Paul passed Sofia, ripping the wooden door of the shop open. All four of them stumbled across the threshold and into The Sordid Swine without so much as a peek behind them, afraid that looking would somehow allow the metal monster to gain ground. Sally was last, slamming the door shut, leaving them in almost complete darkness. A shaft of pale light from a small window gave the musty room a haunted glow. The place was empty except for a crooked wooden chair in the corner.

“What now?” Sofia whispered.

Before anyone could answer, something smashed into the wall from the other side, shaking the room and sending a cascade of debris rattling down the brick walls. The group instinctively ran across the room to get as far away from the door as possible, pressing their backs against the brick wall. The giant metaspide slammed into the wall again, then again; a hinge broke, rattling to the floor. Light seeped through the broken door.

“What are we supposed to do now!” Sofia yelled.

Another crash rattled the door—half of it broke apart and tumbled to the ground. The spider was too big to fit through the hole, but a nasty-looking piece of steel came shooting in, sharp as a blade on one edge, swiping around like a cat trying to get a mouse out of its hole. It was nowhere close to them.

Yet.

“Tick,” Paul said, “sure’d be nice for you to use those nifty superhuman winking powers right about now.”

“Would you shut up—I don’t know how I did that!” Tick yelled back, sick of everyone expecting him to be the stinkin’ Wizard of Oz. He wished he hadn’t said it as soon as it came out.

“Whoa,” Paul said, looking hurt. “Sorry, dude.”

“Guess we were wrong about the anagram thing,” Sofia said.

“No, we weren’t,” Tick said, pushing aside his regret at yelling at Paul. “There has to be something. Think.”

The huge metaspide slammed into the door again, making the hole bigger. Several bricks clattered across the ground. Its blade-arm swiped a little closer, only a few feet away.

“You chirrun better get me on out dis here mess,” Sally said. “Ain’t too particular ’bout how ya’ll do it, neither.” He grimaced as the metal arm swung close enough to stir his hair as it passed.

“The only thing in here is that stupid chair,” Paul said. The rickety thing sat in the corner, looking like a sad punishment place for a naughty child.

“Well,” Tick said, “then maybe we’re supposed to do something with it.” He felt defensive, like his inability to recreate the winking trick he’d pulled off in the Thirteenth Reality made him responsible to figure out another solution.

“What can we do with a chair?” Paul retorted.