Elusion(89)

We actually seem to be inside a small box. Tiny dazzling blue and green lights fill the walls, giving everything, even us, an ethereal turquoise glow. It’s not long before the lights on the far side of the wall blink in succession, and a panel, just large enough to crawl through, opens, revealing a flight of steep steps.

Josh takes my hand and we make our way up the steps. At the top is a tunnel that is round and long and curves as if continuing forever. The same blue and green lights are embedded on the walls and ceiling, covered by a clear protective acrylic. We begin to walk, but the farther we walk, the more it feels like we’re going in circles.

The same curved ceiling. The same curved floor. The same curved walls.

“Do you think Patrick can still see us in here?” I whisper. I’m following behind Josh, my hand loosely holding on to the hem of his shirt as he leads us down the narrow tube.

Josh answers my question with a question. “Do you smell something?”

He’s right—an acrid scent is filling the air. A thin white cloud floats toward us, as if confirming my fear.

Smoke.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand, yanking me forward.

I hobble after him, the temperature and smoke increasing with each turn of the tunnel. I start to cough, my throat scratchy and raw.

“Pull up the collar of your shirt and breathe through it,” Josh says.

When I yank my shirt over my nose, I trip over my feet, but luckily I catch myself on the slick sides of the plastic tunnel.

Odd.

Was I able to touch the sides before?

I continue onward, my wrists bending slightly as my arms shake with anxiety. Soon I can feel the top of the tunnel touching my head, and my stomach clenches hard. With each hurried step, the winding tunnel is narrowing and the smoky heat intensifying. I bend down, trying to wrangle my body within the confined space, and before we know it, we’re crouching lower and lower until, finally, the tunnel is so small we can’t stand anymore.

“On your knees,” Josh says, dropping down. “It’ll be easier to crawl.”

But he’s wrong. With my sore leg and all my cuts, it’s definitely not easier. I’m wincing and trying to keep my whimpering to myself as I move forward. My eyes burn and my head pounds as the air becomes toxic, the white cloud of smoke practically strangling and blinding us. I can barely make out the lights on the tunnel walls, or even Josh’s figure.

“Hold on to me, Regan,” Josh pleads through a cough, urging me to move as he tugs me along by the arm. “Do you hear me? Hold on!”

For a moment, it dawns on me that we’re going to die in this tunnel.

And then I see it, straight ahead. A sliver of black.

I know Josh sees it too, because he gives me an especially hard tug. “Come on!”

I follow him, blindly making my way through the smoke. The sliver of black is framing a panel at the end of the tunnel. There is no handle, no way of pushing it open. Josh slams his shoulder against it. Once, twice . . . nothing.

I hear a loud boom, and whip around. Before I have time to react, a gigantic fireball turns the corner, a sphere of flickering flames heading right toward us. I turn back toward Josh, but he’s gone and so is the door, total darkness filling the empty space where it once was. I hurtle myself forward, plummeting into nothingness as the tunnel explodes behind me.


I fall no more than ten feet, landing in soft marshy ground and tumbling down a barren hill. The back of my head raps against the earth several times as I stretch out my arms, clawing with my hands for anything that might kill my momentum. When I finally roll to stop, I’m so dizzy and nauseated I have to push myself onto my knees so that I can heave. All that comes out is spit and my breath, which is raspy and thin.

I sit back, my eyes blinking rapidly, adjusting to the darkness.

I’m out of the tunnel. Beyond the firewall.

We made it.

“Josh?” I say through a sidesplitting cough.

When I stand up, each muscle in my body cries for mercy.

Where is he? Why isn’t he answering me?

“Josh!” I scream.

Silence. Total and utter silence.

The world around me is beginning to come into focus. Above me is a desolate, empty sky, void of moon or stars, but thankfully with a hint of light—enough for me to make out the shadows of ravaged, scorched trees that are scattered throughout the barren landscape around me. There is very little color here: wherever here is. The cracked soil beneath my feet is like dried brown clay, and the hill I just fell down appears to be made of ashes and coal. I crane my neck, searching the ink-blotched horizon for Josh.

I fight the panic building in my chest. If he’s not here, then where is he? Did he hurt himself trying to force our way out of the tunnel? Is it possible he didn’t make it?

I can see the charred remnants of the tunnel at the top of the hill. There are still flames in the doorway, billowing outward like a five-alarm fire in a Florapetro refinery. I have to get back up there, back to the tunnel. I have to find Josh.

I start to walk, but my limp slows me down. My leg is almost numb, and I struggle to climb up the steep incline. With every wobbly step I take up the hill, the enormous planks of blue flames ahead begin to burst and spark, casting fist-size balls of blistering hot embers out into the ebony night. I put my hands over my head to protect myself from the falling, fiery debris and retreat a little from the tunnel’s exit, which is completely engulfed by the incandescent blaze.