Elusion(86)

But then the words “staged his own death” form some kind of seal in my mind, rinsing over every synapse and generating a focused burst of clear thinking. My eyes snap up toward the sky, and suddenly the words “administrator lockout” have a whole new meaning for me.

“What if my father got locked inside Elusion, like we are now?”

A crease of thoughtfulness appears across his brow. “Maybe. We know Patrick is capable of it. But why?”

I hesitate, trying to piece my thoughts together.

“I don’t know. What if Patrick wanted Elusion all to himself? With my dad out of the picture, he became the face of the entire project. And he was able to change the programming in whatever way he wanted, without my dad to step in and say no.”

Josh nods. “Patrick has millions of dollars in his bank account. I’m sure he has the means to pay people off and make a plane accident look real.”

I know my anger toward Patrick should be festering like a fast-moving infection, but instead of being mad, I almost feel giddy. We finally seem to be closing in on the right answers to all our questions.

“If your dad has been in Elusion since the accident, then how could his body survive? Look at what happened to Anthony, and he wasn’t subjected to months of trypnosis,” Josh says.

I know Josh is right, but I can’t help but hope that my dad has found a way to stay alive. “We need to get past that firewall,” I say.

He hesitates and then gives me a quick nod. “Then we better get going; there’s no time to waste.” He bends down to examine his makeshift bandage. “How’s your leg?”

I look at my calf and notice that the bleeding has intensified. The bandage is almost soaked all the way through. When he touches it, I flinch, sensing a sharp yet throbbing pain.

His eyes slide back up toward mine. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“I’m okay,” I say.

But that’s a lie, and Josh knows it. I may not be bleeding in the real world, but apparently my brain is still registering distress.

Who knows what that could mean?

“I want you to promise me something,” I whisper to him. “If my leg gets worse and—”

“I’ll carry you.”


“No. I want you to promise me that you’ll leave me behind if you have to. That you’ll get to that firewall regardless of what happens.”

“Stop. You’re going to be fine.”

“Promise me,” I insist. “Promise me that you will leave me behind if you have to.”

He brushes a strand of hair away from my eyes, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

A crash of thunder sounds, and a noisy, harrowing wind thrashes around us. It only lasts a moment, but it’s enough to make my lungs seize up, like they’re out of air.

“Looks like Elusion doesn’t like your answer,” I joke, clutching Josh’s hand.

“You’re right,” he says, the loving gaze I just witnessed gradually disappearing from his face. Now, he looks determined. Focused.

Like he’s plotting something.

“You’re so beautiful, Ree,” he says suddenly, as he cups my chin in his hands, running his thumb over my lips.

There’s an earsplitting sonic boom as a bolt of lightning cuts through the fog. Thunderclaps roar in the distance while my heart slams against my chest.

Ree? Josh has never called me that before. It’s always been Patrick’s nickname for me.

Another brutal gust of wind spirals all around us, covering our bodies in dust and clumps of thick mud. My hair is filthy, with bits of reed hanging from its strands. Josh grips me by my hips, holding me firmly in place so I don’t topple over.

He leans into me, nuzzling my ear as he whispers, “Notice how the thunder and lightning happened the moment I called you Ree? I think Patrick’s watching us somehow.”

I swallow hard, trying to move whatever has suddenly lodged itself in my throat. Can Patrick actually control what’s happening to us in this Escape? After all, he did design this one with me in mind, so perhaps this is all some kind of twisted game to him?

Josh’s fingers are caressing my cheek now, his nose nestled by my neck, and as good as this feels, I realize that he’s not doing it because he’s overcome by lust.

He’s trying to get me out of here.

“Patrick loves you, Regan,” he murmurs. “If you give him even a hint that he has a chance, he’ll forgive you. He’ll bring you home.”

“I’m not leav—”

Josh puts a finger to my lips, quieting me. “I’m going to kiss you. I want you to break away, push me, slap me . . . make it good. Tell me you don’t feel the same way. That you love Patrick.”

I’m barely able to refuse before he kisses me, but even though I know this is just for effect—that this is not like before, when he really wanted to kiss me—I respond in spite of myself, wrapping my arms around his neck and letting my lips press against his. As if on cue, the sky explodes with light as buckets of lime green–tinted letters and numbers melt into liquid and begin to pour down on us.

Josh breaks away and gives me a gentle shake, glaring at me, his face dripping with clover-colored water.

“Regan,” he whispers into my ear. “This is your chance!”