Etherworld (16 page)

While disabling the entry point is key, I'm more worried about getting to the elevators and the research lab floors without detection.

Zoe shrugs. “I don't know. She's good, but taking down an entire network from her tab is asking a lot.”

I fidget with the safety harness as I continue to stare out the window, turning my attention across the river toward Canada, catching an occasional glimpse of Windsor's lit skyline through the oily clouds. My mind is spinning like it did when I was in the car with Patrick and thought we were headed toward Orexis: I'm excited about finding my dad but terrified I'll screw things up.

“If worse comes to worst, I can just hide out in a closet or something until I can get lost in the morning rush,” I say.

“That might be a bad idea. The longer you're in there, the better chance you have of getting caught and hauled away again. I'm not sure I can jailbreak you a second time.”

I'm realizing just how crazy this stunt is. Yesterday, when my mom confronted me about sneaking into Patrick's office with the QuTap, she was shocked. If she could see me now, armed with an illegal semiconductor-enhanced passcard in my pocket and ready to storm back into Orexis, she'd think I was nothing short of insane. But when I get to room 5020 and find my father there, she and everyone else will understand why this was worth the risk.

And all the lies will finally be revealed.

The train screeches to a stop at the Inner Sector. We exit into the darkness of the early morning, walking on a platform hundreds of feet up, in front of a gigantic electronic billboard for
The must-have new product of the year—Elusion! Don't you deserve to Escape?
Zoe pauses, giving the sign the middle finger, and I grin as I continue to make my way toward the giant aerial spiderweb of escalators.

“Don't forget your O2 shield,” Zoe says, handing me one as she motions toward the air quality reports on the information screens.

I fasten the mask over my face as we step onto the escalator and begin to descend, the lights of the inner-city skyline vanishing as the escalator zooms toward the ground. I think about Josh, still unconscious, his mind still trapped in Elusion. The possibility of him—or my dad or anyone else—not being able to return makes my blood turn to ice.

We step off and weave our way through the early crowd, heading toward one of the pedestrian bridges that funnel through the Orexis complex.

We arrive at company headquarters, not far from the exact spot where I saw Cathryn trying to avoid the media the other day. I cringe as I remember how naive I was that night. During our ride to the Merch Sector, she chatted cozily with me, giving me advice like a second mother. She seemed so . . . normal. How could she have looked me in the eye, knowing full well my dad was still alive and locked away under her orders? How did I not see through her?

I look around. From what I can see, the crowd of media has grown significantly—at least a hundred more people are huddled in the floodlights, breathing into their O2 shields. I'm tempted to run out and give them the scoop of a lifetime, but I know it won't do any good. No one is going to believe my dad is alive until they see him for themselves, especially since all of Detroit knows I was in the nuthouse, as Giblin put it.

“I think I should go in with you,” I hear Zoe say, my eyes still glued to the buzzing of the crowd. “If we spot Patrick, I can keep him occupied while you head to the lab.”

“No, we should stick to the plan. Talk to your dad. Tell him everything that happened to me; tell him what you saw with”—I swallow hard—“Josh. Maybe you can get him to agree to help us, or at least delay the release.”

She taps me on the shoulder, and when I turn to her, her brown eyes are glistening. For a second, I think she might lean over and give me a hug. Instead, she rummages through her bag and then hands me a small silver tab.

“Zoe, I can't,” I say, backing away a little. She's done so much for me already, including loaning me those fifteen hundred credits to cover the passcard.

“Just take it. I have two, so this one's a spare. The benefits of having divorced parents.” She winks.

“Thank you,” I say, gratefully accepting the tab. “For everything.”

“After you find your dad and call the police, take all the video you can. Record him and the room, too—from every angle. Talk into the mic about what the camera can't pick up,” she instructs.

“I will,” I say. Her other tab chirps and she pulls it out of her purse. “Avery just texted. The cam on the door is down but . . . damn it, that's all she could do.”

“The other security cameras are still live?”

Zoe nods. “She also told me to tell you to hold the passcard in front of the lockpad for an extra second or two. Just to make sure it can access the codes.”

“Okay, will do.”

With Avery coaching me via Zoe, I think back to how Josh talked me through placing the QuTap on Patrick's computer, how he was there with me every step of the way. Suddenly, my chest feels heavy and it's a little hard to breathe.

Once I walk through this door, I'll be totally and completely alone.

“One more thing,” she adds.

“Yeah?”

“If someone tries to grab you or anything, use this.” She flashes me a grin as she pulls out a miniature bottle of OC spray from her back pocket. “Avery wanted you to have it. She says it's potent, but won't do any real long-term damage.”

“Thanks.” My hands shake a little when I take it from her.

“Good luck,” she says.

I put up my hood, dart toward the side of the building, and hold Giblin's custom passcard over the lockpad near the door for a full ten seconds.

Then the door magically slides open, and I'm in.

Unlike the grand entrance to Orexis, with its soaring ceiling and heavily guarded reception desk, this lobby is stark—there's just a black mat on a marble floor, and one solitary elevator facing me, against the opposite wall. I walk across the lobby and swipe the passcard through the scanner. The doors open and I enter the elevator, pressing the button for the fiftieth floor as I tuck the passcard and Zoe's tab in my pocket.

When the doors close, the space feels so small, almost like I'm in a brightly lit coffin. There are no mirrors on the walls, just white panels, and although it's a smooth ride, the elevator car moves much slower than the ones in the main building.

Flashes of heat creep up the back of my neck. I try to busy myself by pulling out Zoe's tab and toying with its video function. Oddly enough, it's the same model as the one Patrick bought for me the other day. I wonder if he expects me to show up here, since I'm sure he's heard about my escape from the hospital. I know he thinks he was acting in my best interests, but I'm still mad he didn't believe me.

But if he's here, I'll deal with him. I know what his intentions are now, and there's no way I'm letting him take me back to the hospital.

My fingers swipe across the touchpad, but they're trembling, and the tab isn't responding well to my commands. Like Zoe said, aside from the semiconductor card, this tab is my best weapon against Orexis. I have to know how to operate it by the time I get into that lab. I try again, but no matter what I do, I can't seem to figure it out. I start to spiral into full-blown panic mode, but then I breathe in deep. I have to pull it together.

With only five floors left, I try to give myself a pep talk.

I'm the only one who can do this.

There isn't anyone else.

I can't fail my father now.

A rush of cold air blows through a vent in the ceiling, knocking my hood back and sending my hair flying. It makes me shiver and yet it rejuvenates me, kind of like a brisk shower. With my nerves temporarily frozen and my fears numbed, I look at the tab again, channeling the same determination I felt when I snuck into Patrick's office with the QuTap. When I'm done studying the video app, I reach into my right pocket and grip the semiconductor passcard tightly, knowing without a doubt that I'm going to succeed.

This is exactly how my father wanted me and the other survivors to feel before going to battle in Etherworld.

The elevator comes to a stop, and the second I step out in the hall I'm inhaling the strong scent of cleaning fluids. I pause, looking in either direction to see if anyone is waiting in ambush. But the floor seems empty. Still, Zoe said Avery couldn't get to the cameras inside the building, so the quiet doesn't mean the security guards aren't aware I'm here.

I have to be quick.

I begin to walk, glancing at the numbers above the doors, some of which are closed, some of which are open enough for me to see InstaComms, desks, and lab tables. Everything seems clean and new: the floor tiles and ceiling all made of white, marble-looking glass that practically sparkles with my reflection. The heels of the boots I borrowed from Zoe click along the floor as I veer toward the corner, moving faster and faster, the thought of being reunited with my dad spurring me on.

I pull out the semiconductor passcard, getting ready. I'm practically running now. 5010, 5012 . . .

I whip around the corner, and stop.

Cathryn is here, walking right toward me, wearing a slim-fitting red suit and typing something on her tab, her white-blond hair tucked behind her ears. I didn't expect her here this early. I know from Patrick that she usually doesn't make it to her office until after the massive crush of the seven a.m. commute.

I shove my hand back into my pocket, hiding the passcard. She looks up from her tab and comes to a halt, her perfectly shaped eyebrows arching in confusion. “Regan? What are you doing here?”

Behind her is room 5020, the numbers etched in the glass above the door.

There hasn't been a lot of time to think about what I might say to Cathryn if I ever ran into her again, but I don't think I could have predicted that I would actually just stand in front of her and draw a complete blank. I don't know why I'm this stunned. Maybe it's because now that she's only a few feet away from me, I see a woman I've known my entire life—someone who made me popcorn on sleepovers, and held my hand during my dad's memorial service.

The mother of my best friend.

“I need to get into that room.”

Cathryn stands there frozen for a second, taken aback by my demanding tone. Her lips twitch a little, like she's annoyed that she has to deal with me right now, and then she corrects herself, her face softening a bit.

“Why? What's wrong, sweetheart?”

I hesitate, my other hand retreating into the pocket with the OC bottle.

“I saw my dad in Elusion. He told me—he said he's in room fifty-twenty,” I say, still struggling to find the right words.

She clutches her tab to her chest, staring at me like I'm some kind of basket case. “I don't know what you're talking about. This is just a research lab.”

Her flat-out denial snaps me out of my confusion, unleashing a geyser of anger within me. How can she look me in the eye and pretend? After everything she's put my family through and the horrible lies she's told and all the people she's placed in incredible danger?

“I know. I know
everything
. You've had him trapped here for months,” I say, my jaw clenched.

“My God,” she says, shaking her head. “Patrick said you were sick. I guess I didn't want to believe it.”

“Stop acting like you care about me!” I bark at her. “And stop lying about what's behind that door!”

“Regan?” I hear a tense voice calling out from behind me. I turn around and face Patrick, who is running down the hall. His face is red and he appears out of breath. “What the hell is going on? How did you get in here?”

“It's all right, Patrick. Calm down,” his mother says, her voice pinched. “Regan and I are just talking.”

“It's not all right. That's what I've been trying to tell you. The safeguards against nanopsychosis aren't working,” Patrick says. He looks like he hasn't slept all night. My hope is that he's been secretly making those calls to the stockholders, trying to throw up a roadblock to Elusion's national release, because we're all running out of time.

“People are becoming addicted to trypnosis and having hallucinations,” he continues. “That's what's happening to Regan.”

“I'm not hallucinating!” I shout. “And I can prove I don't have nanopsychosis if you just open this door!”

There's no way I'm going to let Cathryn know I have the semiconductor in my pocket and can open it myself. It's too valuable to lose. Besides, with Patrick here, there's a good chance he'll force the issue.

But she's already finding a way to get rid of me.

“Security needed on the fiftieth floor. Immediately,” she says into her tab.

“Mom!” Patrick yells at Cathryn. “Call off security. I can handle this!”

When she doesn't respond, Patrick looks into my eyes and then lunges toward the door, pressing his passcard against the lockpad. He stands back, waiting for the door to slide open, but nothing happens.

“Mom?” Patrick says, touching his passcard on the lockpad again. “Why can't I get in?”

Her lips purse, like she is really irritated that all this drama has occurred before her morning coffee. “I don't have the faintest idea.”

He hesitates a beat as he steps away from me, his eyes narrowing at his mother. “Why don't you try your passcard? If that doesn't work, I'll get someone in security to override the system.”

“Of course.” She steps forward and presses her card against the lockpad.

The light above the door flashes green as it swooshes open. This is the moment where all the lies finally stop. This is the moment that changes everything.

I push past Patrick and Cathryn, and dash inside with Zoe's tab at the ready, holding my breath.

But once the autosensor lights flicker on, there's nothing to see.