Chapter Five: The Black Scoreboard

Lin Xi wrote 031742 backward as 247130. It made no sense. Zhou reversed each pair instead: 30-71-24. “The old plans count mirrored levels as thirty-six zones,” he said. “It may be a different map.” Twelve metallic blows sounded in the dark. The black board read -12:00. Behind the right door, a girl began singing an old Haichuan song. Han's breath faltered. “Left,” he ordered. Lin Xi finally understood. He was not helping them shut down something he did not understand. He was afraid they would open the other door. She opened the right one. There was no reservoir. Stairs descended between relics from 2004: seven umbrellas, seven pairs of shoes, six adult tickets, and one faded child's scarf. Fresh words had been scratched into the wall below: