The Hunt for Dark Infinity

by James Dashner

  “Stay in the box!” Tick shouted again. Wink us away. Wink us away. WINK US AWAY!

  The beast lunged at them, its legs catapulting it into the air. Its outermost horn came within inches of Tick’s face when something suddenly slammed the whole creature away from them and against the wall of the tunnel to their right, where the door still stood open—though it was way too small for the beast. The glass exploded outward, the huge animal crashing through and into a steep desert dune.

  As it landed, sending up a massive spray of sand, large sections of the tunnel began melting into liquid, forming huge flying globs that looked like molten silver as they moved through the air. More and more of them appeared, completely destroying the tunnel except for the small spot on which Tick and the others stood. All at once, the melted glass hurtled toward the monster, engulfing the beast completely. The liquid hardened back into glass, tinkling and crackling.

  As quickly as it had started, everything stopped. Tick sat next to Paul and Sofia, all of them squeezing each other, gasping to catch their breath. Only a few dozen feet away stood a horrific sculpture of glass, twisted and bent, parts of the poor animal’s body sticking out here and there. One large horn jutted from the front, pointing at them as if it had all been their fault.

  No one said a word. They had stayed in the square. They had done what they were supposed to, despite everything.

  A few seconds later, someone winked them away to another Reality.

  Chapter

  20

  ~

  An Invitation

  Mistress Jane walked through the darkening woods, enjoying the smells of the forest and fresh air more than she thought she would. She’d rarely ventured out of the Lemon Fortress since losing her Barrier Wand to the Realitants, too busy working and planning. Too busy thinking.

  A bird cawed in the distance, a shriek that sounded like someone being tortured. She faltered a moment, then stepped over a log and continued walking. There you go again, she thought. You can take anything and see the worst in it. Why couldn’t she just hear the sound of a bird and appreciate the beauty in it—the joy of nature? When had she become so dark and morbid? How had it gotten this bad?

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, loving the strong scent of pine. Such simple things used to please her, make her happy. Until her mission to find the Utopian Reality consumed her and turned her into what she’d become. Someone feared and hated. When it came down to it, Jane didn’t like herself very much. Not one bit.

  She reached a sudden break in the trees, the place Frazier had described to her. He’d wanted to come with her, insisted on it with more bravery than usual. Jane had finally ordered him to clean the kitchens for being obstinate. If anyone could take care of themselves in the Thirteenth Reality, it was Mistress Jane.

  The sun had fallen behind the line of trees on the other side of the huge clearing, a random twinkle shining through the leaves as she kept walking. She’d believed Frazier’s report, but she still felt a thrill of shock at seeing it for herself.

  The gap in the forest was at least a quarter-mile in diameter, almost perfectly circular. She saw no signs or tracks of heavy machinery that had mowed down hundreds of trees overnight. She saw only a few footprints, and they looked to be those of the hunters and Frazier’s investigating party.

  Who did this? And how?

  As she neared the center of the clearing, she tried to come up with possibilities. It certainly wasn’t a natural phenomenon—especially considering the felled tree trunks spelled out words in massive letters. From this low vantage point, she couldn’t make out the words, of course, only a general sense of the individual letters—even though they were almost too big to recognize. But she had no doubt as to what it said, trusting Frazier implicitly.

  Mistress Jane, you are a coward. Come and find me.

  She continued on, knowing exactly where she wanted to end up. The message had a hidden meaning, a literal clue. Come and find me. That’s exactly what she was doing, counting on her budding powers to help her if she ran into any trouble.

  She made it to the other side of the clearing, her arms and legs weary from crossing over—and sometimes climbing over—the many logs. She could have levitated herself, flown to her destination without another thought, but she was enjoying the nostalgic effort of physical exertion. Finally, in the center of where she estimated the word “me” was spelled out, she stopped.

  “Here I am,” she said, not stooping so low as to shout; she had her dignity to preserve. “We’re near enough to the old battleground and its thick Chi’karda. Wink in and be done with it.”

  A few minutes passed in silence. Jane grew restless far quicker than she expected, and stilled herself to be sure her emotions didn’t show. She would not utter another word or move another muscle, no matter how long the mystery person made her wait.

  Ten more minutes went by, the cloudless sky growing ever darker, a deep blue slowly bleeding to purple. Then, with no fanfare or smoke, a man appeared ten feet in front of her. Dressed in a pinstripe suit, he had dark hair and olive skin. He was tall and almost handsome, but not quite. His arms were clasped behind his back, perhaps holding something, hiding it from her. Though she’d never met him, she knew his name immediately. After all, just a few months ago she’d tried unsuccessfully to arrange a meeting with him.

  Reginald Chu, perhaps the most dangerous man in the Realities.

  But surely he couldn’t possibly know her powers in the Chi’karda were growing enough to match his technological gadgetry. Why is he here?

  “Hello, Mistress Jane,” Chu said, mocking her title. “We finally meet, several months later than you had hoped.”

  “You got my note, then?” she asked.

  “I did.” He paused, not moving, staring at her. “I waited for you in the park, but you never showed up. You wasted time that was not yours to waste.”

  It took every ounce of willpower for Jane to remain calm, to not lash out and whip this man with one of the fallen logs. She could do it, and the man spoke to her as if she were inferior. No, she told herself. He’s here for a reason.

  “My apologies, Mister—”

  “Call me Reginald,” he snapped. “Never call me Mr. Chu. Never.”

  Jane bowed her head ever so slightly. “My apologies . . . Reginald. I had a proposition for you, a good one, but the Realitants stole my Wand, trapping me here. I’ll soon have another one built.”

  Chu moved his arms from behind his back to reveal what he’d been hiding—a brand new Barrier Wand, its golden surface sparkling despite the diminishing light, seven dials and switches running along its length.

  He hefted the three-foot-long device in his left hand, holding it out to her as a gift. Then he dropped one end of it toward the ground and leaned on it like a cane. “I’ve had spies here since the week you stood me up. I know a lot about you. I also know about this Reality and its twisted version of Chi’karda.”

  It took considerable effort for Jane not to look at the Wand, staring Chu in the face instead. “I’m glad you know how to do your research.”

  “That’s not all I found. You’re missing one of the metals. It’ll be months before you can extract enough from the ore you’ve discovered.” He nodded toward the Wand at his feet. “So I’ve brought you a new Wand to save you the trouble.”

  Jane folded her arms. “At what price?”

  Chu broke into a smile, something Jane would never have expected to see on such a man. “I can see you’re as wise as I hoped. Nothing, of course, is free. Especially in my Reality.”

  “Tales of your business skills are widespread, I assure you.” She wanted to add, And your ruthlessness and greed are likewise well-known.

  “That’s good to know.”

  She expected him to say more, but he grew silent, keeping his gaze locked with hers. Oh, I do not like this man. “Your price?” she asked again.

  “I’ve developed something that will completely change the Realities. It’s
a new invention—”

  “What is it?” Jane asked, trying to assert some authority, show her impatience.

  Chu paused, his face pulling tight, his eyes narrowing. “Listen to me, Mistress. Never interrupt me. You will stand there and listen to my proposition and you will not utter a word until I am finished. Do you understand? Indicate with a nod of your head.”

  Jane felt her face fill with blood, heat up, and burn. A small sound escaped from somewhere in the back of her throat, a mortifying squeak. At that moment, she swore to herself that when this man died, he would be looking at her smiling face. The only thing staying her hand from unleashing her powers was curiosity. Intense curiosity.

  She nodded.

  “Good.” He pulled up the Barrier Wand and held it in front of him, parallel to the ground. “My project is called Dark Infinity, a tool that artificially creates massive amounts of Chi’karda—far stronger than anything you’ve encountered here. It’s more powerful than all of my previous accomplishments combined. However, there is still one missing piece.”

  Jane almost asked him what, but stopped just in time. Her curiosity burned like an itch.

  “It’s so strong that I can’t control it alone,” he continued. “I need another person, someone of proven strength, someone extraordinary. I’ve studied and searched every Reality, every region. I have narrowed it down to only two people. I don’t fully understand yet what sets these two apart, but I do know that one of them will do. And I only need . . . one.”

  He paused, and Jane was dying to speak. She didn’t know what she had expected, but it was certainly nothing like this.

  Chu continued. “One of the two is you. Your powers here do not exist solely because of the mutated Chi’karda in this place. Otherwise, everyone would be able to do what you do. There is something extraordinary about you, and I do not say that lightly.”

  Who is the other? she screamed inside her head, completely ignoring the compliment.

  “You might be wondering about your competition,” Chu said, smiling. “And here is the proposition. It’s very simple. I’m currently sending the other person through a series of tests. If he passes them and ends up where he’s supposed to, he will win the honor of standing by my side as we rule the Realities. Meaning, of course, you lose and will be disposed of.” He paused. “You may speak now.”

  “I . . . I’m not sure I completely understand,” Jane mumbled, hating herself for appearing so weak. Chu had said she could be “disposed of” like a sickly fly. How dare he? And yet, she felt uneasy. “How do I win?”

  Chu walked forward, holding out the Barrier Wand and gesturing for her to take it. She grasped the golden rod with its dials and switches eagerly, like a child grabbing for candy. It was cold and hard in her hands.

  “Like I said,” Chu continued, “it’s very easy. If the boy makes it to me, you lose. If he doesn’t, you win. Only one of you will survive in the end—only one of you will be worthy to serve with me in controlling Dark Infinity. That’s it.”

  “That’s it?” she repeated, her courage returning. “Nothing else?”

  Chu nodded. “You’ve been given your test, and I assure you, it’s not a simple task. You must kill Atticus Higginbottom.”

  Chapter

  21

  ~

  An Elevator in Stone

  Come on,” Mothball said, stopping for the tenth time to allow Rutger to catch up. “You’re slower than a sloth with no legs, you are.”

  Truth be told, Mothball appreciated resting for a spell. It was blazing hot in the Arizona desert, and she was hauling a big load of logs she’d gathered from the riverside. Carried down by the Colorado River, stray wood often lodged in one particular bend, and Master George had to have his fires, didn’t he?

  Rutger, sucking in every breath, his face the color of boiled cherries, stopped and craned his neck to look up at her. He was like a big ball rolling backward, pivoting on little legs. The man looked absolutely exhausted.

  “Can’t . . . really run when I’m . . . carrying all of this . . . wood . . . now can I?” he managed to get out between breathing spells.

  Mothball glanced at Rutger’s short arms, holding all of two sticks—one of them barely more than a twig. “Yeah, I’m quite shocked you haven’t called someone on the telly to announce you’ve broken the world’s record for stick-luggin’.”

  “It probably is a record for someone from the Eleventh.” Rutger nodded toward the door hidden in the canyon crevice, about forty yards away. The two of them stood at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, its majestic red walls of stone towering over them, reaching so far to the sky they couldn’t see their tops. Having finished gathering firewood, they were making their way back to the elevator shaft entrance.

  “I reckon Sofia would call you a flimp right about now,” Mothball said as she resumed walking toward the hidden crevice.

  “It’s wimp, you tall sack of bones, and if she did call me that, she’d pay the price.”

  “Oh, really?” Mothball called over her shoulder. “And wha’ exactly would you do? Sit on her toesies? Bite her shins, perhaps?”

  “I’d do whatever it took to teach the young lady some proper manners, that’s what.”

  Mothball made it to the small crack of a cave that led to the elevator and dropped her stack of logs onto the ground. She reached her arms to the sky in a long, satisfying stretch. When Rutger finally waddled over and dropped his pathetic two sticks onto the pile, he put his hands on his waist and took deep gulps of air, as if he’d just completed a marathon.

  “Congratulations,” Mothball said. “You’re the first tiny fat man to haul two twigs across a weed-scattered spit of sand. Right proud of yourself, I reckon?”

  Rutger looked up at her and grinned. “Push the button, or it’ll be your shins that get bitten.”

  Mothball’s booming laugh escaped before she could stop it. She looked around to make sure no stray hikers were around to hear it. “Quit makin’ me laugh, ya little ball of bread dough. Get us in trouble, ya will.”

  She stepped through the thin crevice and pushed a button that looked like the nub of a rock. She heard the rumble of machinery and pulleys from deep within the mountain, then the low whine of the descending elevator. She groaned, having expected the doors to pop right open since they’d just exited an hour ago and no one else should’ve used it.

  “Blimey, who called up the ruddy thing?” she said as she stepped out of the cave and back into the sunlight. “Probably that rascal Sally, playin’ one of ’is jokes.”

  “Oh, calm yourself,” Rutger said, his face finally returning to its normal color. Sweat poured down his face, however, and his hair was matted and wet. “It only takes a couple of minutes. Master George has Sally too busy to mess with jokes anyway.”

  “I’ll bet ya tonight’s dessert that when the door pops open, Sally’ll be there with a trick up his sleeve.”

  Rutger looked up at her, his face creased in concern.

  “D-d-dessert?” he asked, as if she’d just suggested wagering the man’s life savings. “Let’s not get foolish, Mothball.”

  “Then you’ll take it?” she asked, folding her arms and peering down her nose at him.

  Rutger hesitated, fidgeting as he rocked back and forth on his tiny feet. “Um, no, I think you might be right on this one.” He cleared his throat. “Probably, um, going to throw a bucket of water on us. That silly lumberjack.”

  Mothball shook her head, pretending to be disgusted. “You’d throw your own mum in the sewer for a dessert, you would. You can ’ave mine—s’long as you give me some of your bread and jam. Quite tasty stuff, that is.”

  Rutger rubbed his chin, deep in thought. After a few seconds, he said, “No, I like the bread and jam, too. Let’s just stick with our own portions. Deal?”

  Mothball reached down and patted him on the head. “You’re a good man, you are. A bit short for my likin’, but a good man indeed.”

  “Oh, stop—look, it’s here.”


  A few feet inside the crevice, a rock wall slid to the side, revealing the lighted cube of the elevator, its walls made of fake wood panels. Master George stood inside, dressed in his usual dark suit, arms clasped behind his back.

  Mothball’s surprise quickly turned to concern. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Oh, nothing, nothing,” he said, breaking into a smile that was obviously forced. “Just wanted to come down and get a bit of fresh air.”

  He stepped out of the elevator and squeezed past the narrow walls of the cave and into the open canyon. He took a deep breath, then let it out in a satisfied sigh.

  “Simply beautiful, don’t you think?” he asked, turning back to look at them. “I really should come out here more often. Good for the heart, I’m quite sure.”

  Mothball rolled her eyes at Rutger. “Out with it, Master George. Somethin’s botherin’ ya.”

  Master George tried to look startled, an expression that for some reason reminded Mothball of a frightened chicken. Then his face wilted into a frown, and he huffed.

  “Goodness gracious me,” he said. “I can’t get anything past you two.”

  “That’s a good thing,” Rutger said. “What’s going on?”

  Master George put his hands behind his back again and paced in a wide circle for a full minute. Mothball knew better than to interrupt him. He finally stopped and looked at both of them in turn.

  “I’ve just read through Sato’s final report of his interviews, and it concerns me greatly. He’s made conclusions with which I can’t disagree, and given me a proposal, in private, that frightens me to no end.”

  “You have our full attention,” Rutger said. Mothball nodded.

  Master George continued. “I’ve known all along that Reginald Chu was behind the strange things happening throughout some of the Realities. There’ve been whispers that he has a new invention, something terrible—something abominable. And I no longer have any doubt it’s directly related to the people who are going insane. I’m quite sure