James Dashner - The Hunt for Dark Infinity

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.

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.