Chapter

46

The Drag Race

Paul threw a Rager at the only remaining metaspide close to him, watching with glee as it steamrolled into a massive ball of earth and wiped the machine out, sparks flying as pieces of crumpled metal flew in all directions.

“Yeah, ba—”

A hard claw grabbed his ankle from behind and lifted, slamming his body to the ground. Paul tried to scream but there was no breath left in his body. He looked up to see a metaspide staring down at him with glowing robotic eyes. He wanted to say something—spit, yell for help—but he could only open and close his mouth, fighting to get air back in his lungs.

Scissoring metal blades came out of a hidden compartment, snipping on its hinges as it moved toward Paul’s face. But then the spider paused; its body rotated upward, as if it had spotted something behind them. Paul heard the glorious shouts of Mothball charging in to save him, when the metaspide took off on its spindly legs in the other direction, dragging Paul with it.

Paul’s body finally let him suck in a huge gulp of fresh air. It was enough for him to shriek with pain as rocks and dirt scraped his back, ripping his clothes. He kicked with his free foot, tried to slow the metaspide down by clawing at the ground, but to no avail. A burst of pain exploded inside him when his casted arm smacked a stray piece of one of the creature’s destroyed buddies.

“Mothball!” he shouted, trying without success to turn his head back to see if she was close. He kicked at the metaspide’s body and legs, but it kept running, dragging him like a sack of trash.

Enough of this ruddy nonsense, Mothball thought as she ran after Paul.

She lifted her Shurric, aiming more carefully than she’d ever done in her fighting life.

“Keep your legs down!” she shouted, still running, still aiming.

She pulled the trigger.

Paul came to a sudden stop, watching in disbelief as the body of the metaspide catapulted away from him and landed fifty feet away with a mechanical spurt of buzzes and sparks.

The thing’s claw was still attached to Paul’s ankle, the arm of it ending in a shredded clump of coppery wires. Paul reached down and easily separated the clawed metal fingers, then threw it far as he could.

Mothball ran up, towering over him as she sucked in gasps of air. “Ain’t the first time I saved your life,” she said.

Paul stood, wincing at the stings on his back from the cuts and scrapes. He didn’t want to think about what his skin must look like. “You used your Shurric!”

“That I did,” Mothball replied, calmly.

“You could’ve smashed me, too, ya know.”

“Reckon you’re right.”

“Or the spider could’ve ripped my leg off when it went bye-bye.”

“Reckon you’re right.”

Paul shook his head. “Well, thanks for saving me.”

He scanned the dusty area around them. Not a single working metaspide was in sight, and he heard the muted thump of a Shurric in the distance and a couple of Ragers wreaking their havoc somewhere.

It’s almost over, he thought. We wiped them clean out!

The ground shook worse than before, swiping away his extremely brief elation.

“Need to gather the others, we do,” Mothball said. “Meet me at the entrance to Chu’s mountain.” She took off running without waiting for a reply.

Paul thought of Sofia. He turned in a circle, searching for her.

He ran in a stumble toward the dark shape of the mountain, the haze making it look even more sinister than before. The quaking ground was making him sick. He shouted Sofia’s name, mad at himself for getting separated. As the dust settled, he finally caught a glimpse of her near the huge glass doors marking the entrance to Chu’s palace. From the looks of it, the doors had been mostly obliterated by a full Rager, jagged shards of glass littering the ground.

“Sofia!” he shouted again, running toward her.

She spotted him and stared for a long moment, then turned her back to him. The earthquake made it appear as if she were jumping up and down.

“Sofia!” he called, but she ignored him, her attention focused on the gaping hole leading to Chu’s palace.

What is she doing?

Without so much as a glance back at him, Sofia sprinted for the destroyed glass doors, disappearing into the darkness beyond.

What . . .

“Follow her!” he heard Mothball roar from a distance. “Everyone! We gotta get to Tick!”

Paul ran forward, but only made it two steps when the earthquake doubled in intensity, knocking him to the ground. He looked up just in time to see a huge section of the mountainous building crack and fall, exploding when it hit the ground, the sound of its crash splintering through the air.

“No!” he shouted.

The entrance was completely blocked off.

Chapter

47

Pacini

Sofia ran, her Shurric at the ready for anything that jumped out at her.

The building shook horribly around her; she heard a crash of breaking glass far behind. Around her, the walls and floor bent and rippled; chunks fell from the ceiling. Every step took her full concentration and balance to make sure she didn’t fall down.

Tick is doing this, she thought. I don’t know how or why, but Tick is doing this.

She pictured in her mind the map Master George had shown them—third lower level, section eight. Her legs already exhausted, she somehow kept going, winding her way through hall after hall, down staircases, through more halls. With every turn, she saw people running, heading in the opposite direction, fleeing the destruction.

She kept going forward.

Tick was lost.

The blackness killing his vision was complete now, which only escalated the sheer panic that surged through him, competing with the intense heat that still burned. He stumbled about, waving his arms, calling for help. Jane’s screams still rocked the air, though they’d grown deeper, guttural, filled with gurgles and raw shrieks.

What did I do? he thought. What did I do to her?

And where had Chu gone?

All around him, the sounds of destruction penetrated the darkness of his sight, scaring him. Huge things crashed nearby; it was a wonder he hadn’t been crushed yet by a falling object. He wanted to shrink to the ground and curl into a ball until it was all over. But he couldn’t. He had to run. He had to get away.

He kept stumbling forward, searching for something, someone, anything.