Michael Sullivan - Hollow World

“I’ve missed you.”

“A lot of people have missed you ,” Cha said. “Rumor had it…Well, I’m glad to see the rumors were wrong.” Cha turned to Ellis. “I hear you got a complete organ rework. Staying out of the sun now, I hope.”

“Nice to see you again, Cha,” Ellis said. “I never got a chance to thank you.”

Cha shrugged his tattooed shoulders. “It’s what I do. Speaking of which, if you’ll excuse me.”

Cha left them to speak to others on the stairs.

Ellis and Pax walked down and out of the house, where more people had gathered and lights had been set up. Several people recognized Ellis and headed their way. Pax grabbed Ellis’s hand, and the two slipped into the shadows of the cornfield, then out into the village.

They came out on Main Street and walked along the old-fashioned lane in silence. Too many emotions. Too many ideas and memories. Ellis found it hard to think. He would need a month just to sort through everything himself and decompress. Peggy was dead; Warren was dead. He didn’t feel as much as he should, just a certain dullness, which meant the wave was likely on hold. The same had happened with Isley. He didn’t react right away. Some people do. For Ellis, shocks took a while to settle in. This was the calm before the storm.

He didn’t know what to do about Pax. He’d spent almost four decades with a woman, and the only thing he had in common with Peggy was sex. Could the opposite work? Were his feelings even real? Maybe he just thought he loved Pax because of all they had been through together. Plus, Pax could read his mind and tell him exactly what he wanted to hear. Couldn’t that be a huge part of why he felt so comfortable?

Ellis glanced over, realizing that Pax was likely eavesdropping on him at that very moment. He stopped Pax in front of Wrights’ cycle shop and shivered with the autumn wind.

“Is it awful?” he asked.

“Awful?”

“Hearing other people’s thoughts. Knowing what they really think about you, about each other, about all the little stupid things. You were just listening to me a moment ago, weren’t you?”

“A little.”

“I’m sorry if I—”

“Don’t be sorry. You shouldn’t be sorry about your thoughts. They’re who you are.”

“But it’s got to be awful, right? In all the science fiction books and movies, telepaths are usually driven insane because they can’t block out the constant thoughts of everyone around them.”

Pax looked at him dubiously. “Really?”

They were under the green-and-white-striped awning that shaded the picture window with the old-fashioned bicycle. Pax took a step and leaned against the lamppost near the curb before saying, “When you’re in public, you hear conversations, right? You can’t close your ears. You can’t not hear them. Does that mean you’re insane?”

“No, but I’m also not hearing everything ,” Ellis countered. “Or is it like background noise? My wife used to have the TV on all the time for that very reason.” He looked at Pax, who looked so young. “Do you even know what a television is?”

“Of course I do. You had a big Sony projection screen that took up a lot of room. You used to flip-flop between getting a brand-new flat-panel model and a desire to just get rid of it altogether. Sometimes you felt that Peggy loved the television more than she loved you.”

Ellis raised his brows. “So you know—that’s good.”

“I also know it bothers you,” Pax said.

“That you hear every stray thought I have?”

Pax offered a nervous smile.

“Not in the slightest,” Ellis replied.

“Liar.”

“And I hate you, by the way,” he added.

“Liar.”

“Listen,” Ellis said, “if we’re going to continue…well, whatever this is…that’s something you’ll have to accept about me. I’m a habitual liar.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, now whose point are you proving?”

Pax started to speak and then stopped, looking puzzled.

“Ha!” Ellis clapped his hands together.

Pax smirked and then, reaching out, hugged him tight. “I love you.”

“Why?” Ellis really wanted to know. He didn’t have the gift to read minds, and he honestly couldn’t understand why a young, gifted person like Pax would care for a lonely, miserable old man.

“You aren’t miserable,” Pax said. “And you’ve seen my home—I love old things. And as for being lonely…well, everyone is. That’s something I hope to change. I want you not to be lonely. I spent my entire life trying to fix things, but I never wanted to fix anything more than to take away your sense of loneliness. To make you see that you deserve to be loved. That love really is possible, and not just something trivialized in books and on television. And you’re not alone; so many people feel the same way.”

“Is that it? Is that what I am? A broken watch you want to fix?”

“No.” Pax took a breath. “I love you because of everything I see in you. It’s because of how you took a chance, came to a new world, and risked your own life to save it, me, and all the people you didn’t even know. You’re so much better than you think you are. I can see you—who you really are—without the cloud of your self-doubt and the weight of your regrets. My gift is more than just the ability to hear thoughts, a lot more. It’s like I am you, in a way. I don’t just know what goes on in your head, I understand it too. As twisted as Ren was, I understood him—even sympathized, because part of me was Ren. So I can see you very clearly, and believe me, you’re beautiful. But also I love you because…well…because you recognized me.”

“Huh?”

“When I showed up at the farm, dressed like this—like all the others—you knew it was me.”

“I don’t see why that’s such a big deal.”

“It is. Trust me. It is.”

The bodies had all been gathered up and spirited out. Ellis wondered what they did with them. If death was such a rarity, the earth sacred, and God nonexistent did they bother with burials anymore? The ceremonial burying of the dead was one of the first civilized things humanity ever did, the first thing that indicated empathy and a belief in an afterlife. What did it mean if such a fundamental milestone had been rescinded? What did it say about the human race going forward?

The thought disturbed him as he walked alone through the empty streets of Greenfield Village. Morning had come and gone as did all the people from Hollow World. Ellis moved down Main Street past the J. R. Jones General Store. The two-story clapboard front with big picture windows draped with red, white, and blue bunting looked like every general store Ellis had ever seen in a period movie. Maybe that was the reason the store—the whole village—felt more familiar, more precious than his own neighborhood. Ellis didn’t miss his suburban cookie-cutter home, but he did feel a loss for the general stores and the village greens that had once been the heart of communities. They were more than just places. They were icons of an era—of an epoch. Ellis could already see the untended grass growing high. Now that the members of the Cult of Ren had turned Greenfield Village into the crime scene of not just one, but multiple murders, would people stay away? Would the village be left to decay and disappear?

Ellis took a seat on one of the benches. The seat was cold. Autumn was coming to old Michigan and with it that strange phenomenon of being hot where the sun shone and chilled in the shadows. Night was coming earlier now. In two thousand years the seasons remained, and as always the turning of leaves and the shortening days depressed Ellis—just more dirt on a grave that was smothering him.