Authors: Lynne Matson
Not just missing
, I had to keep reminding myself.
Gone—forever
. The most competitive survivor on Nil was dead.
Time had never felt more fragile.
With nothing to lose but minutes, I grabbed my rubbings and went to find Rives. I figured he could use a distraction, too.
I found Rives with Jason and Thad. The boys were sprawled on the black beanbag rocks where I’d first shared breakfast with Natalie and Sabine, whittling greenwood spears
. Perfect
, I thought. Exactly the three I wanted to see.
“Okay, y’all, I need your brains. Especially yours, Rives, because you’ve got fresh eyes.”
“At your service,” Rives said. He didn’t smile, but at least he’d answered.
Unwrapping the rubbings, I spread them out.
“Rives, you probably recognize this one”—I pointed to the Man in the Maze—“but I doubt you’ve seen this.” I pointed to my newest rubbing, the maze pinned by bisecting lines. “We found it near the southern lava flow. Thad calls it ‘Bull’s-eye.’”
“It does look like crosshairs,” Rives commented, studying the paper.
“But I don’t think they are,” I said quickly. “Thad told me once he thinks the carvings mean we’re rats in a maze. And I think he’s partly right.”
“We’re rats?” Jason asked curiously.
“No.” I shook my head. “Not rats. But I think the maze represents the island. Only I think on Bull’s-eye, the lines relate to the island, not the man. Like the island is broken into four parts.” I paused. “And I think there’s a fourth carving, I just don’t know where, exactly.”
“Why?” Thad asked.
“Because the Man in the Maze sits west, its sister drawing sits east, and Bull’s-eye sits south. So it follows that there’s a drawing in the north. We just have to find it.”
“Again, why?”
Before I could answer Thad, Ahmad’s voiced boomed behind me. “There
is
a fourth carving. I camped near it for a week. It was almost totally buried by a rockslide when I found it.”
“What does it look like?” I asked.
“Like Bull’s-eye.” Ahmad pointed. “Only it has numbers at the bottom and top, and the man is outside the maze, not in the center.”
“Do you remember the numbers? And can you sketch it?”
“I can try.”
I offered Ahmad my last sheet of blank paper and a piece of charcoal. He drew a circle, two bisecting lines, and a stick figure near the bottom right, outside the lines. At the top of the maze, just outside the circle, he added the number twelve, then he turned the tip of the vertical line into a double arrow, which pointed at the twelve. Underneath the drawing, in deliberate strokes, he wrote “3-2-1-4.”
“Three, two, one, four,” Thad read aloud. “Like a countdown? Three, two, one, boom? Three, two, one, dead? Why four?”
“Four quadrants, four seasons,” Rives offered. “Maybe the countdown is to the one-year mark. You’ve got four seasons to leave, or your number is up.”
“And the arrow points to twelve,” I said. “Noon, I’m guessing. The most important time on the island.”
“What are y’all looking at?” Macy asked. She’d appeared beside Ahmad, along with Dex.
“Island mazes,” Thad said.
Macy peered over my shoulder. “Those aren’t mazes. Those are labyrinths.”
“Maze, labyrinth. Same difference,” Thad said.
“Oh, no.” Macy shook her head emphatically. “They’re very different. Mazes have twists and turns, and dead ends. Labyrinths follow a path. There’s only one way in and one way out.”
“Like Nil,” I said. Rives was nodding.
“But there’s more to a labyrinth than that,” Macy said. “My uncle walked one last year, out in Texas. There’re famous ones, like the one with the Minotaur, but there’re tons in churches, too, because walking a labyrinth is a spiritual journey. Both the walk in and the walk out. Some believe it’s to get closer to God; some say it’s a journey of self-discovery. Either way, it’s personal.”
“So being here is a spiritual journey?” Thad quirked one eyebrow. “We’re here to find ourselves?” His voice was mocking.
Macy took Thad’s negativity in stride. “I can’t answer that; no one can.” Her tone was kind. “The way I see it, you’ve got to connect the dots for yourself.” As Thad snorted, Macy pointed to the rubbings. “Where’d these come from?”
I explained quickly. “Macy, once you told me you believe we’re all here for a reason. Do you think the reason is related to these labyrinths?” I realized it was kind of Thad’s question, kind of not.
Macy answered slowly. “Maybe. I do believe I’m here for a reason, that we’re
all
here for a reason. But”—she looked up—“I’m not sure we’re all here for the same reason. Does that make sense?”
“Totally,” I said, feeling the tendril of understanding blossom in my brain, too ethereal to grasp.
“Nope.” Thad cut in, his voice sharp. “We’re here because a gate dumped us here, plain and simple. And we already know there’s only one way in and one way out: a gate. Grab one at noon and you’re gone. That’s what these tell us, nothing more.” He jabbed his finger at the drawings.
“Maybe,” Macy said agreeably. “But maybe not.”
Rives tapped Ahmad’s sketch. “What’s with the numbers?”
“Tick-tock,” muttered Thad, crossing his arms.
“They relate to the lines, I think,” Macy said slowly. “It’s a sign of four. The lines divide the labyrinth into four equal parts, and there are four numbers evenly spaced, with four being last.” She traced the first number on Ahmad’s sketch. “Three always represents the trinity. It’s a divine number, and here it’s first in the sequence, giving it priority. Not sure what the number two represents, but the number one could be us. The individual. The guy or the girl who has to go into the labyrinth, because on this drawing, the figure’s near the entrance, like he’s ready to go in.” She pointed, and sure enough, the man on Ahmad’s sketch was positioned outside the maze, in the bottom right corner—not directly in front of the opening, but slightly above it. His placement was peculiar, yet my gut said purposeful. And no doubt important.
I stared at Ahmad’s drawing, at the man
outside
the maze. And then it clicked.
“That’s it!” I cried. “That’s what I’ve been missing! The start of the gate wave! It always starts in that lower right quadrant, on the eastern side. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before!” I pointed at the entrance, the entry point I’d always assumed was just symbolic. But everything on the drawings had significance; I saw that now, more than ever.
“And the numbers,” I continued, speaking fast. “Maybe they relate to the number of gates in a set? A triple, then a double, then a single, and occasionally a quad? I’m guessing here, but these numbers relate to the gates, I just know it.”
Rives looked thoughtful. “Quads are so rare that I can’t believe the four stands for a quad.”
“Four often represents balance,” Macy said. “Four seasons, four elements, four directions, four chambers of the heart. And four often represents Earth, the balance to the divine. These two crossed lines”—she pointed as she spoke—“make the sign of four, and four here is last in the sequence, after the one, which makes four the most powerful number of the group, like the sum.”
“Like it’s the goal. The final destination.” Jillian’s quiet voice was sobering.
Everyone stared at the rubbings.
“I call bullshit,” Thad said, breaking the heavy silence. “I say three, two, one, represents the countdown, ticking off until you make it home. To
our
Earth, in our dimension.”
“Maybe,” I said, using Macy’s tone. “But I think there’s more to it. And I think these drawings give us a definitive starting point on the gates.” I tapped the lower right quadrant. “Then gates move north, just like the double arrow tells us. These drawings might help us time the gates better.”
The next hour of discussion focused on gates and timing and quadrants. Ahmad offered to take a team to the north shore to make a rubbing of his sketch, which now, thanks to Thad, everyone called “Countdown.”
Talla was not forgotten, but the labyrinths were a definite distraction. Thad took Jason on sweeps, checking the perimeter from the air. I didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to know he was avoiding the City—and the labyrinths.
He didn’t mention the drawings until we went to bed.
“You did it again,” Thad said. “Gave the City hope, or at least something to think about other than death.”
“Just trying to put pieces together. Anything to give us a better shot, you know?”
“I know.” He paused. “But like you told Nat once, you’ll find what you’re looking for. We can look at those mazes twenty-four seven and see what we want to see—symbols and karma and cosmic mumbo-jumbo or whatever. But I think we’re better off focusing on your maps and your charts. On something definitive that will help us get off this rock. And it’s not those mazes. They don’t lead anywhere but back here.”
Reaching up, I traced the scar over his eyebrow. “I hear you. But I can’t help but think these labyrinths represent something meaningful and that we need to figure them out. Maybe they exist to tell us to catch a gate—and that gates are the ticket home, as you told Ahmad. Maybe they even show us a pattern to catch them. But maybe, just maybe, the labyrinths suggest something more. I just don’t want to miss anything important.”
“I won’t let you,” he whispered. Then he pulled my hand to his mouth and kissed each of my fingers, one at a time. Gentle, and highly distracting.
“Before I forget,” he murmured, “we’re set for dawn. Jillian volunteered as support. Jason too.” More kisses.
Search. Support. Jillian and Jason.
Thad’s words finally registered: tonight was our last night alone for days.
Thad tapped my nose. “Earth to Charley. What are you thinking so hard about? My half-naked body?”
I laughed, although he was partly right. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
You. Us. Our last night alone.
We’d fooled around, but we hadn’t done the deed. Talla’s death was a painful reminder of how little time we had, and I’d never felt more determined to make each moment count. Maybe tonight was
the
night.
“Charley?” Thad tilted my chin up and searched my eyes. “What’s going through your head right now?”
“I was thinking about us, and wondering if tonight is the night.” My cheeks grew hot.
“The night?” He looked lost.
“
The
night. Where we, you know…” I trailed off, embarrassed.
Thad sighed. “Charley, I wish. You have no idea how much I want that. But we can’t.”
His quick dismissal stung. “Why?” I asked.
“Because. We just can’t.”
“You have to give me a better reason than ‘just because.’ That sounds parental.”
“Okay. Because it won’t end well. Because we have no protection here. Because you still have ten months on the island.” Thad’s flat voice turned tortured. “What if you got pregnant? What if something happened to you during delivery? We have no doctors, no hospitals. And I won’t be here to help; that’s a given. And if you did have the baby here, remember only one person goes through the gate. One. You or the baby, not both.”
The horror of that thought sank in.
“And what if you’re still pregnant?” Thad wasn’t done. “Could you both make it through?” He ran his hand through his hair, and in that moment, I knew he’d thought of all these nightmare scenarios before, probably more than once. “I don’t know. And say you both make it, and you have the baby back home. What then? What if I didn’t make it? Now you’re a single mom? At seventeen? I can’t do that to you—”
“Stop!” I said, my voice tight. “That’s the Dark Side talking. You’ll make it.”
“I’m just saying, we can’t.” His voice was flat again.
“Fine. We can’t.” My tone matched his.
I lay with my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Don’t talk like that,” I said finally. “Like you won’t make it. Don’t even think like that.”
“Look, I believe I’ll make it,” Thad said, but the lie in his voice stung. “But not everyone does. There’s a chance I won’t. So we have to take that into account. Plan for it, eh?”
“No.” Anger tinged with frustration made me snap. “That’s not planning for the worst; that’s giving up.
You’re
the one who balked when I joked that eighteen was overrated.
You’re
the one who looked horrified that I was quitting. So don’t you dare give up on me now, Thaddeus Blake. Not when you have sixty-two days left and at least that many chances.” I dared him to argue, but he stayed silent, which was worse.
“Tomorrow we’ll go on Search,” I said, determined to make him see reason. “We’ll finish mapping the island and chart gates. We’ll use the mazes, follow our patterns, and if we see a gate, you’ll run your butt off to catch it, you hear?”
“I hear,” Thad said, breaking into a smile. “I love you, Charley.”
“I love you more.” And then I kissed him, more fiercely than he’d ever kissed me. Because I knew Thad could be gone tomorrow, and that he would definitely be gone in sixty-two days.
I didn’t need the labyrinths to tell me that.
CHAPTER
48
THAD
DAY 311, ALMOST DAWN
Charley was asleep. Considering it was still dark, I wasn’t surprised.
It was my turn on watch. I sat with my back against the rock, blade in my hand. So far there’d been no sign of raiders or big cats on this Search, which was good.
And there’d been exactly one gate, which was bad.
We’d been gone for seven days. In seven noons, we’d seen one exit gate. A single, too far away to catch. Equally surprising, it was Miya who’d spotted the gate. Now officially the youngest person in the City, she’d latched on to Jason after Talla’s death and refused to leave his side, so our team had gained a plus one. But it didn’t help.
I was still here.
And I had fifty-four days left.
Charley’s words from a week ago ran through my head.
Don’t you dare give up on me now, Thaddeus Blake … not when you have sixty-two days left and at least that many chances …