Hollowland

by Аманда Хокинг

  “You’ll want a room to yourself, won’t you?” Lazlo asked with a lopsided smile.

  “We can figure out sleeping arrangements later.” I didn’t want to get into it right now. I could feel Lazlo watching me, but I refused to look back. “Why don’t you go see if you can get anything on the TV?”

  “You can’t get anything on TV.” Harlow rolled her eyes. “Everything in the world is down.”

  I might’ve tried to convince her to go do something, but a knock at the front door interrupted me. Harlow looked back over her shoulder. I turned to Lazlo to see if he knew anything, but he just shrugged.

  “Should I answer it?” Harlow asked, and I couldn’t tell if she was excited or nervous about the prospect of visitors.

  “Hello?” a woman’s voice called, and the front door creaked open. “Is anyone here?”

  “Um, yeah, we are,” I said and tried to push past Harlow.

  As I squeezed by her, I smacked my injured hip on the narrow doorway. Wincing as discreetly as I could manage, I glanced down. The bite had already started bleeding through the tee shirt and sweats, and I didn’t want anybody to know about it. I didn’t know how to cover it up without anybody noticing, so I decided to lag behind, letting Harlow and Lazlo go ahead of me to greet our visitor.

  “Oh, good,” the woman said brightly. “I was afraid they’d given me the wrong address again. It’s so hard to find a place when they all look alike here.” She gave a small, warm laugh after that, and it made me not dislike her.

  I walked behind Lazlo, keeping my body angled so the blood on my clothes would face away from her. She looked about fifty-ish, with graying blond hair pulled back with a bandana around her head. Her pants were a durable Dickies type khaki, but she wore a weird flowy brown smock over them. She looked like a hippie flower child meets Rosie the Riveter.

  “I’m Sara Bishop, but everyone just calls me Bishop. I’ll help you get settled in,” she smiled reassuringly at us. Harlow crossed her arms and tried to look skeptical, but Lazlo returned it with his 100 watt smile. “I know just about everything you need to know about this place.”

  “Great,” Harlow said.

  “Now, are you all a family?” Bishop asked, eyeing us.

  “Not exactly,” I said, leaning my shoulder and side against wall in the hallway. It killed, pressing my open wound against the wall like that, but it kept it hidden.

  “Ah, I see,” Bishop nodded knowingly. “The one good thing about all of this is that it’s really brought people together. Strangers helping strangers, getting to know one another.” She finished her thought, then cocked her head, narrowing her eyes at Lazlo. “I’m sorry, but do I know you from somewhere? You seem so familiar to me.”

  “Um… I used to be famous,” Lazlo said sheepishly.

  “He was in a band, Emeriso,” Harlow said, which only made Lazlo squirm with embarrassment.

  “Oh, yes.” Bishop kept smiling, but her expression faded. Her eyes got faraway, thinking of something else. “My granddaughter listens to them, to you. Well, she used to. She would be so excited that you were here.”

  The statement hung in the air for a moment, a familiar sentiment I’d heard before. Everybody who’d survived this long had lost someone, if not everyone, who mattered to them.

  “Anyway,” Bishop clapped her hands together once, breaking herself out of her funk. “They took all your clothes from you, yes?”

  “We only had the clothes on our backs anyway,” Harlow shrugged.

  “We have clothing here that you’re welcome to, things we’ve picked up along the way and some things we’ve made,” Bishop said, and Harlow’s face lit up. “I’ll take you down there to get some. All the towels and blankets in here are all you have, so treat them well. We do our laundry in the sink, and hang them up to dry. Unfortunately, we don’t have laundry soap, but we make all our own bar soap here. That’s something you might end up doing yourself.

  “All the meals are served down at the mess hall.” Bishop gestured somewhere off to her right. “All the food has to be rationed here. We have some canned goods and dried goods, but we’re trying to be more self-sufficient with gardening and hunting.” She wagged her head, as if the idea only seemed so-so to her. “It’s still a work in progress but we’re getting there.

  “You’ll all be assigned work detail, once you get settled in, but we give you a day or two to get rest up from what you’ve been through.” She looked at me then, meaning I looked worse than I thought I did. “It’s mostly basic things like gardening, cooking, cleaning, etc. So far, the government and the soldiers handle the more difficult tasks. But we’re working together, and everyone is being taken care of. That’s what counts.”

  “Do you know if my little brother is here?” I asked, returning to my mission. “His name is Max King, and I think he’s in the medical ward.”

  “I don’t know of a Max King out here, no,” Bishop shook her head. “But if he’s in the building, then I wouldn’t know. They keep most of that separate from us. You’d have to talk to the soldiers about that.”

  “I understand,” I sighed.

  “Why don’t I take you to get some clothes, and show you around the place?” Bishop rubbed her hands together and looked at us.

  There was no way I could wander around here, bleeding everywhere, and my body definitely didn’t want to. I ached all over.

  “Um, I’d like to pass on that for now, if that’s okay,” I said. Harlow looked at me, her expression sagging because she thought it meant she’d have to stay behind too. “You go ahead. You can pick out clothes for me. I’m sure you know my size.”

  “Are you sure?” Harlow asked, but she was already brightening.

  “Yeah, go ahead,” I nodded.

  “I think I’m gonna stay behind too.” Lazlo rubbed the back of his neck.

  Bishop wished us well and promised to see us for lunch, and she and Harlow left. As soon as the screen door slammed shut behind them, I moved away from the wall. I put my hand on my hip, covering up the blood, and hobbled over to the couch on the other side of the trailer. It hurt like hell to walk. The pain was getting worse.

  “What’s going on? Are you okay?” Lazlo’s face crumpled with concern, and he put his hand on my arm, helping me to the couch, but I pushed him off.

  “I need you to get Blue,” I said through gritted teeth as I sat down. The couch had been covered in a material reminiscent to a burlap sack, and I tried to situate myself comfortably on it.

  “Blue? Why?” Lazlo asked. For his part, he didn’t flare up with any signs of jealousy like I had kind of expected him to. He just looked worried and confused.

  “I just… I need him,” I said lamely. I knew I could trust Lazlo, but I didn’t want to tell him about the bite. I didn’t want anyone to know who didn’t absolutely need to know. “I need a doctor, and Blue’s the only one I trust.”

  “What do you need a doctor for?” He tensed up, his dark eyes flashed with fear.

  “Just some cuts from the car crash,” I brushed him off. “Just please find Blue.”

  “Remy,” he breathed. Something about the way he said my name sent a shot of warmth through me, but I ignored it.

  “Please.”

  “You’ll be okay while I’m gone?” Lazlo took a step back.

  “Yes,” I nodded.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes! I’m sure!” I lied.

  “Okay.” He moved towards the door, then paused. “You know… you look really pretty with your hair down.”

  “Laz!” I groaned, leaning my head back on the couch. “Don’t tell me I look pretty when I’m in pain. Go get Blue.”

  “Okay. Sorry. But… you do.” He sighed uncertainly and pushed open the door. “I’ll be back as fast I can.”

  As soon as he was gone, I pulled up my shirt to look at the bite. Red and swollen, with blood and pus soaking onto my shirt, it did not look good. This would be just my luck. I’m immune to the zombie virus, but a good old fashi
oned infection kills me.

  I got up and limped over to the kitchen. I rummaged through two drawers before I finally found a dishtowel with blue flowers on it. I pressed it against the wound and sat back on the couch.

  Lazlo seemed to take forever. It gave me plenty of time to worry about whether or not I made the right choice in not telling anyone about the bite or my zombie immunity. It also gave me lots of time to wonder if Max was even here, and what I planned to do if he wasn’t.

  I’d been so certain if I just got to the quarantine, I would find him, but so far, nobody had even heard of him. Maybe this was the wrong place. Or maybe he’d never even made it here.

  What if he hadn’t made it here? It didn’t mean that he was dead or even injured. If he wasn’t here, I’d have to leave. I’d have to keep searching for him until I found him. And if I never found him, I’d never stop searching.

  – 17 –

  Lazlo rushed inside, the screen door slamming shut behind him, and Blue followed a few seconds later. I’d been lying on the couch, but I sat up when they came in. Blue wore blue scrubs and carried a green tackle box with him, and my heart soared at the sight of him. Since I’d thought he was dead for a minute, it felt good knowing he was alive.

  “I got him as fast as I could, but he had to get his stuff.” Lazlo sounded out of breath and pointed to the tackle box. It was Blue’s equivalent to a doctor’s bag.

  “What’s going on?” Blue set the box down on the table next to me, and his gray eyes searched for signs of trauma.

  Lazlo hovered behind him, watching us with intensity. He crossed an arm over his chest as he chewed on his thumbnail.

  “Can we have some privacy?” I asked as nicely as I could, and Lazlo stopped biting his nail long enough to look hurt. “Doctor/patient privilege and all that.”

  “Remy, it’s just me,” Lazlo brushed his dark hair from his eyes and stared at me.

  “I know, but…” I shrugged helplessly.

  “Lazlo, why don’t you give us a minute?” Blue asked.

  Lazlo sighed loudly, rolled his eyes, and sulked down the hall. When he got back to the bedroom, he slammed the door as loud as a pocket door inside a trailer would allow. Once he was gone, Blue turned back to me.

  “What’s going on, Remy?”

  “You’re a doctor, so you can’t tell anybody, right?” I asked seriously. “I mean, you have to promise that you won’t tell anyone.”

  “I promise. I won’t tell anybody,” Blue furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”

  “This.” I pulled up my shirt, revealing my wounded hip, and his eyes widened. “I was bitten.”

  “By a zombie?”

  “Shh!” I glanced down the hall. I didn’t imagine that this place was very sound proof. “Yeah. Over three days ago. And… nothing happened.”

  “You’ve had no symptoms?”

  “No, not that I know of,” I shook my head.

  “You’re immune?”

  “I think. But you can’t tell anybody. I can’t end up trapped somewhere, not until I find my brother.”

  “No, I won’t tell anyone,” he promised. “But you should’ve told someone sooner. This is getting infected, not with the lyssavirus, but with things that could kill you just as dead.”

  “I know, but I couldn’t tell anyone else. At least not any of the soldiers or doctors. You’re the only one I can trust.”

  “You don’t have to be so paranoid.” Blue opened his tackle box and put on a pair of rubber gloves before digging out some kind antiseptic and gauze. It stung when he started cleaning my wound, so I looked away.

  “I’m not paranoid,” I winced as he rubbed at it. “So, have you seen my brother?”

  “No, but I haven’t seen much of anything yet.” He hit something, making a shooting pain go through my body, and I nearly screamed. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. So… you don’t know if my brother’s there?”

  “No, I don’t know. But I’ll look for him. His name is Max, right?”

  “Yeah.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blue pull a syringe out of his box, and I grimaced. “That’s a pretty fancy box you got there.”

  “Thanks. You might feel a small prick,” Blue warned before injecting me with something. “This is just an antibiotic. Zombie mouths are notoriously dirty.” I think that was his attempt at a joke, so I tried to smile. “I actually had to kind of steal this. I mean, I’d get to use one eventually, but it’s sorta my first day on the job.”

  “So they’re like standard procedure for house calls?” I asked.

  “Kinda.” He dabbed the area around the bite mark with gauze, drying it. “I don’t think they want anybody in there, not like regular civilians. If you guys need medical treatment, the doctors are supposed to go to you. There seem to be a lot of scientists and specialists and army officials in there. The first floor is soldier quarters, but the higher up you go in the building, the more specialized the research. I think. They haven’t let me past the second floor.”

  “Are you living there?”

  “Yeah. I have a little room with a bed and no windows. Not like these sweet digs you guys got here.” Blue looked around, and I smirked. “I’m gonna wrap this with a loose bandage so it can breathe, but you’re gonna have to change it at least once day. Make sure you wear loose clothing, too.”

  “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” I couldn’t imagine that they had any tight, revealing clothes here, and if they did, Harlow certainly wouldn’t bring them back for me.

  “So, you, Lazlo, and Harlow are living together then?” Blue asked, carefully dressing my wound. He taped a square piece of gauze over it, then wrapped another long piece of gauze around my waist several times to help hold it in place.

  “Yeah, I guess we are.”

  “You know, you could’ve told Lazlo about this,” Blue lowered his voice.

  “I know,” I sighed. “I just…” What? I didn’t even know, really. I just felt better keeping things to myself. It felt safer, both for me and for Lazlo.

  “You should cut him some slack.” Blue had finished fixing me up, so he pulled down my shirt “He was crazy worried about you. He really likes you.”

  “Yeah, well, who doesn’t?” I tried to play it off as a joke, so Blue shook his head. I exhaled and looked down at the floor. “I know. But…” I ran a hand through my hair. “It’s too hard caring about people. I already care about him too much. What more am I supposed to do?”

  “That’s up to you.” Blue stood up and took off his rubber gloves. “It’s clean, for now. But you need to wash it and keep it as clean and dry as possible. I’ll check on it again in a few days. But if its gets redder, has excessive discharge, or starts to smell, you need to come see me right away.”

  “Yes, sir.” I saluted him.

  Lazlo poked his head out a minute later, then came out and talked to Blue. He purposefully kept his back to me, and I had a feeling I’d have to deal with that for a while.

  But he didn’t need to know everything that was going on with me. Besides, it wasn’t as if I shut him out to spite him. I was trying to protect him, too.

  After Blue left, Lazlo huffed about the trailer, making as much noise as possible without saying anything. Realizing that I had to say something to get him to knock it off, I told him that I had been cut in an embarrassing place and didn’t want him to see. That relieved him, and he smiled and made a lame joke about my body being nothing to be ashamed of.

  Harlow came back carrying several bags filled with clothing. Her long blond waves had been pulled back in a hair tie, and I demanded she share one with me. She talked at crazy speeds, excitedly showing Lazlo and me everything after I put my hair up in a messy bun.

  Most of her clothes consisted of skirts and dresses, all of which she claimed she could “fix” because she could sew. Bishop had been convinced jobs involving sewing and repairing clothing would be idea for Harlow, and she actually sounded kind of thrilled about it.

  Th
e clothes she picked out for Lazlo were equally attractive, of the tight tee shirt and jeans variety. Not that he couldn’t pull it off, because he really could, but I hated that even in the thrift store during the end of the world, they could both still manage to look good.

  Harlow’s one big complaint: no combat boots. Hers had been destroyed when we got here because of excessive zombie goop, and Bishop didn’t have any replacements. Although, as Lazlo kindly pointed out, we were on an army base. There had to be a pair of combat boots here she could fit into, and obtaining new boots became her life’s mission.

  She went to put her clothes away in her room, carefully arranging and folding them, while I set my sack in the hall closet. I knew I could theoretically put them in the master bedroom, but I still wasn’t ready for the conversation about sleeping arrangements.

  I changed out of my bloodied tee shirt and gray sweats in favor of brown pants and a white thermal shirt.

  After she had finished, Harlow said we should head down to lunch. Since Lazlo and I had no idea where we were going, we followed her. I’m not even sure how she knew her way through the maze of trailers. As we walked, it became apparent that many of the trailers were empty. The government had planned for a lot more survivors than there actually were.

  We walked on a dirt trail amongst the more inhabited homes, and some of them really did look like homes. One of them even had a small flower garden by the front steps, with a bent Radio Flyer filled with rocks sitting next to it.

  In the window, a child had colored and cut out pictures of the sun and rainbows and taped them to the glass. I stopped, admiring them. People were really alive here, and I couldn’t help the excited, warm feeling that left inside me.

  A familiar throaty growl interrupted my thoughts. I cocked my head, not sure that I heard right, and then it came again.

  Ripley.

  Without waiting for Lazlo and Harlow to follow, I darted between the trailers, rushing to where I thought I’d heard her. I changed direction twice, because her roars echoed off the trailers, throwing me off course. Harlow and Lazlo were right on my trail, which led me to believe that I was more injured than I thought. Normally, I could outrun them both.