Elusion(31)

“Wait a minute,” I say, my head popping back up. “What are dumps?”

“Oh, that’s just programming lingo for the Escapes. Dumps are made up of basic codes with security programs in each one. Grouped together, these dumps make up the master program for Elusion, which becomes active when someone turns on the app,” he explains.

“Got it. But let’s skip the geek slang, okay?”

“Sorry.” Patrick gives me a small smile. “Like I was saying, the firewalls surround all the Escapes. They’re located about five miles from the drop point, and they connect all the Escape programs, sharing walls. They also work as a barrier, preventing users from traveling from one Escape to the other.”

I look into his eyes for traces of worry or deceit, but they seem honest, like always.

I know I’m doubting everything right now. But my best friend? If I second-guess him, it’ll feel like a part of my life is shattering, just like that insane scene at the beach.

“So it’s like a force field then? They keep viruses out and people in.”

I’m sure this is a gross understatement, but Patrick nods his head in agreement anyway.

“Exactly. They’re just there to protect the user. They don’t harm people inside the Escape in any way. And they sure as hell don’t make them addicted.”

I reach forward to get my mug of tea, but Patrick grabs it first and passes it to me. When our hands touch and his fingers linger on my skin, another reminder pops into my head.

I was dodging all of Patrick’s calls and texts today. For reasons that seem kind of silly, given everything that’s happened since then.

“Avery could care less about the truth; she just wants to run a smear campaign and come up with ridiculous sound bites,” he adds. “Everything she said in that video was completely slanderous.”

“Is that why you had her site shut down?”

“It wasn’t hard to do. Our lawyers said her claims were a textbook case of defamation,” he says. “Anyway, she has a lot of followers. We couldn’t let her go around saying that Elusion is addictive and Orexis is falsifying data. Not when we’re so close to introducing our product nationwide.”


I take a sip of my tea. I don’t know if the warm liquid on my tongue triggers the memory or the smell of the passionflower leaves. Regardless, I realize that I’ve left out an important piece of information.

“I saw a number written in the sand!” I say, my excitement nearly causing me to spill my tea all over Patrick. “It was right by the firewall, but it washed away before you showed up. Maybe it means something.”

“What number?” he asks.

“Fifty-twenty,” I reply.

At first his eyes have a faraway look, but after a beat he casts his gaze all around the den. “Where did you put your tab?”

“It’s on the couch in the living room.”

Patrick springs to his feet with a “Be right back,” and in less than a minute he returns with it in his hands, typing furiously on the keypad. I stand up and glance over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m checking for viruses.”

“But I haven’t noticed anything weird on my—”

“Did you get a prompt to upgrade to a new version of the app?” he asks as he types something on the screen.

“Yeah, but I didn’t have any problems with it.”

“There still could have been an error in the downloading process. It could have—”

“Caused my Escape to become unstable,” I say.

“And God knows what else,” he says.

“Has this ever happened before?”

Instead of answering me, Patrick takes a few steps backward, a look of shock—or is it fear?—slipping over his face like a dark veil. Then he turns his back to me, as if he’s trying to block my view of the tab, and begins typing on the touch screen quickly with his right hand.

“Patrick? What’s wrong?” I ask.

Again, no answer. Every ounce of his attention is on the tab, where his fingertips are still skimming the touch screen at a rapid pace.

I have to admit, the way he’s ignoring me is making me kind of antsy.

“Did the scan find anything?” I poke around him and reach for my tab, hoping he’ll show me what he’s doing. He’s been pretty candid with me up until now—so his sudden need for discretion doesn’t make any sense.

But Patrick pulls the tab away from me so hard that I almost trip over him. “The diagnostics haven’t finished yet,” he snaps.

“A simple no would’ve been fine,” I say.

“Can you please just be quiet? I’m in the middle of something.”

I’ve rarely seen this defensive side of Patrick, but when I have, he was trying to hide something, like his secret stash of Halloween candy or the XXX sites in his browser history.

So my hunch that he’s keeping something from me—something about Elusion or my tablet—is feeling more and more like a fact.

But why? What is he afraid of?

“Give me back my tab, Pat,” I say, holding out my hand. When he doesn’t reply, I nudge him hard with my elbow, and he flinches. “I mean it. Give it back now.”

He looks at me and clears his throat. “I really should take this into Orexis, Ree. I can have a whole team of people spend all day running protocols—”