The Hollow (Rose of the Dawn Series Book 2) by Ily Maguire Read Free Book Online Page A

has stepped back, but he still
clutches my shoulders. He’s right. I’m calming down.
    “A mix of
morphine and alcohol to suppress your central nervous system and a neonicotinoid
– that’s used to kill pests. It’s insecticide. Anyway, it’s all way worse than
the numbing stuff you were given when you first got here. If you take it you
run the risk, a great risk, of ending up like everyone down there.” He’s very
matter-of-fact and I’m much calmer now. He holds my hands now, instead of my
shoulders.
    “I get it. No
cocktails.”
    “No cocktails,”
he repeats. “And no food. They put it in the food, too. Stick with the appetite
suppressants. You’ve got a bunch in the top drawer.”
    “That’s alright.
I’m never hungry,” I say.
    “I have to leave
you, Roz. We’ll see what’s in store for me this evening.” He starts back for
the uplifted tile.
    “You’re going
back down there? Underground?”
    “These vents
lead to every room on every floor, Roz. Mine’s just a few rooms down.”
    I remember the
hospital where I met Pike. “But what if I need you?” I ask, starting to feel
the re-emergence of that panicked feeling, closing in my throat.
    “You won’t need
me. You’ll be fine,” Leland calls from the floor.
    “But –”
    “No but’s!”
    Leland puts up a
hand to wave and slips into the vent. Without him, the room casts on a much
more solemn shadow. The light in the room dissipates after a few seconds of
Leland not being here and I wish my hand lit up like his. I look at it and
press my palm. Hard.
    A spark under my
skin and then it glows blue. Gets brighter. Amazing .
    Even with this
dim light, the room has lost its warmth. I have to keep myself from thinking
about the cocktail Leland mentioned. I have to be able to say no when the time
comes. I have to decline the cocktail when it is offered to me. Otherwise they
win. The Hollow will have me and they’ll win. I won’t let them win.
    Problem is, it
doesn’t sound all that bad. And it scares me to think that at some point I
might actually welcome it.

7
    A nurse stands beside my bed. I’m back in
my gown. I’ve been put in my gown.
    “What’s going
on?” I can’t move again. My limbs are numb.
    She isn’t the
original nurse, but she’s similar. Everything’s white.
    “Are you ready?”
She asks, inclining my bed with the touch of a switch on the wall.
    “Ready for
what?”
    Without
answering, she tips me forward, her arms scoop me up from behind. She helps me
into a narrow wheelchair, but without the wheels. A pocket of air holds it up
and as I am let go, it drops a bit and then rebounds. It hovers a few feet off
the ground. I hear a faint humming sound, but it may be inside my head. I can’t
tell. I’m a bit fuzzy.
    I want to rub my
forehead, but my arms won’t budge. I’m able to shake my head, but it only seems
to make things more of a blur.
    “Where are you
taking me?” The nurse doesn’t have to push anything. She doesn’t say anything
either. She walks ahead while I’m forced to follow in the chair.
    The corridor is
long and symmetrical. The doors are all closed. Streaks of light break into the
hallway, breaking the monotony.
    I blink my eyes,
pressing them shut for a few seconds.
    Cold. Doors
closed. Ripped plastic cushions and rusty metal doors. Mold and mildew creeping
up the grey walls and across the ceiling. Lights flicker. Crumbling walls and
wood-paneled baseboards. Rusted nail heads, exposed.
    I blink the
hallucination away in time to see a dirty and ragged doll lying on the floor. The
nurse kicks it out of the way. Another isolated trip down the hall. I don’t
hear anything. Not even the nurse’s footsteps as she treads across the linoleum
floor. A door at the end of the hall gets closer, though we’re moving so slow.
Slow motion.
    We get to the
end of the corridor and the nurse swipes a card and types in a code to a wall
panel by a large metal gate. It looks like another fence. Like the