The Hollow City by Dan Wells Read Free Book Online

has side effects,” says Dr. Little, stepping toward me. He has a glass of water in his other hand. “But we will be monitoring you constantly, and we’ll make sure nothing happens. Say ‘ah.’”
    I start to protest but he dumps the pill in my mouth, pouring a quick shot of water in after it. I splutter, soaking my front, but the pill’s already gone down. It’s inside me; I feel it like a hole in my gut.
    “Excellent,” says Dr. Little, smiling broadly. “Now, you get some rest, and I’ll see about scheduling you for some of our group sessions.”
    I nod, and the doctor walks away. The security guard goes with him.
    “Well,” says the nurse, clapping a hand on my shoulder, “welcome to Powell. What do you want to do first?”
    I almost say “escape,” but I stop myself, think for a minute, and smile. If this hospital is part of the Plan, and the Faceless Men really are watching me here, this might be my best chance to learn what the Plan actually is. It won’t do me any good to escape until I know how they’re tracking me, but if I stick around and keep my eyes open, I might learn something important.
    “Show me around,” I say. “Show me everything.”
    *   *   *
    THE THING ABOUT POWELL , or any psych hospital, is that nobody believes anything you say. This is maddening, but it is also predictable, and if you can predict it you can use it for your own advantage. They’ve done nothing to protect themselves from the Faceless Men, because they think I’m crazy, and that lack of precaution means there are holes in their security. If I can find those holes I can use them, and the best way to find them is to think backward: how are the Faceless Men getting in? If I can retrace their steps in reverse, I can get out the same hole and disappear forever.
    Devon walks me through the large commons room, dominating the center of Powell’s secured wing. The longest wall is marked with windows, just slightly taller than I am, framed with old, painted metal and covered with a grate of woven steel. The only view is another building, another wing of the hospital I think. From the way the shadows track left to right across the floor I assume that the sun is moving right to left, which means the windows face north. This information is not useful, but I feel better for knowing it.
    Most of the commons room is full of tables, long cafeteria-style tables with simple metal chairs. This is where the patients eat their meals and put together puzzles and shuffle mindlessly through the aisles, tiny, scrubbing steps in worn-out slippers. I stay away from these patients. The west end of the room is carpeted, with sofas and cushioned chairs and a large TV bolted onto the wall. I stay away from those patients too.
    The south wall of the commons room has doors for patient rooms, and hallways running east and west. The east hallway leads past more patient rooms, then branches again to even more rooms, including the restroom and a large, communal shower. The west hallway is much shorter: a few feet down there’s a nurse’s station, with an open door and a window cut into the south wall at chest height, and then a wide metal gate to block us off from the rest of the world. I peer at the gate from a distance, eyeing the electronic keypad that opens the lock, but I don’t dare get too close. The window to the nurse’s station has a computer monitor, and I need to keep my distance.
    Devon leads me toward my room, but one of the patients walks over quickly to intercept us.
    “Hello, Steve,” says Devon.
    “This the new guy?” asks Steve. He’s tallish, and very skinny, with a black scraggly beard and a bright red ball cap turned backward on his head. “What’s your name?”
    “Michael,” I say.
    “Just got in? Just got out?” He knocks his wrists together a couple of times, signing handcuffs. I nod. “Where you gonna put him, Devon? You can’t put him in Jerry’s room.”
    “Jerry doesn’t have a room anymore,”