The Hollow (Rose of the Dawn Series Book 2)

by Maguire, Ily

  Frightened by her proximity, I look up and out the wide-open door. Medical records are strewn across the floor and ribbons of wallpaper peel away from the wall that I can see.

  “I advise you not to run away. Do not even think of running away,” she whispers and I avert my eyes. When I look back up, all I see in the hallway is bright whiteness.

  Clipboard under her arm, she heads back toward the door.

  “Where am I?” I am able to get out before she leaves. She turns around and smiles. She doesn’t answer before leaving the room.

  3

  Where am I? I wish it were brighter. My eyes are having trouble adjusting to all this darkness and they want to be closed now that I have control over whether or not they are open. I try to pick up my leg because I don’t think I can feel it, but it’s too heavy and it won’t budge.

  Something squeaks and then creaks. Something bumps against the ground and is moved against the wall. The blinds are pulled open. Brightness floods the room.

  In a gown similar to my own, another patient stands in front of me at the bottom of the bed. He’s skinny, almost scrawny, from what I can see. He has thick, wavy, brown hair. In this low light his skin looks green. Is he sick?

  “They like to keep some of us in the dark. You like it bright, don’t you? I do. I’m lucky. I get sunlight all hours of the day.” he speaks as he walks away from the window, not waiting for my answer.

  “Who are you?” I manage to get out. He seems much smaller than me. I’m not scared of him.

  “I’m Leland. You can call me Leland.” He bows and as he comes back up, he flashes a smile. He has a mouthful of straight, white teeth.

  “Who are you?” My words are back, but slow to form.

  “Just another patient here in The Hollow.”

  I gasp. What’s The Hollow? My body reacts with a shiver I can’t stop.

  Leland continues, “there’s a bunch of us kept under lock and key in this place. We heard someone new was admitted, so I decided to take a chance and check you out. Who are you?”

  He takes a look at the chart at the base of the bed and reads aloud. What’s on the paper? How come my screens aren’t activating?

  “Rosamund Campbell. Female. Seventeen years old–”

  I turned 17?

  “- Height. Weight.” He stops. “Oh, look at this. Very interesting.” Leland looks back and forth from my chart to me, from me to my chart.

  “You’ve got some pretty special blood, Rosamund Campbell. Type AOA negative. Would’ve never guessed from the looks of you. You’re kinda small for such a big, powerful bloodtype.”

  He tries to lift up my bedsheets from the bottom. “Let’s see where they gave you the tell-tale tattoo,” he talks to himself. I swat his hand away and hold the sheets down. I can move my arms! If I could use my legs, I would kick him.

  “Oh don’t worry, Roz – or do you prefer Rosie? I’m not going to hurt you. You’re not my type if you know what I mean.”

  “Rose.” I don’t know if I know what he means.

  “Rose, huh. I kinda like Roz myself. You look much more like a Roz than a Rose and it goes way better with Rosamund. Do you care if I call you Roz?”

  “Uh-uh,” I shake my head, still clutching the sheets. I’ve pulled them up closer to my chest. If my arms work, I better use them.

  I am beginning to feel a dullness that radiates down my arms from a pain in my back. There’s a numbness in my legs, too. I can’t feel them.

  “Legs are still paralyzed. I’ve been there before. They drug you for your brief stay in the morgue once you’re presumed dead. It’s not enough for you to OD. By the time it wears off, you’re stuck with one heck of a recovery.”

  I was inside the morgue. Was I dead?

  “Movement and feeling in the arms comes back first and then eventually your legs will be under your control again. I could tell, you’re arms jerked too much when you pulled up the sheet. It’ll all wear off soon.” He pats my legs, though I still don’t feel it. His hand leaves an impression on the bed.

  “What hospital is this?” My throat is sore.

  “It’s a hospital of sorts, I guess you could say.” Leland walks over to the window. I can’t tell what he’s looking at from here, if anything. “But not the Imperial Hospital, if that’s what you’re hoping. It used to be a hospital for the criminally insane.”

  “The Hollow?” I get out.

  “It eventually became state-sponsored art so to speak. Government funded and then forgotten. People locked up were locked in. It was vandalized and abandoned—”

  My visions.

  “And then it was bought by a developer who turned it into a state-of-the-art facility for supposed scientific advancement. All private doctors and scientists. All private donations.”

  “And everyone locked inside?”

  “Became human test cases. The Imperial Bead turned a blind eye. Better than having to do something with them.”

  “Human testing? The Hollow?”

  “The Hollow. The nurse didn’t call it that, did she?”

  “Uh-uh,” I shake my head. “You did.”

  “No. No, she wouldn’t. That would mean she was admitting to it being something other than what it purports to be. The Hollow makes it all sound very mysterious though, doesn’t it? There are ghosts here for sure. Shells of people that had souls and such. An empty, hollow place. Lots of empty in here.”

  “I-I-I can’t,” I stutter. “I-I-I can’t—”

  Leland looks at me. “Take your time. There’s no rush.”

  “I can’t be here!” I blurt out. Waves of panic come and go like a tide. “What’s going to happen to me? What is this place? Why am I here?”

  Leland flops down on my bed, stretching out and over my legs. I still can’t feel anything. “You’ve never heard of it?”

  “No,” I shake my head, squinting. The sun streams in the window. As the talking tires me, the panic diminishes.

  “It’s pretty much a non-space. Like an area that, let me correct what I said - an area that no one wants to know about. The Hollow puts up a good façade with support from influential people and investments from high-powered businesses, but it’s a whole other story here on the inside. Not a nice place. Human testing. A medical wasteland. Not a nice place at all. Anyway, no one knows we’re here. No one knows you’re here.”

  My mind is blank. I can’t process this. No one knows I’m here. My legs jerk up, kicking Leland in the side. He yelps, sitting up, rubbing his ribs.

  “Oh don’t worry,” he notices the concern on my face. He takes my hand. It’s warm and comforting. My whole body tingles and my legs relax. “Someone will find out we’re in here.”

  “Someone who?”

  “Someone from the Imperial Bead. Once they know, it’ll just be a matter of time.” His voice lacks the confidence from before.

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” I say.

  “Is it working?” He smiles.

  I nod my head.

  “Wait till you meet the gang, Roz. You’ll love them!”

  “How many more of you are there?” I ask, glad to know we’re not alone.

  “More of me?” He pauses, I think for effect. In this place it’s kinda creepy. “You mean more of us. There are two groups of people here in The Hollow. Doctors, nurses, and attendants who are here willingly and then all of us who are here against our will: service patients who do duties around The Hollow, the disappeared and the regeneratives.”

  “What’s the difference?” I ask. I shake my head. I don’t understand. What are they going to do to me?

  “I am a regenerative and am administered one test at a time. The disappeared are tested mercilessly. Regeneratives are not. We are variables. We are only one factor in their investigation. The disappeared are human guinea pigs. They’re tested all the time in every way possible.”

  “Why me? Why am I here?” I know why. I’m a regenerative.

  “You are a complete an
d total regenerative and something else. The Hollow hasn’t seen one of you in a long time,” he pauses to think.

  “Something else?” I ask.

  “You were shot, right?”

  “Yes.” My skin prickles. I can feel where the gauze is taped to my back.

  He gets up from the bed and frantically taps on a screen. Only one of them lights up. An anatomical picture of my body. An X-ray. It doesn’t look like me, but my name is above the scan.

  “See?” He asks.

  “See what?”

  His fingers press against the screen and widen. He swipes left twice, the body spins around. His hand taps on a point.

  “That’s your back. You’re lower back.”

  “But there’s nothing there.”

  He swipes the screen and while the black and white outline of my body, my ribs and bones are still there, white specks are all around my midsection. There must be at least two dozen.

  “That is where you were shot.” He points to the smatter of white dots. “Now look again.” He goes back to the first X-ray.

  “It’s all gone.” The white specks are no longer there.

  “That’s because it’s all healed. You’re all healed within a matter of days.”

  “Days? No.”

  “Yes!” he corrects. “In this respect, you’re not like the rest of us regeneratives. You’re not only regenerative, but you’re a healer.”

  A healer. I knew I was regenerative. JJ knew that, too. He’s the one who told me. But a healer. “What is that?”

  My head gets heavy. A thick fog wraps around my brain.

  “You are one of us. You’re special like we all are, but in your own unique way. While we can all regenerate, you can heal. That’s why they want you. You’re super-human, Roz. It’s in your blood. Literally.”

  “Everyone here is regen—”

  “Yes, ma’am. Everyone. The Hollow has made it their sole mission to capture anyone and everyone like us. They’ve got the financial backing and that is very motivating.”

  “What will they do with me?”

  Leland paces by the window. His movement leaves trails of bright colors. Like a beacon in the fog that is my mind. Pink, yellow, blue.

  “Test you. Harvest you,” he pauses. Looks up at the sky. “Allow you to heal and then test you again. See how they can use you.”

  “You mean torture. They’re going to torture me!” My voice squeaks and my pulse races. My neck sweats. “Have they tortured you?”

  “Yes and no. In my own way I’ve undergone numerous tests, but only one at a time. I’m not any worse for wear. Really. I shouldn’t be scaring you like this.”

  I try to manage a smile, but I can’t force my face to move.

  “Ease your mind, though. I don’t think it will suit them to do anything like that to you. I don’t think that torture will be on their To Do list. You’re too important to be abused like some of the others. Like the disappeared.”

  “What do they do to them?” I can’t avoid the question.

  He doesn’t answer. Just stares out the window. I’m glad he doesn’t answer.

  “How long have you been here?” I ask.

  “Who knows for sure. I keep track, but only know how long it’s been based on the seasons and the position of the sun when we can see it. As far as I can guess, I’ve been here for four full seasons, so that would be two years. Summer and winter. Summer and winter. No more than two seasonal years as far as I can tell.”

  By the looks of it outside, it must be almost winter. Or spring. The tree branches cast shadows on the walls. There are no leaves. I have no idea how long I’ve been anywhere now, but I know I’ve only been here days.

  “Shhh,” Leland has moved back from the window to my bed. He crouches down, both hands on the mattress.

  “What is it?” I whisper.

  “I’ve got to go. She’s coming back.” He pushes away from the bed and slides to the baseboard beneath the windows. He pulls out the ornate iron grate, only 2 feet by 2 feet square and slips into the wall, squeezing his shoulders through, his legs sliding in behind him. Turning around, I can see his head poke out before he brings the grate back into place.

  “Wait,” I am able to sit up straighter. My voice isn’t as weak and the fog in my brain is lifting. “Will you, will you come back?”

  “Hush. I’ll come back. You’ll see me again. Don’t mention anything to your nurse. No questions.”

  The door opens and the white nurse strides in, clipboard in hand. She stops short when she sees my screen on. My body in X-ray spinning on the wall. She walks over to my chart, taps two fingers on the wall screen, the rest of them lighting up, and then looks at the open blinds. Instead of saying anything, she jots something down on the clipboard. She minimizes the window.

  She moves over to my bedside and inclines the bed so I am at a 90 degree angle. She reaches for my arm, moves the gown away and scans the bar code. My records are back up on the screen. She lets my arm go. It drops back on my lap. She takes my wrist and times my pulse. The milliseconds tick up on the wall.

  “You are getting feeling back, I see.”

  Don’t say anything to anyone.

  She puts down my wrist and pulls a syringe from a pocket on the front of her skirt. It’s already full. She taps out air bubbles, holding it to the light.

  “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.

  4

  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.