The Hollows, page 8
Another one pointed, “This young man? No sir, cannot be. Too much behind those eyes for petty crimes.”
The first of them pushed the other, “It is him, I tell you. Do not assume me for a blind or a liar. I saw him swipe the stalk from the cart and disappear. But it is him, I swear.”
Another little man, same look as the rest, stepped forward, “How would you know? Your eyes are as bad as a mongdoon, you twat.”
The first of them stepped in front and faced the rest while putting a sneer and a smile on his face, “Why don’t we gut him and see. The proof will be in his bile.”
Ethan watched as some of them shook their heads excitedly, while others looked sad and wary. The eager ones pulled out their little sharp objects out of their pants, shirts, and socks. One licked his lips while another bounced up and down.
One of the wary ones looked at Ethan, “Son, did you take a stalk from our cart?”
Ethan looked over at Maggie, “It was for my sister.”
The wary ones followed Ethan’s eyes looking confused, “He might have done it, but he has enough on his soul. We should let him go.”
Maggie moved away from Ethan and blended into the shadows while the men argued.
The first one turned and pulled out a curved blade of his own, “Oh no, a thief is a thief. I want my stalk back even if it is crunched and digested. That might even sell better with the boy’s scent on it. I want his stomach in my fingers. He might even have more than our leftovers in there. Could make for a mighty fine side cart for the witches and their pets.”
Maggie spoke from the darkness, “We are wasting time. End this or I will.”
Ethan did not run nor smile. He just took one step towards the little man as he turned and laughed with his eager friends. When his attention was away, Ethan snatched the knife from his wrinkled and clammy hands, pulling the blade free. He swung it high over his head, and as the little man turned in shock, he brought it down with all his might, plunging it into the little man’s heart. The body dropped to the ground, its face still with a ghost of excitement frozen on his features.
The other ones jumped backward, all but one of the wary men. He took a step forward with his hands in surrender, “Go, young one. As I said before, there is enough on your soul. Come, brothers, I want no more bloodshed. I have a feeling there will be enough by the end.”
They gathered their little brother up in their arms with the knife handle still skyward and carried him back through the parting crowed.
Ethan walked over to the shadow and took Maggie, pulling her by his bloody hand away from the Markets and away from the crowds. He thought he would feel something. Killing should not be this easy, he told himself. But he felt nothing. No anger, regret, sadness, or joy.
The Shade and the girl were not far, even with the slight impediment the little men caused. He would find them. He would watch them from a distance.
And he would wait.
Chapter Five:
Of Gray and Truth
We walked for miles through desolate streets. It was strange to look out at four lane roads in between skyscrapers completely void of activity or life, making it seem even more empty and hollow. Buildings were missing half their side facing walls, crumbled into rubble in the alleys and knocking holes and gashes into their neighbors. Debris lined in piles along the curbs, stacked high with the wreckages of a forgotten Wall-street. We took turns and winding side streets until we came upon several pillars of solid stone that looked like they were stolen from Stonehenge, standing roughly six feet high and three feet across of solid stone, too heavy to be moved regularly. The smallest of which stood angled against a brick wall, covered by moss and vines.
Mordecai, or, at least, that is the name Day gave to Freyr, was supposedly around here. The man who could never tell a lie was something of an anomaly. He was not a man or typical creature to be forgotten and lost in the Hollows. People did not forget about him, according to Day. They straight-up rejected him. They rejected the truths he told, becoming hostile towards revelations that they claimed to want, but of which they rarely took heed.
Before coming on the weystones, Day explained as simply as he could, “His truths lit their distaste. Mordecai showed a light in the dark corners of their heart, that which they would die to keep secret or hidden so they would never have to face their horrors in the daylight. They may not like physical darkness in your world, but they do love hiding in the shadows when something comes up that might be embarrassing, or something that is a struggle with their soul. Mordecai could shed light on their desires, yes, but also on their secrets. People like the skeletons in their closets to be hidden and shaded. They hated him because they hated themselves. Typical for people who cannot face their own demons.”
Even here, in the Hollows, Mordecai is something of intense displeasure among those who cross his path. Even the Gray avoid him, Day had told me.
“What are the Gray?” I asked as we walked up towards the Stonehenge rip-offs.
Day had an atmosphere of annoyance, “They are the vilest creatures in the Hollows, in my humble opinion.”
“But what are they?” I pushed.
Day stopped and faced the weystones, “They something I surely hope to not come across on our way, child. I only mention them due to our direction of travel, we might be forced to take alternate routes to avoid such calamities.”
My mind and heart pounded against each other, one of feeling and the other of logic warred against each other. Could this be a delusion? That would be the easiest to deal with, of course, but part of me wanted this to be real. Or didn’t. I was not sure. But even for a delusion, Day was cryptic. Not a single answer was direct or unimpeded; everything had a shadow over the answer. I would ask which direction we were to go, he’d answer my question with a question about my moral compass and where it would take me. To ask why the world was black, he would counter with a philosophy on human nature’s tendency to lean towards the dramatic. To ask where people go take a shit, he’d ask me if what I knew about social customs in Australia. It made my head hurt worse than it already did.
The muscles in my jaw twitched painfully before I realized it was even clinched. The numbness in my teeth was problematic; I tasted blood, knowing that I had unintentionally cracked a tooth. My mouth was parched and tasted of copper. With the spasms added to the sweat, it was not long before I’d be coming down from the high. My stomach was already starting to feel sharp pains and the muscles in my legs and arms were starting to quiver and feel cold. My hallucination of Day would disappear and I might finally again see daylight or feel the warmth of sunlight on my skin. If nothing else, this dream was increasingly becoming painfully realistic, adding to my constantly opposing thoughts on this version of reality.
“Why do you resist this world, Serenity?” Day asked with concern. “You are following me with ease but are constantly attempting to reassure yourself that this is a dream. Are you afraid that it might not be? Would that change how you cope with what is around you? You do not show any fear, but would that change the instant you come to terms with the truth? Dream or not, this is where you are.”
I scoffed before I caught control of my reaction, “You won’t give a definitive answer as to whether this is actually reality. I was slipped something, by you or someone else, from which I’ll eventually wake. Why would I be afraid of my own mind if that was the case?”
He changed to an aurora of the amused, “Those who don’t truly know themselves are often terrified by what lies in their own minds, child.”
“Stop calling me a child,” I snapped.
“You are a child. And, until you grow up, you will be referred to as such,” Day scolded in a matter of fact tone, his shadow flowing ahead of me with increasing pace.
Sevens trailed behind me. I heard limb after limb slapping the wet ground, splashing ice cold water on the back of my legs.
“Watch it, Sevens!” I said bending down and wiping dry my ankles. Sevens grunted and moved past me to sit next to Day, who was moving slowly towards the leaning weystone, tilting his head underneath his veil studiously. Standing in the darkness for a moment, I looked to our sides, off the path. Skyscrapers for miles behind us reached beyond what my eyes could see, blending into the starless night of the sky. The remnants of a forgotten city, broken and torn, lay there in their mass unkempt graveyard. The world was calm and distant in the shallow breeze, wind winding through the tunnels and in between structures, echoing whispers while it kicked up dust.
The shadow named Day became motionless directly in front of the weystone, a feeling of dissatisfaction being directed towards me in subtle waves until he abruptly was not standing there any longer. The outline of the man draped in a veil vanished.
I blinked and shook my head, “Wait, what?”
Sevens bounced up and down on his hind legs before stepping forward. It looked like a giant vacuum sucked him into a void like a black hole. One second he was bouncing, the next second his feet were dangling in midair and then abruptly gone.
“How in the hell…” I turned around in circles, alone and cold. Hesitant with care, I came to stand in front of the triangular opening. For a moment, I felt like nothing was going to happen, that I was going to be standing there like a moron out by some rocks until something came along to eat me. Nothing prepared me to be pulled through the weystone. It was like falling from extreme heights, my stomach jumped to my throat and my chest flew forward, arching my back at an impossible angle.
The touchdown was anything but graceful. I landed on my face. I groaned and rolled to my back, staring upwards at a very fitful, giggly Sevens. He reached down and patted my face and cooed before helping me back up to my feet, dusting the dirt and grime off of my cheeks as best he could.
“You are graceful. You are a ballerina. You are a gymnast. You are a klutz. You are like a cat, always finding your feet. You are…”
“Oh, shut up. I know I’m a klutz. If I had seven legs to land on, I would have landed just fine,” I said pushing him away playfully. He bounced up and down again before trotting around me in a circle and sitting expectantly. I patted his head and turned to where Day stood, staring at me amused.
The skyline looked just like before, but after inspecting further I noticed that we were surrounded by a different set of buildings, teleported to a completely different city instantaneously.
Day composed himself after a moment, “We must keep moving. It is not safe to stay out in the open like this.”
“Out in the open?” I asked, “There’s nothing but abandoned buildings in every direction. Each way is completely blacked out, how are we in the open?”
At the time, I was not sure whether the feeling I got on the back of my neck was Day trying to subtly direct my attention behind me, or if I truly was having a sixth sense situation. But my skin crawled and chest tightened. I craned my neck slowly, turning only enough to catch a glimpse behind me out of my peripheral vision.
Two figures stood in the distance; the distance I could not tell. They both were motionless, heads tilted at a seemingly curious angle in our direction. In an instant, Sevens was at my side. I blinked at his sudden appearance, but when I looked back to the figures, they were gone. Sevens stood poised to attack, claws outreached and fury in its many eyes.
“We need to go. They know you are here,” Day warned.
Sevens body shook, quivering against my hip, “They are nice. They are pleasant. They are helpful. They are hunting. They are friends. We are safe. We should not be scared.”
I placed my hand on Sevens shoulder, “You really need to make this more difficult,” I said turning to Day, “What does he mean they are hunting?”
“The Gray are always hunting,” He said deadpan as his shadow shifted and headed towards the broken city.
“Hunting what?”
There was a shred of fear in his shadow, so I followed with no response. Sevens stayed close once more, barely an inch away, walking on his many limbs like a misshapen dog, the monster was still nearly to my shoulder. It was a mild comfort knowing something of that size was by my side.
“He would not be able to save you,” Day said intuitively.
“How do you do that?” My question laced in venom, “This has to be a dream since you keep reading my fucking mind.”
Day shifted, keeping his body facing the now empty alley, “One does not have to be a mind reader to sense your body is more at ease with him near. I am simply conveying that his presence would not save you if the Gray were to find out what you are and why you’re here.”
“How about you explain both of those to me while we are on the subject,” I demanded.
Day’s patience was faulty, “You chose to stay. When you find out who you are and why you are here, I might ask you if you’re ready to leave, then. Until that moment, child, we will keep moving. Mordecai shouldn’t be kept waiting.”
Day turned and began walking down a perpendicular side street. My neck muscle twitched, habitually bringing my hand to it and massaging it out. My fingers were cold with the night’s air, wiping the sweat and dirt that caked on the back of my neck. Jogging to catch up, the air blew colder, causing goose bumps to flare on my skin.
They are hunting.
The decaying buildings grew closer, all of them old and ancient, but some seemingly older than others. A cluster was made of wood, burnt and rotted through the beams. Others were tall and strong though rusted with a mixture of graffiti and broken glass. Weaving in between the buildings, threading through side streets and abandoned corners, smears along the walls were indiscernible, possibly blood or paint. It reminded me of what New York could have been like if the sun were blotted out of the sky and it was bombed to near extinction. The ground before us was opening into main roads four to six lanes wide. Potholes, cracks, gravel, and glass littered the ground. Some places there was nothing, in other places there was bone. It didn’t smell right. The sharp scents made my stomach queasy, tasting of both feces and blood.
“Where is everyone?” I asked. The lanes were empty, no sign of life for as far as I could see.
Day stopped to survey the location before turning and heading towards an alley, “No one stays on the main roads. It’s been a very long time since they were traveled and used since the Gray showed.”
Sevens tensed again.
They are hunting. Hunting.
“What are the Gray? Please,” I asked Day.
The aurora of frustration was back. The shadow man’s voice grew quiet, stern, “What is it you want most? What is it you crave? When looking back at your life, to remember those things that gave you even the slightest hint of happiness, what were they?”
I put my hands on my hips, “Stop with the fucking riddles.”
The shadow seemed to shake its head, “This is no riddle, child! What is something that would make you happy?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe a dog?”
Day was exasperated, “Good enough. Now imagine how you felt when you held one. Imagine the joy and the tears and the bliss.”
“Okay, what does that have to do with the Gray?”
He talked at a frustrated speed, “Now imagine the despair you would feel if you watched that puppy being killed, ran over, eaten, or its throat slit. Imagine the sorrow and pain from the loss of such bliss you had kept for that animal. Can you imagine that pain?”
“Why would you say something like that?” I asked taken aback.
“Because that is what the Gray are, Serenity. That is how they feed. They sense that happiness, that light, that joy, and then they take it away. They give you despair, tragedy, and horror. The psychological atrocity that goes along with the loss of joy. That change in nature, that drop into the pit of horror, is that which they feed on.
“No one knows where they came from. Like much of that which was forgotten above, they emerged from the shadows and began to bleed The Hollows of everything that we once had. Just because we were forgotten does not mean we were unhappy. We were lonely souls that gathered around each other, finding a sense of belonging. The Gray came, feeding on the only thing these creatures had that was their own, leaving them motionless with anxiety and fear. Paralyzed with a sense that nothing else mattered in this world. Once the Gray took all that they could, the darkness ate the rest,” His shadow motioned to the bones that collected along the paths.
“That is one seriously sad mind-fuck. Literally the most depressing thing I have thought about this entire time,” I said.
“Stop cursing, child.”
We turned left towards another back alley, one that in my lucid state would be avoided at all cost for fear of robbery or rape. Our bodies clung to the walls, stayed hidden beneath the veil of darkness as much as possible. Passing by cracks in the buildings and spaces between hovels, figures were tucked away beneath the dust.
I stepped on something sharp and gasped. I pulled my foot up to see something stark white glaring back at me beneath the blood. Pinching my fingers in the wound, I had to twist and tug to get the white shard to lose its grip on my skin. The peculiar piece of heavy, dense material was smooth and rounded at the tops, sharp and jagged towards the bottom.
“A tooth?” I whispered to myself before looking down on the ground around us.
Teeth lined the outside of one in particular, molars and canines piled on top of each other in front of the makeshift door. White bone protruded from the edges of the streets, up on the curbs, and sloped against the buildings. Millions of teeth, some pearl and some grounded in a gray and black decay. I looked at Day while trying to find the words. Any words, for the thousands of teeth that made hills that looked to barge and surge waves all the way into the darkness beyond, glinting with a moonless night.
Movement caught the corner of my eye. Beneath the motionless waves of bone was a small hole just across the way. At first, the figure looked like a small, wounded animal searching for food in a small hole. Instead, a woman’s face emerged from a hovel carved out in a hill of teeth, tear stained and cheeks hollow from malnourishment. From first glance I could tell that she was once a beautiful woman, more beautiful than anything I could have imagined. Now, huddled with her mounds of teeth, she hugged the remnants and pulled them protectively inside the hole; a silver broken strip of wing whipped, flickered and snatched behind her.
