The Hollow (Rose of the Dawn Series Book 2) (4 page)

“They will find
you. Be patient, Rosamund.”

“Well, if they
find me, then they find you. Then we can all be saved.”

Tithonus bows
his head. “Some of us will leave, some of us will not leave.” His sagging skin
hangs lower than minutes ago. He is tired. His hand slides from mine. He closes
his eyes. Leland steps closer to me and puts out his hand. I take it and stand
up.

“Why is he here?”
I ask Leland as we walk away from Tithonus who seems to have turned off. His
head rests against his chest.

“I’ve heard they
had his eyes removed to try to replicate the Sight.”

“It doesn’t work
that way, does it?” I ask.

“I don’t know,”
Leland shrugs. “But they replaced his eyes with donor eyes. He still can’t see.
Over here Roz,” Leland leads me to an old, plastic couch cushion. “This is
where the rest of the regeneratives meet up. Since our time with The Hollow is
spent being observed, when we’re not, we come down here. No cameras down here.
No doctors. Here we’re free of tests, free of being under a knife. Or a
microscope. Free from ourselves.”

“I still can’t believe
the people in charge turn a blind eye. Are you sure they aren’t watching us?”

Our conversation
is interrupted by someone appearing in the entrance from a tunnel. An attendant
wearing navy blue leads a boy by the elbow. The attendant lets go and the boy
slides into place with the others, slumped against the wall. The attendant
doesn’t look up, but turns and goes in the direction he came.

I look to
Leland, who doesn’t seem the least bit phased, but I am. It makes me nervous.
Have
we been caught?

“Don’t worry so
much, Roz.” Leland pats my hand, putting me a bit more at ease, but not enough
to be comfortable. I look again at the people lounging around.

“Can they
regenerate?” Their eyes are vacant and their lids are half-closed. I try to
catch my breath, but I can’t. The air down here is moist and heavy in my lungs.
I have to breathe in deep.

“No. They are
the ones who accept or reject the regenerating parts,” he answers. There is very
little movement from them, even if they’re pacing, like they aren’t just
medicated, but over-medicated. I can see why they wouldn’t want to leave.
How
do they get down here in the first place?

“What do those
letters and numbers stand for?” I tip my head toward two boys sitting side-by-side.
One has the letter E on a patch sewn onto the left pocket space, and the other
boy has the number 9 in the same place on his chest. Both boys look exactly the
same with bald heads and translucent skin. Reddish-purple capillaries fan
around the dark circles under their eyes.

“Letters stand
for sections and body parts. A for abdominal region, which could include a
number of organs, T for thoracic. E stands for extremities and could be
skeletal or muscular. Numbers are how many days left before cultivation of regenerative
cells. That could be anywhere from two days to two years. Those patches change every
day.” Leland looks around.

“Are these the
people you were talking about before?”

“The disappeared.
The Hollow has a constant source of specimens. They get them from institutions
all over. No one’s looking for them. They’re the throwaways.”

“No one’s
looking for us.” I say under my breath. “What will The Hollow do when they’re
done with us? Will they throw us away, too?”

“When they’re
done with us, they’ll erase all memory, including muscle memory. All data of
our existence will be deleted. Our shells get tossed in the incinerator and
that’s that. I don’t think you have to worry about that, though. Most of us
regeneratives have a fairly long life expectancy, even here.”

I look my hand
over and rub my palm. The bump is gone, but my hand is numb.

“Permanent nerve
damage. You’ll get used to it, Roz. We all do.” Leland stands up and extends a
hand. I take it.

“What are
those?” Standing, I point to small, copper-colored canisters with a pale green
patina on them are stacked one on top of the other on a shelf built into the
wall. Twelve canisters in a row. Ten rows.

“Human remains,”
Leland answers. “Cremations.”

I step closer.

“There aren’t
any names on them,” I observe. It’s amazing how an entire human body can be
contained in something the size of a small paint canister.

“Do there need
to be? No one cares. If anyone did, these wouldn’t be down here, corroding in
the underground beneath an asylum.”

I step back.

Leland looks to
the people propped against the walls, not awake, not asleep. And then to Tithonus,
who sits still, his eyes closed, mouthing something to himself.

“C’mon,” he
says. “Let’s get back upstairs. You must be cold and I need some fresh light.”

I look down at
my damp gown. A cool breeze and I realize how flimsy it is.

“What about
them?” I ask, referring to the zombies. One of which is pacing in front of the
tunnel we entered from. He has both a letter and a number on his shirt. C and
18.

“What about
them?” Leland repeats. “You mean him?”

I nod. I don’t
want to get too close.

“Cranium.
Eighteen days. He’s harmless. We’ll just walk around him.” Leland takes my hand
and I stay close. Giant silver staples hold together the raised pink skin of
the boy’s skull in the back. He stops and turns toward us. I grip Leland’s hand
tighter. He squeezes back. The boy’s eyes are milky-white like Tithonus’s used
to be.

“Where do they
go?” I ask once we pass him. “They don’t stay down here do they?” We’re in this
sub-basement. It can’t get any lower than this.

“They do.
They’re brought upstairs by an attendant for tests or surgery. There is no
recovery. When it’s all done, they’re brought back down. The ones that aren’t
being used at the moment are kept in freezer lockers in the morgue.”

“Is it much worse
for them?”

“Yes and no. I
don’t know if they know anything different at this point. When it seems like
they are getting back to normal, regaining some sense of internal regularity,
their blood is let out and they are given another heavy dose of whatever it is that
keeps them docile. They put up less of a fight this way and they don’t go
through any type of withdrawal.”

“How come they
don’t have rooms? There must be room for all of them in this place? Why even
come down here at all?”

“Because it’s
fairly consistent down here temperature-wise. There isn’t any temperature
control in most of The Hollow. It’s freezing in winter. Boiling in summer. You
won’t experience that because it could harm your cells, so you get a
climate-controlled room. All the regeneratives do. The disappeared aren’t
treated like the rest of us, though, but they still test better when they don’t
have to regulate temperature. Their will to survive has been sorta mutated out
of them. They have no free will, no control, and therefore they’re no trouble.

“Are they being
farmed? Are their organs being farmed?” We’re heading back the way we came,
this trip much quicker than the way down. We’ve already made it to the stairs.
The sadness that hung heavy in the air has dissipated.

Leland doesn’t
answer.

“What about
Tithonus?” I ask, changing the subject slightly. “Will an attendant come back
for him, or does he stay down here, too?”

“He has a nurse
who will come and get him. His room is elsewhere in The Hollow.”

“Like my nurse?
Not an attendant?” Like the men from the morgue.

“His nurse is actually
undercover for the Imperial Bead, but no one other than us know that.”

“If he can’t see
anything, why does he bother coming down here? The effort alone would be a
deterrent, I would think.”

“I dunno. Some
sort of wordless, sightless connection with the people down here. They’re
calmer when he’s around.”

“Maybe that’s
why he was brought here?”

Leland shrugs.
We’re back at the grate leading us out of the stairwell.

“I can’t stay
here, Leland.” I state.

“You’re right,
but I’ll climb up first and then pull you in,” Leland is climbing metal fencing
that encloses the stairwell.

“That’s not what
I mean.”

“What’s wrong,
Roz? We can’t stay here.”

“I’m not meant
to be here.”

“None of us were
meant to be here, Roz, but we are.” He climbs down.

“How did you—”

“How did I get
here? I wasn’t captured. It wasn’t violent and I didn’t realize it until it was
too late.”

I stare at him,
trying to imagine.

“I was picked up
off the street. I lived in the city. I had friends and a family.”

“A girlfriend?”
I try to lighten the mood.

“No,” he laughs.

He’s laughing at
me.

He’s pulling
himself into the ventilation shaft. He waves his hand at me and I follow him up
the railing and onto the fencing.

“I had a
boyfriend. Don’t worry, Roz. You don’t need to say anything. We were a bunch of
kids that were pretty smart and pretty bored. We did what we wanted, when we
wanted. We skipped school a lot. We did drugs. Nothing big. A lot of weed. I
was picked up one day with the promise of something to do. More drugs. I was
brought here. Not against my will. I haven’t seen anyone since.”

I take his hand
and he pulls me up. He crawls ahead and I’m right behind him. I don’t know what
to say so I don’t say anything.

“We’re almost
there. You ready to go back?”

Again I don’t
know what to say, so I don’t say anything at all.

When we get back to my room, I throw
myself down on the bed and cry. Everything about this place is depressing,
except for Leland.
Why did I leave Aegis?
I shouldn’t have left my
hospital room in the first place. What would my life be like if I never left?

“Why are you
here?” I lift my head and ask Leland as he walks around the room. The floor
lights are still on, so is Leland’s palm light.

“They were going
to use me as one of the disappeared, but with my first tests they found out my
genetic code is unique. Mutable and manipulative. They’ve replaced some of my
animal cells with plant cells and I’ve been genetically modified with
chloroplasts.”

“Is that why
you’re—”

“Green?”

“A bit. Yes.” My
tears dry on my cheeks.

“The theory is
that humans can become their own producers.”

“Does it work?”
I ask. He actually looks less green right now.

“Verdict’s still
out. But I’ve got a really neat artificial light in my room, to simulate the
rays of the sun. I’d give anything to be outside for just an hour!”

“It’s amazing.
Unbelievable,” I say, again, under my breath.

Leland’s across
the room, picking up a package that has been slipped under the door. He rips it
open. The brown paper combusting and then dissolving into thin air.

“Oh, I see
they’ve given you a new outfit. How charming. How chic.” Leland holds black
cloth up to his body.

“Those are for
me?”

“Yup. The
Hollow’s finest. All black. And denim, too. I’m jealous.” He smiles cheering me
up. I know he’s going to have to leave for his own room and I dread the moment
when he sinks back down through the floor.

“No socks or
shoes?” I notice.

“Can’t chance
you running away,” he laughs.

“Underwear?” My
voice is way more hopeful than I expect.

He shakes his
head, then stops. “Oh, but wait!” he suddenly runs over to the small dresser by
the chair. “Here we go!” He picks up and unwraps plastic, unfolding something
and holding it up for me to see.

“What is that?”
I can’t tell. It looks like paper or tissue.

“The Hollow has
gone all out. Mesh underwear made of the most premium gauze in all the land. One
size fits all - badly,” he picks up and examines the plastic wrapping. “A
large?”

He looks again
at the underpants and tosses them to me. I catch them with one hand.

Inspecting them,
they’re very light and thin. The white mesh pants are riddled with small holes
that get larger as I stretch them. There is elastic around the legs and waist.
They look like boy-shorts.

“They’ll have to
do, right?” I say and lean over. I look up at Leland.

“I’ll turn
around,” he says and does. I pull them on under my gown.

“How do they
fit?” Leland turns back. He’s amused and laughs. I laugh, too.

“Actually, they
fit perfect. And they’re pretty comfortable.” I spin around and my gown
billows. We both laugh. It feels good.

“Here, put the
rest of it on.” He tosses the other two items, the shirt and the pants, at me
and turns. Pulling the gown over my head, I toss it to the floor. I put on the
shirt first, then the pants. I dress quickly, looking up to make sure he hasn’t
turned back around. I’ve never gotten changed in front of anyone, not even my
sisters, before.

“Not bad,” I
say. I feel much better with a renewed sense of purpose. I run over to the sink
and wash my hands and face. I can’t wait to scrub my feet with the washcloth
that has been added to my room. Now I have two towels.

“Once a week
someone will come in to launder your clothes. They just came today so they’ll
be here another seven days from now. You’ll put your clothes back by the door.

“How will I know
when that will be? How will I keep track?”

“You’ll figure
out a way, we all do.”

I think about my
accounting in Aegis. Marks on a wall. I don’t know that will work in here.

“And you’ll want
to put the gown back on when they come for your clothes. Otherwise, you’re
stuck here naked.”

“Completely
naked?”

“Uh-huh. And
depending on how agitated it makes you, you could be more or less sedated, so
don’t get anxious when the nurse comes in.”

“Sedated?”

“Tranquilizers
or antidepressants. It’s your choice, really. Anxious, sweaty, complain of
pain and you get the SYRUP. Or your run-of-the-mill antidepressants. Panicky,
excitable, irritable and you get the Hypno’s or tranquilizers. They keep you
calm.”

“Wow. You know
your drugs.”

“I’ve been here
a while. You don’t want them.”

“I don’t need them.”

“Since you’re so
new, they won’t want to give you much. It could affect your testability, so
it’s best for you not to get upset or ornery. Once they start the tests –”

“When will that
be?”

“Probably within
the next few days. I would’ve thought at least a week, but someone left you the
clothes. They know you’re regaining your strength.”

My palms sweat
and I rub my neck. It’s sweating, too. “I-I-I can’t stay here.”

“I know, Roz,
you’ve mentioned that. We all want out. We’re working on it.”

“No! You don’t
understand! I want to go home! I want to be in Aegis! Where’s Pike? Will he
find me? Is he looking for me?” My eyes flash. The walls are bleeding. The
hallucinations again. Blood drips from the ceiling.

“Roz, relax,”
Leland turns from the door to me, taking my shoulders. “Calm down.”

I shake my head.
I need to get this out of my head. I need to get this place out of my head. I
press my hands to my eyes and then grip my neck. I’m choking.

“Listen, Roz,
you can’t act like this. This is what will get you drugged. Shake out of it!”
He slaps my face. The blood-red walls turn brown and then back to yellow. Water,
not blood, drips from a small spot on the ceiling. My face stings.

“If and when
they offer you a cocktail, do not accept it. Do not accept any food either. Do
you understand me, Roz? Do not accept it. The tests aren’t great, but they
aren’t that bad either. If you take the cocktail –”

“The cocktail?
What’s that?” I’m trying to breathe. Leland has stepped back, but he still
clutches my shoulders. He’s right. I’m calming down.

“A mix of
morphine and alcohol to suppress your central nervous system and a neonicotinoid
– that’s used to kill pests. It’s insecticide. Anyway, it’s all way worse than
the numbing stuff you were given when you first got here. If you take it you
run the risk, a great risk, of ending up like everyone down there.” He’s very
matter-of-fact and I’m much calmer now. He holds my hands now, instead of my
shoulders.

“I get it. No
cocktails.”

“No cocktails,”
he repeats. “And no food. They put it in the food, too. Stick with the appetite
suppressants. You’ve got a bunch in the top drawer.”

“That’s alright.
I’m never hungry,” I say.

“I have to leave
you, Roz. We’ll see what’s in store for me this evening.” He starts back for
the uplifted tile.

“You’re going
back down there? Underground?”

“These vents
lead to every room on every floor, Roz. Mine’s just a few rooms down.”

I remember the
hospital where I met Pike. “But what if I need you?” I ask, starting to feel
the re-emergence of that panicked feeling, closing in my throat.

“You won’t need
me. You’ll be fine,” Leland calls from the floor.

“But –”

“No but’s!”

Leland puts up a
hand to wave and slips into the vent. Without him, the room casts on a much
more solemn shadow. The light in the room dissipates after a few seconds of
Leland not being here and I wish my hand lit up like his. I look at it and
press my palm. Hard.

A spark under my
skin and then it glows blue. Gets brighter.
Amazing
.

Even with this
dim light, the room has lost its warmth. I have to keep myself from thinking
about the cocktail Leland mentioned. I have to be able to say no when the time
comes. I have to decline the cocktail when it is offered to me. Otherwise they
win. The Hollow will have me and they’ll win. I won’t let them win.

Problem is, it
doesn’t sound all that bad. And it scares me to think that at some point I
might actually welcome it.