The Hunt for Dark Infinity

by James Dashner

  Sofia spoke up, breaking his concentration. “The part about ignoring everything else—it must mean the two lines after it are all that matters—the last two lines. The rest of it seems like nonsense anyway . . . but . . . ‘There lies a secret to unhide . . . ’”

  “‘Inside the words of the words inside,’” Tick finished for her.

  “What is that?” Paul said, his neck bent back as he looked up at the ceiling.

  Tick ignored him, staring at the last two lines of the poem as if doing so would make them rearrange themselves. Rearrange . . .

  Paul slapped Tick on the shoulder, then Sofia, who was also ignoring him. “Guys, cut the poetry lesson for a second and look.” He pointed upward.

  Far above, odd shapes crawled across the black roof, defying gravity and blotting out the sputtering lights as they moved around. Impossible to make out clearly, the . . . things were squat and round with several long, angled limbs that moved up and down rapidly, bending and unbending as they scuttled about. They looked like big spiders, but false somehow—artificial. As if their legs were made out of . . .

  “Bless my mama’s hanky—what are those buggins?” Sally asked.

  One of the creatures jumped from the roof and landed on the closest balcony with a metallic clank. As it flew through the air, its awkward limbs flailing, Tick noticed a flash of steel. Another creature followed its companion, then another, then another. By the time the leader had jumped down to the next balcony, the dozen or so others had reached the first one. Balcony to balcony, down they came.

  Straight for Tick’s group.

  “This is gonna be trouble,” Paul said.

  A sharp pain built behind Tick’s eyes, his mind spinning in all kinds of directions. He knew these mechanical spiders must be like the Gnat Rat or the Tingle Wraith, things sent by Master George to test them. At least he hoped they were from Master George.

  “‘Inside the words of the words inside,’” Sofia said in a burst, her eyes widening in revelation. “‘Inside the words of the words inside!’”

  The spider-things were two levels away, close enough for Tick to make out their features. The long, spindly legs were jointed metal, supporting a round ball of steel with all kinds of devices jutting from its body—spinning blades and sharp knives. The clanking and clicking and whirring of the hor-rible creatures made Tick’s insides boil.

  Sofia grabbed Tick’s arm. “The words inside. Those three words are the main part of the riddle!”

  The answer hit Tick like a catapulted stone. Anna Graham. Rearranging. Tick had always loved the puzzles in the Sunday paper, everything from Sudoku to number pyramids, but one game had always been a favorite . . .

  Anna Graham.

  “Anagram!” he yelled, probably looking insane to his friends because of the huge smile that spread across his face. The clanking sounds of the oncoming metal-spiders grew louder.

  “Yeah, but who is she?” Paul asked. “How do we find her?”

  “No, no,” Tick said. “Not a name—a thing. An anagram.”

  “What the heck is an anagram?” Paul asked, stealing a glance at the creatures, now only seconds away from reaching them.

  Sofia answered. “It’s when the letters of a word or phrase are rearranged to spell something else.”

  “Yeah,” Tick said. “Whatever we’re looking for must be an anagram of ‘the words inside.’”

  “Yes!” Sofia yelled.

  But their joy was short-lived. The first spider landed on their table with a horrible crash.

  ~

  The boy named Henry ran, bumping into people, bouncing off them, falling to the ground, getting back up—running, always running. He’d hardly said one word to a stranger his whole life, living in fear of the metaspides and their all-seeing eye. They were always there, waiting, watching.

  But he’d done his job. He’d said the words, delivered the message. In doing so, he’d made enough money to buy medicine for his mom for another six months. He knew the docs were overcharging him, but he had no choice. He didn’t want his mom to die.

  The creepy man who’d offered him the job stood in the same spot, lurking inside an alcove between two pubs. The man had paid him half the money beforehand, promising the other half when the deed was done. Henry walked up to him and held out his shaking hand. When they made eye contact, he couldn’t help but take a step backward.

  The man looked at the boy with fierce eyes, his brow tensed in anger, his dark hair hanging in his face. A long pause followed, filled with the sounds of the metaspides launching an attack behind him.

  “You did it, then?” the man said. “You think you deserve some money, do you?”

  “Y-y-yes, sir,” Henry replied.

  “So you do, boy. You deserve every penny. I’m a businessman, you know, and I’ve never faltered on a deal in my life.” He reached out and tousled Henry’s hair. “It’s why I am who I am. Where do you think the metaspides came from, anyway?”

  Henry shrugged, wishing with all his heart he could get away from this strange, scary man.

  The tall stranger reached into his pocket and pulled out several bills, which he placed in Henry’s hand. “Take this, boy, and use it wisely.”

  “Yes, sir,” Henry said, turning to run.

  The man grabbed his shoulder, gripping tightly. “Grow up smart, boy. Grow up smart, and one day you may work for me.” The man leaned in and whispered into Henry’s ear. “For Reginald Chu, the greatest mind in all the Realities.”

  Henry squirmed out of the man’s clutches and ran. He ran and ran until he collapsed into his sick mother’s arms.

  ~

  For an instant, Paul couldn’t make himself move. He stared down in horror at Tick, who was lying on the ground, the weird metal spider thing on top of him. Its eight segmented legs of steel pinned each of Tick’s limbs while a pair

  of slicing blades popped out of its silver belly and headed for his friend’s head. Somehow, in the midst of all this, Paul noticed words printed on the back of the spider’s round body:

  METASPIDE

  Manufactured by Chu Industries

  Just like the Gnat Rat.

  He snapped himself out of his daze and grabbed the closest chair. Picking it up by the back, he swung it as hard as he could and smashed it into the creature, sending it flying off Tick and clanking along the paved stones of the pathway. Tick scrambled to his feet and joined Paul; Sofia and Sally were right next to them, staring at the thing Paul had just whacked.

  The metaspide righted itself, turning to look at the group, though it had no eyes as far as Paul could tell. The thing’s buddies had dropped down to the same level of the indoor mall and joined their leader in a pack, as if readying for a charge. Most of the darkly dressed people had fled the scene, somehow finding the spirit to move quickly when vicious robot spiders came calling. A few stragglers pressed their backs against the walls of the buildings, looking on in terror. The place had become eerily silent.

  “I just can’t buy that Master George is doing this,” Sofia said.

  “You chirrun ain’t tellin’ me the whole truth!” Sally said.

  Paul tried to calm his heavy breathing. He knew the only way to get out of this was to solve that stupid riddle. An anagram of “the words inside.” He quickly started visualizing options in his head, other words those letters could spell: sword . . . died . . . snow . . . wine . . . news . . . odd . . .

  It was easy to come up with individual words, but using every last letter—and only those letters—was really hard without pen and paper.

  “What are they waiting for?” Sofia said.

  The metaspides stood in a line, at least a dozen of them, their bodies turning and nodding, clicking and clacking, buzzing endlessly. They seemed to be communicating, deciding what to do next. It didn’t make Paul feel very good thinking that those things were smart enough to call plays, like in football.

  “I don’t know,” Tick said. “Sally, where can we go? Where do you live?”


  Sally grunted. “Ain’t be leadin’ them buggers to my place, no how.”

  “Is there a place to hide?” Sofia asked.

  “Mayhaps if we go into one of dem there stores or such.” Sally pointed to nowhere in particular.

  This triggered a thought in Paul’s head. Maybe they were supposed to figure out the name of a place, and go there. Maybe they’d be winked away if they made it.

  “Look at all the signs,” he said. “I bet one of them is an anagram of ‘the words inside.’”

  Tick’s eyes lit up in agreement. “You’re right! Every little place here has a sign out front. That has to be it!”

  An abrupt whirring sound made them all return their attention to the metaspides. The creatures had started to move, slowly spreading out in an obvious attempt to surround Paul and his friends.

  “We need to split up,” Paul said. “Run around, level to level, look at every sign. It’ll be easy to find the right one. Just keep saying ‘the words inside’ over and over in your head.”

  “What do we do if we find it?” Tick asked.

  “Scream like bloody murder. We’ll come to you.”

  The metaspides had formed a semicircle, still moving slowly, closing their trap. Every few seconds, on each creature, a spinning saw would pop out, or twin blades would scissor shut with a snap. They were like gang members taunting their opponent.

  “Are you in?” Paul asked Sally.

  “Ain’t got much choice, I reckon. Fine friends you chirrun turned out to be.”

  Sofia spoke, her voice steady. “We need to go. Now.”

  Paul quickly pointed out directions of who should go where. “Okay . . . ready . . . Go!”

  Paul shot down a pathway to the left, having to run in between two of the robots. They snapped at him, but he slipped through easily. Sprinting, he made it thirty or forty feet before something became very obvious. He turned, baffled.

  None of the metaspides were behind him.

  They’d all gone after Tick. Every single one of them.

  Chapter

  13

  ~

  Flying Metal

  Tick looked over his shoulder when he got to the end of the bridge, shocked to see all of the creatures following him. He caught a quick glance of Paul standing in the distance, staring.

  “I’ll keep them busy—you just find the place!” Tick yelled. “Find it!”

  He turned and set off running again, winding his way down another cobbled path and then down an alleyway, then back onto a wider, main road. The clicking sounds of his pursuers’ metallic feet sounded like a typist overdosed on caffeine. Tick looked up at the signs of the various establishments as he passed by.

  Tanaka’s Feet Barn . . . The Hapless Butcher . . . Ted’s Cups and Bowls . . . The Shack Shop . . . Mister Johnny’s Store . . .

  None of them came close to matching an anagram for “the words inside.”

  He came to an intersection and hesitated too long deciding which way to go. One of the spider robots caught up with him and jumped on his back, some kind of clamping device shooting out and gripping his neck. Tick shouted out in pain and fell down. He twisted to see his attacker, but could barely move. Two more spiders grabbed his arms, another two grabbed his legs, pinching him viciously.

  Tick squirmed and kicked. The rising panic thumped his heart, blurred his vision. He heard metallic snaps and whirring, like the sounds of a futuristic torture device. Something sharp sliced across the length of his back; something pointy stabbed into his left calf. Tick could do nothing but scream as the heat of rage filled him.

  A new sound filled the air—something like sizzling bacon or bubbling acid, but a hundred times louder. This was followed by a booming warp, the sound of crumpling, twisting metal. Something knocked the spiders off Tick

  with a ringing clank. Their sharp legs ripped new wounds where they’d been clutching him. Pain lanced through him and all over his body. Groaning in agony, he flipped onto his back.

  Above him, the indoor world had gone berserk.

  ~

  Sofia found it near the very spot from which they’d entered the underground complex.

  The Sordid Swine.

  The rickety sign swung crookedly on a single chain above the entrance to a squat, brick building. Sofia thought it looked like a seedy gambling hall. Etched into the wood, the three words grabbed her attention; her eyes locked in.

  It wasn’t obvious on first glance, but the phrase had no letters that immediately ruled it out. In a matter of seconds, she’d worked through it. The Sordid Swine was definitely an anagram for “the words inside,” letter for letter, rearranged.

  She turned to face the way she’d come, ready to yell out that she’d found it, but faltered. In the distance, in the direction Tick had run, she saw something impossible. After all, they were indoors.

  But there, a couple hundred yards away, countless pieces of debris swirled and flew through the air.

  It looked like a tornado.

  ~

  Paul heard it before he saw it. Crumpling metal, banging, clanking, a roaring wind—it all sounded like the world was coming to an end. He rounded a corner shop and saw a spinning mass of debris up ahead, mostly made up of chunks of metal and wood, some large and some small. As he watched, a long, steel beam hit the rail of an upper balcony then windmilled, smashing through a barber shop window.

  “Paul!”

  He turned to see Sofia just a couple of paths over, running toward him.

  “Tick’s over there!” he yelled. Without waiting, he took off, crossing a cobbled path, heading for the same bridge he’d seen Tick cross a short time ago.

  “Wait!” she called out, but he ignored her. He knew Tick might be caught in the middle of the weird tornado—of course, he didn’t know how he could help if that were the case, but he ran on anyway, making it halfway across the bridge before he stumbled to a stop.

  Tick lay on the ground up ahead, bruised and bloody, staring up into the twister that spun right above him, railings and pipes and poles and sheets of metal flying through the air in a circle. He looked to be in the exact center of the steel storm, the buildings and walls around him ripped to shreds as they provided fuel for the impossible tornado. Nearby, several crumpled metaspides twitched and sparked; one of them had most of its body torn off and another had partially melted, two limbs and a chunk of its torso reduced to a pile of silvery goop.

  “What the heck?” Paul said, just as Sofia caught up with him, almost knocking him forward.

  “We’ve gotta grab him!” she said.

  “I know, but how?” He turned toward her. “You got some body armor I don’t know about?”

  “Look!” she said, pointing at Tick.

  Their friend was crawling toward them.

  ~

  Tick didn’t understand how this could be happening. Above him, solid metal objects ripped in half, dissolved, and reformed. Everything around him had gone nuts, breaking apart and spinning in the air above him, only to melt together into new shapes. The clank of stuff crashing into each other mixed with the roaring wind, sounding like freight trains were playing bumper cars.

  And he’d had enough.

  He crawled toward Paul and Sofia, thankful that the raging twister was several feet above him. Worried it might drop at any moment, or that one of the hundreds of pieces of debris would fly at him and skewer him, he scrambled on his hands and knees as fast as possible. When he reached what seemed to be the edge of the twister, he pushed himself to his feet and sprinted across the bridge to his friends.

  “What’s going on?” Paul asked, staring over Tick’s shoulder at the chaos.

  Tick turned to see it from this angle. The twisting body of debris contracted into a thin column, spinning faster the tighter it got. The destruction sounded like a loud swarm of bees, the small bits forming a tall, black cloud. Seconds later, the mass fell toward the ground, where it landed in a lump, a twisted structure of metal, a hideous pile wit
h several crooked steel beams sticking out. Then everything grew quiet.

  “How did that just happen?” Sofia said in a dead voice.

  “Yeah,” Tick agreed. “Could this place get any freakier?” He immediately regretted the question, superstition telling him the answer was yes—just because he’d asked.

  “I found the place,” Sofia said, turning from the pile of metal junk. “A perfect anagram. It’s called—”

  A loud clank cut her off, followed by the horrible screech of scraping metal. On the other side of the pile, a large door slid upward, revealing a wall of darkness behind it. A shape appeared, stepping into the light. It was huge and silver and spherical, eight massive legs of jointed steel protruding from its body.

  The word Metaspide was spelled across it in large, black letters.

  The clicking, clacking, buzzing monster was twenty times the size of its little brothers. With clumsy, yet strangely graceful movements, it started walking toward them.

  “Come on,” Sofia said, grabbing both Tick’s and Paul’s arms and dragging them after her.

  Tick cried out and pulled his arm away, wincing from the cuts on his body as he sprinted after Paul and Sofia. They reached an intersection; Sofia hesitated, trying to remember which way to go.

  “This way,” she said, pointing to the left.

  Before they took a step, another booming clank! rang out behind them, the loudest so far, like the sound of a horrible car wreck. Tick couldn’t help himself—he turned to look. The huge, clunky spider had jumped across the large gap, clearing the bridge in one leap. It crashed and rolled, smashing into a whole row of shops, obliterating them entirely. A second later, it sprang back onto its thin legs and started after them.

  “Run!” Paul yelled.

  Sofia took off on the path, followed by Paul, then Tick. The crashing and banging and clanking of the pursuing metallic monster filled the air like a lightning storm. The ground shook with the booming footsteps of the giant spider, joined by the sounds of breaking glass and splintering wood. Tick knew that if it kept gaining speed and strength, they’d be smashed to bits in less than a minute.