The Hunt for Dark Infinity

by James Dashner

  “How far is it?” he yelled to Sofia as they turned a corner and ran up a narrow set of stone stairs. They reached a wide alleyway and kept running. The smash of shattered buildings thundered from behind as the monster forced its way after them, destroying everything in its path.

  “We’re almost there!” Sofia answered.

  They rounded the next corner to see Sally running straight toward them, covered in dirt, his face lit up with fear. “Dadgum world’s endin’!” he screamed. Then his eyes rose up to look over them, his mouth falling open. “How’d it get so big!”

  Sofia grabbed Sally by the arm as she ran past. “Just come on!”

  He stumbled until he got his feet set and joined the escape.

  Tick saw it before Sofia pointed. A crooked sign indicating The Sordid Swine, swinging on a single pathetic chain. The clanging sounds of pursuit were getting closer and closer.

  Paul passed Sofia, ripping the wooden door of the shop open. All four of them stumbled across the threshold and into The Sordid Swine without so much as a peek behind them, afraid that looking would somehow allow the metal monster to gain ground. Sally was last, slamming the door shut, leaving them in almost complete darkness. A shaft of pale light from a small window gave the musty room a haunted glow. The place was empty except for a crooked wooden chair in the corner.

  “What now?” Sofia whispered.

  Before anyone could answer, something smashed into the wall from the other side, shaking the room and sending a cascade of debris rattling down the brick walls. The group instinctively ran across the room to get as far away from the door as possible, pressing their backs against the brick wall. The giant metaspide slammed into the wall again, then again; a hinge broke, rattling to the floor. Light seeped through the broken door.

  “What are we supposed to do now!” Sofia yelled.

  Another crash rattled the door—half of it broke apart and tumbled to the ground. The spider was too big to fit through the hole, but a nasty-looking piece of steel came shooting in, sharp as a blade on one edge, swiping around like a cat trying to get a mouse out of its hole. It was nowhere close to them.

  Yet.

  “Tick,” Paul said, “sure’d be nice for you to use those nifty superhuman winking powers right about now.”

  “Would you shut up—I don’t know how I did that!” Tick yelled back, sick of everyone expecting him to be the stinkin’ Wizard of Oz. He wished he hadn’t said it as soon as it came out.

  “Whoa,” Paul said, looking hurt. “Sorry, dude.”

  “Guess we were wrong about the anagram thing,” Sofia said.

  “No, we weren’t,” Tick said, pushing aside his regret at yelling at Paul. “There has to be something. Think.”

  The huge metaspide slammed into the door again, making the hole bigger. Several bricks clattered across the ground. Its blade-arm swiped a little closer, only a few feet away.

  “You chirrun better get me on out dis here mess,” Sally said. “Ain’t too particular ’bout how ya’ll do it, neither.” He grimaced as the metal arm swung close enough to stir his hair as it passed.

  “The only thing in here is that stupid chair,” Paul said. The rickety thing sat in the corner, looking like a sad punishment place for a naughty child.

  “Well,” Tick said, “then maybe we’re supposed to do something with it.” He felt defensive, like his inability to recreate the winking trick he’d pulled off in the Thirteenth Reality made him responsible to figure out another solution.

  “What can we do with a chair?” Paul retorted.

  “I don’t know!” Tick snapped back. The room shook again with another ram from the spider; an alarming chunk of the entrance crumbled to the ground, the hole getting wider. A second metal arm squeezed through, two rough blades attached at the end, snapping together like alligator jaws.

  “Boys!” Sofia said. Tick was shocked to see her smiling. “You’re so busy thinking, you forgot to use your brains.”

  With a smirk, she darted over to the corner, ignoring the steel blade of death that sliced through the air a few inches from her shoulder. Then she sat down on the chair.

  The second her bottom touched the warped wood of the seat, she disappeared.

  Chapter

  14

  ~

  The Council on

  Things That Matter

  Tick felt like an idiot. Sofia was right; sometimes they thought too much.

  He grabbed Paul by the shoulders and pushed him toward the chair, following right behind. “Hurry!” A blade whipped past his left shoulder, slicing his shirt.

  Paul reached back and shoved Tick against the bricks. “Careful, dude. Inch along the wall.”

  Sally stood next to the chair, looking confused as he glanced back and forth between the chair and Tick. Paul and Tick scooted along the wall until they reached the corner.

  “Sit down, Sally!” Paul yelled. “Don’t worry, it’ll take you somewhere safe.”

  Sally didn’t reply but leaned toward Tick’s ear until Tick could feel Sally’s beard scratching his cheek.

  “What are you doing?” Tick asked, feeling uncomfortable. “You need to tell me something?”

  “Just lookin’ at yer dadgum ear, boy.”

  Before Tick could stop him, Sally reached up and rammed his pinky finger into Tick’s ear canal. Tick stumbled backward into Paul’s arms, a sharp pain exploding inside his head like an eardrum had just ruptured. The pain went away as soon as it had come, and Paul helped him back to his feet.

  “What’d you do that for?” Tick yelled at Sally, glaring at the man who’d seemed completely harmless until that very moment.

  “Weep to yer mama, boy, not me.”

  Sally sat down on the chair, not bothering to hide the grin on his face. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, Sorry, can’t help myself, and disappeared.

  “What in the world was that all about?” Paul asked.

  “No idea,” Tick replied. “But we’ve gotta get out of here.”

  “You first,” Paul said.

  Tick wanted to argue, act brave, be the last one out. Then he realized that’d be the stupidest thing in the world and hurried to sit on the chair. Every second they wasted meant the spider was that much closer.

  He had just enough time to see the entire front of the building collapse in a swirl of dust and flashes of metal before everything around him turned bright.

  ~

  Sofia stood on a slippery slope of rust-colored sand, squinting in the brilliant sunlight at the small, iron chair that stood rigid on top of the dune as if held in place by magic. She’d stood up and gotten away from it the second she’d winked there, not wanting someone else to come through and squish her.

  Tick showed up a minute later, an instantaneous appearance that shocked her even though she’d been expecting it. There was no effect—no smoke, no sound. One moment the chair was empty. The next, it wasn’t. Tick’s face looked like he’d just bungee-jumped off the world’s tallest bridge.

  “What took you so long? Hurry. Get up,” Sofia said, slipping in the sand as she stepped forward to help him, sliding down the steep dune. The hot sand seemed to find its way through every teeny hole of her clothes and scratch at her skin.

  Tick didn’t answer, but stood up and was making his way down the loose sand to Sofia when Paul appeared, a small cut on his right cheek.

  “Dang thing got me,” he said, wiping the blood away with his fingers. “Couple more seconds and I’d be . . .”

  He trailed off, looking around him with huge eyes.

  With her friends safe, Sofia finally had a chance to take a good look at their surroundings as well.

  They stood in the middle of an enormous desert, an endless sea of dunes stretching for miles in every direction. The white-hot sun blazed down so the distant horizons shimmered in a wavering haze. The only thing breaking the monotony of sand was a large, shiny pipeline about a half-mile away. The tube of opaque glass sat above ground, at least twenty f
eet in diameter, and ran from one direction to the other for as far as Sofia could see.

  “Where are we?” Paul asked. “And what is that?” He motioned to the giant pipe.

  “Looks like a huge straw,” Tick said. “Maybe a giant sand monster dropped it.”

  Sofia ignored them and started walking toward the glass structure. Her heart hammered in her chest, a rise of panic as she thought about their situation. They’d just barely escaped a horrible metallic spider and now they were stuck in the middle of a scorching desert. Anger at Master George rose in her as well. How can he waste our time with this? What if we’d been killed? But deep inside, she didn’t think it was him. Something had gone wrong.

  “Wait!” Paul called from behind her. “Where’s Sally?”

  Sofia stopped; she’d completely forgotten about the odd man. She turned and said, “Maybe he didn’t want to follow us.”

  Paul was standing on the dune next to the chair, looking around. “No way—he winked away before we did.”

  “Yeah,” Tick said, also searching. “He went right after you.”

  Sofia felt a disorienting chill in her gut. “Well . . . he never showed up here. I’ve been watching the chair since I winked in.”

  Paul stumbled through the soft sand to stand next to Sofia; Tick joined them as well. Both of the boys had baffled looks on their faces, still glancing at the chair now and then as if expecting Sally to show up.

  “You’re sure he didn’t wink in?” Paul asked.

  Sofia rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Where would he possibly hide?”

  “Dude,” Paul whispered, and that one word summed up how they all felt.

  “What could’ve happened to him?” Tick asked. “Why would we wink here and not him? And what was up with him poking me in the ear?” He rubbed at the side of his head.

  “What?” Sofia asked.

  “Right before he winked away,” Tick explained, “he acted all weird and slammed his finger into my ear. It hurt, too. Then he sat down and disappeared.”

  “He slammed his finger into your ear?” Sofia repeated. “While a giant spider monster was trying to kill you?” It was such a bizarre thing, she couldn’t believe she’d heard him correctly.

  Tick shrugged. “Don’t ask me—maybe he went crazy from the panic.”

  “What if he’s in trouble?” Paul asked. “I like him—we need to help him. Even if he did try to stab you in the brain.”

  Sofia felt the same sadness at Sally’s disappearance. He’d been so humble and sincere; there was just something likable about him. But she also knew that standing there waiting on a nice sunburn wouldn’t help anybody.

  “Not much we can do,” she said. “Someone must’ve sent us here for a reason. Let’s go check out that glass thing.” She pointed at the tube that looked like a giant crystal worm stretching into the distant horizon.

  “What if Sally shows up and we’re not here?” Paul said.

  “He’s an adult,” Tick said. “He can take care of himself or come find us. I agree with Sofia—we should see what that thing is.”

  Sofia started walking again. “Come on, then.”

  Paul and Tick joined her, all of them marching as best they could up and down the slippery, hot dunes.

  ~

  Master George sat at the head of a long, wooden table, looking around at the few people he’d asked to join him in this special Council on Things That Matter. His last guest had yet to appear, and Master George hoped he would arrive soon. It had been a near thing, winking him away as fast as he had. A large fire roared in the hearth at his back, but it wasn’t enough to rid him of the chill that iced his heart. Things were going badly. Very badly. He reached down and petted Muffintops, who purred and rubbed her back against his leg.

  Most of the other Realitants had left the Grand Canyon complex already, carrying out various orders and missions agreed upon by the larger meeting earlier. That was good. Things would be said here that not everyone should hear.

  Mothball sat to his left and Rutger to his right, balanced precariously on his booster seat. To Rutger’s right was Sato, looking as bored as ever, ready to take notes. Then came Nancy Zeppelin, wrapping and rewrapping a long string of her golden hair around a finger; William Schmidt, his ancient face pulled down into a frown that made him look like the Grim Reaper; Katrina Kay, her buzz-cut hair framing a pretty face with eager eyes; Priscilla Persephone, invited only because Master George knew he had offended her enough already (oh, how he hated that snooty smirk on her face; and her hair—it was orange, for heaven’s sake). Finally, next to Mothball on his left, sat Jimmy “The Voice” Porter. His nickname was sadly ironic now because the poor man’s tongue had been ripped out by a slinkbeast in the Mountains of Sorrow in the Twelfth Reality.

  “Very well,” Master George said. “I think it’s time we begin.”

  “Yes, let’s,” Priscilla said in her annoying, lilting voice. “We’ve only been waiting on you. Wasting valuable time, no doubt.”

  Rutger shifted forward in his seat, a slight rolling motion that brought his arms and hands to rest on the table. “Priscilla, why don’t you open up a can of shut the—”

  George quickly interrupted his loyal friend. “Yes, Priscilla, I appreciate your patience.” He wanted to add that perhaps she’d like to take on a mission to the icy wastelands of the Third Reality, but refrained. “We have much to talk about, indeed.”

  “Wasting time,” Rutger mumbled under his breath. “I’ll show you . . .” The rest was too low to hear, but Master George thought he caught the words rat fink.

  “First things first,” Mothball said. “Methinks we best be talkin’ ’bout Master Tick and his friends.”

  Master George agreed. “Yes, yes, quite right, Mothball. Based on the evidence, I have no doubt that someone has violated Rule Number 462 and taken hostage the nanolocators implanted in our dear young friends from Reality Prime. We can track their general location, but nothing more—and even that signal is weak. We have tried repeatedly to wink them here, but they have remained out of our reach. This act violates no less than three Articles of Principles established by the First Realitant Symposium of 1972. It is outrageous, despicable, irresponsible, reprehensible—”

  “We get the point,” Rutger said.

  Master George slammed his hand on the table. “Yes! I hope you do, Master Rutger, because this is very serious indeed. Not only can we not wink in our most important recruits in years, but we have a renegade out there capable of such things as hijacking a nanolocator! The technology for such an act—”

  “It has to be him,” Nancy Zeppelin interrupted quietly. “Has to be.”

  A long moment of silence passed, broken only by the crackling fire. Master George closed his eyes. No one in the room doubted who the culprit could be. But if Reginald Chu had finally decided to use his significant technological powers to branch out and cause trouble in other Realities, then they were all in for a great deal of trouble. Until today, they’d all hoped, perhaps foolishly, that Chu would be happy ruling his own world with an iron fist.

  “Yes, Nancy,” Master George finally said, opening his eyes and sighing. “We should all be quite nervous that Reginald Chu would stoop to such a thing. He obviously has plans for our new friends.”

  William Schmidt cleared his throat, a wet, gurgling hack that made Master George wince. Then the old man spoke in his ghost-soft voice. “Chu’s spies must have learned of Higginbottom’s mysterious winking ability. Chu would do anything to have him under his control.”

  “For all we know,” Katrina said, “Tick is strapped on a laboratory bed as we speak, his brain being examined for anomalies.”

  Master George held up a hand, wanting the terrible talk to stop. “We must keep our minds on solutions, my dear associates. Solutions. And we mustn’t give up hope. Master Atticus is a special boy, as are his friends, and their recovery is our number-one priority.”

  “What about all the people going crazy everywhere?”
Priscilla asked. “That should alarm us a little bit more than a few missing brats.”

  Mothball stood up—Master George reached out too late to stop her. She towered over everyone, her suddenly angry glare focused on Priscilla. “One more nasty word about them three children, and I’ll lop off yer ’ead, I will. That’s a promise.”

  “Yeah,” Rutger chimed in. “And I’ll bite your kneecaps.”

  “Please, let’s all remain calm,” Master George said. “Mothball, please be seated. I appreciate your concern for Atticus and his friends. Priscilla hasn’t met them, of course, so let’s give her time to appreciate their importance.”

  Mothball sat, not taking her eyes off Priscilla, whose suddenly pale face made her look like she might never speak again.

  “Now, er, we do need to talk of this matter,” Master George continued. “Sato here has put together a summary of his interviews, and the reports of people going insane are numerous, indeed. Something is very wrong, and it’s spreading throughout the Realities at an alarming rate. Almost

  like a—”

  “Disease,” Nancy Zeppelin said. “Like a disease.”

  Master George paused, studying the beautiful woman as he thought about what she said. She didn’t look back, staring at the table in front of her with a blank expression.

  “Yes,” he finally said. “Yes, quite like a disease, actually. The pattern shows it spreading from a fragmented Reality—all cases link back to it eventually, with no exception. It is exactly like a disease or a virus.”

  “Need a sample, then. One of the crazies,” Mothball said.

  Before Master George could reply, an urgent knock rapped at the closed door from the hallway. Finally. Perhaps now they would have some answers. He stood up. “Mothball—”

  The door opened before she could do anything. A wave of relief washed through Master George as he saw one of his oldest friends enter the room, though he looked like he’d just taken a bath in a pile of dirt—his overalls were filthy.