For an instant, Paul couldn’t make himself move. He stared down in horror at Tick, who was lying on the ground, the weird metal spider thing on top of him. Its eight segmented legs of steel pinned each of Tick’s limbs while a pair
of slicing blades popped out of its silver belly and headed for his friend’s head. Somehow, in the midst of all this, Paul noticed words printed on the back of the spider’s round body:

METASPIDE

Manufactured by Chu Industries

Just like the Gnat Rat.

He snapped himself out of his daze and grabbed the closest chair. Picking it up by the back, he swung it as hard as he could and smashed it into the creature, sending it flying off Tick and clanking along the paved stones of the pathway. Tick scrambled to his feet and joined Paul; Sofia and Sally were right next to them, staring at the thing Paul had just whacked.

The metaspide righted itself, turning to look at the group, though it had no eyes as far as Paul could tell. The thing’s buddies had dropped down to the same level of the indoor mall and joined their leader in a pack, as if readying for a charge. Most of the darkly dressed people had fled the scene, somehow finding the spirit to move quickly when vicious robot spiders came calling. A few stragglers pressed their backs against the walls of the buildings, looking on in terror. The place had become eerily silent.

“I just can’t buy that Master George is doing this,” Sofia said.

“You chirrun ain’t tellin’ me the whole truth!” Sally said.

Paul tried to calm his heavy breathing. He knew the only way to get out of this was to solve that stupid riddle. An anagram of “the words inside.” He quickly started visualizing options in his head, other words those letters could spell: sword . . . died . . . snow . . . wine . . . news . . . odd . . .

It was easy to come up with individual words, but using every last letter—and only those letters—was really hard without pen and paper.

“What are they waiting for?” Sofia said.

The metaspides stood in a line, at least a dozen of them, their bodies turning and nodding, clicking and clacking, buzzing endlessly. They seemed to be communicating, deciding what to do next. It didn’t make Paul feel very good thinking that those things were smart enough to call plays, like in football.

“I don’t know,” Tick said. “Sally, where can we go? Where do you live?”

Sally grunted. “Ain’t be leadin’ them buggers to my place, no how.”

“Is there a place to hide?” Sofia asked.

“Mayhaps if we go into one of dem there stores or such.” Sally pointed to nowhere in particular.

This triggered a thought in Paul’s head. Maybe they were supposed to figure out the name of a place, and go there. Maybe they’d be winked away if they made it.