Into the Black Hole

Chapter 28: Indecency

We sprint through hallways and navy doors like we're running for our lives. Astoundingly, Huxley's faster than me, and my calves burn while keeping up with him. Not an easy feat in heels.

"Why are we running?!" I ask.

His head swivels back to look at me, and his eyes shimmer. He laughs, his short but straight dark hair whipping around his forehead and ears, reminding me of a little kid. "It's a surprise!"

Not an answer, but... "Okay." My tone's wary. When his hand touched mine, I expected it to be cold. But it's not. It's hot, unrestrained energy percolating into my skin and warming my entire body.

We burst into his office, and he drags aside a curtain on the right wall, unveiling a secret door. Pressing the padlock allowing the door to slide open, he tugs me toward the darkness.

I should go. Is it midnight yet? "Wait—"

"No, no, no, don't worry," he reassures, sensing the fear in me. His free hand envelopes my upper arm. "It's just an elevator."

An elevator to where? Torture chamber. Shit. You signed up for this, Ailee. "I had a lovely time tonight, and—"

"Nice try," he interrupts, and his grip on me hardens to stone. I struggle to hit him, but the angle he maneuvers my arms into makes it nonviable. "Ailee, calm down. You're overthinking." I don't have time to retort before he bridal carries me, vaults us into the elevator of shadows, and touches a pad that causes the floor to begin rising. Fast.

Much faster than any elevator I've ever ridden in.

I clutch Huxley's shoulders.

Six seconds later, the elevator roof slides open, and green lights twinkle overhead, interweaved with the dark. We're going to crash into the roof of Titan. No, the lights are embedded on the other side of the ship. So due to spin gravity, we're technically going to crash onto the floor of Titan. Neither option fills me with joy.

Weightlessness settles over me as the floor falls away from Huxley's feet, but the lack of acceleration isn't the current predicament. Our speed is too high. The lights twirl around me, and I bury my face into Huxley's neck. When I flatten into a pancake on the other side, will I feel it?

Deceleration.

We're decelerating.

Eyes peeking open, my hair rises, following the thick, rubber cord attached to Huxley's back. The other end is connected to the elevator shaft—which is no longer directly behind us but at a slight angle because of the rotating floor.

The tension force transmitted by the cord counteracts our bodies' acceleration, bringing us to a near stop about a meter away from the ground—are those plants? Flowers? But the cord will retract. And we'll just end up obliterated back on the other side of the ship.

At least, that's what I picture until the cord disconnects from Huxley and snaps toward the elevator, leaving him and me floating in midair. We ever so slowly fall to the ground. It's been a second, and we've only moved a sixth of a meter.

I pant, "We're gonna land on the Venus flytraps."

"I hope so." Huxley grins. "No, we're not. But you might want to brace for impact. Put your arms around my chest. Straighten your legs so that they're in line with mine—parallel to the ground."

I do as he says. Now's not the time for questions. Wrapping his arms around me, over my shoulders, he hugs me to him firmly.

The floor moves several meters per second, and soon the Venus flytraps disappear in favor of trimmed grass.