Page 71 of Hollow

But I keep going. I round the corner and see the body going down the staircase.

I follow, my steps quick, and yet by the time I get to the main floor, where the classrooms are, she’s already far ahead of me. Down another hall.

I follow, walking faster now, the candle flame quivering as I go, and I pray it doesn’t go out. Without that light, I can’t go on in the dark. I haven’t mastered how to control fire yet; I don’t have that skill.

I whip around the corner, my breath heavy now, and a door is open near one of the classrooms, dead, lifeless feet being dragged inside.

It’s the custodian’s closet, or so I thought. I had never given it a second glance before, but now that I am looking through the door, I see that there isn’t a broom in sight. Instead, it opens to the top of a narrow stone staircase leading down.

Thump.

The thumps continue going down, down, down, and harder now. Wet smacks against stone.

A shiver rocks through me.

I reach back and push the door open as far as it will go, the hinges creaking ominously, then take off one of my slippers and place it at the corner so that the door can’t close on me and lock me in here. Then I put my bare foot on the first step, and I wait.

You don’t have to do this, I tell myself. The door could still close on you. You’ll be locked down here with that thing. No one may ever find you again.

Part of me is unbothered by that fact. Of never being found.

So I walk down and down and down, curiosity to be my demise.

The further down the stairs I go, the more damp the air feels, bringing it with not just the smells of wet stone and earth but also something herbal. Sage and tarragon and the sharp bite of cut stems mixed with the rotten smell of sulfur and dead flowers.

I go down the stairs, the light dancing on the stone walls, and I feel I must go on forever, but eventually, my feet touch a dirt-packed floor.

Ahead of me is another hall, but this one is short and rounds at the end. I don’t hear the body anymore, and the dirt is undisturbed.

But I do hear something else. A faint wail that puts the fear of God in me better than my father ever could. It’s an inhuman cry that’s suddenly swallowed up by silence, like the sound was cut in two, producing a strong silence so deafening that I can hear my own blood in my veins, the sticky sound of my cells turning over.

I press my fingers against my temple, trying to get it to stop. Tears run down my face, and I wipe them away to see bloodstained fingers. I want to tear my eyes right out of my head, press my thumbs straight into my sockets, and—

The silence stops. The air pressure in the hall adjusts, and I see light flicker where it curves around the corner.

I’m not alone here.

I never was.

I look down at my hands, and there isn’t a drop of blood to be found.

Hell.

I slowly walk down the hall toward the flickering light, unsure of what I’m about to see but knowing I’m unable to stop. I am compelled to discover what’s happening to me, compelled to find out the truth.

I round the bend and see that it ends with a large black iron door. The dirt at the foot of the door forms a right angle, meaning it must be opened and closed enough to pack down the dirt in front of it.

I press my hands against it and wince. The metal is hot to the touch.

Please. I hear a whisper, not out loud but in my head. Please, Professor Crane.

It belongs to a girl and a boy and so many different people. It’s raw and desperate, and I feel the fatalistic sorrow inside me as if it’s my own.

I see Marie’s face as she died, mouth stretched in an endless scream.

“Can I help you find something?” Leona Van Tassel’s voice comes through so loud that I yelp and jump around, the candle falling out of my hands and onto the dirt floor. It’s snuffed out, but not before I see Leona standing behind me, wearing a face without skin. Just round eggs for eyes and a row of sharp white teeth.

Then everything goes black, and I think I might die of a heart attack right here.