The Hunt for Dark Infinity

  “Tick,” Chu repeated. “Please. Please, look at me.”

  Finally, still breathing heavily, Tick did. An inexplicable warmth spread through him, and then a realization hit him. “What did you call me?” he whispered.

  “Tick,” Chu said, acting as if he hadn’t heard. “Please tell these people who I am. I don’t know anything about what’s going on, or this other Reginald Chu they keep talking about. It’s me, Tick—please, tell them!”

  Thoughts churned inside Tick’s mind. He remembered back in the woods by his house when Mr. Chu had appeared, looking haggard and desperate, acting like he wanted to help them. Something had seemed wrong then, something had been off. And now Tick knew what it was.

  “That’s my science teacher,” he finally said, feeling so calm it seemed the pain had been cut in half. “That’s Mr. Chu, not . . . Reginald Chu. Or . . . you know who I mean. This isn’t the bad guy.”

  Master George gave a knowing look to Sato, the slightest hint of a smile creasing his face. “I suspected as much, but wanted to be certain. Sorry to spring it on you like that, but I didn’t want any chance of you having preconceptions.”

  “How do you know for sure?” Sato asked.

  “Because he called me Tick. The evil Chu, back in Deer Park, kept calling me Atticus. My science teacher has called me Tick since the first day I met him. Never once has he called me Atticus. I can’t believe I didn’t think about that back then.”

  “No matter,” Master George said. “I seriously doubted this could be the Reginald from the Fourth, but we had to be certain. Sato, please free the man.”

  Mr. Chu sighed, his shoulders sagging in relief as Sato took off the handcuffs.

  “I’m sure the two of you will have much to discuss as you get caught up on things,” Master George said. “Mr. Chu, I hope you’ll serve as a tutor to our young friend back in Reality Prime, help him grasp the complexities of the science that is so closely linked to his welfare.”

  Mr. Chu didn’t look much happier than he had when he’d first entered the room, but he tried his best to smile. “I think Tick has a lot to teach me first.” He walked over and took Tick’s hand, and squeezed it hard as he shook it. “I’ll be expecting a full report, you hear me? And it’d better be good to explain everything I just went through. I think I’ll be avoiding dark streets and alleys for awhile.”

  “Deal,” Tick said. “As long as you give me a full report too. I don’t even know why you’re here.”

  Mr. Chu laughed, his face finally winning a victory and looking genuinely pleased, like the teacher Tick had always known. “Yeah, me neither.”

  “Very well, then,” Master George said. “Sato, please take Mr. Chu and debrief him one last time. I’d also like to speak to him before we send him on his way.”

  “Follow me,” Sato said curtly, standing at the door.

  Mr. Chu patted Tick on the shoulder. “Real pleasant people you associate with, Tick. Can’t wait to spend some more quality time with your friend Sato here.”

  “Could be worse—could be Billy ‘The Goat’ Cooper.”

  “Good point. See ya back in Deer Park. Take care, okay?”

  “You, too.”

  Mr. Chu hesitated, sharing a long look with Tick, then left with Sato, who closed the door behind him.

  “Right, then,” Master George said, clapping his hands together. “Atticus, I’ll put all of your study materials, this binder, and your other belongings in a suitcase of sorts and wink it straight to your room. I’m quite good at that by now. I promise not to destroy any more walls. As for you—your parents are waiting for you to appear in the forest near your home. Near the heavy Chi’karda spot we’ve used in the past.”

  Tick blinked. “Right now?”

  The old man nodded. “Right now.”

  Despite everything, a laugh croaked out of Tick’s parched throat. “Sweet. I’m ready.”

  Master George’s face grew serious. He came closer and sat back down in his chair, leaning in toward Tick. “Atticus, my dear young friend. I just don’t know what to think. There has to be some secret about you we’ve yet to discover, some . . . well, something, anyway. Your abilities and influence over Chi’karda are just mind-boggling, and there has to be an explanation. I give you my word, we’ll not rest until we figure it out.”

  “I know what it is,” Tick whispered. “I’m a freak. Mistress Jane only tried to help me because she wanted my freak-boy powers.”

  Master George’s face reddened, his lips trembling. Then he composed himself before speaking again. “Listen to me, young man, and listen to me well. Though I fully expect to discover something uncanny about you and your relationship to Chi’karda, I also know this: a large part of it has to do with you, and the kind of person you are.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Master George leaned forward even more. “You, my friend, have an incredible amount of conviction. Courage. A sincerity of belief and principle. All of those things that make up the very essence of the power of Chi’karda. In other words, a considerable portion of your extraordinary gift comes from the simple fact that you very much want to do good. And for that, I’m proud to call you my friend.”

  Tick wasn’t sure what he felt at that moment, but he knew if he tried to talk, it would come out sounding like a frog.

  “And now,” Master George said, patting Tick’s hand, “off you go. I suspect your parents are quite anxious to have you home.”

  Chapter

  52

  ~

  One Week Later

  Touchdown!”

  Tick’s dad leapt off the couch, dropping his game controller onto the floor as he started doing a horrific dance, waving one arm about like an elephant’s trunk as he shimmied back and forth.

  “Tippy toe left, tippy toe right,” Dad sang. “Our team’s the best, we’re outta sight!”

  “Dad,” Tick groaned, not too happy about losing once again in Football 3000—in overtime, no less. The awful victory dance only made it worse, and the old man didn’t show signs of stopping anytime soon, shaking his larger-than-usual rear end from side to side.

  “Watermelon, watermelon, watermelon rind! Look at the scoreboard and see who’s behind!”

  “Dad, the neighbors might be watching through the window. Please stop.”

  “Two, four, six, eight . . . okay, that’s enough.” Dad flopped back onto the couch, breathing deeply as if he’d just run a six-minute mile. “Whew, all that celebratin’ can really wear a man out. I wish you’d win more often and make it easier on me.”

  “Hilarious. One more game?”

  Dad leaned over to pick up the controller. “You sure enjoy punishment, don’t you?”

  Just then, Tick’s mom walked in, and without saying a word, she sat next to her husband. Tick felt his heart drop when he saw the look on her face, like she’d just been told she had cancer or lost a child.

  “Mom, what’s wrong?” Tick asked, feeling the controller slip out of his hands.

  She didn’t answer for a moment, staring at the floor. Finally, she looked up, her eyes haunted. “Atticus, I can’t take it anymore. I have to tell you something. I told your dad several months ago—when he broke the news to me that you’d gone off to be recruited by the Realitants.”

  “Honey—” Dad began, but cut off at a sharp look from Mom. “Well, I guess he does deserve to know.” He glanced over at Tick. “Don’t worry—it’s pretty neat, actually.”

  “Neat,” Mom said in a deadpan voice. “Once again, Edgar, you’ve summed things up so eloquently.” She reached over and squeezed Dad’s hand. “Which is why I love you.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Tick asked, much louder than he’d meant to.

  “Watch your tone, young man,” Mom said as she folded her hands in her lap. “It’s just that, well, I feel so bad for not telling you before. I think it might have helped you a little, helped you feel more confident. But then again, if I’d known before you winked away th
at first time, I might have locked you up in a dog kennel.”

  “Uh . . . sweetie?” Dad said. “Maybe you should actually tell him what you’re talking about.”

  Mom looked at Tick for several seconds without saying anything. Then, surprising him, she smiled. “I think the best way to tell you is to show you.”

  As Tick watched, he felt like the laws of gravity had just intensified, pressing him into his seat.

  Through the neck of her red blouse, his mom pulled something out that was attached to a golden chain. A pendant. A Barrier Wand pendant, exactly like the one dangling against Tick’s chest. He reached up and touched it through his shirt, his eyes stuck on the pendant in his mom’s hand. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

  “Now before you fall apart,” she said, gripping her pendant in her fist, “hear me out. I only kept this from you and your dad because I was under strict orders from Master George. He wanted to wait until you were old enough to accept it. Well, I think it’s high time—especially now that he’s sending Mothball and Rutger to us like ordinary mailmen.”

  “Mothball’s a woman,” Tick whispered, and somewhere deep down inside, he knew it was exactly the kind of ridiculous statement that pops out of someone who is in complete shock.

  “Sorry,” Mom said. “Mail persons. Anyway, yes, I was a Realitant recruit many years ago and earned my pendant. Back then, it was all about science—none of the dangerous things that are happening now. In fact, I left the group right after”—she paused, touching her lips as if holding back tears—“right after I met your dad. I wanted a normal family life, and Master George let me leave on amicable terms. I should have known that one day he’d go after one of my children.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Tick said.

  His mom folded her arms defiantly. “Well, why not? I know more about science and quantum physics than most people, thank you very much. And now that all of this is out, I can tell you one more thing. I expect you to hit those books Master George sent with a passion, and I’ll be on top of you every step of the way, quizzing and pushing. You’ve got a lot to learn, son. A lot.”

  “How did I end up with all these smart people?” Dad asked to no one in particular.

  “Hush, Edgar,” Mom whispered, patting him on the knee.

  Dad looked at Tick. “I love when she says that.”

  Tick stood up, surprised he could do so—everything seemed to spin around him. “You’ve got . . . to be . . . kidding me.”

  “Now, look here—” his mom began.

  “No, Mom, that’s not what I mean.”

  “Then what do you mean?” Her eyebrows shot up when Tick laughed out loud.

  “It’s just . . . that’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard. My mom was a Realitant.” He took a seat again on the couch. “I guess it’s finally official where I got my brains from.” He paused. “Uh, no offense, Dad.”

  ~

  Later that night, Tick sat in front of the fireplace, staring into the flickering flames. Fall had settled in on Deer Park, making everything cool and crisp. Dad was too stubborn to turn the heater on just yet, so Tick warmed himself before heading up to bed.

  As he sat there, almost in a daze, fingering the Barrier Wand pendant through his shirt, his thoughts spun. He’d be fourteen years old in a couple of weeks—hard to believe. How different his life had become in just one year. Not only was he a member of a group that studied and worked to protect alternate realities, he had some freaky power that was completely out of control. He’d been pulled from school to be taught full-time by his mom, with weekly lessons with Mr. Chu, and was monitored constantly for any signs of Chi’karda trouble. It wouldn’t be proper to cause an earthquake and destroy half the town of Deer Park.

  And always, always, there was the threat of a call for help from Master George. Who knew what waited on the other side of the horizon?

  My mom was a Realitant, he thought. Holy—

  A tap on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. He turned to see Kayla, holding a teddy bear in one hand, a red-and-black scarf in the other. Her curly blonde hair brushed the shoulders of her pink pajamas.

  “Well, what are you doing?” he asked, reaching out to ruffle her hair.

  “This nasty old scarf was in my closet. Mommy said you lost your other ones.”

  Tick looked at the dusty scarf clutched in her hand. He had to admit he’d thought about the missing scarf and his birthmark a few times in the last few weeks. It still made him uncomfortable to think people might be gawking at the ugly red thing on his neck. But for all that, he realized he never cared about it much when it was just Paul and Sofia around.

  Kayla held out the scarf. “Want it?”

  Tick took the scarf, then ran it through his hands, staring at the oh-so-familiar pattern of red and black. “Kayla, if I let you do something, do you promise not to tell Mom and Dad?”

  “Will I get in trouble?”

  “No—but I don’t want you to tell them. Don’t worry—this isn’t a bad thing. It’s a really good thing, actually. But we don’t want them to worry, now do we?”

  Kayla shook her head.

  “I want you to throw this into the fire.”

  Her eyes lit up, almost as bright as the flames. She looked for all the world like he’d just offered her a lifetime pass to Disneyland. Burning things had always been the one no-no of which she was notoriously guilty.

  “Really?” she asked, licking her lips.

  “Really. But just this once, okay? You’d better not burn anything else. Promise?”

  She nodded her head. “I promise.”

  Tick handed her the scarf and scooted out of the way. “Go for it.”

  Kayla wadded up the cloth into a ball, then stepped close to the fireplace. She looked one last time at Tick, as if she thought the opportunity had to be too good to be true. When he just nodded encouragingly, she turned back and threw the scarf into the fire. It took a second to catch, but then smoke billowed up as the flames began to eat away at the material. They both watched as it burned to ashes.

  Tick stood up and gave her a hug. “Good job. You’re the best pyro I’ve ever met.”

  “What’s a pie-row?”

  “Nothing. You better get up to bed or Mom will take that teddy bear away.”

  “’Kay. Good night.” She turned and ran out of the room, shuffling along with her tiny footsteps.

  Tick watched her go, then thought of the stack of Realitant and science books sitting on his desk upstairs. “I’ve got a lot of work to do,” he said aloud to no one but himself.

  He reached down and turned off the fire, then headed for his room.

  Epilogue

  ~

  Yellow and Red

  Frazier Gunn hadn’t spoken to Mistress Jane for more than two months.

  As he stood in the dark stone corridor outside her room, he suddenly wished he had another two months. This summons had been unexpected, and he felt the uncomfortable sweat of fear slicking his palms. Everyone in the castle knew something horrible had happened to Jane; they’d all heard the screams coming from her chambers, often long into the night.

  She’d gone through no less than eleven servants—only half of them surviving to tell about it, though it did Frazier little good, since they all had sworn a vow of silence, on penalty of death.

  Frazier steeled himself, wiped his hands on his pants, and knocked on the door.

  On the third thunk, the door swung open violently, slamming against the stone wall on the other side.

  “Enter, Frazier.”

  It was a voice he barely recognized. Raw and scratchy—weak, as if Jane had swallowed a glass of lava, scorching her throat and vocal chords.

  “Enter,” she repeated.

  Frazier couldn’t see where she was in the room.

  He stepped across the threshold, then closed the door. The only light in the room was a fire, burning hotly with several fresh logs, spitting and cracking. With a shudder, he remembered back to Jan
e’s flying cinder display, and he hoped there’d be no repeat tonight.

  “You called for me?” Frazier asked the darkness.

  A figure stepped out of the shadows behind a deep wardrobe in the corner between the bed and a large open window, where curtains fluttered in the breeze. Though Frazier could not yet see any details, he knew it was his boss. But she appeared to have something draped over her head.

  “It’s good to see you again, Mistress Jane,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady.

  “My dear Frazier,” she said, her voice the sound of rocks rubbing on sandpaper. “You will never know how very good it is to see you.”

  For the first time, Frazier realized there was a slight hollowness to her voice, as if it were muffled by something over her mouth. Subtle, but there all the same.

  “That means a lot to me,” he finally said. And he meant it.

  “I’ve often been . . . cruel to you,” Jane said, taking a step forward. Though she was still mostly in shadow, Frazier could see that she wore a long, flowing robe, its hood pulled up over her head. Something glinted off her face, a flickering reflection from the fire.

  Must be her glasses, Frazier thought.

  “You’ve only ever done that which needed to be done,” he said. “I know I’ll have my reward some day, when we make the Realities as they were meant to be.”

  “Frazier,” she whispered.

  “Yes, Mistress Jane?”

  “I want you to know that I love you as if you were my own brother. I promise never to be cruel to you again.”

  Frazier felt a strange mixture of elation and sick fear. “The feeling is mutual.” His hands were sweating even worse than before. So was his face.

  “That makes me happy, Frazier. Very, very happy.”

  Mistress Jane stepped out into the full light of the fire, and a puff of sharp air escaped Frazier’s lips before he could stop it. He took a step backward, cursing himself silently as soon as he did.