BOOKS IN THIS SERIES

  BY JAMES DASHNER

  A Door in the Woods

  Book One of the Jimmy Fincher Saga

  Gift of Ice

  Book Two of the Jimmy Fincher Saga

  The Tower of Air

  Book Three of the Jimmy Fincher Saga

  War of the Black Curtain

  Book Four of the Jimmy Fincher Saga

  © 2006, 2012 James Dashner

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, whether by graphic, visual, electronic, film, microfilm, tape recording, or any other means, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. The views expressed within this work are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of Cedar Fort, Inc., or any other entity.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-55517-801-7

  Published by Sweetwater Books, an imprint of Cedar Fort, Inc.

  2373 W. 700 S., Springville, UT 84663

  Distributed by Cedar Fort, Inc., www.cedarfort.com

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CONTROL NUMBER: 2004108699

  Cover design by Rebecca Jensen

  Cover design © 2012 by Lyle Mortimer

  Printed in the United States of America

  1 0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Printed on acid-free paper

  This one is for Dad, up in heaven.

  A lot of the material and ideas in this

  saga come from my imagination. Jimmy's

  love for his dad is not one of them.

  A big thanks to the people who helped me with the third book, especially my talented wife, Lynette, as well as Matt and Tristi Pinkston, the insane Bahlmann family (Shirley, Zack, Brian, and Michael), and Nikki Shaffer, Natalie Roach, and Nicole Cunningham at Cedar Fort. I'm also thankful to Georgia Carpenter, Vachelle Johnson, and Angie Harris for their hard work at promoting the series.

  A huge thanks to Bryce Mortimer for his talent and efforts at recording the audio versions. He's now making a much bigger and more praiseworthy sacrifice than sitting in a recording studio.

  I am grateful to Dave Wolverton, Tracy Hickman, Laura Hickman, and L. E. Modesitt Jr. for taking time out of their extremely busy schedules to help out and advise dreamers like myself.

  Of course, the biggest thanks goes to you, the one holding this book. Without the readers, Jimmy Fincher wouldn't have made it this far.

  Prologue

  1. Lots of Water

  2. The Lonely Dead Man

  3. Dinner and Riddles

  4. The Chain Gang

  5. Sleeping Disorders

  6. Veins and Chains

  7. Dad in a Pickle

  8. Bath in Dirty Water

  9. Bubble Submarine

  10. Unexpected Departure

  11. Flying Dutchman

  12. The Shadow Storm

  13. Superman in Reverse

  14. Every Child's Fantasy

  15. One Pop at a Time

  16. Dad the Gift

  17. Human Alarm Clock

  18. Dead to the World

  19. Tanaka Gets Freaky

  20. Not Photogenic

  21. Undesirable Choices

  22. Another Dream

  23. The Abyss

  24. Rafting

  25. The Edge of Water

  26. The Tower of Air

  27. The Two-Way Door

  28. Riddle of the Infinite Door

  29. Farming in the Desert

  30. The Third Gift

  31. Stones of Discipline

  32. The Stompers Revealed

  33. The Dream Warden

  34. A Door in the Air

  35. Scott's Head Pops Up

  36. Heavy Water

  37. First Chance Gone

  38. Tender Moment

  39. Not-So-Tender Moment

  40. Two Buds

  41. Bad Time to Swim

  42. The Wrinkled Stranger

  43. An Invitation From Evil

  44. Odd Place to Meet

  45. Lifestyles of the Rich and Shadowed

  46. Free Delivery

  47. The Northless Point

  48. Late Night Television

  49. My Ugly Mug

  50. Wanted: Jimmy Fincher

  51. Presidential Escort

  52. Escape From the Good Guys

  53. No Sign of Elves

  54. Into the Blackness

  55. Purple

  56. Sliding and Lightning

  57. To Bounce Up a Hill

  58. Useless Gifts

  59. Swimming against Time

  60. The World Bends

  61. Odd Visitor

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  About the Illustrator

  In the midst of a world that was gray and wet, the creature stirred, and the sound of metallic clatter was dulled by wind and rain.

  The creature was hunting.

  Its black wings still shifted occasionally between the solid firmness of what they were becoming, and the wavering mix of shadow and nightmare they had once been. The entity felt stronger now, with a renewed sense of certain accomplishment. As the evolution quickened, so did its hope. Success—the preparation—was at hand.

  The rain intensified, pelting the creature from all sides as the wind tore haphazardly from every direction. The heavy chain hanging around its neck was beginning to hurt, but the thought of what lay ahead enlivened and encouraged the winged beast. It would be worth it, the pain of carrying the chain in this long and arduous flight. Well, the chains. The flying abomination was not alone.

  If the storm were to abate, the sounds of flapping wings and rattling chains would have filled the air with a frightening sense of doom. They were many, and their purpose was one. This was fortunate considering the bad weather.

  The creature strained its black eyes to see into the distance, but it was hopeless. There was only gray, and the quick sparkles of thrashing rain. The roar of the wind made communication impossible.

  So they flew, and they searched, and they waited for the storm to end its fury.

  There, in the distance, something caught the creature's attention.

  It was impossible to tell for sure, but it was at least different from the constant blurry visage of the past few hours of the storm. Something dark, far below, moving up and down in a definite pattern, a contrast from the random movement of cloud and rain. Could it be?

  The others did not see it yet. After a long intake of breath, the creature let out a piercing scream, putting all of its effort into making the cry louder than the sound of the storm. Most of the others looked, and came closer to find out what was transpiring.

  Since speaking was out of the question, the beast merely pointed toward the dark object below. The others nodded.

  They began their descent, chains and wings flapping in the wind.

  They had finally found me.

  There is a place, where a ribbon of black marble cuts through an inky sea of gray waters. The stone-cold path goes on forever in both directions, no one yet ever reaching an end on either side. The monotony, the sameness, of the lonely trail is only broken by round landings of stone with stacked iron rings in the middle, gateways to countless worlds. There is no sky; at least, the swirling mists never allow the sight of it.

  The Black Curtain, the rift between that world and ours was beginning to rip once again, the Blocking steadily losing its power.

  The place of frightful wonder to which the Curtain leads is called The Blackness.

  I had been there before.

  I would be returning very soon.

  I'm Jimmy Fincher, and this is my nightmare.

  There is so much that I must do.

  I must find the Tower of Three Days,

  and understand its secret.

  I must seek out the one known as Erifani Tup.

  I must solve the riddle of the Red Disk.

  Most important of all, I must find the only one

  who can save us all.

  I must find the Dream Warden.

  There is so much that I must do …

  The ocean was big and dreary, and I hated it.

  We had been floating on top of the dang thing for weeks, endlessly searching for something that perhaps did not exist. Even Joseph grew doubtful, and his cheerful demeanor had waned considerably with every passing day. The clues were as scarce as the ocean was vast. We were looking for a place where it was always three days at the same time, somewhere in the ocean. That was pretty much it, all we had to go on.

  The Tower of Three Days.

  It made no sense to me, and I had never felt so completely useless, without any hope whatsoever. How in the world could you take that one clue, and then go and have a look-see throughout the entire ocean? It bordered on insanity to even try.

  It was almost evening on the thirty-third day when we had our first breakthrough.

  The day was beautiful, cloudless and bright. I woke up that morning feeling better physically than I had in quite some time. The first couple of weeks on the ocean had been absolute misery, with nausea my constant companion, and barfing a regular activity. Tanaka stayed well clear of me after meals. He'd had more than one run-in with the Jimmy Fincher puke brigade, and he told us that if he only accomplished one more thing in life, it wo
uld be to avoid being spewed on by me ever again.

  Our yacht was extremely luxurious and comfortable, with plenty of food. Our captain told us we could last for months if we had to. The boat was nowhere near full capacity, but had been stocked as if we would have a full load. The mystery of how it had all been paid for was still up in the air. Joseph had either robbed a bank or sweet-talked a rich old Japanese widow into giving her husband's fortune away. He answered most of our questions, but not that one. We didn't need to worry about that, not yet, he had said. We didn't argue, because there were plenty of other things to grill him about.

  Joseph's experience after being taken by the Shadow Ka on that scary day when I blocked the Black Curtain was very similar to Rayna's story. He'd been flown for many miles through the shifting mists of the Blackness, until finally he had seen a massive black object looming before him. It was made of the same black gooey substance that Rayna had plunged into when she was younger and had been abducted by a Ka.

  A black carving of a face. Hers. Joseph's experience was only different in one respect. The face had been his.

  The pack of Ka tore into the eye of that face, and Joseph was suddenly thrown through a terrifying maze of nightmares and visions. Then, just before a slumber from which he would have never awakened, the girl had appeared, and saved his life. The girl who I first saw so many weeks ago, waiting for me under the door in the woods. The Giver who wore jeans and sneakers.

  She saved his life, releasing him from the living nightmare of the face.

  Her words at that time had chilled Joseph. She said she would die for him, just before he was ripped away, out of the darkness. Very strange. And very creepy.

  After the ordeal, Joseph had spent several days with the Givers, learning much about many things. Some he had since shared with us, some he had promised for a future time. I was thinking about all of this on the morning of the thirty-third day, standing in my favorite spot at the highest point of the entire ship, looking out into the endless horizon where the blues of ocean and sky met in a distinct line.

  That's when I saw something strange floating in the distance.

  It was white and sparkly, bobbing in the waters like the last lonely Cheerio in a Sunday morning breakfast bowl. I watched it float there for a while, wondering what object could end up out here in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps it was a dead fish. I was just about to lose interest and search out everyone else on the boat to see what was in store for the day, when it got close enough that I could see that it was definitely not a dead fish.

  It was something straight out of the storybooks.

  Intrigued, I ran down the stairs and into the main cabin, looking for someone who could help me retrieve the thing from the water. Our captain was standing at the main controls of the ship, methodically getting things ready for another day's journey to nowhere. He glanced at me, said hello, and then went back to his duties.

  His name was Drake, but we all took the lead from his crew and called him Captain Tinkles. Now, there's something that just ain't right about calling a man Tinkles, but his crew referred to him by no other name. It had something to do with an old story from back when they were all in the Navy, but they refused to tell us the details. Every time I spoke with him, I cringed if I had to use the name. Usually, I just stuck with “Captain” and left off the disturbing second part.

  “Captain,” I said, “there's something floating up near the front of the yacht that I think we should try to bring on board.”

  “Oh yeah?” he replied. His voice was grainy, as if he were mixing cement in his mouth while trying to speak. He nodded his head toward the front window. “What is it, a retired dolphin or something?” He didn't laugh, so I wasn't completely sure it had been a joke.

  “Just come look. I don't think you'll be disappointed. Do you have something we could reach down and grab it with?”

  “Yeah, boy, if it's worth grabbin’. Come on.”

  He stepped out of the cabin back into the open, with me right behind him. He grabbed a long pole with a net on the end of it from the supply boxes, and headed for the front part of the ship. Joseph, Rayna, and Miyoko had come out while I was talking to the captain, and they were up front pointing at the same object I had seen.

  “Ho, there!” yelled the captain. “What you got your eyes glued on? You telling me this boy ain't lying?”

  “Ah, good,” said Joseph in his whispery voice, the pale sun glimmering off his bald head. “I was just about to go looking for that.” He pointed at the net and pole. “So, Jimmy, I take it you saw this little gem, too, huh?”

  “Yeah, I hope it's what I think it is.”

  “There's no doubt that there's something inside of it,” Rayna said. She was a member of The Alliance, a mysterious group of people that had dedicated their lives to helping the Givers prepare for the inevitable battle against the Shadow Ka and the Stompers. Her disfigured face and strange green clothes no longer fazed me.

  Captain Tinkles leaned out over the railing and reached toward the water with his pole. Our ship was huge, so he had to really stretch himself and extend the pole as far as he possibly could. After several failed attempts, one of which just about sent him swimming, he grabbed the shiny object with a final burst of effort and a heavy grunt.

  “Aha! Got the little—”

  “Watch your language, there, Tinkle-Boy,” said Joseph, cutting him off.

  Tinkles pulled the long pole up, hand over hand, and then laid it on the deck of the boat. We all stared at the object, with a sense of reverent awe.

  Dad came up from behind.

  “What's everyone gawking at?” he asked.

  When he saw the source of our wonder, he stopped short.

  “What the—” He bent down and picked it up.

  In one of those moments where you just can't help but state the obvious, Dad announced to everyone what we had just discovered.

  “It's a bottle.”

  He paused.

  “With a note in it.”

  Dad knelt down and we all crowded around him as he fumbled with the bottle.

  It was green glass, the shape of an old-fashioned Coke bottle. Despite having floated in the largest washtub in the world for who knows how long, it was covered in spots with slimy dirt and grime. But the glass was just clean enough to see the rolled piece of paper inside, a magical note waiting to be read. A message in a bottle. It was something that everyone had dreamed about at one time in his or her life. I never knew which would be cooler, sending a message and having someone find it, or finding one sent by someone else.

  We were all anxious, and urged Dad to hurry and open it.

  He grabbed the twist-off lid, squeezed and turned. At first it didn't budge, but Dad strained until veins were popping out of his neck, and it soon gave way. He twisted the lid until it came off, and handed it to me.

  He turned the bottle over, and shook it. The note was stubborn, and kept getting stuck on the lip of the bottle, not wanting to come out. Dad finally had to have Miyoko stick her little pinky finger in the bottle and slowly drag the piece of paper out. She handed it back to Dad.

  He bent over and placed the note on the deck and unrolled the paper, spreading it out with his hands. He then read its message out loud, although we could all see it for ourselves.

  The paper was white, and yellowed around the edges. In the middle, scrawled in black, was the message:

  “My goodness. We have to help this man,” said Rayna.

  “I don't think so,” was Dad's reply.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  Dad pointed to something at the very bottom of the page that none of us had noticed yet.

  It was dated October 8th, 1963.

  It was way too late for us to help the poor man. We would never go to the island he described, and we would never meet anyone named David Millstone. But his note, written decades earlier, would finally give us the break we so desperately needed.

  That night we all met at our usual spot for dinner. The yacht came with a full crew, although they didn't mingle with us too much, and this included a chef. He was the best cook I'd ever come across, and I looked forward to every meal. So far, he'd only served peas once, and I made sure that he knew this was unacceptable. The entire staff, including the captain, was a mystery to me. Although they would end up seeing many strange things, they never really questioned why or how. And Joseph seemed to know more about them than he would let on.