Elusion

by kindle@abovethetreeline. com

  The letters begin to fade away as the bricks in between them disintegrate, turning an ethereal blue.

  “The wall!” I scream.

  It’s too small for a door. More like a tunnel, or a portal to the other side of the firewall.

  I try to move again, but it’s as if the tornado is purposely holding me in place. The color of the portal begins to change, its gauzy blue tint turning gray, once again becoming part of the wall.

  It’s closing. If we’re going to go, we need to go now.

  “Josh—leave me. Go!”

  But he doesn’t listen.

  In an act of what looks to be extreme concentration and strength, he pushes himself to his feet, facing me.

  “No!” I shout. I don’t want him to come after me. I want him to get through that portal.

  But his eyes never leave mine. He charges toward me, the wind looking like it might pull the skin and muscle right off his bones. He grabs me into his arms before turning around and hurtling us both through the fading blue portal.

  We land on a hard, granitelike surface and the door hardens back into a wall, as if closing us in a tomb. I blink, my eyes adjusting to a strange fluorescent light.

  “You okay?” Josh murmurs.

  I nod, pushing myself up. I glance at my throbbing leg, trying not to let on how much it’s hurting. The dirty bandage is torn, exposing the wound underneath. It has stopped bleeding, but it’s oozing some kind of dark, goopy fluid.

  As for the rest of me, my clothes are ripped and torn from the tornado and I can see fresh cuts all over my limbs, but I’m surprisingly relieved. At least we’re out of the rainy cold and have made it into the tunnel. Except it’s nothing like I expected.

  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.

  The tunnel looks like the box, only round and long, continuing forever. The same blue and green lights are embedded on the walls and ceiling, covered by a clear protective acrylic. 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. Then I see a thin white cloud floating 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 actually framing a panel at the end of the tunnel. There is no handle, no way of pushing it open. Josh bangs his shoulder against it. Once, twice . . . nothing.

  I hear a deafening boom, and whip around. Beyond the last curve, the fog is gone and the tunnel is filled with orange. Before I have time to react, a gigantic fireball turns the corner, a sphere of flickering flames heading right toward us. I reach for 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 stop my momentum. When I finally roll to stop, I’m so dizzy and nauseated I must 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. It’s very dark out here, so I guess they’re readjusting after being in the bright blue tunnel. As I wipe moisture away from my lips, it sinks in.

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

  We made it.

  “Josh?” I say through a sidesplitting cough.

  My vision is still pretty hazy. Maybe I’m temporarily blinded from the smoke?

  “Josh!” I yell, louder this time. 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 inkblotched horizon for Josh.

  I fight back 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 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, so I don’t have any clue how I’m supposed to hustle up the steep incline. I’m screaming Josh’s name so loud and hard my throat feels as though it’s being sawed into pieces. 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.

  Then I push forward, again and again. I’m almost there when the tunnel shudders, collapsing on itself as it sinks down into the earth, disintegrating into a pile of black litter. I try to catch my breath. I can still feel the heat blistering my skin, even from a few hundred feet away, but nothing can compare to what’s tearing through my heart.

  I collapse to my knees, my body shaking and wracked with sobs.

  “Josh, where are you?�
� I scream. “Josh, can you hear me? Josh!”

  No answer. Nothing.

  We made it all this way, and for what?

  Josh is gone. The last person I can count on. The one person I trust.

  I bend over, placing my hands on the moistureless terrain beneath me, my eyes stinging with tears. And then I hear a voice in the distance. It’s not Josh, but it’s still familiar. I lift my weary head, slowly pulling myself up to sit down with my legs outstretched, wiping at my eyes as I listen for Josh’s voice, or any sign that he’s okay.

  But there’s nothing but a cold, hollow silence.

  I tuck my hair behind my ears, waiting, counting in my head—a measly attempt to measure the time here—but the higher the numbers climb, the worse I feel. All I can do is think about Josh and blame myself for whatever happened to him. Why didn’t I help him with that door?

  I can’t remember. It’s a blur of pain.

  “Regan?” a voice whispers.

  The voice is so familiar, female. Mom?

  A soft, delicate laughing soon becomes amplified, like an echo deep inside a cavern.

  “Where are you, sweetie?”

  “Mom?” I say. “Mom, is that you?”

  A faint murmur trickles down from above, slowly transforming into a booming voice that practically shakes the sky.

  “I’m going to find you!” she says, with a sweet and tender laugh.

  My stomach knots as I realize what I’m hearing. My mother’s voice is not in the here and now, but coming from a happy memory that I have held on to for a very long time. I’m no more than four years old, and we’re playing hide-and-seek. I remember the sheer delight I felt as I heard her footsteps pad across my bedroom floor. How I squealed when she whisked me up in her arms, her eyes beaming as she kissed the top of my forehead.

  “I found you, Regan.”

  I found you.

  Other voices begin to rock the darkness, pelting me back in time, like bits of hail, overlapping one another in a fever pitch.

  “I’m sorry, Regan. I think you were missing the point on that essay. Maybe if you would just pay attention in class for once . . .”

  Mrs. Thackeroy. My English teacher.

  “Did you hear? Someone might be in a coma because of that stupid contraption.”

  The man at the eCafé.

  “I have been rooting for you two since you were kids. You are the perfect couple!” says Estelle, Patrick’s receptionist.

  “I’m not going to stand in your way, Regan,” hisses Patrick.

  The voices of the past merge into a piercing, high-pitched hum, powerful and merciless. I cover my ears and close my eyes, my thoughts turning to Josh and our trek through the tunnel.

  But he’s gone.

  And now I’m trapped here alone, wondering if this barrage of voices is evidence that my brain is deteriorating, one neuron at a time. Or maybe my brain has already ceased to function. Maybe Josh and I never made it to the tunnel; maybe . . . maybe I’m imagining this whole thing.

  The ground rumbles and the earth begins to rupture into gigantic circles, caving in and leaving enormous black holes all around me. An aching, hungry groan rises from below, followed by another and another. I’m seized with a paralyzing panic, but I force myself up. Regardless of what Elusion is doing to my real consciousness, I intend to fight to my last breath.

  I hear a hissing sound and pivot on my good leg, turning around to see something ungodly slithering out of the orifice. At least four stories long, it’s a fat, slithering monster with no eyes, just a wide chomping mouth full of teeth with two tiny holes above it, which I assume function as its nose. It raises its head and stops, as if smelling me. I slink back against a tree, like that will somehow provide me with protection. And then I feel something cold grab my ankle, jutting out of the wet, brown earth like a corpse rising from the dead. I try to kick it off, but it’s got me in a strong grip.

  I scream and then the pressure is gone from my ankle, replaced with a dirty hand over my mouth, quieting me.

  “Regan,” I hear a familiar voice whisper in my ear, as warm human breath touches my skin.

  Josh.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  EIGHTEEN

  I DON’T HAVE TIME TO BE RELIEVED OR happy or grateful that Josh is safe. As soon as he removes his fingers from around my cheeks, a gurgling sound rises up from inside the hideous beast that’s looming in front of us.

  “Hold on!” he pleads, taking my hand.

  There’s a split second when I notice the color of his eyes has changed completely—from that beautiful, glassy amber that’s always mesmerized me to hollow gray. Then he yanks me by the arm across the vast stretch of decrepit wasteland, which spontaneously breaks apart with each of our steps, like we’re setting off hundreds of fireworks from underneath the crumbling soil.

  “Where are we going?” I shout, my lungs already burning although Josh and I just burst into a sprint.

  “Anywhere but here!” he yells over another disgusting groan from the slithering worm, grabbing my wrist so that I won’t fall too far behind him.

  The creature bends its fleshy folds of skin, positioning itself so it can strike us, but Josh’s composure isn’t shaken as he expertly guides us around gaping craters in the ground and ducks sprays of rocks that are hurtling through the dank, rancid air. I ignore the pain in my leg, leaping up and to the side, keeping in sync with Josh’s every sudden yet seemingly calculated move.

  I make the mistake of glancing over my shoulder to see if we’ve gained any distance from this humongous, sickening thing. The creature has stopped and is winding its grotesque figure into a tight coil. I blink and suddenly it’s plunging through the atmosphere like a sludge-covered comet.

  I stumble back in surprise and my foot catches on something—probably a wide groove in the withering land—and my hand slides out of Josh’s grasp, so quick the friction seems to light my palm on fire. And then I’m tumbling down, away from Josh, my body plummeting to the craggy layers of dirt and pebbles beneath me, my chin striking the ground after my knees and arms make impact. I’m lying on my stomach on the ravine floor at least forty feet away from Josh, who is still on top of the hill.

  Another deafening roar breaks through the night sky, practically shattering my eardrums. I can see Josh scrambling down the hill, but he’s too late. The monster is already here, its mouth open wide; its jagged teeth oozing with thick, yellow drool.

  There’s nothing Josh can do to help me.

  “Run!” I shout to him.

  Just when I feel and smell the hot, stinking breath of the creature bearing down on me, Josh yells, “Behind you!”

  I twist around and see a small rock formation, with a sliver of a space underneath that could protect me.

  If I can get there before I’m devoured, I might have a chance.

  Josh darts toward me, flailing his arms and doing whatever he can to attract the monster’s attention. It works. The monster hesitates, looking away, and I crawl as fast as I can in the direction of the tiny alcove, my fingernails caked with grit and grime, my nose inhaling the clouds of dust. I cough and cough but I don’t stop scrambling. Just as I slip inside, the beast turns and lunges at me, as if giving one last try before I slip out of its grasp. I close my eyes and tuck my knees to my chest. I can feel its hot breath and hear the tongue of the beast thrash outward from between its bloody, vein-filled gums.

  Just when I’m certain it’s going to devour me, it seems to stop and pause. The air begins to clear and I can sense it moving away.

  I open my eyes to see the remainder of a tail disappearing into a hole in the earth that has suddenly appeared no more than a few feet away from me. I let out a ragged breath and then another and another, marveling that I made it out alive. I stretch and push myself out of the alcove a little, and I see Josh coming toward me, mud particles s
till plastered to his cheeks, a slight smile of relief flashing across his face.

  We both stop as we hear another loud, seismic rumbling. My muscles seize up as I prepare to run, expecting another monstrous worm. But it’s coming from above, not from below. I look at the shaking rocky alcove right above my head and I know that I’ll never make it out in time.

  It all happens in an instant. One moment Josh is in my sights, and the next there’s a shower of soot, ash, gravel, and rocks, my mind spinning into oblivion, Josh’s voice echoing through a sheet of blackness.

  Try as I might, I can’t fully open my eyes. The best I can do are these thin slits that allow only a thin stream of light. I feel limp, my arms and legs dangling at their joints, and yet somehow I’m moving. There’s a sharp pressure behind my knees and around my shoulders, and my body is bouncing in this rhythmic pattern. My head bobs, to the left and to the right.

  I think I’m being carried.

  I focus all my energy on craning my neck upward, with the hopes I’ll be able to make out where I am, but there’s no use. I feel like a bag of bones. But I take immense comfort in knowing that Josh found a way to save me.

  We aren’t running anymore. We’re walking.

  That has to be a good sign, doesn’t it?

  There are whispers carrying in the air, and my brain is still so foggy I can’t make any of the words out. I’m alert enough to notice that it’s two low voices—two men, actually, talking to each other.

  I attempt to lift my head again, and I’m able to raise it a few inches. My eyelids peel back a little bit more too, so I can look in the direction of the person holding me in his arms. My vision is blurred, but there’s no mistaking the face that’s staring back at me.

  My chest constricts and I struggle to breathe, even when my father’s lips gently graze my forehead, like he used to kiss me before bed when I was a child.

  Then a dark tunnel closes in all around me, narrowing and narrowing by the second. I can’t do anything else but let myself fade away.