The Hunt for Dark Infinity (The 13th Reality #2) (36 page)

Despite everything, Tick felt a little better. No matter what happened tomorrow, he would always have his friends and family in his heart and mind. And then a thought hit him: he should quit feeling sorry for himself—those people he’d just been thinking of
needed
him. Though he had no idea what to expect when morning came, he had to face it and do whatever it took to win. Everything depended on Tick.

Finally, the events of the day caught up to him. To think he’d awakened that morning in a place called Circle City, hoping to figure out a clue that seemed so silly now. Could this really have been only one day? It had to be the longest day of his life. And he felt it.

As exhaustion pulled him into sleep, he had one last coherent thought.

Tomorrow, I’m going to
win
.

~

Weaponry

F
or some odd reason, Paul was dreaming he’d just been sworn in as President of the United States, but everyone in the huge crowd booed and threw rotten tomatoes at him. One hit him square in the face, wet and gooey.

He woke up to see yellow eyes and the flicker of a tongue. Muffintops had been sent to get him out of bed.

“Get off me, you furry rat,” he said, pushing the cat aside. He groaned as he pulled himself to a sitting position—his casted arm almost felt stronger than the other one—and swung his legs to the floor. Muffintops glared at him, her yellow eyes regarding him with distaste.

“Sorry, dude,” Paul said, reaching down to pet her. “I’m grumpy when I wake up.” He looked at his watch: 5:00
am
. “Ah, man, what’s up with that? Muffins, go tell the old man I’m not ready to get up.”

The cat hissed and clawed at Paul’s foot.

“Holy lumps of stew,” Paul whispered. “You are one smart kitty. Fine, I’ll get up. Go scratch Sofia’s face for awhile.”

They’d slept in a room similar to the one in the Bermuda Triangle complex—plain cots and blankets, no decorations. Mothball, Rutger, and Sally had slept there as well, but they were already out of bed and gone. While eating a scrumptious meal of pork chops and mashed potatoes the night before, Master George had told them he couldn’t wait to move the main operations back to the ocean, but they still needed more time to make repairs and rebuild after Mistress Jane’s attack back in May.

Paul stretched and yawned, then laughed when he heard Sofia yelling at the cat. He quickly ran to get in the shower before Sofia claimed it.

~

After breakfast, Master George summoned everyone to the meeting hall, where Paul was shocked to see dozens of people he’d never met before. He and Sofia took a seat while scanning the room, gaping at the strange visitors.

Tall people and short people, skinny people and muscled people. The clothing varied—everything from a large dude with a fancy robe containing every color possible to a slender woman with pale skin and red hair dressed head to toe in black. There was a guy with a turban, a woman with a baseball cap, another woman with a hat the size of a sombrero but decorated with tiny stuffed animals. Quite a few of the strangers wore what Paul considered normal clothes—jeans, flannel shirts, golf shirts, casual blouses, T-shirts—but the ones who didn’t stood out like huge chunks of coal in a bowl of vanilla ice cream.

A tall man with night-dark skin had eyes so blue they seemed to pulse and glow. He wore a one-piece suit with shreds of cloth hanging off like mummy wrappings. A woman sat three chairs down from him with bleached-blonde hair, her face painted in the fanciest makeup job Paul had ever seen—bright red lips, purple eye shadow, lines of blue streaking across her temple like colored wrinkles. She’d drawn a star on one cheek and a crescent moon on the other. Next to her was a man almost as short as Rutger but not nearly so fat, wearing a white shirt, white pants, and white socks and shoes.

“Who are these people?” Sofia whispered to Paul.

“Other Realitants, I guess,” he replied.

Sofia tapped the cast that covered his forearm from just below his elbow to his wrist. “How’s that broken bone of yours?”

“Feels great, actually.” He held up his arm and punched the air a couple of times. “Especially compared to how I felt yesterday. Can’t wait to whack Chu upside the head with this puppy.”

“You think Master George will let you go?”

Paul glared at her. “I’d like to see him stop me.”

Sofia rolled her eyes. “Ooh, you’re such a tough guy.”

“Tougher than you,” Paul muttered, but flinched backward when Sofia made a fist to punch him. “Calm it, girl! You’re the boss, you’re the boss.”

Sofia folded her arms and pouted. “We shouldn’t be acting like idiots. Tick’s in all kinds of trouble, I know it.”

Paul felt his heart sink to the floor. “Yeah,” was all he could get out. The room felt as if a dark cloud had formed on the ceiling, dimming everything to a dull gray.

“Can I sit next to ya knuckleheads?”

Paul looked up to see Sally. “Sure.”

He and Sofia scooted over, letting him have the aisle seat.

“Thank ya much,” Sally said with a grunt as he plopped down. “Gonna be one heckuva day, ain’t it?”

“Guess so,” Paul said.

“What’s the plan?” Sofia asked.

Before Sally could reply, a door opened and Master George came marching through, Mothball and Rutger close behind. Both of them carried wooden boxes.

Master George stepped up to the small podium while his two assistants set their boxes down. Mothball’s was the size of two coffins and looked like it weighed a thousand pounds. Rutger’s was as small as a shoebox, but sweat poured down his red face and he sucked in two dramatic breaths when he dropped his box on the floor with a loud clonk.

Master George gave him a stern look, then turned toward the audience. “Good morning to you all, and thank you so much for being here. Coming on such extreme short notice mustn’t have been easy, I’m sure. But a dreadful time has come upon us, and we must act quickly. We will need everyone in this room, without exception.”

He took a breath, then folded his hands together on top of the podium. “You were all briefed on the circumstances in our message to you, but I want to stress the most important issues of the day. The Dark Infinity plague is wreaking havoc among the Realities as we speak, but we’re very close to a solution. Realitant Second Class Atticus Higginbottom is armed with a powerful antidote that will shatter the source device and send out a cure through the quantum Chi’karda waves Chu has been using to control those he has infected. Thanks to Rutger’s tireless work, I have no doubt it will be a success.”

Several people in the room clapped, and Rutger did his best to bow, though it looked like a beach ball trying to bend in the middle.

“But unfortunately,” Master George continued, “we have an even bigger problem. Master Atticus has a power over Chi’karda that is extraordinary—far greater than we’d first thought and far more complex and difficult to grasp. It’s out of control, and the potential for disaster is extreme. It is vital that we find him, stop him, and bring him back here for a comprehensive study. I must say, as much as I admire the boy, he’s frightened the dickens out of me, and I don’t know what to think of it.”

The man in the colorful robe raised his hand, and Master George pointed to him. “So what ye thinking on the plan? How do we make sure we flash out the plague and save the boy from killing us all?”

Master George nodded. “Yes, Master Hallenhafer, how indeed? Though we haven’t had much time to prepare, we do have a plan. Rutger?”

The short fat man cleared his throat. “Tick’s ear transponder confirms what we’ve guessed—he’s been taken to the heart of Reginald Chu’s business palace in the Fourth Reality. No doubt the Dark Infinity device is located there in his research and development chamber underground. We’ve had spies in the Chu complex for many years, saving them for the day we’d need them most. Today is that day.”

“Sha people!” the dark-skinned man in the mummy suit shouted. “Sha to do such a linka?”

Paul exchanged a look with Sofia, having no idea what the guy was talking about.

“Yeah,” a brown-haired woman said, dressed in a T-shirt and blue jeans. “What good are a few spies against Chu and all his weapons?”

Rutger held up his pudgy hands. “You’re right, you’re right. Our spies may only be good for opening a door here, smashing a window there, perhaps rearranging some schedules of workers if they can. No, we’re not saying we’re going to enter the heart of Chu’s lair because of a few spies. But they
will
help.”

“Then what’s the plan?” Sofia yelled out, surprising Paul.

Rutger looked at her, then scanned the full audience. “We’ll have to, I mean, all of
you
will have to
fight
your way in.”

A small roar sounded from the crowd as everyone started talking at once. A couple of people stood up, shouting at Rutger.

Master George slammed a hand against the podium, sending a sharp crack of thunder echoing across the room, silencing the Realitants.

“Please, good people,” Master George said. “Don’t get in a tizzy before you’ve heard the entire plan. Many of us have spent our entire summer working on developing our weapons program, and we’ve come up with some dandies, I assure you.”

Paul looked at Sofia. “Weapons? Sweet!”

Rutger spoke next. “In these boxes are samples of our latest inventions, most of them based on items taken from the Fourth. We have enough to equip an army of thirty-two Realitants, and we think that will be enough to get us to Tick and the Dark Infinity device. And, if I may be so bold as to express my professional opinion, these things are going to kick some serious . . . um . . . er . . .”

“Booty!” Paul shouted.

“Exactly!” Rutger pointed at Paul, grinning. “Now, shall we begin?” He plopped down onto his knees and opened the small shoebox. He reached in and pulled out a tiny, dark ball, about the size of a marble. He held it up between his thumb and forefinger. “This, my friends, is called a Static Rager, and it’s not something you’d want to use for playing catch with little nephew Tommy.”

“Unless you be wantin’ little Tommy to be eaten by a forty-ton ball of dirt,” Mothball added. “Nasty buggers, those are. Could’ve used ’em on the Bugaboo soldiers.”

Paul leaned over to Sofia. “Now
this
is what I’m talking about!”

Mothball pulled a silver device from her bigger box. It was several inches thick, cylindrical, about two-and-a-half feet long, and had several tubes running down the sides, all coming together in a tapered point at the front; two straps of cloth hung from it.

“This ’ere’s a Sonic Hurricaner,” she said, hefting it up for everyone to get a good look. “Call ’em Shurrics for short. Makes the old Sound Slicer look like a BB gun, it does. Come on, ’ave a look.”

“Yes, yes,” Master George said. “Come up, gather round. We have much more to show you and not enough time. Demonstrations will take place at the canyon bottom shortly. Departure for the Fourth is in three hours. Chop-chop!” He waved his arm toward Mothball and Rutger’s boxes.

Paul was the first one to get there.

~

A Thin Sheet of Plastic

T
ick’s eyes snapped open.

He shot into a sitting position, wondering what had awakened him. Had it been a noise? Did something touch him? He scanned the small room but saw nothing out of place—except for the lamp shining brightly on the dresser. That was it. Someone had turned the light on.

Man,
he thought.
My brain must still be asleep.

A tiny closet offered the only hiding place, and it was barely large enough to fit a little kid. He kicked off his blankets and walked over to the closet, then ripped the door open. Nothing but a pile of his old clothes and a few fresh shirts and pants.