The Dark and Hollow Places

by Carrie Ryan

  For the millionth time I wish I were her. Not because of her smooth skin and easy life but because I’m afraid of failing her. I’d rather it be me on the bed slowly letting go of life. Because that means my sister could still hold on to hers.

  When morning breaks and Catcher still hasn’t come, I know he hasn’t found a way out of this place. I know he’s not coming back anytime soon.

  I know what I have to do.

  I take the machete and sharpen the blade as best as I can. I make sure both Elias and my sister are tucked tightly under blankets and then add more wood to the stove. It takes a while for me to force myself to leave them but finally, I do.

  Outside it’s a brilliantly clear blue day, the sky so sharp it stings my eyes. Under my feet the snow crunches, a thin layer of ice giving way to smooth softness underneath. By the time I reach the main building, my pants are damp up to my knees and I’m shivering but I don’t care.

  Inside my steps echo along cold walls, my breath puffs of clouds leading the way. I pass the map room, pausing only to see if anything’s changed, but it still looks the same.

  I expected to find the building bustling or at the very least a Recruiter or two wandering the hallways, but there’s no one. Just an eerie silence that makes my heart sound too loud. It isn’t until I round a corner deep in the bowels of the headquarters that I understand where everyone is.

  Then I hear the shouting, the moaning, the sound of someone struggling against metal cages. There are few windows to give natural light so the hall’s dim, shadows hovering along the creases between wall and floor. I close my eyes and wait for the scream of surrender. Listen to the pleas for mercy.

  I grip the machete tighter, wondering if that’s what they’ll do to me if they find me. Knowing that my death would mean they’d have to find a way to save Elias and my sister. As they keep reminding us, they need at least one of us alive to tether Catcher. If I die, they have no choice but to save the others.

  As carefully as possible, I double back and start searching. I pass barren rooms with nothing but dust and sometimes an old desk or a broken chair. It takes a while and my nervousness causes me to sweat, every sound making me hesitate and my senses tingle. I don’t know how long the sacrificed will last in the cage—how much time I have before someone gets bored and stumbles upon me.

  Finally I find a storage room, crooked shelves stacked with baskets of food and supplies. I grab an old lantern by the door and light it, start rifling through everything. In the corner I find pouches of dried herbs and plants. One by one I sniff them, pouring the contents into my hands and trying to recall what will bring down a fever. Yarrow? Bloodroot? Coriander? I squeeze my eyes closed tight, trying to remember what Elias purchased for me when I was sick, what it looked and smelled like.

  Frustrated, I just give up and shove everything into my pockets, then ease back into the hallway. As I walk to the exit a light sort of fluttery feeling starts to tickle in my stomach—a small sense of relief that everything will be okay.

  When the door to the outside appears I get lax and stop straining for every noise. And so I’m utterly surprised when fingers clamp around my arm, twisting me back until I thump against the wall.

  It’s a tall broad-shouldered Recruiter with brown hair tucked behind his ears and dark eyes. He smiles, a dimple appearing in his cheek. “This is unexpected,” he says, his light tone almost flirtatious.

  “I was looking for something,” I say nonchalantly, trying not to sound guilty.

  He tilts his head to the side. “What’s that? Or should I say who’s that?” He winks almost awkwardly. I start to relax, thinking maybe I’m not going to be in trouble. That maybe I can talk myself out of this. After all, it’s not like I’m not allowed to wander around the island, I just haven’t that often.

  “A few supplies for Elias,” I say with a shrug, hoping the mention of another Recruiter will ease my way out of here.

  He nods and is about to push open the door for me when he notices the machete gripped so tightly in my hand that the skin around my knuckles is white. Before I can say or do anything he jerks his knee into my wrist, slamming it hard against the wall. There’s a bright pain and then my fingers tingle, go numb. The machete clatters to the floor and the Recruiter places his foot over the flat of the blade.

  “It’s not polite to bear weapons indoors,” he says, grabbing my arm.

  I glance at the doorway leading outside, my escape so close. “I—I just—”

  He jerks me from the wall and shoves me down the hallway so hard that I stumble, falling to one knee. As I start to right myself, one of the packets of herbs slips from my overflowing pockets and lands on the floor with a quiet thump.

  He leans in, trying to see what I’ve taken, and I kick out, catching the side of his knee with my foot and feeling it buckle. He screams, eyes clenched shut and hands reaching for his leg, then I swing my arm at his face. His head whips back and slams against the wall, and he slides to the ground, whimpering and dazed.

  His knee’s bent at an unnatural angle and I back away from him, shocked at my own violence. At what I’ve done. I’m just squatting and reaching for the packet of herbs when a voice calls out.

  I look up. Conall’s running toward me. My heart sinks and I push myself into a sprint, bolting for the exit.

  He shouts for me to stop, and right when I reach the door he throws his weight at me, flinging me outside into the blinding cold. I topple to the ground and I’m already trying to reason with him. “My sister and Elias are really sick.” I’m shaking my head. “I need to bring down their fevers. I need—”

  Conall’s staring at the packets of herbs spread out around me. My machete’s still inside where the other Recruiter knocked it from my hand. I’m defenseless and Conall’s eyes are murderous.

  I throw up my hands protectively, knowing he likes to see me cower. “Look, they’re sick and I—”

  He cuts me off again, pawing at me until he’s pulled more herbs from my pocket, all of them falling to the ground. His eyes are wide, rage shimmering from them. “I can’t believe you’d just come in here and steal from us. After all we’ve done to take care of you.” He grabs my arm and shoves it up behind me, dragging me back inside the headquarters.

  I struggle against him, trying to bash his face with my head and lashing out with my feet. “I’m just trying to take care of them,” I shout. “I didn’t know what I’d need. I wasn’t going to take it all.”

  But he either isn’t listening or doesn’t care. He drags me down the twisty hallways and my stomach floods with apprehension when I hear the echoes of chants and cheers growing louder. Beads of sweat trickle down my chest as I fight harder against his grasp and he only grips me tighter.

  “I didn’t mean anything,” I beg, truly terrified of what he’s about to do to me. “I’m sorry. I really am.” I hear my voice cracking and hate the sound of my own weakness.

  He doesn’t hesitate but slams me through the door into the auditorium. The benches are emptier than they’d been the last time I saw this place. A few have Recruiters stretched out on them, somehow sleeping through the surrounding chaos.

  About a dozen men are still awake, clapping and shouting as a clearly exhausted short-haired Souler woman stumbles around the cage while two Unconsecrated men doggedly follow her. Blood covers the woman’s arms and tattered gray tunic and pools over the floor, making a squishy splash with each step she takes.

  Some of the Recruiters look up at us as Conall leads me down the stairs. Their eyes are blurry and I realize they’ve probably been awake all night. “Save her for later,” one of them calls out, waving a hand limply in the air. “It’s time for bed. This one’s getting boring.” He and a few others stumble up the stairs, leaving.

  I bite my bottom lip, trying to keep from screaming in helpless rage. I knew there was a chance that if I was caught stealing, I’d end up dead. But it was a risk I was willing to take because if I die, Elias and my sister have to live for the
Recruiters to keep Catcher under control.

  Conall marches me down the steps and toward the side of the room where there are three tiny cages, more like kennels for holding a dog than anything else. He opens the door of one of them and forces me to my knees so that I have to crawl inside as he kicks at me.

  Before I can even turn around I hear the click of metal on metal. He’s locked me in.

  I jam my fingers through the thin metal bars. “Please,” I shout at him. “You don’t understand. If you do this to me you have to go make sure my sister and Elias are okay. If you don’t—if all of us die—Catcher won’t ever come back. You’ll starve to death. You have to go find my sister and take care of her.”

  I’m desperate. This can’t have been for nothing—I can’t stay stuck down here while my sister and Elias die. “Please!” I scream after him, tearing my throat raw. “You can’t do this!”

  He turns to walk away and I crash my fist into the cage door as hard as I can. “You have to make sure they live or else all of you are going to die!”

  But it’s as if he doesn’t hear me. I watch him walk across the room and confer with a few of the Recruiters still there, pointing down at me once or twice, and then they all leave. He doesn’t even glance at me as he closes the door to the auditorium behind him. My heart’s pounding so furiously that I don’t know if it will ever calm down again.

  My cage is tiny, so small I’m forced to stay on my hands and knees. The walls close in tight around me, making it impossible to breathe, and I start to hyperventilate and gag. I try to retch but nothing comes up and I realize I haven’t eaten since Elias got sick.

  I slam my hands against the door, twisting to angle my fingers through the narrow slats to work on the lock, but I can’t reach it. All I can do is bang on the cage walls, pulling and pushing and hoping that maybe the tired old metal will give way. My arm jams into one of the rusty hinges and I hiss at the pain as blood begins to well.

  And then a tired voice says, “It’s not going to budge.” I look up and see the woman in the large cage dominating the center of the room. She’s standing there, one hand hooked through the links, blood crusted around her fingers. “I tried for over a week.”

  Behind her, one of the Unconsecrated—a skinny bald man in a ratty white tunic—lunges for her but she easily dodges him, backing away to the center of the cage. The Unconsecrated man raises his face to the air, black eyes searching for the scent of my uninfected blood and then he moans, trying to reach through the cage for me and breaking his index finger back as he does.

  The other Unconsecrated shambles around to join him and I gasp when I see his face. It’s the boy from before. The one from the Neverlands; the one on the shore who wouldn’t let me take him away.

  I shudder looking at him, wishing I’d tried harder to convince him to come with me that night. Knowing I had a chance to save him and I didn’t.

  The woman limps to the far side of the cage, and when it looks like the Unconsecrated are more focused on me, slowly slides down until she’s sitting, pulls her tunic over her knees and wraps her arms tight around her legs. She looks small and helpless, sweat dripping from her close-cropped hair. “What’s your name?” she asks me. She sounds exhausted. So ready for all of this to be over.

  “Annah,” I tell her softly.

  She nods. “I’m Dove.” She raises a limp finger and points to the two Unconsecrated. “And that’s Noell and Jonah. They’re …” She passes a hand over her face, leaving a streak of blood along her cheek. “They were …” She pauses, looking for the right word. “Friends.” Her voice cracks.

  I look away from her, not able to handle the expression of loss on her face. “I’m sorry,” I say but it’s not enough. I don’t think there could ever be words for this moment. The two Unconsecrated rattle the large cage, trying to find a way through it to me, to the uninfected blood slowly dripping from my elbow.

  She sniffs and wipes at her eyes. “They wanted this, I think.” She leans her head back so that she’s staring out through the top of the cage, as if she could see the sky if she just tried hard enough. “They’re Soulers. Well, I was a Souler too, I guess.” She sighs and then coughs and I notice a red smear around her lips. I wonder how much time’s left before she either bleeds out or her weakened body gives in to the infection.

  “They thought this would be eternal life. Resurrection.” She closes her eyes. “How stupid is that?”

  “It’s not stupid,” I tell her. She glances at me, clearly not believing me. “I mean, I’ve wondered about that before. If there’s something more to them.”

  “There’s not,” she says matter-of-factly. “Noell was my husband. He’s the one who really believed in all of this. There’s nothing left inside him anymore. I’d know if there were.” Her voice sounds so flat, so lifeless. As if everything she’s ever believed has died.

  I want to say something to give her comfort. “There could still be something …” I struggle for words and end up lamely offering, “More.”

  She shrugs again but doesn’t protest.

  “How long have you been here?” I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.

  “Weeks? I don’t know. Doesn’t really matter. Noell and I were down in Vista when the town revolted. They wouldn’t let us keep our dead and the Recruiters promised to protect us.” She laughs softly. “They brought us here. Caged us and have slowly been killing us off since. Not enough resources to feed us all—not enough entertainment for them.” She waits a moment before adding, “I guess I’m lucky that they just threw me in here and didn’t do anything else to me.”

  Weeks. I press my forehead to the bottom of my cage. I knew about the fights and what the Recruiters were capable of. I knew about the Soulers being used as Sweepers. How many people suffered because I didn’t do anything?

  I was too selfish. “I’m sorry,” I tell her again.

  She watches the way her husband moans, the way his teeth clack together. “Doesn’t really matter, it’ll be over soon. If there’s something to their belief in Resurrection, then I guess I get to be with them after all. And if there isn’t …” She closes her eyes again and I see that her fingers are trembling as she wipes a tear from her cheek.

  For a while we sit in silence.

  Eventually, she says, “Do you think people were this cruel before the Return?”

  Her question surprises me. “I don’t know.”

  “They take so much pleasure in suffering. I don’t understand it.”

  I swallow, stare down at my hands. “I don’t either. Maybe they don’t understand.”

  “Maybe,” she says. “I just wonder sometimes if that’s why all this happened. If there wasn’t enough good in the world and that’s what caused the Return. People got greedy and selfish with their lives and were unwilling to let it go in the end when it was time.”

  “I don’t know what caused the Return,” I say. “If what they wanted was eternal life, they didn’t do a good job of it. Who wants to live like them?” I wave my hands at Noell and Jonah. “And who wants to live like us?”

  She coughs again, loud and vicious. Noell wanders back over to her. “And to think,” she says, hauling herself to her feet so that she can evade him. “All the times in my life when I pushed my husband away and fought with him over something petty, I should have been pulling him tighter. I should have been thankful each day to have him healthy and by my side.”

  I close my eyes, unable to watch what’s happening in the cage. Yet I can still hear her quiet whimpering. Hear the sound of her husband’s moans and the tangled shuffle of their feet. How much longer can she go on like this? Because he’ll go on forever.

  I hear a crunch and snap and I look back up at her.

  She’s in the middle of the cage standing over Noell. One of his knees is bent at a wrong angle, crooked out to the side with the lower part twisted and dangling. She’s openly sobbing now. “I’m so sorry, honey, I’m so sorry.” She brings her foot down against the bac
k of his neck, screaming in agony as she does it.

  It takes a few times but eventually, with a snap, his neck breaks and he goes silent and still. She limps to the other Unconsecrated, who’s still pawing at the cage for me, and brutally, efficiently, she snaps his knee and when he falls she breaks his neck as well.

  I’m barely breathing, my hand covering my mouth as if I can hold inside the sound of bones cracking.

  She falls to her knees, laces her fingers through the cage. She’s not that far away from me now and I can see the tracks of tears cutting through the dirt and blood on her face. I can even see some of the bite marks along her arm.

  “I couldn’t leave them like that,” she says, as if seeking absolution from me. “I couldn’t see them like that any longer.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell her, because I know they’re the words she needs to hear.

  She nods, but whether it’s at what I said or a conversation taking place in her own head, I don’t know. “They wanted to be like that. All Soulers do eventually. But I couldn’t watch it. I couldn’t let them hurt anyone else. They were both so …” She leans her head on her arm as if she doesn’t have the strength to hold it up anymore. “Gentle,” she finishes.

  With her other hand she grabs the fence and shakes it, the sound echoing around the empty auditorium. “They were good men,” she shouts. “You have to remember that, Annah. They were decent and loving.”

  “I will,” I tell her, my voice seeming so small against her tempest. “I’ll remember them.” There are so many people to remember, I think.

  She says nothing else. Just continues to kneel there, letting the cage hold her up as she stares at what used to be the man she loved.

  I’m not really sure how one should spend the final moments of one’s life. I don’t know if I should pray or reflect back, if I should weep or catalog my various failures and accomplishments. Should I be sad that I never got to tell my sister, Elias or Catcher good-bye? Should I be relieved that I no longer have to worry about surviving?