Hollowland

by Аманда Хокинг

  If he wasn’t here, then I didn’t even want go in with them. I didn’t want to risk infecting anyone if I didn’t have to. But if there was any chance of seeing my brother, I had to take it.

  The truck stopped, and a soldier explained that we were stopping at the main gate to the quarantine. A man came around the back of the truck, shining a flashlight inside and asked what they’d found. Tatum reported four injured civilians in a zombie pit. The man with the flashlight waved us on, and the truck moved again.

  We stopped almost immediately, and I saw the gate from the back of the truck. It was giant and metal, at least twenty feet tall, if not more. Brick walls ran along on either side of it, and when Tatum ushered us off the truck, I realized that we had only gone in the first set of doors. An identical gate stood on the other side, still closed.

  “What’s going on?” I asked nervously. Tatum, rather smartly sensing my opposition, grabbed my arm and led me along. “Where are you taking us?”

  “Remy,” Harlow whimpered, responding to my anxiety.

  About as big as two or three city blocks, the brick alcove had small metal shacks all over it. Tatum dragged me towards one, while other soldiers led Harlow, Lazlo, and Blue to separate ones. Once they realized where they were going, Lazlo and Harlow began fighting them. I understood what was happening, and under ordinary circumstances, I would’ve calmed them, but I couldn’t now.

  “No, stop.” I tried prying my arm out of Tatum’s iron grip, but he wouldn’t let go. “No, please. You don’t understand. I have to see my brother.”

  “It’s just standard procedure,” Tatum said flatly. He opened the door to one of the shacks, and he had to physically lift me up by my arm and toss me inside.

  “No! Wait!” I scrambled to my feet and charged for the door, narrowly getting my leg in before he slammed it shut. I’d have a nasty bruise for days after, but it’d be worth it. “No! I have to see Max!”

  “Calm down!” Tatum was bewildered by the insistency in my reaction. “It’s just a clean hut! We leave you in here for three days to make sure you don't have the virus, and then you’re free to go find your brother or do whatever the hell it is you want to do!”

  “No, please! Just let me see Max first!” I begged, but he pushed my leg in. As hard as I tried, he slammed the door shut. I beat my open palms on it, shouting at him. “Please! I have to see Max! Please! Just let me see him, and then you can do whatever you want with me!”

  He didn’t answer, not that I blamed him. I’m sure he walked away from me as soon as he had the chance. I rested my head against the cold, heavy metal of the door and breathed in deeply. A frustrated tear slid down my cheek, and I wiped it away.

  I turned back to look at the room. It smelled of bleach and disinfectant, signs of cleaning up after other contaminated individuals, I’m sure. A solitary light bulb hung from the ceiling, so at least they had electricity.

  The room couldn’t be larger than a six-by-eight cell. No windows. No toilet, just a bucket in the corner for excrement. A cot sat pressed up against the wall. The only other things in here were me, the blanket, and the clothes on my back.

  I went over and sat on the cot, wrapping the blanket tighter around me. I had never felt more defeated in my life, and it was hard fighting back tears. I had come so, so close to seeing Max, and I had lost it at the last minute. I lay on my side, pulling my knees up to my chest.

  At least I wouldn’t have to be a zombie for long. Tatum, I’m sure, wouldn’t hesitate to kill me as soon as I showed definite symptoms. This quarantine appeared to be much more secure than the last one. The brick walls would be harder to penetrate, and the soldiers seemed more plentiful and prepared.

  The “clean huts” were a genius idea. It was the same thing they’d done with Ol’ Yeller to keep him from killing something innocent without risking death or infection to everybody else. It hadn’t worked out so well for Ol’ Yeller, and it wouldn’t for me either, but it showed some good palnning.

  It would be a nice, safe place for Lazlo, Harlow, Blue, and my brother.

  I shouldn’t have gotten so involved with other people, because I knew they would only slow me down. But I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t just leave them behind, and I couldn’t not care because it would be easier that way. Max would understand that.

  I curled up on the cot and waited to die.

  – 16 –

  When you know you have less than three days to live, sleep becomes impossible, even when there’s nothing else to do at all. Sometimes, I’d hear Lazlo singing or Harlow crying, but they sounded too far away to really talk to.

  An armed guard brought me a meal three times a day, consisting of bread, raw vegetables, and water. I ate mostly because I was bored. My appetite had already died.

  What sleep I did mange was filled with horrendous nightmares. Vivid dreams of me turning into a monster and killing all the people I cared about. Even people who were already dead, like Vega, Lia, and Beck, and my parents. I tore them apart, and I woke up screaming.

  “Remy!” Lazlo shouted, his voice muffled through the walls. “Remy!”

  “I’m okay!” I yelled back, even though it hurt. My throat had gone raw from screaming. My cheeks were wet with tears, and I wiped at them with the back of my hand and struggled to sit up in bed. “I’m alright!”

  “What happened?” Even the distance couldn’t mask the panic in Lazlo’s words.

  “Nothing! Bad dream!” I wanted to lie, but there was nothing else for me to scream about.

  Except for turning into a zombie, which I’m sure he thought was happening. So did I, but I didn’t seem to have any symptoms yet. I felt like hell, but I was covered in untreated wounds, including a giant bite.

  My clothes were filthy and covered in dried blood. I hadn’t bothered to try to clean them off or tend my injuries because I kept expecting to die any minute.

  I lifted up my shirt to investigate the worst of it. The edges of the bite were red and swollen. The wound itself had partially scabbed over, but it kept breaking open and oozing blood and pus. My blood still looked like blood. It hadn’t taken on that greenish hue yet.

  I had a thin cut across my stomach from when I had sliced it on a piece of glass in the car, but I only worried about it because I’d been splattered with zombie viscera. Broken glass had also scratched up my knees and legs, but they were too small to even care.

  I had bruises all over, and my entire body was sore from the car rolling and the fighting. It was only natural that I felt like hell. I analyzed every pain and groan, wondering if that was a symptom. They might be normal aches and pains associated with everything I’d gone through, or they might be the virus killing my body.

  A heavy knock came at the door, followed by Tatum commanding me to get back. I’m not sure if that was standard whenever they opened the door, or if that was just for my benefit since I had put up such a fight about going in here.

  Although, in my defense, I hadn’t fought at all since then. I hadn’t even asked about Max. I’d been trying to except my fate.

  “Supper time.” Tatum opened the door, and the metal tray clanged when he shoved it in.

  “It’s supper?” I squinted at the sky through the small opening in the door. Time had no meaning inside a metal box.

  “Yeah.” Instead of slamming the door like he normally did, Tatum hesitated. “It’s almost done. The 72-hour-hold ends at 2200 hours, but to be on the safe side, you’re staying in until after breakfast. That’s only one more meal, and you’re free.”

  “You mean…” I trailed off, confused. “Already?”

  “That is the first time anyone has ever said that to me about the clean huts.” Tatum looked genuinely shocked, but then he shrugged, deciding that nothing made sense when it came to me. “I’ll be back for your tray in an hour.”

  With that, he shut the door, leaving me with my thoughts. It felt like I’d been inside the clean hut forever, but it’d been three days. And I didn’t have any symptoms
. They were giving me a clean bill of health. They didn’t think I was infected.

  I leaned back against the cold wall and let that sink in.

  They didn’t think I was infected.

  Should I tell them about the bite? Maybe I needed more time. Maybe symptoms would show up later, and by then, it would be too late. I might end up hurting somebody, maybe somebody I really cared about. I needed to warn them before they let me out.

  Or maybe I was like Max. Maybe I was immune to the virus too. Maybe our parents had been too, if the zombies hadn’t torn them apart.

  Even if I was immune, should I tell anyone? Did the doctors and scientists need to know? More importantly, did I want them to know?

  Max had been locked up for months. They kept him safe, but being locked up still didn’t set well with me. Before, Beck had been able to look out for Max and made sure they treated him right.

  Now I’d have to do that, and I couldn’t if they kept me hostage too. I needed to be on the outside, not trapped in the same thing. Assuming I didn’t turn into a zombie first.

  The night drug on painfully slow. I wished for a window so I’d have some way to tell time. I got up and paced the room, and my legs did not appreciate it. I had barely moved in days, and my joints had grown stiff. That worried me at first, since stiffness and paralysis were symptoms of the virus, but it quickly went away once I loosened my legs up.

  When Tatum knocked on the door in the morning, he didn’t tell me to get back this time. He just opened it all the way, and bright light pierced the darkness of the hut. The chill from the air swept past him, reminding me that I needed to tighten the blanket around myself. I needed to keep the bite mark covered.

  “Good morning,” Tatum grinned and stood back so I could walk out.

  “I’m free?” I asked, still feeling uncertain.

  “There’s one more thing you have to do first,” Tatum said.

  Tentatively, I stepped out and squinted in the light. The other clean huts glinted in the sun. I looked around for Lazlo, Blue, or Harlow, but I didn’t see them. Other than a few older soldiers, I didn’t see anyone.

  “Where’s Harlow? And Lazlo?” I asked.

  “Already on their way through. You’re the last one.” He walked forward and motioned for me to follow. “Come on.”

  “Where?”

  “You have to get cleaned up,” Tatum stopped at a concrete building next to the gates. It reminded me of a rest stop on the side of the highway, except smaller and not as fancy. “Go inside and shower. Make sure you get everything off you. Put your dirty clothes in the bag provided they can be incinerated, along with that blanket.”

  “What will I wear? I don’t have any other clothes.”

  “There’s some in there.” He gestured at the door. “Go ahead. When you’re done, just go out the other door. I’ll see you on the other side.”

  Inside building, it reminded me of a rest stop. Two free standing toilets and a sink were next to the entrance. Three showers had cement dividers that worked as stalls, but there were no doors to them. On the other side of the shower was another door, presumably leading inside the quarantine.

  The door to the building didn’t lock, which I didn’t like, but I had to work with it. I took off my clothes and put them in a paper sack on the ground. For good measure, I put my hair tie in with it.

  On the floor next to the bag, someone had placed a folded white towel with gray sweats, a white tee shirt, a sports bra, panties, and a pair of flip flops on top of it.

  The showers had water pressure and real hot water. They even had fresh bars of soap and a wash cloth. I scrubbed hard on my skin, hoping to get off any of the virus I might be carrying.

  The shower felt incredibly good, except for the bite wound on my side. I scoured it, hoping to get out any infection, and it burned like crazy. I bit my lip to keep from crying, and the water pooling around the drain turned red with my blood.

  I got dressed, feeling really clean for the first time in ages, and stepped through the door into the quarantine. Tatum and another soldier waited outside with Lazlo and Harlow. Harlow dressed the same as me, but Lazlo had gotten a pair of jeans. Somehow, he looked great, but I suspected he’d look great in anything.

  “Hey,” Harlow smiled at me, pushing her damp tangles of hair behind her ears. Her gold cross glinted around her neck, and I was glad they didn’t take it from her. Suddenly, she threw her arms around me and hugged me tightly to her. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”

  “I’m okay.” I hugged her back for a minute, and then pried her off me so I could breathe again.

  “Do you all plan on staying together?” Tatum asked, and Harlow and Lazlo looked to me to answer.

  “Um, yeah,” I nodded. I didn’t check to see if they felt the same way, but after everything we’d been through, I didn’t see the point in splitting up.

  “I’ll show you to your unit.” Tatum turned and led the way.

  My stomach twisted when I realized Blue wasn’t with us. I’d never heard him yelling or any one making death groans, but that didn’t really mean anything. I wanted to ask about him, but Tatum was walking fast, so I swallowed hard and tried not to think about it.

  I looked around for the first time. Tall brick walls lined the entire perimeter. Mobile home trailers filled the interior, like the ones FEMA sent out after natural disasters. A three-story cement building sat in the center, looking very square, official, and governmental.

  Tatum weaved us down the paths between the trailers, and for the first time in so long, I saw real signs of life. Clothes hanging on the line to dry. A small child playing with a toy car in the dirt. A woman pushing back the curtains to watch us from her window.

  Even though this place had an internment camp vibe, it also had something hopeful about it.

  “This was the first quarantine set up,” Tatum explained when he saw us admiring the area around it. “It had been planned long before the zombie virus broke out, in the event of any kind of major pandemic. It’s the most advanced community in the world right now.”

  “Huh,” Harlow said, summing up the awed shock we felt about that statement.

  “Here you go.” Tatum stopped abruptly at a trailer.

  It seemed almost at random, since the trailers were identical, except for varying shades between white, gray, and tan. Ours was gray, with black metal steps leading to the doorway. The numbers 1185 had been written on the door with black spray paint, and I guessed that was our address now.

  “This is your unit. There is a mess hall in the center, by the main building.” Tatum gestured to the cement building to the left of our trailer. “That’s where all the meals and community activities take place. We have a garden you’ll be expected to work in, as well as various other tasks that will be assigned to you. Clothing will be appropriated to you. For now, just go inside, make yourselves comfortable, and Bishop will be along to help you get settled in.”

  “Wait,” I said when he started to turn away. “When can I see my brother?”

  “I was wondering how long it would take you to ask,” Tatum gave me a wry smile. “I’m not even sure that your brother is here. I’ll look into it and get back to you.”

  “What about this Bishop person? Will he know?” I pressed.

  “No. She doesn’t know anything about what goes on inside the building,” Tatum answered. “She just runs the day to day activities out here.” He nodded, then continued walking away.

  “His name is Max King!” I called after Tatum. “He’s eight years old!”

  I wanted to see Max, but I didn’t have the insistent panic I had come in with. I had time to see him, and I didn’t want to make enemies of the people who could help me. So I didn’t chase after Tatum like I wanted to.

  “Come on,” Lazlo put his hand on the small of my back so he could usher me up the stairs. “Let’s go see our new home.” Harlow dashed up ahead of us, but I looked grimly at Lazlo.

  “Where’s Blue?” My stomac
h tensed, fearing the worst.

  “He went into the main building. He’s medical staff,” Lazlo assured me with a smile. “We all made it through.”

  “We have lights!” Harlow squealed flicking on the light as soon as she walked inside.

  The trailer reminded me of a camper I had stayed in when I was a kid. The door entered right into the kitchen, which was little more than a hallway with cupboards on either side. The countertops were a gray faux marble, the floor cheap off-white linoleum meant to look like tile, and the cupboards were fake blonde wood. A small fridge and stovetop were at one end, and a sink sat in the middle, underneath a small window.

  Harlow ran immediately to the sink, truly thrilled by everything she saw, and turned it on. “We have water!”

  With that affirmation, she dashed to the other end to explore the bedrooms. Off the kitchen to the right was a small living/dining room area. A beige and blue striped couch wrapped around the table, like a booth. A small recliner, the only chair in the place, sat next to the door, and a 13 inch TV sat across from it on a small stand.

  To the left of the kitchen, a narrow hallway led down to the bedrooms. On one side of the hall were closets and storage space, on the other, a small bathroom with a shower.

  The bedrooms were both incredibly small, but one was clearly meant to be the master. It had a full mattress with a narrow walkway on either side, a small closet, and cupboards hanging above the headboard.

  Every window in the house had curtains, but the ones in the bedroom were particularly nice. They were white cotton with a flowery design embroidered in them in white thread.

  I went over to touch them, feeling oddly sentimental about having curtains again. It’d been so long since I had stayed anywhere where there had been window treatments.

  “I suppose you’ll take this room.” Harlow leaned against the doorway.

  The bedrooms and bathroom had pocket doors that slid inside the wall, and she pulled absently at the door. I glanced back at Lazlo, who had taken a seat on the bed, running his hands along the beige bedspread.