The Hunt for Dark Infinity

by James Dashner

  Mistress Jane stood. “This is as good a time as any,” she announced, turning slowly as she spoke so everyone could see her face. “My team has discovered a new Reality—a stable one. It’s solid enough to officially call it a branch.”

  “Really?” George shouted. “That’s delightful, simply delightful!”

  Jane looked down at Sato, who returned her glare. She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue, as if disgusted by George’s enthusiasm.

  “The Thirteenth Reality,” she continued, not taking her eyes off Sato, “has . . . unusual qualities. We’ve explored it extensively, realized its potential.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us before?” Sato’s father asked, his voice laced with anger. “If you’ve been exploring it this long—”

  “The Chi’karda there,” Jane said, ignoring the interruption, “is different. More powerful. More potent. It’s mutated into something quite extraordinary. We may finally have the secret to finding our Utopian Reality. If this place isn’t it, the power in the Thirteenth will help us make it ourselves.”

  No one spoke for a long time; a few people exchanged nervous glances.

  “Why all the sad faces?” Jane asked. “Haven’t you trusted me all these years? Don’t you still trust me?”

  “Not if you break the rules,” Sato’s mother said. “How can we trust you if you break the rules and hide things from us?”

  “This calls for an immediate Discretionary Council,” Sato’s father said. “George, you know it does. I demand you call in the Haunce, this instant.”

  George stood. “Now, Master Sato, let’s not be hasty—”

  That was the line. Those seven words would stick in young Sato’s mind, making it even harder for him to trust the man in the future, when his own recruiting call came. That was the line, because after George said it, not another word was spoken by him before Sato’s parents were dead.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Jane said. “I thought this might be the reaction, so I brought along something to show you all how important this discovery is. For all of us. For the Realities. For humanity.”

  “Stop,” Sato’s father said. “Stop this instant. I demand it.”

  “You . . . demand it?” she replied, her lip curled ever so slightly. “You demand it?”

  “Yes,” Sato’s mother answered for her husband. “You’re scaring us. This doesn’t feel right.”

  Mistress Jane smiled then, an image Sato would never forget. The smile held no humor, no joy, no kindness. It was an evil smile.

  The next moment, the windows erupted, blowing inward with a shower of tinkling glass shards. Shouts of pain surrounded him as streams of fire poured in from outside, streaking spurts of lava that whisked around the room like flying eels of flame.

  The dream always grew dim at that moment, the memory fading into horror. He remembered his father’s comforting grip on his shoulders disappearing, his mother’s hand

  letting go of his own. He remembered intense heat. He remembered people running around, their clothes on fire. He remembered Jane vanishing into thin air. He remembered crying, turning to find his parents, wanting to run away.

  But then, like always, he saw one last thing in the dream before it ended. One last image that would haunt him forever. His mother and father, lying on the ground, side by side.

  Screaming. Burning.

  Dying.

  Sato woke up.

  Chapter

  18

  ~

  A Very Scary Proposition

  Okay, it’s my turn,” Sofia said as she took off her right tennis shoe. “You guys couldn’t poke yourselves in your own eyeball.”

  Tick wanted to argue, but didn’t have much evidence to the contrary. He and Paul had been trying to hit the button with a shoe for at least ten minutes, their only reward being smacked in the head a couple of times as the shoes fell back down.

  “‘Poke yourselves in your own eyeball?’” Paul said. “Never heard that one before.”

  Sofia ignored him, planting her feet and staring up at the button with intense concentration, swinging the shoe up and down with both hands as she readied herself. Finally, she swung hard upward and let the shoe fly. It missed by three feet.

  Paul snickered. “Ooh, so close. Hate to break it to you, but you throw like a girl.”

  Uh-oh, Tick thought.

  Sofia bent down to pick up her shoe, then bounced it up and down in her right hand like a baseball. “What did you say?”

  Paul folded his arms. “I said, you throw like a girl.”

  “Huh,” Sofia grunted, staring down at her shoe. Then she reared back and threw it straight for Paul’s face, smacking him square on the nose.

  He grabbed his face with both hands, jumping up and down. “That hurt, man!” he shouted. But a second later, he started laughing. “Ah, Tick, it was worth it to see Miss Italy mad. Her face looks like her daddy’s spaghetti sauce.”

  This time Sofia punched Paul in the arm with a loud thump. “You want some more?” she asked.

  Paul rubbed the spot. “Dang, woman, I give up. How’d you get so mean, anyway?”

  Tick was loving every minute of the exchange, but he knew they had to push that button. He felt something—a pressure in his chest—that told him they’d better get serious quick.

  “You lovebirds cut it out,” he said. “Start throwing.”

  They tried for another five minutes, dodging each other’s shoes and scrambling around to pick up their own. Sofia finally hit the bull’s-eye.

  When her shoe connected, a quiet click echoed off the round glass of the tunnel and the blinking light stopped, turning off completely. All three of them stared, waiting for something amazing to happen. Nothing did. Tick rubbed his sunburned neck, sore from craning it upward for so long.

  “Great,” he said. “Just great.”

  Sofia huffed and looked down; Tick noticed her body tense, her eyes widen. She stared at the floor, transfixed, as if hypnotized. Tick quickly followed her gaze. He couldn’t stop the gasp before it escaped his mouth.

  On the very bottom of the tunnel, at their feet, a perfect red square had formed on the glass, about five feet on each side, as if a neon light were glowing right beneath them. In the middle of that square, several lines of words appeared like text on a computer screen, black on white.

  “Guess we were supposed to push the button,” Paul said.

  Tick fell to his knees and scooted around until the words were right side up. It was another poem—a pretty long one. He started reading.

  You pushed the button; it called the beast.

  It moves real fast; it likes to feast.

  You can stop it once, but cannot twice,

  It’s the only way to save your life.

  How to do it, you may ask;

  This will not be an easy task.

  Your mind will beg of you to quit,

  But if you do, your mind will split.

  On this very spot you’ll stand;

  You will die if I see you’ve ran.

  I’m testing strength and will and trust.

  Move one inch, and die you must.

  Do not step outside the square.

  No matter what—don’t you dare.

  When this is over, you will see

  A grand reward for trusting me.

  “Dude,” Paul breathed. “There’s no way Master George is behind all this.”

  Sofia sat down next to the poem. “For the first time in my life, I think I agree with you. He said in the letter we were going to a gathering, not do more tests.”

  Tick read through the poem again, feeling very uneasy. Paul and Sofia were right—this was getting weird. Even though Master George had sent the Gnat Rat and the Tingle Wraith after them during their initial recruiting test, this seemed too sinister for the jolly old man. It felt dark and threatening.

  “This isn’t even a riddle,” Tick said, standing up.

  “What do you mean?” Sofia asked.

 
Tick pointed down the long tunnel in the direction from which he thought the train thing had come the first time they’d seen it blur past. “There’s nothing to solve. We have to stand inside this square no matter what happens. No matter what . . . comes.”

  He couldn’t get over the sick feeling in his gut. Something felt wrong, like he’d left a fat wallet full of money on a city park bench. Or probably how his mom would feel if she realized she’d left the oven on, right after taking off in the airplane to go visit Grandma. The world seemed twisted, off balance.

  After a long pause, Sofia spoke up in a confident voice. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What doesn’t matter?” Tick and Paul said at the same time.

  Sofia shrugged. “If it’s Master George—which I doubt—we need to do what the poem says. If it’s not him, we still need to do what it says. We’ll be really tempted to leave the square, but we can’t. Then, at the last second, whoever it is will wink us away. Poof, nice and easy—just like the chair thing.”

  “How do we know for sure we’ll get winked?” Tick asked, even though the answer had just clicked in his head.

  “If somebody else is doing this,” Sofia said, “they could obviously just kill us if they wanted to. Why would they go through this whole ordeal to get rid of us? If anything, now we have even more pressure to pass these tests.” She shook her fists and screamed in frustration. “This is so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

  “Way to sum it up intelligently,” Paul muttered. When she gave him a cold stare, he threw his hands up. “Hey, I agree with you!”

  “Wait,” Tick said, shushing them, holding a hand out. He felt a slight tremor beneath his feet, a small vibration with no sound.

  “It’s coming, dude,” Paul said. “It’s coming!”

  The shaking grew stronger, almost visible now; Paul and Sofia seemed to jiggle up and down. Tick had never been in an earthquake, but he knew this must be what it felt like.

  “What do we do, man, what do we do?” Paul was looking left and right as if trying to decide which direction to run.

  Sofia reached out and grabbed Paul by the shirt, jerking him toward her until their faces were only inches apart. “We stand in this square, Rogers, you hear me? We stand in this square!”

  At once, they all looked down at their feet. Tick had to shuffle a foot closer to the others to be inside the red-lined boundary.

  “She’s right,” he said as Sofia let go of Paul. “No matter what, we have to stay in the square.”

  The tunnel trembled violently; Tick had to spread his feet a little and hold out his arms to maintain his balance. A sound grew in the distance, a low rumble of thunder. Whatever it was—the poem had called it a beast—was coming from the direction Tick had thought it would. He narrowed his eyes and stared that way, though nothing had appeared yet in the distance.

  “This is crazy, man,” Paul said. “Are you guys sure about this?”

  “Yes,” Tick said, not breaking his concentration. He thought he could see something dark, far down the tunnel.

  “My brain wants me to run,” Paul insisted.

  This time, Tick did turn, pointing at the poem still printed on the ground. “The message said we’d think that. Don’t move.” He looked back down the tunnel. There was definitely something dark way down there, growing larger, bit by bit.

  “I’m watching you, Rogers,” Sofia said, almost shouting as the rumbling and shaking increased. “We’re going to wink away. No one’s going to kill us!”

  “Fine! Quit treating me like a baby.”

  Tick strained his eyes as the dark shape grew bigger. Something about its movement made him think it was twisting—corkscrewing through the tunnel like a roller coaster.

  “What is that thing?” he said, though the roar had grown so loud he knew no one could hear him. He braced himself, knowing it would be easier if he didn’t look, didn’t see it coming. But his curiosity was too strong.

  Then the air around them suddenly brightened, flashing a blinding white.

  “Look!” Paul shouted from behind him.

  Tick turned to see sand dunes and sunlight through a gaping hole in the side of the tunnel.

  The door had opened.

  Chapter

  19

  ~

  The Train Thing

  A shot of elation and relief surged through Tick’s nerves, like he’d been rescued from a burning building. There it was, their escape! He even took a step toward it before reason pulled his thoughts back to reality. Sofia grabbed his arm.

  “No!” she screamed.

  “I know!” he answered, looking down at his feet. His toes were within inches of the red line. The world around them shook and roared, as if they were in a small building pummeled by a tornado. The wind had picked up, rustling their hair and clothes.

  Paul stared at the open door, his eyes glazed over.

  “Don’t even think about it!” Sofia shouted at him. “No matter what, remember? If we run, we die!”

  Paul snapped out of his daze, looked at Tick. “Dude, it’s right there!”

  “Whoever it is, they’re just tempting us!” Tick yelled.

  He moved as close to Paul as he could, then pulled Sofia in. “Link arms!” He could barely hear his own voice.

  Sofia obeyed immediately, but Paul hesitated, the wind ripping at his shirt.

  “Do it!” Tick yelled.

  Paul’s face sank into a frown as he wrapped his arm around Sofia’s elbow, then his other around Tick’s. All this time, the door remained open, staying open far longer than it ever had before. This was all planned out, Tick thought. But by who?

  From the way they stood, only Sofia faced the onrushing nightmare, her face set in cold fear, eyes wide, mouth in a tight line. The air swirled around them, making them sway dangerously close to the line. Tick thought Sofia’s hair might simply fly off at any second. And the noise. The noise. Like screaming brakes and revved jet engines and pounding hammers and hissing steam—a chorus of terrible sounds that pierced Tick’s ears with sharp pain.

  Finally, as if giving in to some inevitable fate, he twisted his neck to look behind him.

  The thing was very close now, dark and hideous, spinning upside down and right side up again, corkscrewing as it sped toward them, faster and faster. Tick squinted, thinking the panic must have scrambled his brain—what he was looking at didn’t make any sense.

  The poem had been more accurate than he’d thought. The train was not a train at all. It wasn’t a car, truck, or plane. It wasn’t even a spaceship. The thing thundering toward them at unbelievable speeds was an animal. The biggest, strangest, ugliest beast Tick had ever seen.

  “What . . .” he said, trailing off, knowing his friends couldn’t hear him. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing.

  As the beast got closer, Tick felt the fear in him swell, burning like fire, surging through his veins, hurting him. The animal had at least a dozen sets of thick, muscled legs, almost a blur as they churned back and forth to move the creature in its twisting pattern. Its huge head spun but, impossibly, didn’t turn as quickly as the rest of its body, as if the legs were on springs or gears. Dark, scaly skin covered a hideous head, spikes and stunted bones sticking out in random places, enormous teeth jutting from its mouth.

  As it approached within a half-mile, then a quarter-mile, Tick felt more scared than ever before, despite the things he’d been through. His mind couldn’t come up with any possible explanation why a gigantic glass tube would exist in the middle of the desert, made for a terrible beast to run through at ridiculous speeds. Confusion and fear mingled together inside his brain, squeezing his thoughts until his head pounded with a drumming pain.

  Wink us away, he thought. Time’s almost up, wink us away. Wink us away. WINK US AWAY! The wind, the noise—the horrible noise. What is making that stupid noise? He thought he heard a scream, maybe two. Maybe it was him.

  When the beast was only fifty feet away, growling and snapping its jaws an
d twisting and pumping its powerful legs, bulleting toward them, everything went crazy.

  For the slightest of moments, a hush swallowed the area, the noise ending in an abrupt clap of empty silence. Then a booming, deep toll, like millions of huge bells and French horns playing at once, rang out, drowning out all other sound. Tick let go of Paul and Sofia and clapped his hands over his ears. The volume became unbearable; the ache in his head became a splitting pain behind his eyes.

  The entire tunnel rocked upward and crashed back to the ground, sending a web of cracks shooting in all directions, spreading like a branching tree with the sound of ice breaking over a frozen lake. Tick crashed to the ground, his knees buckling from the impact; Paul fell on top of him, then Sofia.

  Somehow Tick got out the words, “Stay in the box!”

  In both directions, the tunnel started warping—impossible waves rippling in the glass up and down its length. The massive beast had stopped a few feet away, its many legs coming to a rest on the bottom of the tube. Its head swiveled around at the chaos as if it were as frightened as the humans. The deep, vibrating horn-like sound continued to boom through the air.

  Tick and the others scrambled to the center of the square and clasped arms around each other, huddled on top of the still-glowing words of the poem. Everything shook, much worse than before. The glass rippled and cracked; the tunnel bounced in places like a writhing worm. The beast let out a roar, its huge mouth opening to show dozens of teeth; saliva flew everywhere. Still, the sound of it was nothing compared to the clanging, ear-piercing toll of the mysterious bells.

  “What’s happening?” Sofia shouted. Tick barely heard her and had no answer.

  The creature moved toward them, anger ignited in its black eyes that looked through a hooded brow of horns and scales. Almost on top of them, it roared again, this time louder. The air reeked of something foul and rotten.