“It’s an alternate dimension inside my dad’s Elusion domain. He built it when he found out about nanopsychosis. It has very low stimuli, so the brain is protected against the damage that can be done when it’s exposed to trypnosis for too long, and—”
“Hey, you’re talking way too fast.” Patrick walks back over to me and takes one of my shaking hands in his.
I guess I’m not as stable as I thought.
“We need to hurry,” I say.
“No, you need to explain to me what’s going on. Slowly. Because I didn’t follow anything you said.”
“I’m trying, but it’s so complicated.”
Patrick squeezes my hand. “Why don’t I ask you some questions and you can just answer them as best as you can?”
I nod my head in agreement.
“So how did you find this Etherworld place?”
“We went through a portal after we breached the firewall.”
“And how’d you get past that?” Patrick asks.
“We cracked the passcode,” I say. “Nora had written it on a piece of paper that Josh found at the warehouse.”
“Wait, there’s a passcode? How would Nora know that, and not me?”
“My father gave it to her.” When Patrick doesn’t come back with a follow-up question, I keep going. “He was sending messages to us through these ping tunnels that connect Elusion and Etherworld. That’s why the number fifty-twenty kept popping up all over the place. He wanted us to find him.”
For a moment, I can’t read Patrick’s expression. “And what does fifty-twenty mean?”
“It’s the room number of a lab at Orexis,” I say. “Your mom and Bryce have been holding him hostage there for months. He found out that they had sent Elusion to CIT for approval when they knew it had serious problems, and then they trapped him in his Elusion domain when they realized that he was going to destroy the program. Your mom wanted to force him to reveal how to stop its destruction, which is why he had to retreat to Etherworld. He’s not the only one there, either. There are lots of kids who broke through the firewall, including Nora.”
Patrick’s fingers peel away from mine, but he doesn’t say anything. His eyes are glazing over, as if it’s all too much for him to comprehend. Even so, I push forward, telling him every bit of information that my father gave me, including more details about why Etherworld was constructed and the plan to attack Elusion. The truth spills out of me at such speed, I don’t even think I’m breathing while I talk.
And when it’s all over, Patrick silently recoils from me, burying his head in his hands, like I’ve torn his world apart. Which I have. After a few beats of disturbing quiet, he lifts his chin and says in a composed voice, “So what do we do now?”
It’s not the response I was expecting, so I just stare at him for a second, waiting for him to flip out or something, but that second turns into a minute and nothing happens. He’s staring at me too, and yet it’s like he’s not seeing me at all. It’s almost as though he’s looking right through me, because he can’t bear to accept what I’ve told him, that his mother is at the root of all this chaos and deception.
But I know what we should do now. Even though I really want to go be with Josh, I made a promise to my father—a promise I have to keep, since millions of lives are depending on it.
“You have to take me to Orexis to find my dad,” I say, grabbing my tab off my bed and searching for Avery’s number. “Please. I really need your help. I need everyone to know he isn’t dead.”
Patrick doesn’t protest like I expect him to. He just gestures to my bedroom door and says, “Okay. Let’s go.”
I still have one thing left to do. The moment Avery’s number comes up in my list of contacts, I quickly send her a text, praying that she’ll see it right away.
911. Josh is stuck in Elusion. Go 2 his trailer & press
ejection button. I’ll be there as soon as I can.
Then I look up at Patrick and say, “I’m ready.”
SEVEN
PATRICK ENTERS THE PRIVATE ACCESS tunnel, his fingers clenched so tightly around the wheel of his cobalt-blue sports car, they’re turning white. When traffic slows, he begins driving on the shoulder to make better time. He hasn’t said a word since we left my house, keeping his eyes focused on the road.
I can’t say I blame him. When you find out that everything about your reality is just an illusion, it’s hard not to completely shut down.
“Are you all right?”
Obviously, a stupid question, but despite everything that’s happened between us, I’m worried about him.
Patrick presses his foot down on the gas, picking up speed. I glance out my window as the fluorescent lights from the tunnel become a blur, flashing by. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he says, downshifting the car.
“Are you sure?”
“What? Don’t you believe me?”
I shrug. “Well, it’s not like you’ve been honest with me lately.”
The car jerks to the left as Patrick swerves to avoid a slick patch of Florapetro residue that’s collected on the roadway. I brace myself as the car skids, but he quickly regains control.
“Maybe you should slow down,” I say. I guess my comment really got to him.
“I wish I could take it back,” he says, his voice cracking with emotion. “I wish . . . I was a better person.”
His confession of remorse takes me by surprise, and I turn away, willing myself not to come undone. Patrick has made mistakes, and he’s far from perfect, but he’s here now, trying to help make things right. In spite of all the accusations against his mom and the havoc I’ve caused, he’s coming through for me, just like he used to, when we loved each other like family.
“Thank you,” I murmur, my eyes drifting back toward him.
He downshifts again, and looks at me. “For what?”
“For not turning me in to the cops when you found out about the QuTap. For coming to find me tonight. For hearing me out, back at my house. I know none of that could have been easy. I had a hard time believing it myself. Your mom . . .” My voice trails off. I can’t imagine how Patrick must feel. Even I can’t accept that the woman I grew up trusting so completely was responsible for kidnapping my dad and staging his death. Under the circumstances, Patrick is handling the news pretty well. “I’m sorry,” I say, but he doesn’t respond.
In spite of my advice, we seem to be going faster. I peek at the speedometer and see that we’re doing about ninety miles per hour. At this rate, we’ll be at Orexis in a few short minutes.
I nervously glance at my phone. Avery hasn’t texted me back. Why? Is she still at the hospital with Maureen? Did she go to the police? I send her another message, begging her to go over and check on Josh.
Patrick must sense the spike in my anxiety, because he clears his throat and starts a conversation.
“So, the other people you met in Etherworld. Who are they? People you know?”
“No, I hadn’t met any of them before,” I explain. “They’re kids from the three cities where Elusion was released.”
“So they’re total strangers?” Patrick asks, his voice tinged with what sounds like worry.
“Yes. And they—”
The car exits the tunnel and we practically ram into a delivery truck stopped in front of us, thanks to the late-night traffic. As Patrick tries to maneuver his way through the blitz, I stop talking, focused on the high-rise buildings that surround us, the Traxx zooming above on elevated steel rails, and the oily Florapetro clouds floating over a crescent moon.
We’ve made it to the Inner Sector—Detroit’s congested, noise-infested, corporate jungle. It’s always been a mesmerizing yet overwhelming place, filled with nonstop energy and crammed with people. When the grand spire on top of Orexis headquarters comes into view, everything else drops away.
The sound of a horn blares as Patrick cuts off another car and pulls into a lane designated for emergency vehicles.
“Take it easy, Pat. You’re go
ing to get us in an accident.”
He presses a button on the dash, activating the car’s AutoComm. A monotone female voice seeps through the speakers.
“Please announce desired connection.”
“Inner Sector Medical,” he replies.
When the AutoComm politely says, “One moment, thank you for your patience,” I glare at him and punch the off button with my fist.
“What the hell? You’re taking me to the hospital?”
He swallows hard, apparently bracing himself for my wrath. “Ree, you’re sick. You have all the symptoms of—”
“I’m. Not. Sick! I’m telling you the truth about Etherworld. You have to believe me.”
“I know you believe everything you told me was real, but it’s not.”
“I don’t have nanopsychosis, and I can prove it. Just take me to Orexis.”
He rolls his eyes. “To room fifty-twenty. Where my mom and Bryce have your dad hooked up to Elusion.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “Yes! Everything will make sense to you if—”
“I can’t do this anymore,” Patrick says. “I can’t stand by and watch horrible things happen to people. It’s going to stop, right here, right now. I’m taking you to the hospital. You need help.”
“No! If you do that, you’re putting even more people at risk!”
“Remember what Bryce’s memo to your father said?” Patrick zooms through the emergency lane, his eyes barely on the road. “Nanopsychosis makes you hallucinate things. It makes you paranoid and obsessive. If you could listen to yourself, and really hear what you’re saying, maybe you’d accept the fact that you need medical attention.”
“Don’t do this. I’m begging you.”
The automatic wipers swish against the windshield, and for a moment that’s the only sound in the car.
“I’m begging you, too. I’m begging you to hear me out. There’s no such thing as Etherworld. And if there were, all the people you saw there would’ve needed to invite you into their Escape in order for you to make contact.”
“No, this kid Zared used an algorithm to break into my dad’s domain,” I say, trying not to sound like a maniac.
“Look, you tried to tell me what was going on, but I didn’t want to listen,” he says. “When we were in the Prairie Escape, I saw it all coming apart too, just like you said. I felt this weird, overpowering rage. That’s not supposed to happen. I know there’s something wrong with Elusion, okay? And . . . you’re sick because of it. I’m going to make this right.”
“Good! That’s what I want you to do. But you’re not going to be able to make it right if you stick me in the hospital.”
Instead of answering, he stares straight ahead. I know this stonewalling move of his—he’s trying not to lose his resolve. I think about what could happen to Josh, my father, and everyone else if Patrick is successful in having me admitted.
I have to get out of here. Now.
My hand creeps up to the door handle as I try to hatch an escape strategy. The car’s moving too fast for me to open the door and jump out. I’d break my neck. But if I wait for Patrick to stop, there’s no way I’ll be able to make a run for it. He’ll come after me.
I put my hand in my pocket, feeling the slick screen of my tab. I could call the police right now, tell them I’m being abducted and give them Patrick’s plate number, but who would believe Patrick Simmons was capable of kidnapping? And they’re certainly not going to believe me when I tell them that my dad is still alive.
I’m better off taking my chances with a broken neck. I eject my seat belt and pull the door handle as hard as I can, but it doesn’t budge. The car is fully passcard operated, and there’s no way for me to open the door without one.
“Let me out. I mean it, Pat.”
No response. Nothing.
I scan the inside of the car for any weaknesses, and the gearshift comes into focus. Most hybrids have automatic transmissions that adjust on their own, but when it comes to his precious automobile collection, Patrick likes things “antique.”
I lunge to my left and grab the gearshift. Patrick slams on the brakes and the car spins out of control, veering dangerously close to the guardrail before stopping.
Patrick grabs my hand, wrestling it off the gearshift. I’m out of my seat, clawing at his arm, trying to reach the lever again. He knocks me away and my head snaps backward, hitting the window of the door. I sit there limp and out of breath as Patrick runs a trembling hand through his hair.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, as the car roars to life. “I know you might never forgive me for this, but I don’t have any choice.”
Within seconds, we’re speeding past a sign that reads Inner Sector Medical—1 Mile.
“Shit,” Patrick says under his breath as we pull up in front of the main medical pavilion, a pentagon-shaped structure that stretches up into the sky for what seems like miles.
The entrance is an atrium made out of tinted-glass panels, and surrounding it is a horde of reporters, all wearing their O2 shields. When Patrick stops the car, they swarm the vehicle.
“Assholes. They must have found a way to hack into my AutoComm.” Patrick blares his horn to make them move, but only a few of them flinch.
I hated it when the reporters blockaded Orexis and Patrick’s apartment, but this time I’m happy to see them. Maybe we won’t be able to get out of the car, and Patrick will have to take me away from here.
He presses a button on the driver’s console, and his window slides down just a crack. Flakes of Florapetro residue float into the car, causing us both to cough.
“Back up! I have a patient here who needs to get inside!” Patrick shouts.
But the reporters don’t move, and instead begin to inundate him with questions. Dark red blotches begin to form on his neck, and his jaw becomes rigid with anger. I’m actually a little afraid he’s going to step on the gas and plow through the mob, but before he does, we hear the high-pitched squeal of a siren. A hospital security cruiser pulls up behind us and a burly man and woman exit the vehicle, herding the reporters away from the car.
“I’m going to come around to your side and walk you in, okay?”
He reaches into a compartment in between our seats and grabs a pair of O2 shields. He waves his passcard in front of the lockpad and leaps out of the car. A few reporters try to corner him, but Patrick shoves them away as the hospital security staff holler into their tabs, probably calling for reinforcements.
Patrick opens my door, expecting me to get out, but I don’t move. I just sit there, staring at the windshield and listening to him plead with me. This is one of the most childish things I’ve ever done, but it’s the only option I have left. I can’t be admitted to the hospital—I have to find my dad; I have to be with Josh.
Finally, Patrick grabs my arm and yanks me out of my seat. I don’t fight him, but I make sure that I’m dead weight, forcing him to drag me toward the hospital atrium. The security guards do their best to keep the reporters at bay, but the sight of us has thrown them into a frenzy.
“Regan Welch! Do you have the E-fiend disease?” a reporter shouts through his O2 shield, jumping in front of us and shoving his tab in my face.
“Ms. Welch!” another reporter says, breaking through security. “What would your father think of the Elusion scandal? What would he think of his invention making his only daughter sick?”
“Leave her alone!” Patrick barks, elbowing them away from me.
“Step aside; they need to go in!” shouts a security guard, pushing them back.
Patrick grips me tighter, his fingers digging into my arm as he picks up his pace, practically carrying me toward the automatic doors. They slide open and I see my mom standing in front of the patient registration desk. Her eyes are red and swollen, as if she’s been crying. Her brown hair is pulled back and she’s wearing her nurse’s uniform of blue scrubs and clogs. Standing next to her are two strong men wearing the same uniform, with an empty wheelchair in re
ach.
When Patrick sees her, he finally lets me go. “Your mom found a specialist in brain disorders. We’re going to get you well, I swear.”
I’m too furious to speak. He knows how emotionally fragile my mom is and how hard I’ve worked to take care of her and protect her since my dad’s “death” was announced. And now Patrick has dragged her into this.
“Regan? Are you okay?” my mom says, walking toward me. “The press just showed up out of nowhere.”
“Hi, Mom,” I say softly.
She gives me a little smile and wraps her arms around me, hugging me gently. Despite this insane situation, it feels so good to be with her, like I’m safe and no one can hurt me. But then her body starts to shake a little, like she’s crying, and the comforting feeling disappears. The last few months my mom has barely been holding it together, ready to dissolve into tears any second. A few days ago she seemed better, but who knows how far this incident has set her back.
“I’m fine.” I pull away and try to reassure her with a soft smile. It was only hours ago that she left me at home, peacefully asleep, after giving me a little medication to counter a sudden bout of insomnia—something my dad struggled with when he worked at Orexis. She must be so confused and upset, with the frenzy of reporters outside and people telling her that I’m sick.
“But Patrick said . . .” She hesitates, glancing toward him.
“Mom,” I say, taking her trembling hands in mine. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I promise.”
The men who were standing next to her begin to walk toward me, the sensor-activated wheelchair rolling alongside them. Big and goony, they look more like bouncers than hospital employees. My throat tightens when I realize how close I am to being stuck here. I have no choice but to tell my mom the truth and hope that she’ll believe me.
“Josh and I were trapped in Elusion,” I say.
“She thinks she saw David,” Patrick interjects.
“She told me that yesterday,” my mom says to him. “Maybe I should have had her checked out then, but—”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” I snap. My mom flinches a little, her hands slipping away from mine, and I remind myself that I need to stay calm. I can’t give either of them any more signs that I’m unstable, even though that’s how I feel with these two goons standing next to my mother staring at me.
Etherworld Page 8
