Elusion(21)

It’s getting closer, and moving faster. Although it looks like we’re going to collide and I’ll be incinerated on the spot, I don’t feel anything but pure elation. I reach out with my hands in front of me, preparing to graze the comet with my fingers as soon as it’s within my grasp.

All of a sudden something snags me by my arm and I’m yanked to the surface of the comet, where a familiar face is there to greet me. Patrick’s blue eyes are electric, and his legs are straddled across the back of the flaming ball of violet and periwinkle. His neoprene suit is a gorgeous shade of cobalt, but it’s a bit looser than mine.

“Ready for the ride of your life?” He grins, shifting me behind him. I wrap my arms around his waist as he types something on the keypad of his wristband.

“Yes! What are you waiting for?” I shout.

“Hold on,” Patrick says as he presses one more button. Then he grabs what appear to be reins made of fire. “Okay, here we go!”

The comet blasts off and the planets whir past us, creating an endless blur of color. We’re going so fast we barely get a chance to take any lingering looks at the wondrous scenery before us—there is a patch of hazy lavender fog that seems to go on into infinity; a gigantic tide of crimson rock formations spins out of control in every direction. And in the center of this marvelous splendor is a soulful, encompassing silence that totally blankets me.

It’s exhilarating and serene all at once.

I lean around Patrick for a better view as we soar through a network of indigo-tinged nebulous clouds.

“Duck!” Patrick shouts as he maneuvers the comet under a sparkling silver asteroid. We’re zooming downward at a ninety-degree angle, practically at the speed of light. Patrick’s blond hair is blowing back in my face, and it feels like a thousand little feathers are tickling my nose. I smile and breathe in the smell of his shampoo—a delicious blend of rosemary and ginseng. Once we’re out of harm’s way, Patrick navigates our comet in a winding pattern, dodging a spectrum of tangerine-colored aerolites.

“Let’s do that again!” Somehow, my words feel like delicate whispers, even though I am shouting them.

“Maybe later,” Patrick says as he steers the comet away from the belt of fluorescent crater-covered rocks. “I want to show you something.”

Once again the comet launches into flight, and we descend at an alarming rate. My head whips back and I squeal as my stomach dips.

Patrick releases one of the flaming reins and points into the distance. “Phobos,” he says, as we careen past a sepia-tinged rock that looks like the shape of a skull. “It’s one of Mars’s two moons.”

I hook my arms underneath his and grip him by the front of the shoulders. “I can’t believe it. This feels like—”

“Heaven,” Patrick says, turning around just enough to look me in the eyes. His cheeks are rosy, and I notice a small birthmark near the corner of his lips that I don’t ever remember seeing before. When he smiles at me, I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so clearly.

“Want to see Mars?” he asks.

“I want to see everything,” I say.

It takes no longer than a split second for our comet to streak by the Red Planet, or at least that’s how it seems to me. Time peels away here, and that’s probably my favorite thing about Elusion. Patrick pulls the comet so close to Mars’s dazzling scarlet glow it’s like we’re skimming along the outer rims of its vaporous atmosphere.

Patrick yanks the reins and the comet stops, hovering above the giant mass in midair. I’ve seen plenty of pictures of Mars, but nothing could’ve prepared me for how it really looks—a swirling globe of reds, oranges, and pinks.

“I designed that myself,” Patrick says, his voice filled with pride.

“It’s so beautiful.”

Patrick turns around again to face me, his intense gaze sending a ripple of heat up my spine.

“Like you,” he says.

He touches my cheek, caressing my skin with the backs of his fingers, which slowly drop down to my chin. “I mean it, Ree. No one compares to you.”

I search for something to say, but I’m distracted by a fever that has possessed my entire body. When he takes my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist, everything—my head, feet, arms, legs—is humming with an intoxicating vibration. His fingers trail up my arm, and staring directly into my eyes, he leans toward me, tilting his head ever so slightly to the left, and I know what he’s about to do. But then we hear a chirping sound and a flash of light spews from my wristband, temporarily blinding me.

It’s all gone.

I’m back in my room, lying on top of my grandmother’s quilt. My head hurts and my limbs feel heavy and numb, as if they’re encased in lead. My eyelids are twitching, but that’s the only part of me that’s moving. I count backward in my head from one hundred, trying to relax as the Aftershock symptoms wear off. Within a minute, I can feel my legs coming back to life, each muscle spasm a bit less crippling than the last. Soon, I’m aware of a sharp, prickly sensation in my arms—it feels as though I’ve fallen into a small patch of thorns.

In the distance I can hear the slow drip of the broken motion-sensor bathroom sink—every drop of water a marker of a second I’m trapped inside myself.

Thankfully, the pain and paralysis fade after a few more minutes. I manage to pull off my visor and press my fingers to my temples, rubbing them in circles until my ears stop ringing. I push myself up on the bed, but fall over on my side. The dizziness makes the room pitch and revolve, so I curl my knees up to my chest and wait until I regain my equilibrium.