We tried switching up any gear we could, but nothing ever worked. Every time we put the hourglasses in place, the triad would trigger the sound sequence, and the Thirteenth Hour would be activated.
So, we went back to sitting on the floor.
At one point Erith even slept.
At one point Levana sang three songs in a row, and her voice was smoother than silk. It coaxed my eyes to close, and I could have sworn I’d heard it before. That same voice and that same song.
At one point four of them at a time played a game with their hands that I didn’t much care to understand, but they laughed and they screamed and they seemed to be having a good time.
No Cheshire came to my rescue.
I sat in front of the Eighth Hour, back against the base of the platform, and I’d come to enjoy the vibration against my back every time it played its note. March moved from oneside to the other, and he would look at me for minutes at a time, but we didn’t speak. We were hungry. We were tired. We were pissed off because we seemed to have been given an impossible task for real now.
And it was evident that no help was coming.
Another hour.
Most were lying on the floor on their backs, staring away at the darkness beyond. Some had their eyes closed. Some hummed with the tunes of the hourglasses under their breaths.
I fell in and out of consciousness constantly—because it wasn’tsleep.Sleep didn’t feel like falling, and I was always falling down a tunnel, that hole in the ground, the strangest hole I’d ever seen. Shelves and teapots and books and flowers, mirrors, lamps, empty cages—you could find anything on the walls of that hole, and it never seemed to end. Any time it claimed me, I was forever falling.
Then I woke up, hoping against hope that something had changed, that someone had received a clue, that we were going to get out of here soon.
But no. We’d fixed the Seventh Hour again, and now the three bulbs of the hourglasses that activated the Thirteenth were each outside their platforms. Number Seven was right there next to me. I could touch the glass if I reached out my fingers.
Sometimes I did. Sometimes I hopeditwould give me a memory, like March had done when he’d grabbed me by the wrist.
When it didn’t, I’d stand up and walk and walk around the hourglass in the middle, then take my place again. The Eighth Hour had becomemine.Nobody else sat near me, and I preferred it.
I thought about March often. I watched him way more than I wanted to admit to my own self. I tried to think backto when he’d worn short sleeves, if I’d noticed scars on his skin where that knife had gone right through his forearm.
The truth was that I couldn’t remember. I’d been busy with…otherthings.
Not ideal to be turned on in a room surrounded by darkness, trapped with eight other people who weren’t March, waiting to just…whatwas going to happen to us if we couldn’t unwin this, exactly?
Would we die of hunger? Of thirst? Would somebody send help?
And the Great Clock—what would happen toitif we didn’t get out of here eventually?
Another hour.
My thoughts were turning dark.
That’s why I dragged myself to the side of the platform to reach a patch of thicker dust on the floor nobody had stepped on yet, and I began to draw the platform and the bulb of the Eighth Hour.
It was something to keep my mind busy, something to do. I was wide awake, focused on every line my fingers and nails could draw, but I could still hear the others singing, humming, cursing, talking…
Seth said, “I’ll believe it. This feelsexactlylike an actual Thirteenth Hour. Bravo, whoever made this bullshit game—bravo!”And he clapped his hands furiously.
Someone laughed.
“I would kill for bread,” Mimi said from farther to his side. “I don’t even think that’s metaphorical. I think I would actually kill one of you.”
“Pfft.Tick off, you wouldn’t,” Erith said with a wave.
“You say that at least every hour.Tick off,” said Cook, eyes half closed like he was half asleep for real.
“Maybe I could try some timesand. I bet it tastes like bread…” Mimi.
