The Hollow Skull

  The Experiment

  Sio sat in her laboratory and contemplated the syringe in her hand. The fluid inside was clear to the naked eye; no one could ever have imagined that it was filled with billions of tiny cell-size computer chips. To Sio’s right, in a glass cage, was one remaining mouse, Harve—she had not killed and dissected him, perhaps because he had a cute way of staring at her, perhaps because he was using some kind of psychic power to bend her will. Definitely, Harve had been the smartest of the mice; he had not only been able to solve every maze she constructed, he had designed a few of his own. Maybe he had understood that the only way to survive her wrath was to be better than the rest. Yet as he watched her, it was almost as if he were challenging her to inject herself with the exotic solution. It was as if he understood her anger and her fear, that they were somehow partners in a crime that might spin wildly out of control if pushed too far.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  AN ARCHWAY PAPERBACK Original

  An Archway Paperback published by POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  Copyright © 1998 by Christopher Pike

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  ISBN: 0-671-55059-4

  First Archway Paperback printing February 1998

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  AN ARCHWAY PAPERBACK and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.

  Cover art by Franco Accornero Printed in the U.S.A

  IL 9+

  For David Glover

  1

  The horror started with happiness. Both times, in the beginning and in the end. But perhaps there was no point in designating the horror as having a start or a finish, a birth or a death—both chased the other. The cycle was very old, as old as the galaxy itself, and out among the stars, time lost all meaning. Yet the horror never did; it never became anything less than the extinction of an individual soul. It never became less than what its original creator so bitterly envisioned. But it was occasionally asked, by those who had somehow managed to escape her, if her name should be cursed or worshipped. Asked but never answered. The few survivors knew the proper response but were afraid to say lest she magically hear. Even the weary stars and endless time would not answer the question. For she was to grow greater than both, greater than all.

  The person chosen by fate, if there was such a thing, to come face to face with the ancient enemy was Cass Strobe. She was what most guys would have called a great girl. Strong without being an asshole, she knew how to take charge without being bossy. Her hair was long and dirty blond—she washed it every day, but still it always looked as if she had just gotten out of bed and neglected it. She had an incredible body; there was sex in her walk and smile. Yet she wouldn’t have been called pretty from a still photo. Her mouth was too big, her blue eyes not large enough. Her style was her asset; she knew how to make both guys and girls feel that she liked them. For the most part Cass did like people—except for her father, who was a drunken bastard. When her dad hit her, she hit him back. That was another reason she was not perfectly pretty, her nose was slightly crooked. He had broken it for her on her twelfth birthday.

  The Strobes—Daddy, Cass, and little sister Mary—lived in a desperate town called Madison, which cooked sixty-seven miles northeast of Las Vegas, in a portion of the Nevada desert even the Indians had chosen to avoid. The couple of days a year when it did rain in town, all the inhabitants could talk about was how long it could take for the mud to dry. Ten minutes or fifteen. Madison had been born with the nuclear age, built around a uranium mine that bored a half mile into the Earth. For the past two decades the mine had been boarded up, but the town refused to die with its closure. Nor did it prosper; it just hung there like an evaporating puddle in the middle of dusty earth. There were three hundred kids in Madison, half of them teens, and all that most of them thought about was getting out.

  Cass was no exception. At the end of the summer after her senior year in high school, she planned to move to Los Angeles and attend UCLA to study premed. She had the grades and the SAT scores. What she didn’t have was a scholarship, but she didn’t care. She was going to make it somehow, she always had. Now, as September loomed closer, all that had to be decided was whether she took Mary and her boyfriend with her.

  Fred Abel was her main squeeze, better than fresh orange juice in the morning, more an extra-large cappuccino late at night. He was smart, artistic, reckless—he practically glowed in the dark. He wasn’t too handsome; in fact, he would have been a nerd if he hadn’t been so cool. He was dark and wore his mustache and beard like macho man dirt. In Madison there was nothing but sun and sand, and yet he remained pale and skinny. He had a great toothy smile that made him look gentle and clever at the same time. His few clothes looked cool the way he wore them, as if they had grown on him during the night. Cass loved to watch him get dressed in the morning—her low-life father never cared if she came home. Watching Fred put on his clothes was a spiritual experience for Cass, and she was perhaps the only true atheist in all of Madison. But she felt she didn’t have to believe in God to care. She loved her boyfriend and her little sister more than anything else. They were hers, nothing was going to take them away.

  So she thought, before the nightmare began.

  It all started the Friday night the scientists left Madison. The scientists had arrived in town the previous week with permission from the state to reactivate the multi-level steel elevators that led deep into the infamous uranium mine, which the town folk called the Shaft. None of the teens in Madison had ever been down the Shaft for the simple reason that somebody had pulled the plug on the lifts two decades earlier. But these scientists were a clever bunch and got the hardware all working again. Yet they were not smart enough to remember to pull the plug before they split. Consequently, the youth of the town were left with an impossible-to-resist temptation.

  Of course it was irrepressible Tim Hale, boyfriend of Jill Leper, who was the first to learn that the Shaft was still accessible. Tim was a sort of buddy of Fred’s, but it was really Jill and Cass who were friends, best friends actually, till death dared part them. Jill was loud and gross and funny as hell. Tim was loud as well when he was drunk, and he was often drunk now that school was out for the summer. Jill and Tim were classic Madison products and would probably never make it out of town for longer than a week. They had small town brains and didn’t mind boring jobs and limited social lives as long as they were able to pretend to themselves that the grass was no greener anyplace else. The funny thing was, of course, that there was no grass anywhere near Madison.

  But they were made for each other, Jill and Tim. They may have even loved each other; their lust for each other seemed inexhaustible. One thing was for sure, they never went a day without talking for at least six hours. God only knew what they talked about, Cass certainly didn’t. Jill was her friend but not her equal. Cass wasn’t a snob to think so—it was just the way it was. Above all else Cass was a realist. When her dad was drunk and screaming at her, Cass always knew when she zoned out and entered the twilight zone. Just by its position on the globe, Madison qualified as a suburb of the latter.

  Tim came to them that Friday night with the idea of sneaking into the Shaft and riding the creaking lifts down to the center of the Earth. He was not totally drunk at the time, but he was catching glimpses of sparkly trailers with rainbow hues
that existed only in his own mind. Actually, he and Jill had smoked a little pot earlier, on top of their beer, so if they weren’t technically drunk they were definitely not examples of clean living.

  The happy couple ran into Cass and Fred as the latter were coming out of the local diner. Cass and Fred had just had a big turkey dinner—the only thing on the menu the cook and diner owner, Chet, knew how to make. The time was late but early enough for mischief. Tim brought up the plan as he rocked all over the sidewalk.

  “Man,” Tim said as he got animated. “We get down there and we’ll be more isolated than anybody on Earth. Think of that. Christ, it blows my mind. We’ve got to do it.”

  “It’ll be so cool,” Jill chimed in.

  Fred was doubtful. “How do you know for sure that the lifts are still working?”

  “Yeah,” Cass said. “Worse, what if they just take us down but don’t carry us back up? We could die down there.”

  Tim screwed up his face as he contemplated their heavy questions. Blond and blue-eyed, well-built Tim was naturally handsome but did everything in his power to appear otherwise. He dressed as he shaved, in front of a broken mirror. He had stringy tangled hair—the last comb to visit it had crumpled up from fright.. He never smelled and must have showered every day, nevertheless he always managed to look as if he needed a mommy. He had two pairs of blue jeans, one with only a few holes and the other with a lot of holes. For money, he pumped gas at a corner station and said he loved his job.

  Jill was short and dark, Hispanic on her mother’s side, with radiant skin and heavy bones. She was no dummy but seemed to be stuck in an eighteen-year process of trying to convince herself that maybe she should be. Cass adored Tim, but thought he was a terrible influence on Jill. Her friend had potential. Tim was a life stream roadblock. Cass wanted Jill to go with her to Los Angeles. Jill wanted to think about it, which meant “no way.” Jill had long black hair and teeth as white as the paper she sold at the local drugstore. The drugstore was across the street from Tim’s gas station—the gods were not conspiring to get Jill a life. Cass loved her friend but felt sorry for her.

  “There are safety devices on the lifts,” Tim explained. “I spoke to the number-one scientist who went down there and he said no part of the system will work unless everything is working.”

  “How do you know this same guy didn’t short circuit the lifts before he left?” Fred asked.

  Tim spoke as if he were passing on a secret.

  “Because the same guy is coming back here next week. They found something down in the mine they want to check out better.”

  Cass was doubtful. “What if they found more uranium? I mean, isn’t the bottom of the mine pretty radioactive?”

  Tim waved his hand. “You’ll get no more radiation down there than you would from your TV set.”

  “She doesn’t have a TV set,” Jill said.

  Fred considered. “I’ve always wondered what it was like down there.”

  Cass was annoyed. “You’re not seriously thinking about doing this?”

  Tim slapped Fred on the back. “We’re adventurers, and we go where we’re called.”

  “Tim, shut up,” Cass said. “Fred?”

  Fred thought a moment more then chuckled. “It would be an adventure. Hell, we’ve each spent half our lives here and now we’re about to leave We’ve never been down the mine, this might be our only chance to explore it.”

  Cass started to protest but then stopped. Or perhaps something stopped her, an ancient echo from another world, a subtle genetic implant override. Later, she was never able to explain, even to herself, why she gave in. She shrugged.

  “As long as we don’t stay down there too late, I don’t care,” she said. “I have to work tomorrow morning.” She worked as a secretary for a local contractor, and often went in on weekends to catch up on paperwork. She was good with math and keeping records.

  Tim was happy. “We’ll have a great time! Let’s get some flashlights and go.”

  “We’d better tell somebody what we’re doing,” Fred cautioned. “In case we don’t return for a few days.” He turned to Cass. “How about Mary?”

  “No. She’ll want to go.” Cass turned to Jill. “Leave a note for your mother. Someplace she won’t look until tomorrow.”

  “All right,” Jill said, although she looked as if she hardly understood the instruction. They agreed to meet back in front of the diner in twenty minutes. Fred said he would drive them all to the mine.

  They took an hour to get their stuff together. They found plenty of flashlights but needed batteries and had to go to the market to get them. There weren’t a lot of places open in Madison on Friday night. With Tim and Jill stumbling around the aisles, and Fred doing side-busting impressions of people in town, they were a fine bunch. Later Cass was to remember how happy she felt that night, as if she were standing on the verge of the greatest adventure of her life. She couldn’t wait to get out of town for the night—and for the rest of her life.

  Fred had an old Ford Mustang. He joked that the serial numbers had worn off, although they all knew someone must have filed them off in a fit of felony lust. He had bought the car hot off a tourist with black sunglasses for eyes. Fred’s car creaked and backfired as it crept out of town and onto the lonely dirt road that wound up toward the hills and the entrance to the Shaft. The mine was located six miles out of town.

  If they got trapped their shouts wouldn’t reach any ears.

  Cass sat in the back with Jill, who had begun to sober. Jill stared out the window at the approaching hills. They were laced with iron oxide and glowed red and forlorn beneath a half moon. Cass liked the hills at night; she thought they looked like the scenery from an alien world. She touched Jill’s arm to get her friend’s attention.

  “Are we crazy?” Cass asked.

  Jill turned and smiled. “No guts, no glory.”

  Tim was talking excitedly to Fred about baseball. The boys couldn’t hear Cass or Jill, or rather, couldn’t be bothered listening.

  “A part of me is going to miss this place,” Cass said.

  “You don’t have to leave so quick,” Jill said. “You can start college next year.”

  “But I’m afraid if I don’t leave now I’ll be stuck here forever.” Cass paused and spoke quietly. “This is probably my last week here.”

  Jill raised a hand. “Don’t ask. No, I can’t go with you.”

  “But there’s nothing keeping you here. You’re not close to your mom and dad.”

  Jill’s eyes were focused out the window again. “There’s Tim.”

  “Tim will go where you go.”

  “Fred will go where you go.”

  Cass spoke carefully. “I’m going to Los Angeles to college. Fred has never said he would go with me.”

  “But you know he’s coming,” Jill said.

  Cass wondered if that was true. Fred was as impulsive and strong minded as she was. It was possible he’d decide to go to New York; he had been to Manhattan once and loved it. Cass reached over and touched Jill’s arm again. A wave of quiet affection for her friend rolled over her, yet she knew that their discussion was hopeless, that Jill would probably die in Madison at the age of ninety.

  “There are plenty of jobs in L.A.” she said to Jill. “You wouldn’t have to work in a drugstore. Tim could get a better job too.”

  Jill shook her head. “Tim loves the desert.” She chuckled softly. “He loves to sweat.”

  Cass had to smile. “I still haven’t figured out what Fred loves.”

  Jill turned and eyed her. ”Not sex?”

  Cass paused. “We’ve only done it a few times.”

  “It gets better the more you do it.”

  “I’m not complaining.” Cass laughed. “I think I think about it too much!”

  “Before or during?”

  “Both.” Tim was talking so loud up front that she knew she’d never be overheard. Yet she continued in a softer tone. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t involve
d, which is stupid because this relationship has brought such richness to my life.”

  Jill nodded. “But being free is more important to you than being happy.”

  Cass was struck by her seriousness. “Is that really what you think?”

  Jill studied her. “Everyone knows that’s true about you, including Fred. I think that’s the only reason he’s afraid to move to L.A. with you.”

  Cass waved her hand. “Nah.”

  “It’s true. You are a tough chick.” Jill stared straight ahead. “But that’s not bad, someone’s got to be.”

  They parked near the entrance to the Shaft, twenty feet from the mass of boards and barbed wire that doubled as a Get Lost sign. The scientists had done them the favor of chopping through the barricade so they were able to get inside by merely ducking.

  They switched to flashlight mode. The walls of the tunnel were coated with iron oxide. Cass had read somewhere that it was often found around uranium. Fred and Tim walked ahead—Tim was standing more straight by the minute. The tunnel pulsed with a silence that seemed to slip off the walls and fill their ears with a faint ringing. Instinctively they spoke only in whispers, the ghosts of uranium past haunting them. Cass kept fretting about the radiation, but Tim told her she was worrying about nothing.

  ”Besides,“Tim said. “There’s no uranium up here. It’s at the bottom of the Shaft.”

  “How did they even know it was down there?” Cass asked.

  “There was a small concentration on the surface,” Fred explained. “And they followed it deeper and deeper. From what I heard, this mine was the one that provided the uranium for the very first atomic bombs.”

  “What an honor,” Cass muttered. She didn’t like weapons of destruction, in spite of her being a fighter herself. She thought it cowardly to bomb humanity from the skies with the power of the sun.