James Dashner: The Hunt for Dark Infinity

A Utopia. A perfect world. A haven for all people, where pain and sorrow would cease to exist. Where everyone could be happy.

That was all she’d wanted. That was all she still wanted.

And yet, here she was, a fierce and cruel ruler of an entire world, using its mutated powers to create horrific armies of creatures, to repress those who opposed her, to destroy those who dared to fight back. She was a despicable, disgusting person. A terribly unhappy person.

But she couldn’t change. Not now. She knew that as clearly as she’d recognized what she had become. It was too late for change. Her plans were in full motion, and if it took her full cruelty and reprehensible reputation to win the battle, then so be it.

She realized what that meant. She was willing to sacrifice her own dignity, her own reputation, her own… soul. In the end, though, the worlds would thank her. In the end, everyone would be better off. In the end, life would be perfect.

She looked to her right just in time to see her latest servant-girl, Doofus, stumble through the door and drop a tray, dishes clattering all over the floor.

The timing couldn’t have been worse. Jane’s mood couldn’t have been worse.

She threw her hand forward, unleashing a burst of the mutated Chi’karda. Doofus shot into the air and slammed high against the stone wall, pinned near the ceiling by the invisible force. Choking sounds filled the room as the poor girl kicked at the air, her heels thumping the wall.

“How dare you enter without knocking, you pathetic slob.” Jane’s voice remained calm and cool, belying the rage and guilt she felt within. With a quick wave of her hand, she made Doofus spring away from the wall and fly across the room. Screams burst from the girl’s throat as the chokehold was released. They quickly faded when the servant shot through the open window and plummeted toward her death far below.

“I’m tired of coming up with names for these people,” Jane grumbled to herself.

She stood up, took one last look at the beauty of her fortress grounds, then went back to work. There was much to be done.

On the morning of August 22, Tick and his friends barely said a word during breakfast with his family, scared to death that somehow they’d slip up and say something about the incident in the forest. They were having enough trouble already with his mom-she kept insisting Dad should go with them, that they should demand Master George allow Edgar to be a Realitant or they would all quit.

Tick hated seeing how much his mom worried. She’d never looked so distressed and unhappy. Seeing his mom sobbing uncontrollably was just about enough to rip Tick’s heart into two pieces. But he knew they had no choice, and he also knew his dad would figure out a way to console her after they were gone.

Luckily, Dad was firmly on their side, though he, too, often failed to hide the worries and concerns inflicted on his own heart.

After stuffing food and clothes into their backpacks, and after a terribly tearful good-bye with Tick’s family, the three Realitants set off for the cemetery near the town square of Deer Park. Tick thought it was a little surreal, like his parents had packed him off to summer camp instead of to another reality.

“Man, your mom really loves you, dude,” Paul said, adjusting his backpack.

“Yeah, I guess,” Tick replied.

“You guess? ” Sofia said. “My parents are just glad to get me out of the house. ‘Yes, sweetie, run along to your adventures. Don’t forget to brush your teeth!’”

Paul kicked a loose rock on the road. “You know my strategy-ask for forgiveness when I get back.”

Tick didn’t respond, unable to get the look on his mom’s face out of his head.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the cemetery.

“So good to see you!” George said for the hundredth time that morning. He reached out to shake the hand of William Schmidt, an old man from the Third Reality who Sato thought looked like someone three steps from death’s door. Sato stifled a yawn, wondering why George always made him do stuff like this with him.

They stood at the entrance to the large assembly hall, a wide auditorium cut into the stone with a stage in the front and a tinted window at the back overlooking the Grand Canyon. Sato knew they’d somehow camouflaged the windows in the complex, but it still seemed like a foolish thing. He could only imagine the news explosion that would happen if they were discovered.

The Big Meeting wasn’t scheduled to begin for another ninety minutes, but the Realitants had been pouring in for hours, wanting to meet and greet and speculate. Sato had never met such strange and diverse people in all his life, and couldn’t help but feel amazed at the sheer effort of maintaining such an organization.

A slender woman with flaming red hair entered the assembly hall next, enough makeup on her face to hide a dozen boils. She smiled as George shook her hand, then focused on Sato, nodding her head.

“Is this one of the new recruits?” she asked, her high voice filled with a creepy sweetness.

“Why, yes, yes, he is,” George replied, his voice loud and prideful. “Young Sato here has proven himself quite valuable in the last few months. A real worker, eh, Sato?”

Sato shook the lady’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” He wanted to add, Would you mind killing me, please? I’m bored.

“My name is Priscilla Persephone,” the redhead replied in her slightly disturbing, shrill voice. “I’ve heard great things about your mission to obtain Mistress Jane’s Barrier Wand. Good to know Master George can trust such… important duties to someone so young, instead of depending on veterans like myself.”

Priscilla gave George a hard stare, then walked off to grab a glass of orange juice and a pastry.

George mumbled something under his breath; it sounded like he’d used the words ugly hag and yapping dog.

“What did you say?” Sato asked.

George waved at the air. “Oh, nothing, Master Sato, nothing at all.”

The next person George greeted was a younger, much prettier woman named Nancy Zeppelin. Her golden hair and brilliant blue eyes made her look like she’d just stepped off a Paris fashion runway. Sato didn’t realize he was staring until George nudged him with an elbow.

“Oh, um, my name is Sato,” he said, feeling his face grow warm.

“Nice to meet you. Congratulations on joining the-”

Before she could finish, Rutger rushed into the auditorium, yelling George’s name, waddling like a fat duck trying to catch its ducklings before they crossed a busy road.

“Goodness gracious me,” George said, trying to calm the short man. “What is it, Rutger?”

Rutger spoke in short bursts, sucking in gasps of air between words. “Tick… and the others… their nanolocators… everything seems normal… at the cemetery… but it won’t work …”

George reached down and grasped Rutger by the shoulders. “Take a deep breath, man, then explain yourself.”

Rutger did as he was told, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. But when he spoke, it came out just like before. “I don’t understand… all their readings… normal… no malfunctions, no blips… but the Wand won’t wink them in. They’re standing there… waiting! It won’t work!”

George tapped his lips, looking down at Sato then at the mingling Realitants gathered in the assembly hall. His eyes seemed afire with concern. “Oh, dear.”

“What’s going on?” Sato asked.

“Unfortunately, I think I know exactly what’s going on.” George started walking toward the stage, his steps brisk.

Sato looked down at Rutger. “Do you?”