Etherworld

by Claudia Gabel

  “Looks like we’ll have to go in pairs,” Patrick says. “Regan and Josh, you go first. David and I will launch as soon as you get to the next platform.”

  “What are we looking for?” I ask my dad.

  “A rare plant. It’s called a corpse flower,” my dad says. “It’s blood red, and one of the world’s largest. The bloom can reach a total width of almost four feet.”

  A corpse flower? My father’s design can’t get any more literal than that.

  I think about the beautiful flowers in the Thai Beach Escape—each one the size of a human head. To think I considered those big.

  “Should be easy to see from the zip line,” adds Josh.

  “And to hit from the air,” I say.

  “The problem is going to be the speed,” Patrick explains, as the thunder grows louder. “If we’re tearing through the rain forest on the cable, it will be hard to brake.”

  The wind picks up, as warm drops of water begin to fall. They sizzle a little bit as they touch the ground.

  “We need to go!” my dad says.

  “Josh and Regan first,” Patrick adds.

  I take a deep breath and jump off the platform. As my body begins to soar, I instinctively work the brake, balancing my weight in the harness. The pulley rattles down the cable at what seems like a hundred miles an hour. Everything is a blur of color, like I’m sliding through a rainbow. I’m whipping past gigantic dew-covered leaves, trying to keep my eyes focused and my hand ready to grab a bomb from the pouch on my vest. The cable drops precipitously as branches slap at my legs. I look toward Josh, whose cable is starting to drift away from me.

  “Slow down!” he yells, his voice echoing above all the trees. The rain is picking up now, and I wipe the wetness away from my eyes as I pump the brakes.

  And then I see it.

  In the middle of a cluster of blue flowers is a giant red blossom.

  Josh pulls up alongside me, with a bomb in hand and his eyes focused on the flower. He raises his arm, taking aim, but before he can shoot, a ray of light zings around the forest, setting fire to everything in its path.

  Josh drops the bomb, then grabs his shoulder. “Damn it!” he yells in pain.

  His arm is bright yellow, fading away. He’s being sent back.

  “You can do this!” he shouts. “I have faith in you!”

  “Hang on,” I say as my harness swings back and forth, ricocheting from the aftershocks. I have to help him.

  I let go of my brake and zip down, crashing into the platform. Stumbling to my feet, I unhitch myself and turn around as another harness crashes into the platform. It’s empty. I grab hold of it, searching the horizon for Josh. Where is he?

  “Josh!” I scream.

  No answer.

  I lean over, bracing my hands on my knees. I feel sick.

  Patrick lands beside me. “Where’s Josh?” he asks, his voice heavy with worry. I shake my head.

  “Shit,” Patrick murmurs.

  “Where’s my dad?” I ask.

  “That laser beam hit the platform and he was knocked off. It all happened so fast,” he replies. “I’m sorry.”

  Josh is gone.

  And so is my father.

  The rain is starting to pour from the sky, yet the fire shows no sign of slowing. The leaves around us are beginning to burn, the fire spreading. I can’t let myself think that things are hopeless, not now when we’re so close.

  “Did Josh hit the flower?” Patrick asks.

  “No,” I say. “He didn’t have a chance to throw any bombs. I think those laser beams were from the antiviral.”

  “Do you think we’re too late?” Patrick asks.

  I point toward the area where I saw the flower and say, in a shaky voice, “It’s over there.”

  Patrick tosses his harness on the platform and steps onto the ladder. He’s halfway down when a massive vine erupts from the earth and wraps itself around the base of the ladder, growing with astounding speed as it snakes its way toward Patrick. He attempts to escape, hurrying back up, but just as he steps onto the platform, the vine clamps around his ankle.

  “Watch out!” I yell, slipping on the wet platform and falling face-first. The vine yanks Patrick down across from me, dragging him toward the edge.

  “Patrick!” I scream, scrambling after him. I grab onto his arm, trying to wrench him away from the vine. A surge of wind whoops up through the forest as another enormous flame hits the base of the ladder. The vine has caught fire; the blaze quickly spreading up its thick stem.

  “Get out of here, Ree!” Patrick shouts, still trying to kick free.

  “No,” I say, hanging on to his shirt as I pull him toward me. “I’m not leaving you.”

  But he tries to push me away. “You have to destroy that flower!”

  Suddenly a huge gust of heat and flames shoots upward and I fall back against the platform, letting go of Patrick. The fire engulfs him almost instantly and heads toward me. I scramble to the pulley and jump, racing down the wet cable like it’s coated in oil. As I soar through the burning trees, I glance over my shoulder as the platform explodes in a burst of light.

  I close my eyes, the horrific image searing into my brain.

  The rope releases at the end of the line, and I tumble to the ground, hitting a part of the mossy jungle floor yet untouched by fire. I pick myself up, and step over the thick mass of vines and shrubs as I make my way back toward the platform where we launched. I trek through the underbrush, the wind blowing so hard it’s like walking through a hurricane. The temperature has risen at least twenty degrees since we arrived.

  The closer I get to where I spotted the flower, the more intense the storm becomes. I reach inside my pocket, my fingers grasping the smooth bomb. A horrible pain pierces the base of my skull. My legs are beginning to feel numb. I look down at my arms and legs, positive that I’m beginning to disintegrate. But I’m not. I’m still in one piece.

  Keep moving, Regan.

  Fight the wind!

  I grab onto the vines and use them to pull me toward my destination.

  I’m going to make it.

  I’m going to make it.

  I’m chanting in my head, my vision growing blurry as the pain intensifies. I see a glimpse of bright red in the distance. It’s the flower.

  I’m almost there.

  The ground beneath me shakes; another earthquake. There’s a crashing noise as the trees begin to fall, the jungle destroying itself. The rain is coming down hard, and the drops are practically scalding me.

  With the flower in sight, I grab a bomb and aim. I stop, my arm dropping back to my side, bomb in hand. Where there was once one red flower, there are now four, all clustered together.

  Which one is the target?

  “Regan!”

  My dad. My dad is still alive.

  I follow the sound of his voice and find him lying on the ground.

  “My harness unhitched and I ran here as fast as I could,” he says.

  “I found the flower,” I say. “But there’s more than one.”

  “It’s adapting. Elusion knows what we’re after. It’s trying to protect itself.”

  “Do you have any more bombs?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “I fired my last ones at the flower before I realized there were decoys.”

  He hit the wrong one. And if my dad couldn’t tell them apart, how can I?

  I have the bomb in my hand and another in my vest pocket. I only have a fifty-fifty chance.

  The ground shakes again, the undergrowth breaking apart as crevices form around us. My dad winces, glancing toward his feet. They’re no longer there. He’s disappearing, about to be sent back into the world.

  “There’s still a way,” he whispers. “Believe . . .”

  He tries to say more, but now he’s just making choking noises. He motions in the direction of the flowers, and I know I have to go, despite my gut telling me not to leave him.

  But if I don’t, there’ll be nothing lef
t for us.

  There’s a crash in the distance, most likely the sound of the platform toppling into a smoky pile of rubble.

  Believe. Or as Josh would say: You can do this.

  If I don’t, Elusion will win.

  I turn toward the cluster of giant buds, still pristine in spite of the acid-like rain. My eyes drift over the flowers, my gaze settling on the one on the end. I raise a bomb over my head and throw.

  The petals splinter as I take out the other bomb. I aim at another flower, the one at the very top, and fling it with all my might.

  I hit the target, and for a split second, everything stops. No rain, lightning, or earthquake. Then the earth begins to tremble. The giant blossom explodes, and before I can turn to say good-bye to my dad, I’m thrown backward, caught in a gust of hot wind.

  I reach out to latch on to anything I can find, but when I look at my hands, all the skin is gone. As the world around me erupts into a noxious hellfire, I am staring at my bones.

  And then I’m nothing but dust.

  EIGHTEEN

  “REGAN?”

  Josh is whispering to me. I blink, my mind trying to cling to the sound, but my eyes won’t stay open.

  “She’s coming back!” another voice calls out. A girl’s voice. Tart yet raspy.

  “Give her some room, Avery,” Josh says.

  I sense him beside me, his fingers gently caressing my forehead as he brushes my hair away from my eyes. “Just breathe. I’m here. I need you to come back to me.”

  Josh made it.

  “You’re going to be okay,” he says confidently. My eyes are closed, yet I see my dad lying in the burning rain forest. He knew that even if he made it back, he might never be the same.

  Believe, he said. Believe.

  And so I believed, certain that I could destroy Elusion at its own game. But did I?

  How could anyone destroy something so powerful?

  “Ree? Are you okay?”

  “Pat?” I cough. My tongue feels thick and heavy as I do my best to talk to my friend.

  “I’m right here,” Patrick says, and I feel his reassuring grip on my hand.

  “You were on fire . . . ,” I begin.

  “Yeah. On fire. In hell. No big surprise, right?” he says, attempting a smile.

  Josh and Patrick, both back, both safe. My body begins to relax, the adrenaline fading.

  “Here’s some water,” Avery says.

  My head is being propped up. I open my eyes but I can’t focus; Josh’s face is floating in and out of frame. I want to touch him, but I can’t move my arms. A glass is pressed against my lips, and a tiny bit of cool liquid trickles down my throat. I swallow, and Josh gently places my head back down.

  I blink again, and slowly the world around me begins to spin into focus. I’m still in the sunken den, but I’ve been moved from the floor to the couch. My wristband and earbuds are gone, no doubt pulled off by my friends, who are now standing over me, their brows furrowed with worry. Panic rises in my throat. What if I didn’t destroy the corpse flower?

  “Did we do it?” I breathe.

  “You did it,” Josh says proudly.

  Patrick grins as he shoves his tab in front of me. “It’s gone.”

  I blink as my eyes focus on the screen.

  “The deletion code is all that shows up when you start the app,” Patrick says. “Elusion has been wiped from the system.”

  My shoulders relax as I clutch Josh’s hand; a small happy sound escapes my lips. But any joy is short-lived as I remember what Bryce told us. Cathryn was only keeping my dad alive until she no longer needed him. If she planned on getting rid of him after Elusion’s independence, why would she keep him alive after its destruction?

  I push myself up. My dad is in danger, now more than ever.

  “Whoa,” Josh says. “Slow down.”

  As I press my feet against the plush carpet, trying to get my balance, I notice that I’m still wearing Zoe’s clothes, her hooded knit sweater and pants. I touch my finger to the soft sleeve. Even though I realize everything that happened in Elusion took place in a virtual reality, it felt so real. The outfit I wore in Elusion was destroyed by the fire, and here I am perfectly untouched.

  “Where’s Zoe?” I ask Avery. My voice is getting stronger, almost back to normal. “Did you guys find out where Cathryn is holding my dad?” Avery shakes her head no.

  “Then why aren’t you out there helping her?” I say, attempting to stand.

  “Because we decided one of us should stay behind and watch over you, just in case,” Avery says. “Since I know more about Elusion than Zoe, she went back to check out the last couple of leads.”

  “She can’t do it all by herself,” I say to Josh. “We need to help her.”

  The floor rotates beneath my feet, a wave of dizziness hitting me. Josh grabs my waist, steering me back down onto the couch and wrapping me in his arms. “We’ll go, as soon as you’re stable. Zoe left about forty-five minutes ago. I’m sure she’ll check in any minute.”

  “Forty-five minutes?” I ask. We were only in Elusion for about an hour? My head twists toward the closed blinds, as if to confirm. I can’t tell if it’s night or day.

  Everything is slowly coming back into focus: the escape from the hospital, running into Cathryn at Orexis, waking up Josh, finding Nora, Bryce . . .

  I inhale sharply as I remember the watch he gave me.

  My dad’s watch.

  I run my finger over the mother-of-pearl face as my breath grows tight. In all the Etherworld chaos, he never even noticed I was wearing it.

  “You okay?” Josh says, watching me carefully.

  “My mind feels fuzzy,” I say.

  “It’s the cortisol levels. It takes a while to come down from that.”

  “It didn’t seem to have much of an impact on either of you,” I say.

  “You were in for a good fifteen minutes longer than us,” Patrick says. “It makes a difference, especially when the levels are so high.”

  “Yeah,” Josh says. “I was pissed when I realized I was getting sent back and leaving you in there alone. But you seemed to manage just fine.” He grins, lacing his fingers with mine.

  “Have you heard anything about Nora and the others?” I ask.

  “Nothing yet. But the program hasn’t been disabled for that long,” Josh says.

  The oversize InstaComm on the wall opposite us switches on automatically as it receives a call, and we all jump.

  Zoe Morgan awaiting connection. Accept or deny?

  Patrick hits accept, and an AutoComm image of Zoe’s face fills the screen. She looks almost luminescent, lit only by the light on the car’s mini-camera and the skyline of the city in the car’s window.

  “Hola!” Zoe says enthusiastically, glancing toward the camera. She turns her attention back to the road and slams on her horn. We all jump at the sudden noise. “How’d it go?” she asks, this time keeping her eyes on the road.

  “We did it,” Patrick says.

  Zoe pumps a fist in the air.

  “What about you?” I ask, hopeful. “Any news on my dad?”

  “I think I tracked down his location—or at least I figured out where the movers went after leaving Orexis. I’m sending you the link now,” she says, her finger pressing a button on the AutoComm.

  A huge, old multistory brown building with a glass-domed top fills the screen. It looks familiar, and I know I’ve seen it before.

  “The old Menlop Hills Mall,” Zoe says. My heart sinks. The Menlop Hills Mall was gigantic. I went there once with my mom when I was a kid and still remember sitting with her next to the ten-story fountain in the center atrium, staring at the rows and rows of stores. Most malls had closed a long time before then, people having lost the inclination to leave their homes to shop, but Menlop Hills held out, shutting down just last year.

  “Orexis bought it a year ago,” Patrick says. “We’re going— we were going—to turn it into a distribution center for Elusion.” />
  “I should be there in five,” Zoe says, the AutoComm focused back on her. Through the window behind her I see glimpses of the towering condominiums that crowd the Oak Sector, where the Menlop Hills Mall is located. “Want me to call the police?”

  “No,” I say. “I doubt they’d believe us, and worse, they’d probably want me to go back to the hospital.”

  “And then they’d make sure we didn’t break into the mall,” Josh says.

  “Okay, okay,” Zoe says. “No police. So what should I do when I get there?”

  “Wait for us,” Patrick says, grabbing his coat.

  “Will do,” Zoe says, signing off.

  Patrick is about to turn off the InstaComm when a news ticker flashes across the bottom of the screen: Bryce Williams, VP Production Services of Orexis, found dead of apparent suicide at age 43. . . . Elusion is experiencing technical difficulties that may impact release. A small image of Cathryn appears on the ribbon; she’s dressed in a light blue suit and standing behind a podium in the Orexis auditorium. It’s the same place where Patrick gave his presentation on Elusion, but unlike then, the reporters are standing up, crowding around the stage.

  “Oh my God,” I breathe.

  Bryce is dead.

  “Turn it up,” Josh says quietly.

  Patrick clicks on the ribbon and her image fills the screen.

  “As I said, a complete shock. I knew about Bryce’s impending divorce, of course, but none of us had any idea . . .”

  “Do you think it had anything to do with us?” I ask. “With our visit?”

  “No,” Josh says firmly, wrapping his arm more tightly around my shoulders. But I can see by his anguished face that he’s every bit as upset as I am. And so is Patrick. He looks stunned.

  “It seems like everyone who has anything to do with Elusion either ends up dead or close to it,” a reporter points out. “David Welch, Bryce Williams—even your own son, Patrick Simmons—”

  “No,” Cathryn interjects, flustered. The crowd yells out so many questions at the same time that it’s hard to tell who’s saying what.