The Hollowed / Season 1, Episode 11
Gnawing Beneath the Surface
Jake’s boots scraped against the concrete floor of the maintenance tunnel, the sound swallowed by the hum of unseen machinery vibrating through the walls. His knee throbbed with every step, a deep, gnawing ache that felt like something was chewing its way out from the inside. Sweat stung his eyes, and the air down here smelled of damp metal and something sour, like spoiled milk left in a tin can. The wristband on his left arm pulsed faintly, a tiny red light blinking in time with his heartbeat—or maybe not. Maybe it was keeping its own rhythm now. He didn’t trust it, hadn’t since he’d seen that black liquid moving in the mine shaft, reaching for him like it had a mind of its own. He stopped, pressing his back against the cold wall, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. The tunnel stretched ahead, a narrow vein of gray lit by flickering LED strips that buzzed like dying flies. He’d slipped out of his unit after curfew again, after lying on his cot for hours, staring at the ceiling, feeling his reflection stare back from the polished steel panel above the sink. It had blinked again. He hadn’t. That was three times this week, and each time, the thing in the mirror looked less like him—thinner around the eyes,...