ALSO BY JAMES DASHNERTh e 1 3 th Re ality se rie sThe Journal of Curious LettersThe Hunt for Dark InfinityiDoc.co Fo r Lyn e tte . Th is b o o k was a th re e -ye ar jo u rn e y,an d yo u n e ve r d o u b te d . iDoc.co CHAPTER 1He began his new life standing up, surrounded by cold darkness and stale, dusty air.Metal ground against metal; a lurching shudder shook the floor beneath him. He fell down at thesudden movement and shuffled backward on his hands and feet, drops of sweat beading on hisforehead despite the cool air. His back struck a hard metal wall; he slid along it until he hit thecorner of the room. Sinking to the floor, he pulled his legs up tight against his body, hoping hiseyes would soon adjust to the darkness.With another jolt, the room jerked upward like an old lift in a mine shaft.Harsh sounds of chains and pulleys, like the workings of an ancient steel factory, echoed throughthe room, bouncing off the walls with a hollow, tinny whine. The lightless elevator swayed back andforth as it ascended, turning the boy’s stomach sour with nausea; a smell like burnt oil invaded hissenses, making him feel worse. He wanted to cry, but no tears came; he could only sit there, alone,waiting.My name is Thomas, he thought.That … that was the only thing he could remember about his life.He didn’t understand how this could be possible. His mind functioned without flaw, trying tocalculate his surroundings and predicament. Knowledge flooded his thoughts, facts and images,memories and details of the world and how it works. He pictured snow on trees, running down aleaf-strewn road, eating a hamburger, the moon casting a pale glow on a grassy meadow, swimmingin a lake, a busy city square with hundreds of people bustling about their business.And yet he didn’t know where he came from, or how he’d gotten inside the dark lift, or who hisparents were. He didn’t even know his last name. Images of people flashed across his mind, butthere was no recognition, their faces replaced with haunted smears of color. He couldn’t think ofone person he knew, or recall a single conversation.The room continued its ascent, swaying; Thomas grew immune to the ceaseless rattling of thechains that pulled him upward. A long time passed. Minutes stretched into hours, although it wasimpossible to know for sure because every second seemed an eternity. No. He was smarter thanthat. Trusting his instincts, he knew he’d been moving for roughly half an hour.Strangely enough, he felt his fear whisked away like a swarm of gnats caught in the wind,replaced by an intense curiosity. He wanted to know where he was and what was happening.With a groan and then a clonk, the rising room halted; the sudden change jolted Thomas from hishuddled position and threw him across the hard floor. As he scrambled to his feet, he felt the roomsway less and less until it finally stilled. Everything fell silent.A minute passed. Two. He looked in every direction but saw only darkness; he felt along thewalls again, searching for a way out. But there was nothing, only the cool metal. He groaned infrustration; his echo amplified through the air, like the haunted moan of death. It faded, and silencereturned. He screamed, called for help, pounded on the walls with his fists.Nothing.Thomas backed into the corner once again, folded his arms and shivered, and the fear returned.iDoc.co He felt a worrying shudder in his chest, as if his heart wanted to escape, to flee his body.“Someone … help … me!” he screamed; each word ripped his throat raw.A loud clank rang out above him and he sucked in a startled breath as he looked up. A straightline of light appeared across the ceiling of the room, and Thomas watched as it expanded. A heavygrating sound revealed double sliding doors being forced open. After so long in darkness, the lightstabbed his eyes; he looked away, covering his face with both hands.He heard noises above—voices—and fear squeezed his chest.“Look at that shank.”“How old is he?”“Looks like a klunk in a T-shirt.”“You’re the klunk, shuck-face.”“Dude, it smells like feet down there!”“Hope you enjoyed the one-way trip, Greenie.”“Ain’t no ticket back, bro.”Thomas was hit with a wave of confusion, blistered with panic. The voices were odd, tinged withecho; some of the words were completely foreign—others felt familiar. He willed his eyes toadjust as he squinted toward the light and those speaking. At first he could see only shiftingshadows, but they soon turned into the shapes of bodies—people bending over the hole in theceiling, looking down at him, pointing.And then, as if the lens of a camera had sharpened its focus, the faces cleared. They were boys, allof them—some young, some older. Thomas didn’t know what he’d expected, but seeing those facespuzzled him. They were just teenagers. Kids. Some of his fear melted away, but not enough to calmhis racing heart.Someone lowered a rope from above, the end of it tied into a big loop. Thomas hesitated, thenstepped into it with his right foot and clutched the rope as he was yanked toward the sky. Handsreached down, lots of hands, grabbing him by his clothes, pulling him up. The world seemed to spin,a swirling mist of faces and color and light. A storm of emotions wrenched his gut, twisted andpulled; he wanted to scream, cry, throw up. The chorus of voices had grown silent, but someonespoke as they yanked him over the sharp edge of the dark box. And Thomas knew he’d neverforget the words.“Nice to meet ya, shank,” the boy said. “Welcome to the Glade.”iDoc.co CHAPTER 2The helping hands didn’t stop swarming around him until Thomas stood up straight and had the dustbrushed from his shirt and pants. Still dazzled by the light, he staggered a bit. He was consumedwith curiosity but still felt too ill to look closely at his surroundings. His new companions saidnothing as he swiveled his head around, trying to take it all in.As he rotated in a slow circle, the other kids snickered and stared; some reached out and pokedhim with a finger. There had to be at least fifty of them, their clothes smudged and sweaty as ifthey’d been hard at work, all shapes and sizes and races, their hair of varying lengths. Thomassuddenly felt dizzy, his eyes flickering between the boys and the bizarre place in which he’d foundhimself.They stood in a vast courtyard several times the size of a football field, surrounded by fourenormous walls made of gray stone and covered in spots with thick ivy. The walls had to behundreds of feet high and formed a perfect square around them, each side split in the exact middleby an opening as tall as the walls themselves that, from what Thomas could see, led to passages andlong corridors beyond.“Look at the Greenbean,” a scratchy voice said; Thomas couldn’t see who it came from. “Gonnabreak his shuck neck checkin’ out the new digs.” Several boys laughed.“Shut your hole, Gally,” a deeper voice responded.Thomas focused back in on the dozens of strangers around him. He knew he must look out of it—he felt like he’d been drugged. A tall kid with blond hair and a square jaw sniffed at him, his facedevoid of expression. A short, pudgy boy fidgeted back and forth on his feet, looking up at Thomaswith wide eyes. A thick, heavily muscled Asian kid folded his arms as he studied Thomas, his tightshirtsleeves rolled up to show off his biceps. A dark-skinned boy frowned—the same one who’dwelcomed him. Countless others stared.“Where am I?” Thomas asked, surprised at hearing his voice for the first time in his salvageablememory. It didn’t sound quite right—higher than he would’ve imagined.“Nowhere good.” This came from the dark-skinned boy. “Just slim yourself nice and calm.”“Which Keeper he gonna get?” someone shouted from the back of the crowd.“I told ya, shuck-face,” a shrill voice responded. “He’s a klunk, so he’ll be a Slopper—no doubtabout it.” The kid giggled like he’d just said the funniest thing in history.Thomas once again felt a pressing ache of confusion—hearing so many words and phrases thatdidn’t make sense. Shank. Shuck. Keeper. Slopper . They popped out of the boys’ mouths so naturallyit seemed odd for him not to understand. It was as if his memory loss had stolen a chunk of hislanguage—it was disorienting.Different emotions battled for dominance in his mind and heart. Confusion. Curiosity. Panic.Fear. But laced through it all was the dark feeling of utter hopelessness, like the world had endedfor him, had been wiped from his memory and replaced with something awful. He wanted to run andhide from these people.The scratchy-voiced boy was talking. “—even do that much, bet my liver on it.” Thomas stillcouldn’t see his face.iDoc.co