leland laughs
and takes my hand. There is no charge. No current. No electricity like with
Pike. This isn’t Pike. Pike thinks I’m dead. I’m never going to see him again.

“You want to
know what kind of hospital this is?” Leland asks, stretching out his hand.

I nod. I’m
helpless.

“Come on, come
with me. I’ll show you.”

“You want me to follow you down there?” The
tile moved out of place, I point to the bottomless pit that Leland has lowered
himself into. I’m still wearing a hospital gown and nothing else, but luckily
it is one that has been pulled over my head, like a long T-shirt. It isn’t tied
because there are no obvious openings other than one for my head and arms.

“Come on, it’s
not that bad.”

I drop feet
first into the floor. Expecting a far fall, I am surprised that it is only two
or three feet below the floor of my room.

“You’ll have to
get on your belly and crawl, or crouch down on all fours. It’s pretty narrow in
terms of headspace,” Leland responds.

I’m in a ventilation
tunnel between two floors of The Hollow. It’s dark and tight. I have enough
room that my shoulders don’t touch the thin, aluminum walls, and as long as I
don’t lift my head, I don’t touch the ceiling either. I look back through my
legs and the tunnel continues behind me.

There’s a cool
breeze on the back of my legs, the part not covered by the gown.

“Where’re we
going?”

“You ask a lot
of questions, you know,” he huffs while pushing along the tight space. “You’ve
must’ve been given a good education.”

I miss Jenny.

“I don’t need
you to think, though. Just follow me.” He crawls on. I crawl on behind him.

“But, my room. I’m
not there. The tile.”

“Don’t worry, no
one will notice you’re gone. Not yet. Too much energy to do things out of
order. Very specific intervals at The Hollow.”

He moves another
panel out of place below us.

“Here, take this—”
he hands me a rag.

“For what?” I’m
not sure what he wants me to do with it.

“Cover your
mouth. Better safe than sorry. Just until we get to the tunnels.”

I take the rag
and press it to my face as hard as I can. Following Leland, I drop down into an
old stairwell. Its iron railing is white and there are embellishments in the
spaces between each step. The stairs are marble and a bit slick from the
humidity.

“Stay near the
wall, but don’t touch it. It could be contaminated,” Leland orders through the
rag across his nose and mouth.

“With what?” I
can’t imagine. I’ve had to release some pressure to get some air.

“Small pox.
Anthrax. Typhoid. Tuberculosis. You name it, it’s been here.”

I pull my body
away from the cold tiles.

“Will someone
see us? Will we be caught?” I look up and around. The stairs go up at least
three more flights. But going down there is a clear path running down the
middle that has been tread many times before. Dirty linens are piled along the
sides of the stairs.

“Don’t touch
them. The monsters that used to run this place couldn’t even be bothered to
burn the old sheets. Just disposed of here and there,” his voice trails. “We’re
in an un-used part of The Hollow.”

He hurries down
the stairs. I run to keep up. Leland pauses on a landing and I catch my breath.
The rag is moist and it’s stifling. My nose and chin are wet. I look up.

The layers of
paint beneath the actual stairs peels away, the weight pulling it all off and
down. We continue down the final flight of stairs until we reach a change in
the staircase. It is no longer marble supported by metal, but wood supported by
brick. We’ve reached the bowels of The Hollow.

Water damaged,
Leland pushes through an iron door. Arch-shaped and covered in flaking rust. It
only opens so far. The hinges are rusty as well, and broken. He pushes it
closed and pockets his rag. Mine, too. I gasp for air and then clutch my
throat.
Can I die from respiratory failure? Can I die?

“Where are we?”
Where
are we going?

“We’re in the
Tunnels. Under the building. They radiate out in all directions from the center
like a wheel. The tunnels are the spokes and it’s a little like a maze. You’ve
got to have a good sense of direction to know your way around and not get
lost.”

It’s dark, but
there’s a glow in the distance. Water and gas pipes are overhead, covered in
film and cobwebs. Walls are painted and chipping, brickwork and cinder blocks
exposed beneath. Sediment piles at the bottom of walls around the corners. The
floor is covered with wet dirt. Mud. There is a narrow channel down the center
of the tunnel. Drainage.

The brick
pillars are ten feet apart and hold up larger walls. The farther we travel in,
the more narrow it seems to become. I trip and lean against the wall. I slip on
it, regaining my balance before Leland notices. The wall is covered in slime
mold.

Panels from the
ceiling above have fallen and broken into pieces on the ground. What’s landed
in the puddles has almost disintegrated and when I glance up, the holes the
panels have left are black.

Leland slows
down, we’ve reached a fork in the path. On the wall is a warning in red,
stenciled paint: BASEMENT AND TUNNELS ARE RESTRICTED AREAS FOR PATIENT USE.

That means us.

Leland goes
right and we round a bend. It is much lighter ahead. Almost bright, in fact.

We pass an
abandoned wheelchair, covered in grey dust. Rusty. The seat is torn. There are
shards of glass shattered around it. I am careful to avoid the glass because
I’m barefoot.

“How much
farther?” I ask.

“We’re almost
there,” Leland calls back. He’s farther ahead of me. I can’t keep up. The dirt
underfoot is wet and my feet are cold. I’m painfully aware of my nakedness. While
the gown covers me, it feels like it isn’t enough. I jump to avoid another
puddle and land in a bigger one. I’m getting tired. I’m making bad decisions.

Was following
Leland down here one of them?

“Don’t worry,
Roz. A few more days and they’ll put you in something more comfortable. They
have no need for you to be wearing that hospital dress inside this place.
You’re not going anywhere.”

“How come you
were wearing one when I first met you?” I ask.

“In case I got
caught. Kinda silly, don’t you think? It’s not like they don’t know where I am
at all times.” He points to the flashlight in his palm.

“The nurse
stamped my hand when I first got here. Is that how they keep track of me?” I
look down at my own palm. I don’t have a flashlight.

“It is, but I
don’t think there’s anyone paying any attention. It’s only if we get lost or
don’t come back in time.” Leland stops and looks around.

Where are we
going? Are we lost?

“There’s an
unstated rule around here,” he begins.

I’m listening.

“There’s a place
for everyone, everyone in their place.” His stance is straight. “We all arrive
to intake on a stretcher. Once we’re moved out, we don’t return. We’ve got
nowhere to go around here, unless we want to die. It’s in our best interest to
get back to our rooms after a time, no matter what testing they do on us. We
can’t survive down here and if we stay too long, it will result in certain
sanctions.”

“Sanctions?”
I’ve been leaning against the wall. I don’t care if it’s contaminated down
here, I’m exhausted. We’re in the farthest corners of The Hollow. It’s like
nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Dark and cold. Lonesome and scary. Empty.

“You know,
general restrictions. They take away our water or soap. Our light. I can’t live
without natural light, you know?” Leland takes my hand and we continue on, a
bit slower than before. His palm light goes out, but it’s still bright. The
path is illuminated by some kind of LED light that brightens as we approach,
dims as we depart. I didn’t notice it before, but as I look back, I see lights
fading in the distance.

“So they know
you come down here.” I still can’t believe they would allow us to come down
here. I still don’t understand why.

“They know we
come down here.”

“Where do these
tunnels lead? Where are we going?” I’m still so turned around. I don’t like the
feeling of being lost.

“Some lead to
the power plant, another to the waste treatment facility.”

“The morgue?” I
remember the cold and shiver.

“The morgue is
down here, just not anywhere near us.”

“Why did they
close it down?” I ask, trying to imagine the sort of place The Hollow was
before it was a throw away.

“The population
increased from four hundred to twenty-five hundred. It was unmanageable. When
it was sold, it included everything including the patients.”

“Where are they
all?” How are there 2500 people here? I haven’t seen more than three.

We slow to
another stop in the tunnel.

“Most of them
have deceased since The Hollow took it over. The disappeared are down here.” He
answers.

“Here?” I look
around and wonder if they’ve got freedom to roam as we do.

“Yes. But they
undergo the more serious tests.”

“What kind of
tests?” I want to know before we go any farther.

“Lobotomies,
electroshock therapies, gender reassignments in addition to the general organ
harvest.” He lowers his voice, “there are even some chemical castrations that
have been performed, but I don’t know of anyone who’s undergone that kind of
test.”

I shiver.

“They’re
harmless,” he reassures. “You’ll see.”

We come to an
arch-shaped opening in the earth where the tunnel widens again. There is a
large center space, with tunnels radiating out from it. There must be at least
a dozen paths. All narrow. All dark. We’re in the middle of The Hollow.
Underground.

There is a large
puddle in the center, but dry ground around it. Bricks and stones of different
shapes surround it and the water within it is blue. It drips down from
stalactites on the ceiling. Dim lights illuminate the small space. A few people
sit around on flat rocks and the dirt floor. Some even have what look like woven
mats. It smells bad.

“It’s a little
slice of heaven down here,” Leland says facetiously. There are at least a dozen
people that I count, either sitting on the ground or walking, dragging their
feet back and forth, their shoulders wearing a groove into one wall where a
tunnel has been filled in. Each one has a denim shirt with a number or letter
embroidered where a left chest pocket would be. Those who are sitting against
the dirt wall have worn an impression into the dirt like a tiny, shallow cave
that their bodies fit perfectly into. There are thirty to forty impressions in
the dirt.

“Chipchip, chip
the code,” I hear a voice. I’ll never forget those words. “You didn’t let them
chipchip your code?”

I look around
and my eyes widen to see.

“Tithonus? Is
that you?” I say to the back of a man away from us. His hair is long and white
down his back.
Am I dreaming?
Pike knew he was alive.

“Rose. Rose.
Rosamund.” The man turns toward me. It is him. But his eyes are no longer milky
white like when I first saw him, but a crystal-clear blue. I was so scared of
him then. I’m not scared of him now, though. I take a step closer and Leland
holds me back, his hand on my arm.

Tithonus isn’t
wearing the jean shirt like the others, but rather a tattered brown robe, tied
at the waist. He has on matching felt slippers. Thin and worn.
How long has
he been here?

Tithonus extends
a hand and waves me over.

“You know him?”
Leland asks as he walks with me to the blind man sitting on a small stool against
the wall of this dungeon.

I nod and look
up.

The ceiling
crumbles and part of a brick falls and breaks on the ground.

Leland pats my
arm before letting me go. I step closer to Tithonus.

“Rose. Rose.
Rosamund.” Tithonus’s old, wrinkled hand waves me to sit. His fingers are bent
in such odd directions that it would be impossible to grip or grasp anything
for any amount of time.

“They thought
you were dead,” I say. I kneel down beside him and he reaches out his hand. Frail
and weak, his hand is soft and delicate. Almost like it’s not really there.
He’s not scary. I’m not scared.
Why?

“They think
you
are dead,” he responds.

My family.

“Pike. Ezekiel.
Your Aegis family,” he adds.

My Aegis family.

“But they don’t
know the truth.”

“The truth that
I’m alive?” I ask. “Is that why they wouldn’t be looking for me?”

Tithonus doesn’t
answer. I look back at Leland who is now looking up, down, all around. I know
he’s listening.

“They think you
are dead,” Tithonus repeats. “The truth will be revealed. You will see.”

“How? When?” The
excitement of hope is invigorating.

“He will find
you. It will take time.”

“He, who? Pike?
Will Pike come and find me? How could he if he thinks I’m dead?”