The Hollow City by Dan Wells Read Free Book Online Page B

whenever they want they can flip a switch and make me see things and hear things and do things—whatever they want me to do. Even if I leave I’m a prisoner.
    Unless I can find out how it works, and how they find me.
    I pull the blanket off my bed and cover the radio. With the sensors neutralized, I reach behind the dresser and pull out the plug, killing it completely. But a lot of these clock radios have batteries, in case of a power outage. Can it still broadcast without being plugged in? I grab the blanket, take a deep breath, and yank it off. The screen is blank; it doesn’t have batteries.
    Unless the batteries only power the transmitter, with no juice left for the screen.
    I need water; with a glass of water I could short it out. What would the doctors say—do they know I’m being watched? Are they part of the Plan, or just pawns in it? I throw the blanket back over the clock, just in case, and probe the rest of the room, looking for cameras—for anything else they might be using to watch me. I can’t find anything.
    “Michael?”
    I turn around; Devon’s back, with Dr. Little and another nurse. I stand up, tense and embarrassed from being caught. Do they know what I was looking for?
    Dr. Little steps forward. “Are you okay, Michael? Devon said you were having a seizure.”
    I glance at Devon; he caused it, didn’t he? Is this an act, to make me trust them, or do they really not know? Maybe Devon has an implant as well, and they use him to get to me.
    “Michael?” asks Dr. Little.
    “I’m fine,” I say quickly. Whatever they did to me was real—it hurt, it was a real pain—but I don’t tell them. “It was just … it was nothing.”
    “You pushed Devon,” says Dr. Little sternly. “Do you think that’s an acceptable behavior?”
    My heart sinks. “No, sir.”
    “We let you out of your restraints, despite your violence at the hospital, because you promised to act peacefully. Do you need to be restrained again?”
    “No sir, no I don’t.” I swallow hard, trying not to look at Devon. “It’s just that … it’s not going to happen again.”
    “See that it doesn’t,” says Dr. Little, and then the smile comes back to his face. “I’m glad we have an understanding. While I’m here, you’ll be pleased to know that you already have a visitor, or at any rate a visitor request. I told her that our visiting hours were over for the evening, but she’ll be back first thing in the morning.”
    “Who?”
    “A friend of yours.”

 
    FIVE
    LUCY ARRIVES JUST AFTER BREAKFAST— oatmeal and apple juice and Loxitane, served on a tray and delivered from a thick plastic cart, like a rolling cupboard. I think I could fit inside that cart; if I was able to crawl in when nobody’s looking, I could hold very still and they’d pull me right through the gate to freedom.
    “Michael!” Lucy runs across the commons room, grabbing my hand for a moment before throwing her arms around me in a massive hug. I close my eyes, feeling her heart beat against me. She kisses my ear, and I feel her tears wet against my skin. “Oh, Michael, Michael,” she says. “I’m so sorry. I came as soon as I heard.”
    “It’s okay.”
    She pulls back and takes my hand in hers, looking down with concern. “It’s not okay.” She’s beautiful. She’s dyed her hair again—back to black this time, covering the bright purple streaks she had a few weeks ago. She sees me looking at it and shrugs, reaching up to twist a strand in her fingers. “I didn’t know if they’d let me in here any other way. I don’t mind; I like black.” She pulls up a chair and sits next to me, comforting and familiar: her worn black jeans, her old black T-shirt, the smile in the corners of her mouth.
    I hold her hand. “Where have you been? The hospital couldn’t reach you, and I thought something had happened.”
    “They probably have an old number,” she says. “I had to move kind of suddenly. But where have you been, that’s the