The Hunt for Dark Infinity

by James Dashner

  “What . . . the . . .” Paul managed between gasps of air. “What . . . how . . .”

  Across the street, past the narrow area of small trees leading to the thicker forest from which they’d just escaped, a huge bulk of mangled wood rose toward the sky, dozens of feet high, countless trees smashed into a coiled mass. It looked like a large section of the woods had been liquefied and squeezed together, twisted together, then frozen into a hideous swirl of matter. In several spots, some of the creatures that had chased them were trapped in the wall of wood, as if they’d been sealed in hardened tar right before escaping. One of the animals’ legs twitched.

  It was just like what they’d seen in the woods by Tick’s home, right after the bizarre attack from Mr. Chu, when a deer had been trapped in the strangled structure of entwined trees.

  Tick’s mind emptied, void of thoughts. The two incidents had to be connected, but not even a hint of understanding cowered in the darkness of his head. Confused, he thought it must have something to do with Reginald Chu. Breathing heavily, relieved but uneasy, he turned away from the ugliness in the forest and looked at his friends.

  “Someone please tell me what just happened,” Paul said, his eyes still glued to the massive lump across the street.

  “Wish I could,” Tick said.

  “We have the weirdest lives in the universe,” Sofia said.

  Paul finally broke his gaze, lifting his broken arm a few inches, testing his injury. With a wince, he lowered his elbow back into the cradle of his other arm. “I’ve gotta get to a hospital.”

  “We don’t have time,” Sofia said.

  Paul let out a bitter laugh, but didn’t say anything.

  “What do you mean?” Tick said. “We have to find him a doctor.”

  Sofia pointed to her watch. “It’s already four-thirty. We only have thirty minutes left.”

  “But—”

  “Tick,” Paul cut in.

  Tick looked at him. Paul’s body was covered in sweat, his eyes so bloodshot they looked as if they’d been dipped in red paint. The scowl of pain on his face had created deep lines in his forehead, large cracks that seemed permanent. But somehow, despite everything, Paul smiled—a miserable grimace, but a smile all the same.

  “She’s right,” he said. “Broken arm, broken leg, broken head—doesn’t matter. Hungry, thirsty, ugly—doesn’t matter. We’ve only got thirty minutes.”

  Tick paused, exchanging long glances with both of them. Finally, he nodded.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  They took off, running along the wide arc of the border street.

  Chapter

  33

  ~

  Five O’Clock

  It took fifteen minutes to find the intersection representing five o’clock. Luckily, their hotel, The Stroke of Midnight Inn, had been two streets down from where they’d exited the forest. Once there, Tick and the others ran with renewed strength, counting the times off as they sprinted toward their destination.

  One o’clock. Two o’clock. Three, four, five.

  Gasping each breath, Tick doubled over to rest, hands on his knees, while he scanned the area for any sign of what they were supposed to do to wink away. They had only ten minutes until the real five o’clock.

  The thick forest hugged the outside curve of the main street, the line of massive trees looming like ancient wooden towers. Thankfully, there was no sign of any mutant radioactive demon monkey-bears. The road that led from the town square of Circle City to the woods was bordered with various buildings and shops, people bustling about with smiles on their faces but blank looks in their eyes, as if kindness had worn thin and they only wanted to get their next task done. The eerie opera-lady music blared from unseen speakers.

  The “T” formed by the two-street intersection was mostly empty, the clean pavement unblemished from potholes or cracks. Tick couldn’t see so much as a sewer grate, and wondered why everything about this Reality seemed simple but . . . off somehow.

  I hope I never find out, he thought. I want out of here.

  Paul zigzagged back and forth as he scanned the street for any sign or clue of a place in which they might need to stand at the appointed time. He clutched his arm and limped as if the pain had traveled through the rest of his body. Sofia searched as well, and Tick joined in. No one said a word, but worry and discouragement hung in the air like wilting clouds. Time was running out. Though confident they were in the right place, Tick didn’t know if that was good enough.

  It does not matter; I do not care.

  Just make sure your feet find air.

  “The word air has to be carved somewhere,” Paul said.

  “Yeah,” Tick mumbled as he walked awkwardly along, bent over, searching the pavement.

  Sofia had stopped, her arms folded. “I think we’re thinking too much. Or maybe not enough.”

  Tick looked at his watch. Six minutes. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I think all we need to do is jump,” she replied. “Jump up at five o’clock, and our feet will be in the air.”

  Tick stood straight, stretched his back. “Hmm. Possible,” he said. But something tickled the back of his brain. Something didn’t seem right. “But what if that’s not it?”

  “Got any better ideas?”

  Tick looked at Paul, who was still searching, still wincing with every step. His arm looked like a giant purple slug.

  “What do you think?” Tick asked.

  Paul answered without stopping his hunt. “I thought of that, but . . . I don’t know, I guess there’s nothing else to do. Just keep looking, and if we don’t find anything by the one-minute mark, we’ll stand in the middle of the road and jump at five o’clock.”

  “Sounds good,” Tick said, resuming his search.

  One minute passed. Two. No sign of anything, anywhere. Two minutes left. Nothing.

  “Time’s almost up,” Sofia said, running toward the exact middle of the intersection. “Come on, hurry!”

  Paul and Tick joined her. One minute to go. Then, like someone had dropped a water balloon on his head, a thought slammed into his mind. Make sure your feet find air. Make sure your feet find air!

  “Your socks and shoes!” he screamed, reaching down before they could respond and ripping off his right shoe, not bothering to untie it. “Take off your shoes!” He pulled off his sock and then moved to his left foot.

  Neither of them responded or argued—they did as they were told. Paul used his feet to kick off his shoes, then his one good arm to remove his socks. Anyone watching might have thought they’d gone nuts, or had ants crawling along their skin. But in a matter of twenty seconds, the three of them stood barefoot, the pavement warm on their feet, their shoes and socks gripped in their hands.

  “Fifteen seconds,” Sofia whispered through a big breath.

  “You’re a genius, Tick,” Paul said, his shoes wedged under his armpit.

  “Ten seconds,” Sofia said.

  “Maybe we should jump just in case,” Paul blurted out.

  “Do it,” Tick agreed.

  Sofia nodded as she counted the last five seconds. “Five, four, three, two, one—now!”

  Tick had already bent his legs, and jumped into the air on her call.

  When he came back down, the world around them had vanished, and his feet landed on something very cold.

  ~

  “This is weird,” Rutger said as he stared at the command center screen, his eyes glued to the tracking marks of Tick’s Earwig Transponder. Master George, Sally, and Mothball stood behind him. They’d all come running when the chime had rung through the building, indicating Tick had winked to another location.

  “Weird, indeed,” Master George whispered.

  “Whatcha two hanks goin’ on ’bout?” Sally bellowed. “I ain’t got nary a clue what that thing a’yorn’s tellin’ me.” He pointed at the screen.

  Rutger answered. “They just winked to a large plain in Reality Prime—but in the middle of nowhe
re. The far northern reaches of Canada, it looks like. Nothing for dozens of miles around them.”

  “Goodness gracious me,” Master George whispered. “Chu’s tests are getting way out of hand. The poor chaps and Sofia will freeze up there!”

  “Mayhaps we need be rescuin’ them,” Mothball said.

  Master George shook his head adamantly. “Absolutely not. The antidote is as complete as it’ll ever get, and we have to get it where it needs to be. Let’s just all pray it works. Sally.”

  The large man jumped, as if he’d been caught daydreaming. “Yessir?”

  “This may be our best chance—our last chance. I want you to wink there right away and give them the antidote.”

  Sally’s eyes grew wide. “But . . . I’m a-feared of the cold somethin’ awful.”

  “No matter,” Master George said over his shoulder as he walked briskly away, heading for the testing lab. “Come on, chop-chop!”

  Rutger couldn’t help but feel sorry for the big lug of a man. He reached up and tapped Sally on the elbow. “You’ll be fine. Just wink in, wink out. No problem.”

  Sally laughed, his booming chortle echoing off the walls of the room. “You ain’t got no thermal undies I could borry, do ya?”

  “Hilarious,” Rutger said, hopping down from his chair to follow Master George.

  ~

  “Ah, dude, it’s freezing here!” Paul said. He sat down on the hard ground and started struggling back into his shoes using only one arm. Sofia knelt down and helped him.

  Although the bottoms of Tick’s feet felt like they stood on ice, he turned in a slow circle, gawking at the new place they’d been winked to. It was a barren, miserable land, flat and gray in every direction, all the way to the horizon. Not a plant or tree or animal in sight. The sun poked through a brief break in a cloud-heavy sky, but it added no color to the bleakness, no warmth. There was no snow, but everything about the area looked cold and dreary.

  Then he saw something that stopped him. A small building—a tiny, leaning wooden hut just a few hundred feet away.

  “Just be glad it’s not winter,” Sofia said, tying her shoelaces. “Or we’d have already been frozen.”

  Tick snapped out of his daze and sat down, pulling on his first sock. “I wonder what that little shack is over there.” He pointed.

  Paul and Sofia glanced in that direction.

  “Looks abandoned,” Paul said. He grimaced as he lay back on his one good elbow, his injured arm resting on his ribs.

  Tick finished tying his shoes. “I wonder where we are.” He stood up, the ground too cold and hard.

  Sofia joined him. “Who knows? Let’s go check out that building.”

  Paul groaned. “Couldn’t that jerk have sent us somewhere that has a hospital? I’d settle for a place that sells aspirin. But no—he had to send us to Pluto.”

  “Come on,” Tick said, offering his hand to help him stand.

  Paul shook his head. “It hurts too much. Got my own way of moving now.” He pushed off with his elbow, then rolled to his knees. After taking a couple of deep breaths, he stumbled to his feet, a little off balance. Tears rimmed the bottom edges of his eyes; one escaped and trickled down his cheek.

  Tick quickly looked away, pretending he hadn’t noticed. Oh, man, he thought. He’s gonna die on us.

  Sofia wasn’t as kind. “Are you crying? I thought you were a lot tougher than that.”

  Tick felt a shudder of anger wash through him; he had a sudden urge to punch Sofia in the arm, but quelled it. “I’d cry too if my arm was broken and I was stuck in the middle of nowhere. Come on.” He started walking toward the small shack.

  He didn’t look back to see their response, but he heard them following. Paul’s feet scraped the ground with every step, sounding like he dragged a dead body behind him.

  As they approached the building, Tick noticed it was at least three times as big as he’d originally thought, and farther away. There’s something about a vast land of nothingness that messes up your senses, he thought.

  The building had only one story, its entire structure made from warped, sun-faded wooden boards with thousands of splinters poking out. The two-sided roof peaked in the middle, slanting steeply downward until it overhung the walls in eaves that almost touched the ground. To handle all the snow in the winter, Tick thought. The place had no windows, and its door was a simple slab of wood, the only thing on the shack that had ever been painted. Only a few streaks of dull red had survived the weather. A rusted doorknob hung loosely from the warped door.

  “Looks just like Grandma’s house,” Paul said. His voice was so tight Tick couldn’t tell if he was joking.

  “I bet whoever lives here has never heard of Pacini spaghetti,” Sofia said.

  Tick was about to respond but stumbled on his first word. They were close enough for him to notice something creepy about the door. The red paint he’d seen wasn’t the remnants of an age-old decorating scheme after all.

  They were words, scrawled across the entire face of the wooden door from top to bottom.

  “Look!” he shouted, already sprinting ahead to see what it said.

  “What?” Sofia yelled from behind him. Tick ignored them, and soon they ran to catch up.

  Tick stopped just a few feet in front of the door. At first, he couldn’t make out the words of the message, the writing hasty and messy, some of the paint having run down like blood into the other letters. But there was no mistaking Tick’s name, and soon everything else became clear.

  He tried to speak, but his mouth had dried up and his tongue wouldn’t move. He felt like someone had rammed a glob of cotton down his throat with a wooden spoon.

  Sofia read the words out loud.

  Only two people may enter this door.

  Atticus Higginbottom and Mistress Jane.

  All others will die a horrible death.

  Do not test me on this.

  Chapter

  34

  ~

  The Antidote

  Tick could only stare at the message, the world around him shrinking away. He felt like an entire hour had passed, but he knew it had only been a minute or two since Sofia had read the words aloud.

  He could only stare.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Paul said, though his voice sounded to Tick like it came down a long tunnel.

  “What do you think, Einstein?” Sofia replied, her tone full of anger. “Chu wants Tick to go in there, but not us!”

  “I know, but what does that mean?”

  “Looks like ya’ll hain’t got nuttin’ but trouble comin’ down dem gullets a’yorn.”

  The gruff voice from behind shook Tick out of his stupor. He whirled to see Sally standing there, arms folded, looking like he’d just lost that morning’s grits and eggs. Face pale, beard scraggly, eyes bloodshot, the man didn’t seem too happy to see them. He was dressed in his usual lumberjack garb—thick green-flannel shirt, dusty overalls, big brown work boots. A leather satchel hung loosely over his shoulder.

  Paul let out a little yelp at Sally’s surprise appearance.

  “Sa-Sally? Where’d you come from?”

  “Where you think, boy?” He made an unpleasant sucking sound in his throat then spat on the ground. “Ol’ George sent me after you rug rats.”

  “How’d you get here?” Sofia asked. “You can’t tell me there’s a cemetery nearby.”

  Sally turned and pointed at nothing in particular. “There’s a might nice spat of his fancy kyoopy gobbledygook back yonder ways. You three too busy starin’ at that big pile of sticks to notice me comin’ up on ya.”

  Tick shook his head, finally feeling like the world had solidified again around him. That message on the door, he thought. That message! “Why’d Master George send you back to us? I thought we were on our own.”

  Sally shrugged his bulky shoulders. “Still are, I ’spect. Just come to pass on a little somethin’, that’s all.” He slid the satchel off his shoulder and down his arm, then
opened it up. After a few seconds of rummaging around, he pulled out a shiny silver cylinder, two inches in diameter and six inches long.

  “This here whatchamacallit is for you whipsnaps,” he said, holding the small rod out toward Sofia, who stood closest to him.

  She shook her head. “If that’s what I think it is, you better give it to Tick. We can’t go with him anymore.”

  Sally’s arm dropped to his side, the cylinder gripped in his hand; his eyes squinted in confusion. “What in the name of Mama’s chitlins stew you talkin’ ’bout? You ain’t done forgot the plan, did ya?”

  Tick wanted to say something, but the words stuck in his throat again.

  “No, we didn’t forget the plan,” Sofia said with a sneer, then pointed toward the door with the creepy red letters scrawled across it. “But that stupid door says that only Tick can go through it. If Master George wants him to get close to Chu, looks like he’s on his own.”

  “You don’t know that,” Tick said, forcing the words out through a cough that rubbed the back of his mouth raw. “Maybe I just need to go in, do something, and come right back out.”

  “Doubt it,” Paul muttered.

  “Why?” Tick asked.

  “I just have a feeling it’s done for us, dude. I think Chu wanted you from the beginning because of your freak show back in the Thirteenth—winking us with a broken Barrier Wand and all. We’re done—I know it.”

  Tick looked at Sofia, pleading with his eyes.

  “I think he’s right,” she said, frowning.

  Sally walked forward until he was close enough to read the message on the door. “Whoever wrote that nonsense ain’t got a bit of learnin’ in him, I can tell ya that. I can barely read dem chicken scratches.”

  Sofia raised her eyebrows at Tick as if to say, When did Sally get so smart?

  “Messy or not,” Paul said, “it doesn’t beat around the bush. Only Tick can go in there. If we try, we’ll die a, uh, horrible death.”