The Hollow (Rose of the Dawn Series Book 2) (7 page)

“Wake her!” Dr. Flint orders. The nurse
injects me with something. My eyes flutter open.

“Jenny,” I
cough. My voice is low and scratches my throat.

I get a short
head shake ‘no’. It is Jenny. I’m just not supposed to acknowledge her.
Why
is she here? How come she isn’t at home with my family? Does Dr. Flint know who
she is?

“Now leave,” Dr.
Flint points to her office door and Jenny pockets the needle, closing the door
behind her.

“How are you
feeling, Miss Campbell?” The doctor paces in front of the window. Very little
light comes in. It’s raining outside.

“What-Have-You-Done-To-Me?”
I glare at Dr. Flint without looking down at my arm. I’m propped up on this
gurney and while I’m angry, I also know that I’m helpless. She knows it, too.

“What have
I
done
to
you
? You mean what have
you
done to
yourself
. I’m glad
you asked.”

She crosses her
arms over her chest and looks out the window.

“Acid rain. Gets
worse and worse,” she mutters under her breath. “You want to know why I’ve
taken your arm.”

I do.

My shoulder
twinges. Sharp bursts of pain stab my heart.

“I had your arm
removed for two reasons—”

“Only two?” I
ask.

“Do not be
insolent!” She points a long, bony finger at me and I recoil.

“What are the
reasons?” I regulate my delivery. I’m more afraid than I was before because now
I know this woman has the power to take my other arm as well. I look down at my
arm and gasp. My arm is back.
What’s going on?

“Rejuvenation
Industries is a business. One invested in taking the science of organ
regeneration to the next level. Making it more successful. Failsafe.”

I stare at my
arm, but it isn’t my arm.

“What is it?” I
ask, still looking down. Made of light grey plastic, it’s just a bit bigger
than my arm, than my hand. Silver bolts hold the wrist to the arm, the fingers
to the hand.

“A three-dimensional
printed prosthetic. State of the art. With all of the mechanisms and motions of
a real arm, but better. Efficient. Like nothing you would get with the Imperial
Bead.”

“The Imperial
Bead wouldn’t have taken my arm.” I argue.

She laughs. It
makes me cringe.

Voluntarily, I
am able to pick the arm up and put it down, move it side to side.

It moves!

If I can move
the arm, then I can—

My fake fingers
wiggle!

One after the
other, finger joints connected by a series of small, interlocking links at the
knuckles. Thin wiring over the back of my hand weaves in and out of the arm.
There are black rubber pads with fingerprints at the tips of my hand.

“When did – how–”
There isn’t any feeling other than a dull numbness in my shoulder.

“We’ve connected
the nerve endings in your shoulder to the internal wiring of the prosthetic.
All you have to do is think the motion and your arm will do it. It is bionic.”

I have the same,
full motion my real arm did. Only I can’t feel it.

“Why did you do
this to me?” I put my arm down. My other hand instinctively covers it,
protecting it.

“If I am
correct, your arm will regrow in time and it will change the future.”

“For you. But
where’s
my
arm?”

“It is being
tested.” Dr. Flint stares me down.

“She’s going to
take me apart piece by piece.” I don’t ask. I know the answer.

“The second
reason for taking your arm was to prove to you that I can take your arm. You
have no control or say. But if you cooperate, you may get things in return.
Rewards, like your new arm. So you better be nice, Miss Campbell.”

She approaches
me and grabs my wrist. My good wrist. She pinches it. I have to control my
thoughts so I don’t swipe her with my other arm. I don’t want to risk losing
that one, too.

“Just think of
it as a donation. A scientific donation.” Her tablet pings and then her phone
rings. She walks to her desk. She picks it up.

“What is it?”
she barks.

“Aegis has been
taken. They’re gone,” a male voice on the other end is loud enough for me to
hear across the room.

Once again, Dr.
Flint flips over the tablet and hangs up the phone. She storms around the desk
at me.

“Take her away!”
She yells. She is angry.

The door opens
and someone pulls me backward out of the room and then pushes me down the
hallway. My mind flashes. I see papers strewn on the floor. We roll over medical
records of patients long gone and forgotten. The walls are back to being moldy
and stained. Discolored.

The nurse puts a
hand on my good shoulder.

“Jenny?” I
whisper, hoping it’s her.

“You can’t let
on that you know me,” she whispers back. I don’t turn around. I would know her
voice anywhere.

“How come you’re
here?”

She doesn’t
answer immediately, but pushes me past the patient rooms, through a metal gate,
down another hallway. We’re not going the same way we came.

“Where are you
taking me?”

She pushes me
into an elevator and the door closes behind her. She presses a button and I
can’t tell if we’re going up or down.

“We can talk in
here, but only for a few minutes. Another attendant has turned off the monitors
for me,” she speaks quickly.

“But what about
my palm?” I look down, but the implant was in the other hand. The hand that has
been replaced. The tracer must be somewhere in or on my new arm.

“I was moved
from your house here to attend to Tithonus and spy on Rejuvenation Industries.
I was hired as his personal nurse, though I suspect Dr. Flint has some idea who
I am by now.”

“If you’re with
the Imperial Bead, then were you spying on my family?”

“No. Not at all.
I am with the Imperial Bead, but your father knew what I really was. He knew I
had been awaiting an assignment.”

“Does he know
that I’m here?” Maybe he knows I’m alive.

She shakes her
head. “That isn’t important now. You just have to get out of here.”

“Me? What about
you?”

“I can take care
of myself. You need to go.”

“But how?”

“Can you move
your legs?” She pulls the canvas straps restraining my ankles.

“I can.” I can,
but they’re heavy.

She takes my
clothes out from somewhere beneath the gurney. As fast as she talks, she pulls
the pants on up over my legs and peels the gown away from my body.

My arms
instinctively cross my chest. I’m naked. The coldness of the elevator gives me
goosebumps. My bionic arm is surprisingly warm. It presses awkwardly against my
skin.

Jenny pulls the
shirt on over my head, but rips the sleeve off the one arm so it can fit
without me having to coordinate its movement.

The doors open.
We’re in the basement. I think we’re near the tunnels. It smells like sulfur
and it’s damp.

“You need to
follow the tunnels to Leland,” Jenny orders. “You have to tell him the time to
leave will be soon so they need to finish digging.”

Finish digging?
What is she talking about?
She helps me to my feet.

“Finish digging?
Digging what? How do you know he’s down there now? Why can’t you come with me?”
She holds me up until I can hold up myself.

“I brought
Tithonus down, but I have to check into my station. Just tell Leland.”

“About the
digging.”

“Yes.” She
pushes me out of the elevator. My legs shake, but hold me up.

“Digging to
where? Has he found a way out?” My mind races with possibility.

Jenny doesn’t
answer before letting the elevator doors close behind her and I have to figure
out which way to go.

Which way do I
go and what did she mean about the digging?

To the right is
a faded blue sign with rusty white letters that says MORGUE.

I go left.

My feet are still
bare and there’s no avoiding the puddles. The entire tunnel is wet.

Something
scurries in front of me and I freeze. A rat. It’s mangy black fur and long pink
tail, even in this darkness, a dead giveaway. It reaches the wall and blends
into it. It echoes off into the distance.

A yellowish glow
emanates from somewhere up ahead. I don’t want to go back toward the morgue. I
know what’s back there. I won’t go back there. I walk slowly, careful of my
steps. Aware of what might be down here with me. Who might be down here with
me.

A squeak, not a
rat, a gurney being wheeled
. Behind me?
I look back, but don’t see
anything. It’s way too dark. Then above me, banging on pipes.
Was that a
moan?
Did someone just moan?

The gurney gets
closer.

A scream pierces
the tunnel and my body flees without me thinking or commanding it to do so,
adrenaline coursing through my veins, forcing me forward. I run toward the
glow.

And then I’m
stopped: pulled over, against the wall, against my will.

“Shh, don’t
scream,” the voice says.

I couldn’t if I
wanted to, their hand is covering my mouth. The person is much bigger and
taller than me. Stronger.

My arms attack
my captor, scratching with the only five nails I have. My new arm is much
stronger and more coordinated. I barely have to think about its movement.

“Rose, Rose,
please. Stop. I’ll let you go.”

Immediately I’m
released. I run up the middle of the tunnel, but then I stop.
Do I know him?
I turn around.

Stepping out of
the shadows, I’ve hurt him, his hand presses against his neck.

“I-I know you,”
I stammer.
But how?

“I’m
Christophe.”

He was there. In
my room. I was sick. My arm.

“Why are you
down here? Are you following me?” It seems a lot lighter than before.

“The question
is: why are you down here? Do you even know where you’re going?”

I shake my head.
No, that’s not right. I’ve been down here and I am down here for a reason.
But
what was it?

My good arm
holds my other arm. It’s lightweight, but so heavy on my shoulder.

“Do you know
where you are?” Christophe asks stepping closer.

I shake my head
again.

“You’re in a
tunnel known as the body chute. It’s where the bodies were taken from the
morgue to the incinerator. You were heading straight for it.”

“Body chute?
Incinerator?” The yellowish glow.

Christophe nods.
He still has on his sunglasses. It’s so strange. How does he see down here?

“There’s a
stairway over there. C’mon, I’ll take you back to your room.” He takes my hand,
my fake hand. I know because I feel it in my shoulder as it curls around his in
response. I watch it move like a real hand. Christophe doesn’t react like I
would’ve expected. He doesn’t react at all.

“No. No, wait!”
I shake his hand off without thinking. He stops and turns to me. “I have to get
to Leland. I have a message for him.”

“A message? From
whom?”

“From Jenny.
About the digging. It was urgent.”

“Urgent, huh?”
Christophe doesn’t move like I think he should. Quickly and in the direction of
wherever Leland is.

“Yes! Very!” I
am emphatic.

He pulls me back
and behind a crumbling brick pillar. And then my good hand in his, he pushes
through a wooden door.
How did Jenny ever expect me to find my way?
She
must’ve known someone else would come down here.
Wouldn’t she?

We’re back at a
staircase. We pass the stairs and follow another tunnel. I’m all turned around.

“It’s all meant
to be confusing, but I know my way,” Christophe assures me. I believe him and I
trust him. I don’t know that this is a good thing. He points forward. “It’s
just up ahead.”

This tunnel
looks like all the rest: dark and gloomy. Damp and musty. Wet.

As we approach
the part of the tunnel that forks to the left and right, a loud distressed moan
travels down the length of one of them, stopping my heart. My blood running
cold.

“What is that?”
I ask. It doesn’t sound human, but there can’t be anything bigger than rats
down here. That was no rat. It moans again.

“It’s one of the
disappeared. One of The Hollow’s test subjects. It’ll pass. We’ll just wait
here until it does.”

My body wouldn’t
budge anyway. The moaning continues.