The Hollow (Rose of the Dawn Series Book 2) (6 page)

The only thing
going through my mind before passing out is something Tithonus said the first
time I met him:

“Chipchip. Don’t
let them chip your code.”

“Roz? Roz, you in here?” Leland whispers
from the floor.

“I am,” I
mutter. My voice sounds muffled in my own head. My eyes squint open.

“Oh, Roz, oh no.
What have you done? What have they done?” Leland is now beside me. How did he
get here so fast? The question takes more than a few seconds to formulate.

He pushes up on
my back, trying to get me to sit up straight, but my body won’t budge. I’m back
where I started. He doesn’t say any more, but I hear his breathing intensify as
he struggles to get me upright. I wish I could help, but I’m still numb. I
can’t feel much of anything other than the pressure on my back, and that only a
little. Whatever it is has made its way to my brain.

My brain.

“Roz, did they
offer you a cocktail?”

I don’t know, I
say in my head. I shrug.

“They would’ve
offered you a cocktail. Did you meet with Dr. Flint?”

I bob my head.
Once. Twice. My neck struggles to hold it up.
Why didn’t you tell me about
Dr. Flint, Leland?
I want to ask, but my lips won’t move.
And why do you
keep talking about them offering it, like I had a choice not to take it?
They’re
fat and numb.

“Did you take
the cocktail, Roz?” He waves his hand in front of my eyes. I try to focus, but
I can’t. I’m unfeeling. I’m fading.

“Oh, no. This
isn’t good, Roz. Roz, stay with me, Roz –”

Leland disappears
from my sight and when he comes back into focus it isn’t him.

Pike!

Pike steps out
of the corner of the room. The hospital room. My hospital room.

He steps close,
but it isn’t him.

Dr. Flint moves
up beside me. Thin lips bare her sharp, yellow teeth. She smiles and speaks,
though her mouth doesn’t move.

“Chipchip. We’ll
chipchip your code.”

My head moves
from side to side. Or is it just my eyes? My vision? I want to cover my ears,
but I can’t. She’s chip-chipping away in my head.

And then it’s
gone. I’m able to open my eyes.

Tithonus is
seated beside my bed. He holds my hand.

“Will she be
okay? How bad was the cocktail they gave her?”

“Not lethal. She
will be okay. It will wear off soon.” His hands massage mine and I am surprised
at his strength and my ability to feel again. “Beware it doesn’t wear her out.
Warn her. Avoid the cocktail.”

“I did,” Leland responds.
“She wasn’t given the choice, though.”

I wasn’t given
the choice.

“Let me help you
out,” Leland takes Tithonus’s hands from mine. Instead of walking him toward
the hole in the floor, he goes straight to the door.

Leland hits it
twice, with the palm of his hand. It makes more of a shushing sound than a
hollow knock.

The door opens
and my eyes shift away from the light.

“He’s ready,”
Leland says to someone in the hallway. “You won’t get in trouble, will you?”

“No, but thank
you for making it quick. I need to get him back to his room before I go,” the
voice of a woman speaks and it sounds like family. It brings back memories of
books and stories.

“Will she be
okay?” Leland asks her and I can tell he takes something by the way his arm
extends and retracts.

“She’ll survive,
Leland,” she says.

The
conservatory.

“Let’s go
Jenny,” Tithonus beckons.

Jenny? Jenny!
I repeat over
and over in my head.

The door closes
and I try to open my mouth again to speak. Nothing comes out but breath. I try
to move my arm, but all I can do is shift my eyes. Nothing is there. Leland
walks back over to my bed.

“Shh….get some
rest. We have to run that cocktail out of your system as quick as we can.”
Leland puts something on the side table, but I can’t tell what it is. I don’t
want to look down in case I can’t get my head back up. It still feels so heavy.

“Christophe, you
still there?” Leland asks.

A shadow moves
across the floor and to my bed. When it appears, I see a head with short,
cropped hair and a face with sharp, angular features. A tall, slim, muscular
guy wearing sunglasses faces me, grins, and starts to loosen my sheets.

I don’t care.

He untwists a
drip line from a port on the back of my hand. Instead of detaching me
completely, he reattaches something else. Something that courses through my
veins and flows all around my body. Like the fizz of a soda, I can feel it
bubble throughout my blood vessels, reacting with whatever else is there. I
close my eyes. My head has gone from heavy to light in a matter of seconds.

“It should work
pretty quick, it’s distilled water,” Christophe says. It can’t just be water.

“Oh water,
Christophe, you are always so clever. Replace the cocktail with water. Hydrate the
girl. I would’ve never thought it could be so simple.”

What is Leland
talking about?

Christophe’s
eyes are hidden behind sunglasses.

“Let’s go. She
should get some rest,” Christophe moves away from the bedside. Leland comes
forward.

NO!
I yell inside my
head. I don’t like it here alone. The room darkens and shadows play tricks on
me. I don’t want anyone creeping out of the corners.

“I’ll be back,
Roz. You’re gonna be fine.” Leland kisses my forehead. As they descend into the
tunnel I hear Christophe tell Leland one last thing.

“We should send
Delia up to keep an eye on her.”

“You’re right.
When she comes to, she’ll probably be in pain and Delia will know what to do,”
Leland answers.

The tile slips
back into place and I wait for Delia, hoping the pain doesn’t come before she
does.

“You’re waking up,” someone says. I open
my eyes and a woman I have never seen sits on the chair beside my bed. Her slim
figure is draped in a white, gauzelike dress. Her crossed legs are pale and
delicate. She is framed by light. She is angelic.
Is she an angel?

“Am I dreaming?
Am I dead? Are you dead?”

“No. You are
just waking up. Relax, Rosamund.” Her voice is as soft as her face. Long,
wispy, strawberry-blonde hair parts to the side. It hangs over one shoulder and
behind the other. Her green eyes are the color of emeralds and the lashes are
long and black. Her lips are peachy-pink and there is a sparkle to her skin.
She is flawless. Beautiful.

“Who are you?”

“I am Delia.”

“I don’t feel
well.” I reach my hands up to cover my mouth, but only one hand moves. One arm.
I look at the other, but don’t see it. I don’t see my other arm. It’s there, I
can feel it.
Can’t I?

I lean over the
bed and throw up. I heave and heave. I won’t open my eyes. My throat burns and
I taste residue on my tongue. The back of my teeth are covered with a grimy film
even after I’m done retching. Supporting myself on one hand, I raise my other
one to wipe my cheek, but nothing happens. Nothing’s there.

“My arm!” I
shriek. “Where’s my arm!”
My arm! My arm! What’s happened? Where’s my arm?

Delia hands me a
small, light green tablet. I won’t take it. I won’t extend my arm if I can’t
extend both of them.

“Open your
mouth,” the softness of her voice soothes me. I do as she says. She puts the
tab in my mouth. It fizzes, foams, and then dissolves in my mouth. She leans
down on my shoulder, the pressure feeling good. My arm isn’t there. I can’t
look again.

“They’ve taken
my arm! They want to take out my brain and replace it with a chip! Have they
chipped my brain? Where’s my arm?”

“Yes, they’ve
taken your arm,” Delia begins. I’m going to be sick again. I want to scratch at
it. Scratch until it grows back.
Will it grow back?

I lean over the
bed and retch again.

When I lean back
up, Delia hands me my washcloth to wipe my mouth. She takes my hand and
squeezes it tight. “Think about something happy. Find your center.”

Center? What is
she talking about? I can’t think.

“Is there
something or someone that made you feel safe? Feel whole?”

Pike.

“I-I don’t
know.”

“Is there
someone in your heart that you love or care about?”

Pike.

“A memory,
perhaps?”

Our kiss.

I’m less sick.

“Then you still
have your memories. No one has taken your brain.”

“What happened
to my arm?” The entirety of it is gone. There’s nothing beyond my shoulder.

“My guess is
that it was taken to keep you in line. In your place.” Delia frowns. “It’s also
my guess that once you adhere to the rules of The Hollow, they will give you
something to make you feel better.”

I look at her
arms. Whiter than snow.

“Have they
chipped your brain? Have you been AR’d?” I ask. I’m calm.

“I have my
brain,” she looks at me. “But most of my organs have been replaced. I’m
regenerative, though and my skin is the only thing left worth harvesting. The
Hollow is using me to regrow ageless and flawless skin for cosmetic purposes.
The chip will be my fate, too, at some point.”

“You’ve been
here long, then.” I try to ignore the throbbing in my arm. The arm that isn’t
there.

“Longer than I
look.” Eyes downcast, Delia looks sad. The tone of her voice has sunk and so
have her shoulders. “But I am here, now, to help you get through the steps of
cocktail withdrawal.”

Is that what
this is? This sick feeling? No. Something has been taken from me. Stolen and
I’ll never have it back.

“Why did they do
this to me? What are they going to do next?”

“They have ways
of getting what they want.” Delia pats my only hand, it’s as soft as Evie when
she was a baby.

“Why are you
helping me? Why do you care?”

“Because you’re
one of us. I’m one of you. And I’m a mother – I was once a mother. And you look
like someone who could use someone to watch out for you. Someone you could
trust. That’s all.”

“Where’s
Tithonus?”

“He’ll be back.”
Delia pulls the sheets up closer to my neck. “We’re going to think positive. In
the meantime, take deep breaths in through your nose and out through your
mouth. It will help clear the rest of the toxins from your body.”

I do as she says.
“I feel better,” I admit.

“Good.” Delia
pats my legs before walking toward the tile.

“My arm isn’t
going to grow back, is it?”

She stops and
turns back.

“I’m not that
regenerative, am I?”

Delia shrugs.
“Anything is possible. Get some rest.”

“You won’t leave
me, will you?”

She walks back
and sits down. “I won’t. I’ll be right here. Now close your eyes.”

I smile and
comply. For the first time I sleep, feeling safe.

“Pike, is that you?” I’m out of bed. I’m
out of The Hollow. I’m outside.

His back to me, Pike
doesn’t turn around.

“Pike, it’s me,
Rose!” I call and run up to him. He’s staring into the distance and I can’t
tell at what. All I see is him and nothing more.

“Pike, please,”
I touch his back and he turns. He doesn’t recognize me. “It’s me! Rose!”

His eyes move
from my face to my mangled shoulder. Skin and muscle hanging off in strips. I
look down and then back up.

Pike runs. He
runs away from me.

I run after him,
chasing him, but I can’t pump my arms and I fall to the ground. He’s gone.

My eyes dart
open. I’m back in my room, tangled in my sheets.

“Delia? Delia?”
Where
is she?
“Delia!”

“Shh, shh, Rose.
I’m here,” from across the room, Delia gets up. She’s moved the chair against
the wall, tucked into the shadow of this already-dark room.

Beside my bed,
she dabs at the sweat on my forehead. It reminds me of Dory and being sick in
the hospital.

“Shh, be calm.
You were having a dream,” she soothes, though her face looks sad.

“A nightmare!” I
correct. My face is wet with tears. I don’t want to have to tell her what it
was about. She doesn’t ask.
Did I call out?

“My arm!” I
scream. The pain is unbearable. “It hurts! Oh God, help me!”

Delia rushes
somewhere away from me. I can’t see anything other than bright dots of white in
my blackened vision. My arm automatically moves toward the missing limb, my
hand pressing against my armpit.

“Please help me!
It hurts!”

Pain sears the
flesh and it’s on fire. Going from hot to hotter. Wet.

“You will be
okay, Rose, find your center.” Delia takes my head and gently pushes it back on
the pillow. Footsteps behind her are sharp and quick. They echo in my head. I
can’t see anything. I can’t catch my breath. My eyes open, the pain
excruciating. I stare up at the ceiling.

Tiles fall and
shatter on the floor around my bed. The walls crumble plaster, exposing brick
that falls to the ground, too.

“Let me die,” I
cry. “Please let me die.” My head splits open.

When I don’t
think I can stand the pain any longer, I don’t have to. The pain is gone.

I remove my hand
from my shoulder. It’s covered in blood. I rub it between my fingers in slow
motion. “What’s going on?” My voice trails. Colors become vivid.

I look up. The
ceiling is intact.

A nurse pulls
away another syringe. She wraps my arm in gauze.

I stare up and
into her face and all I see is Jenny. My Jenny. My friend, Jenny.

“Jenneee,” I slur.

Her eyes widen,
but she gives no other indication of recognition.

“It’s meee,” My
eyes are closing.

“Relax, Rose,
please,” Delia’s voice breaks into the space between me and the nurse who looks
just like Jenny. “The nurse is going to take care of you.”

“My Jenneee,” I
squeal. My eyes shut, they’re too heavy to hold open.

“I may not be
here when you wake up, but I will be back.” Delia bends over and kisses my
forehead. Like a mother. Just not like my mother.

And then Jenny
leans down. “Be strong,” she whispers as she wheels me out into the hallway.