“No, we didn’t forget the plan,” Sofia said with a sneer, then pointed toward the door with the creepy red letters scrawled across it. “But that stupid door says that only Tick can go through it. If Master George wants him to get close to Chu, looks like he’s on his own.”
“You don’t know that,” Tick said, forcing the words out through a cough that rubbed the back of his mouth raw. “Maybe I just need to go in, do something, and come right back out.”
“Doubt it,” Paul muttered.
“Why?” Tick asked.
“I just have a feeling it’s done for us, dude. I think Chu wanted you from the beginning because of your freak show back in the Thirteenth—winking us with a broken Barrier Wand and all. We’re done—I know it.”
Tick looked at Sofia, pleading with his eyes.
“I think he’s right,” she said, frowning.
Sally walked forward until he was close enough to read the message on the door. “Whoever wrote that nonsense ain’t got a bit of learnin’ in him, I can tell ya that. I can barely read dem chicken scratches.”
Sofia raised her eyebrows at Tick as if to say, When did Sally get so smart?
“Messy or not,” Paul said, “it doesn’t beat around the bush. Only Tick can go in there. If we try, we’ll die a, uh, horrible death.”
“That’s only half the problem I’m worried about,” Tick said. “What does Mistress Jane have to do with it? Why just me and her?”
“Reckon you and that no-good tweety-bird’s all Chu cares about,” Sally said with a grumble. He spit again.
Tick squeezed his fists at his side, then rubbed them against his temples. “I can’t do this,” he whispered. “I can’t go in there by myself.” His insides churned with panic, as if internal wires had been crossed, messing up his whole organ system. He felt like a sissy, but the truth of it weighed on him like the chilly air had finally frozen solid around him. I can’t do it, he thought. I can’t go in there without Paul and Sofia!
“Ah, now,” Sally said. “Ain’t no time for that. You ain’t got nuttin’ but brave inside you, boy. Suck it on up, hear?” He held the shiny chrome cylinder out to Tick.
Tick stared at it, not moving a muscle.
Paul walked over and put his one good arm around Tick’s shoulders, wincing with the effort. He leaned over and spoke close in Tick’s ear. “You listen to me, bro. No way we’re gonna let anything happen to you. You’re the one with that transponder thingy in your ear—we’ll go back with Sally and keep an eye on every move you make. We won’t sleep, won’t eat, until we can wink back to get you.”
Tick nodded, then looked at Sofia. She stepped forward and grabbed the silver rod from Sally, then lightly shoved it against Tick’s stomach.
“Paul’s right,” she said, trying her best to throw compassion into her voice. “The three of us will wink back to Master George and watch you like a hawk. First sign of trouble and we’ll come help you.”
Tick waited a few seconds, then finally took the cylinder from Sofia. It was cool to the touch and slippery in his sweaty hands. “I don’t think you should do that. Follow me or come after me, I mean.”
“Why?” Paul asked.
“Well, if Chu wants me alone—or . . . with Mistress Jane—then we better do things his way.”
“For awhile, maybe,” Sofia said. She looked as if she might say more, but then closed her mouth.
Tick looked at Sally and held up the silver rod. “What am I supposed to do with this anyway?”
Sally grunted and rummaged through his leather pack again. “Ain’t no way ol’ George be lettin’ me tell ya.” He pulled out a wadded up piece of paper and handed it to Tick. “Read that, ain’t too hard no-how.”
Tick unfolded the paper with shaking hands then read it out loud:
Dear Master Atticus,
You hold in your hands the antidote to Reginald Chu’s nanoplague, which is causing people all through the Realities to go insane. We believe the plague can be destroyed by injecting this silver rod and its contents into the mechanism that controls the virus-like nanoparticles. You need simply to smash the antidote against Chu’s device—Dark Infinity—and let Rutger’s brilliant engineering do the rest of the work.
I need not tell you the incredible amount of danger you are about to undertake. I daresay, I almost feel tempted to abandon the whole thing. But alas, I think you’d agree that we have no choice. The fate of all the Realities may hang in the balance. Atticus, you must do this thing. You must do it, no matter the cost.
Once we see sign of your success, we will come and rescue you. This, my good man, I swear to you.
Your comrade in arms,
Master George
Tick held up the cylinder, studied it closely, ignoring his surge of panic. The odd object had no blemishes, no scratches, no smudges—it was perfectly smooth, perfectly shiny.
“Piece of cake,” he muttered with a pitiful attempt at a laugh. “Waltz into Chu’s house and smash this against something. Piece of cake.”