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 thelabyrinth, 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 manoutsidethe 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. ToourEarth, 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 wasthenight.
“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.
