The Hunt for Dark Infinity (The 13th Reality #2) (21 page)

“You don’t sweat?” Paul looked over at Tick. “She doesn’t sweat, Tick. Now I’ve heard everything.” He continued walking toward the center of town, shaking his head.

Nothing much had changed since they’d left the border road and headed deeper into the city. The buildings had gotten a little bigger with fewer pillars and less frilly decoration; apartments and condos had replaced the extravagant neighborhood homes. The sun had sunk lower in the sky, the darkened glow of twilight fast approaching. None of the people they passed paid them much mind, despite their dirty clothes and haggard appearance. Everyone seemed extremely busy—all made up and pressed clean.

“Look up there,” Sofia said, pointing straight ahead.

Less than a quarter-mile ahead of them, twelve roads came together like spokes of a wheel, intersecting in a huge open-air mall where hundreds of people milled about. Tick realized something, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Where are all the cars?” he asked.

Sofia and Paul stopped, as if stunned by the simple question.

Paul snapped his fingers. “I knew something was missing. We haven’t seen a single car.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Sofia said. “There’s nothing primitive about this place. If anything, it seems a little more advanced than our reality.”

“Ah, dude,” Paul said. “What if they beam around like in
Star Trek?
”

Sofia snorted. “I’ll be sure to ask Dark Gator if I see him.”

Paul burst out laughing; Tick held his laugh in, pressing his mouth closed.

“What?” Sofia said.

“What did you call him?” Paul asked.

“Dark Gator.”

“Man, oh, man, you are too good to be true, Miss Italy, too good to be true.” Still chuckling, he walked toward all the people. “I think I see a restaurant up there. Let’s check it out.”

Sofia looked at Tick, her eyebrows raised.

“It’s Darth
Vader,
” he whispered. “And he’s from
Star Wars,
not
Star Trek.
”

“Well, they both sound stupid,” she concluded, then followed Paul.

The mall was a collection of all sorts of shops and eateries, surround by a broad expanse of inlaid bricks. The three of them stopped to see which restaurant looked most appetizing—assuming, of course, they accepted Reality Prime money. Tick’s hopes were rising, because this place had some of the same fast-food chains as back home—their logos were just slightly different.

“Ooh, look—” Tick started to say, but a man stopped him by pulling on his elbow. Tick looked behind him to see a short, fidgety man with the worst comb-over Tick had ever seen.

“Excuse me,” the man said, his face breaking into a smile that would have looked more natural on a rattlesnake. “Is your name, er, Atticus Higginbottom?”

Tick didn’t know what he’d expected the man to say, but his mouth dropped open and his heart started thumping.

“Um,” he said, looking over at his friends to see if they’d heard. By the stunned looks on their faces, he figured they had. He turned back to the man. “Yeah, I’m Tick, I mean, Atticus.”

“That’s great, real great,” the man said, more relieved than happy. “Someone named, um, Mothball asked me to find you and offer you rooms in my hotel, The Stroke of Midnight Inn. My name is Phillip, and I’m happy to accommodate you.”

Then he bowed. He actually
bowed.

Tick felt immediately suspicious, and it only took a second for him to see his friends felt the same.

“Mothball sent you?” Sofia asked.

“Why didn’t she come herself?” Paul added.

Phillip pulled his head back, looking like a startled—albeit pudgy—chicken. “I don’t know—why would I make something like that up?”

“What does she look like?” Tick asked.

The man didn’t hesitate. “She’s very tall—the tallest person I’ve ever laid eyes on. Black hair, thin, not very . . . well, what I mean to say is . . . well, she’s a bit homely, to be honest.”

“A-plus on that quiz,” Paul muttered, and Tick felt himself relax a little.

“She said you’d be staying here for a week or so,” Phillip continued. “She paid me in advance and asked me to provide you three meals a day, plus whatever else you might need.”

The prospect of a nice hotel room, a hot shower, and all the food he could eat sounded to Tick like the single best idea in the history of best ideas.

“Good enough for me,” Paul said. “Where do we go?”

“Wait a minute,” Sofia said, holding out her hand. “There has to be something else. There’s no message, no reason, nothing? I don’t like this.”

“Actually,” Phillip said, “she did leave you an envelope. It’s sealed, so of course I don’t know its contents. Oddly enough, she asked me to give it to you at exactly six o’clock.” He looked at his watch. “Um, tomorrow morning.”

Tick looked at his own watch—it was just past six-thirty. “Sounds pretty legit to me. I actually feel a ton better—like maybe Master George is behind all of this after all.”

“Yeah,” Paul agreed. “Let’s go eat.”

Sofia didn’t answer at first, her eyes distant as she thought it over. “Where’s the hotel?” she finally asked.

“Right this way,” Phillip said, stepping aside and sweeping his arm wide. “If you’ll follow me, it’s on the edge of town. In fact, I’ve reserved rooms for you with a great view.”

As Phillip led the group north along the road, Paul asked, “A view of what?”

“The forest, of course,” Phillip said without missing a step. “If you look out your window after dark, you might see the glowing monkeys.”

Tick waited for the man to laugh, but the only one who did was Paul. Tick almost asked if he’d been serious, but with everyone else silent, he felt stupid for even thinking it. Of course the guy was kidding. Wasn’t he?

~

The Time Riddle

T
he hotel was like something out of Hollywood. Big pillars, stamped gold everywhere, doormen in green velvet coats running around, treating their guests like royalty. A huge sign hung above the entrance with
The Stroke of Midnight Inn
written in fancy script. Inside, everything sparkled and shone, and not a person in sight had a grimace or the slightest hint of a frown. Plush red carpet blanketed the floors and grand staircase, over which an enormous chandelier hung with hundreds of crystalline lights.

I’ve died and gone to heaven,
Tick thought.

He knew Paul must feel the same, but Sofia would surely find something to complain about, having come from such a rich family.

Phillip led them to the fourth floor—walking up the stairs, the poor man sucked in huge gasps of breath with every step—and down a long hallway to their rooms. When Paul asked him why they hadn’t used the elevator, Phillip responded with a baffled look, as if he’d never heard of such a thing.

Phillip opened up a room with an old-fashioned key. Tick was surprised since he’d only ever seen the magnetic-stripe key card at hotels. The room was filled with normal hotel things: a king-sized bed, a small refrigerator, a couch, a desk, and a bathroom. The only difference was that the items were ten times nicer than the stuff in hotels Tick had been in when his family traveled.

“There are three rooms in all,” Phillip announced, passing out keys accordingly. “There’s a menu on the desk for you to order food from the restaurant. Please be reasonable, but make sure you feed yourself nicely. Is there anything—”

“Where’s the TV?” Paul asked.

Phillip gave him that same bewildered look, his brow crunched up into dozens of wrinkles. “A TV? What’s that?”

“Television. You know—movies, shows, commercials,
television?
”

“Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tick looked at the light on the wall, which Phillip had turned on when they’d entered the room. They obviously had electricity here, but seemed to be missing a lot of other things common to Reality Prime.

As if reading his mind, Sofia asked, “Where are all the cars?”

Phillip put his hands in his pockets, his confused look morphing into suspicion. “Cars have been banned for at least twenty years.”

“Banned?” Tick asked. “Why?”

“And how do you get around?” Paul asked before Phillip could respond.

The hotel man shook his head, looking at his three guests in turn. “When that . . . when Mothball made me this deal, I didn’t realize she’d be sending such odd people. Where are you kids from?”

“Florida,” Paul answered. “Well, originally from California—”

Sofia cut him off. “It doesn’t matter. But we’re curious about the cars. Where we come from, they still use them.”

“The darn things were polluting us to death,” Phillip said, still appearing uneasy as he rocked back and forth on his feet. “So they banned them, made towns where everything was in walking distance. If you want to visit another town, you take the Underground Railroad—named after the lady who escaped the slave drivers a long time ago—the one who became president, Harrietta Tubben.”

Tick and Sofia exchanged baffled looks.

“So you’ve got trains, underground?” Paul asked.

“Fastest ones in the world,” Phillip answered, eyeing the door. “If there’s nothing else . . .”

“Thanks for letting us stay here,” Tick said, liking the idea of seeing Phillip leave and finally ordering some food. “Don’t forget to bring us that message from Mothball.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” the man assured them, already backing out the door into the hallway. “Order a nice dinner and get some rest.”

Tick closed the door before the last word made it all the way out of Phillip’s mouth.

“Well,” Sofia said, “this place is just like home compared to the last Reality—desert, glass tunnel, raging beast.”

“All I care about right now is food,” Paul said. He’d already picked up the phone to call room service.

~

Later that night, his stomach stuffed with roasted duck and asparagus (they didn’t have pizza or hamburgers in this place), fully showered and clean, Tick lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling. Every ounce of his body begged for sleep, his mind deadened with exhaustion. And yet, he remained awake.

Man, I have a weird life.

He’d lost track of how long they’d been gone—it seemed like a month, but he knew it was only a few days, maybe a week at most. He knew his mom and dad were back home, worry eating at them like ferrets trapped in their gut, trying to stay chipper for Lisa and Kayla. Tick wished he could send them a message, talk to them somehow. Just to let them know he was okay.

A hard knock at his door made him jump. Crumpling up the sheets in his bed, he wiggled into a sitting position, his back pressed against the wall. He stared at the small space under the door, where two small shadows marked someone’s feet.

“Who is it?” he called out, embarrassed at how shaky his voice sounded to his own ears.

“It’s me, sleepyhead,” Paul replied, the words muffled through the wood.

Tick sighed with relief as he threw the covers aside. He hurried over and opened the door. Sofia was behind Paul, her eyes puffy with sleep. Each of them wore fancy-looking flannel pajamas provided by the hotel, and Sofia’s looked about three sizes too big.

“What’s going on?” Tick asked.

“Dude, have you looked out the window?” Paul stepped into the room, pushing past Tick.

“Um, no.” Tick stepped aside to let Sofia in, then closed the door. He flicked on the light, but Paul quickly waved his hand at him.

“No, dude, turn it off!”

Tick did as he was told, grumbling a little. All he wanted right now was to be left alone and sleep for days. He felt so tired and his body hurt like he had the flu. The only light in the room was a mysterious panel on the wall that shone a dull yellow. Something about it gave Tick the creeps.

Paul leaned next to the window, carefully pulling aside the curtains to peek through the corner, as if spying on someone in the parking lot. Tick faltered as he joined Paul—this place didn’t
have
a parking lot.

“What are you looking at?” Tick asked.

Sofia knelt at the other end of the window, lifting that corner of the curtains to peer out. The two of them looked ridiculous.

“Santy Claus,” Paul whispered. “What do you
think
we’re looking at?”

“I don’t know—that’s why I asked.”

Sofia turned toward Tick, the disgusted look on her face barely discernible in the faint light. “The glowing monkeys.”

“Oh, yeah!” Tick couldn’t believe he’d not even looked—a sign that his brain had gone to sleep even though his body had refused. He squatted on the floor between his friends and slowly lifted the bottom of the curtain to take a peek.

Outside, the dark forest stood like a fortress wall, massive trees silhouetted by the pale moonlight seeping through the thick clouds above. The city behind the hotel had a surprising lack of nighttime lights, making Tick feel like they were in a cabin deep in the wilderness. And there in the woods, radiant and eerie and constantly in motion, dozens of creepy glowing shapes moved about the trees.