Аманда Хокинг - Hollowland

Light streamed through the slits between the curtains when I awoke to the sound of someone opening the closet doors. I shifted in bed, half sitting up and pushed back the covers so I could see.

Wearing only his boxers, Lazlo sifted through the closet, looking for his clothes. Red lines and imprints stretched across his back, reminders of his night spent sleeping on the rough couch.

“Morning,” I yawned and pushed myself all the way up.

“Oh, sorry.” He looked sheepishly over his shoulder at me. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just came to get some clothes so I could take a shower.”

“No, it’s okay. I should get up anyway.” I hadn’t been able to find Tatum last night, and I didn’t know how long it would take me to convince him to get me into the building.

“Oh. Good. I guess.” Lazlo turned back to picking out something, so I swung my legs over the edge of the bed to stand up.

I didn’t have pajamas to speak of, so I slept in my underwear and a tee shirt. My bare legs were covered in fading bruises and cuts. A thick scab ran over my knee, and I touched it, checking to see that it was healing without infection.

I glanced up and saw Lazlo staring back at me. Feeling self-conscious, I grabbed my pants up off the floor, and his cheeks reddened when he quickly turned back to the closet.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking down at a tee shirt.

“It’s fine.” I pulled on my pants. “Have you seen Tatum?”

“What?” Lazlo turned back to me in surprise, his expression bewildered. “No. I just got up. Why? What do you need him for?”

“I need to talk to him.” I slept with my hair up, but the tie had loosened, so I pulled it out and ran my fingers through the long tangles.

“Why?” Lazlo repeated, his voice tightening with anxiety.

“About my brother.” I put my hair back in a messy bun. “He was supposed to check into something.”

“Why?” Lazlo said yet again, and I didn’t feel like answering him, so I brushed past him out the bedroom door. With his clothes in hand, he went after me. “Why is this Tatum guy helping you? I thought he kind of seemed like a jerk.”

In the living room, Harlow was already up and sitting at the table, sketching something on a pad of paper. She twirled her cross absently around her neck and looked up at me when I came out.

“What are you doing? Are you going somewhere?” she asked as I slipped on my shoes.

“Yeah, I just have to find Tatum,” I opened the main door and leaned on the screen door for a minute.

“That soldier guy?” Harlow wrinkled her nose in confusion.

“Yeah, exactly,” Lazlo chimed in, giving me a hard look. “I don’t trust that guy.”

“Maybe you don’t, but I do.” I shrugged and left.

Harlow called after me, reminding me about breakfast, and I told her I’d make it if I could.

I had no idea where to look, and I didn’t exactly understand how this place was laid out. They really should’ve handed out maps when people got quarantined. I found Bishop hanging up clothes to dry, but when I asked her about Tatum, she gave me a vague, terse answer.

Ripley roared, sounding more bored than irritated, but I decided to stop by and say hey. I hated the idea of her being in a cage. Even if she was safe, it didn’t seem right to me. The cost of safety was different than what it used to be, but so was freedom. It carried a much greater risk, but I’d always believed it’d be worth it in the end.

In a turn of luck, Tatum stood outside her cage, admiring her as she paced along the fence. He had on his full camo uniform today, with his jacket hanging open, and a couple other soldiers stood next to him, laughing at something he said.

“Hey, Tatum,” I said, walking over to him. He looked back at me, and he managed to look both irritated and happy to see me.

“You know, I am a soldier, Private First Class. You could show me a little respect,” he told me when I got up to him.

“Sorry.” My cheeks reddened. “Pvt. Tatum, sir, can I talk to you?”

“Can it wait? We’re going out in the field today.”

“The field? What are you talking about?” I asked, momentarily forgetting about my incessant quest to see Max.

“Out there.” Tatum motioned towards the walls towering around us. “We go out in the field, search for survivors, kill some zombies, check things out. That’s how we found you.” He looked back over at Ripley, who roared again and swished her tail. “We were gonna take her out with us, but she’s still too wild.”

“She’s supposed to be wild. She’s a lion,” I bristled, as if he had said something derogatory about her.

“Well, we’re not taking her today.” Tatum shrugged. “But we’re going soon. So, can I talk to you when I get back?”

“Um…” I bit my lip and fidgeted. I didn’t think I could wait any longer. “This’ll just take a sec. Please.”

He sighed and nodded at his friends. One of them made some kind of joke about Tatum being whipped, so he put his hand gruffly on the small of my back and pushed me away from them.

“Look, I don’t know anything,” Tatum said in a low growl when he’d gotten out of earshot of everyone.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I don’t mean to keep bothering you, and I know that you have a job to do, protecting everybody. But I need your help.” I looked hopefully at him. “It’s really just a small little favor.”

“What?” Tatum asked wearily.

“I need you to get me in the building, just up to the second floor. Then I have a friend on the inside who can get me the rest of the way.”

“Oh come on,” he rolled his eyes.

“Please!” I stood up on my tiptoes, thinking that would somehow help my cause. “I know you can do it. You know your way around this place, and it’s not that much trouble.”

“You know you’re obnoxious, right?” He looked at me hard, his hands on his hips like a pissed off housewife. I nodded. “I don’t even know why I’m helping you.” He sighed and nodded. “All right. There’s something I can do, but it’ll have to wait until I get back.”

“After supper?” I asked, barely able to contain my excitement.

“That’ll probably work.” Tatum shrugged. “I’ll meet you by the mess hall. And wear something… nice. Slutty, even.”

“What?” I looked at him dubiously.

“No, it’s important.” He lowered his voice again and took a step in, but I think it was more for my benefit, like he was trying to protect me from embarrassment. “You’re cute and all, but you don’t try. And you need to look hot.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s how I’m gonna get you in,” Tatum said like I’d understand. “I’ve taken a hot girl or two back to my room, for, you know.” I must’ve looked appalled because he held up his hand. “You’re not really going to my room. I know you only have eyes for that punk who follows you around like a sad little puppy, but I need everyone to think I’m taking you back. So you gotta look hot.”

“I-I-” I stammered, not sure what part of his statement I wanted to argue with first.

“You can thank me later,” he smiled at me. “I gotta go to work.”

With that, he turned and walked back to his buddies, leaving me kind of flabbergasted. Once that wore off, I felt genuinely excited for the first time in a very long while. I had a plan, and it sounded reasonable enough.

I was going to see my brother by the end of the night.

Over a breakfast of powdered scrambled eggs, I told Harlow that I needed her help getting dolled up. Lazlo had never looked more offended, and when he made a few snide remarks about my character as a lady, I decided to let him stew in it for a while.