The Fifth Healer

32.

Ainsley perks up. "What do you mean?"

"Think about the tests we've had so far," I say. "What do they have in common?"

"Kidnapping?" says Niles.

"Near-death experiences?" says Wally.

"Besides that," I say.

"Puzzles," says Ainsley. "They're all puzzles."

I nod. "What kind of puzzles?"

"Time puzzles," she says.

"Right, time puzzles. Not place puzzles," I say.

Wally folds his arms and looks around. "I dunno, dude."

"Trust me, this isn't it," I say.

"Then where?" asks Ainsley.

"I'm not sure exactly, but-" I say.

Wally scoffs. "Then how do you know this isn't-?

"We're supposed to run a marathon," I say. "But none of us did, right?"

Ainsley looks confused. "Wait, didn't all three of you run here?"

Niles and Wally doesn't notice that she says all three of you, not all four of us.

I say, "Yes, but how long is a true marathon?"

"Twenty-five miles, bro," says Wally. He bends from the waist, stretching. "I've got the cramping hamstrings to prove it."

Ainsley shakes her head. "No, that's an approximation. You know those 26.2 stickers people put on their cars to flex like they're the only person who's ever run a marathon?"

Wally looks at her blankly.

"Yeah, well, that's the actual length of a marathon," she says.

"Exactly," I say. "So this can't be the finish line."

Ainsley's the one I care about persuading here. Niles and Wally are welcome to come along, or not, up to them. But if Ainsley doesn't want to break away from the group, I may need to convince all of them.

"But the bottom of the steps..." says Niles, tension filling his face.

"I'm not sure what she meant by that," I say. "But I am sure this is not the place."

Wally shakes his head. "You are way overthinking this. It was a race to the Lincoln Memorial. We made it. Now we meet her here at 1:15. The end."

"No, the end must be 1.2 miles from here," I say.

"You're not going to wait for her here?" says Niles.

"No, I'm going to finish the race."

"How do you know, though?" asks Niles, eyes fixed on the sidewalk.

"I just do," I say, thinking of my parents' letter. If it weren't for that, I would've just stayed here, waiting till 1:15 for a rendezvous that would never happen. Like most initiates.

"Do you know something we don't?" Ainsley asks me.

"I-what? No, it's just obvious this is another time puzzle," I say. "You all coming or not?"

There's a long pause. I look at each of them. Wally raises a blond eyebrow. Niles looks at his lace-up sneakers. Ainsley says, "I'm with Nikolai. This can't be the finish line."

Wally double-takes. "Ainsley, this guy's a whack job," he says, pointing at me. "We're not going to tell Dr. Khan to wait for your moronic asses when she comes to pick us up at 1:15. Right, Niles?"

"She did say 1:15, bottom of the stairs," says Niles, indicating the stairs.

"See, Niles gets it," says Wally.

"Ainsley, you sure you don't want to stay with us?" asks Niles. "Please?"

"We need to go find 1:15," she says.

Nile's weighty shoulders slump.

"Okay, bye, I guess," says Niles.

"Good luck," says Ainsley. "With Celeste and everything." She turns to me. "Okay, where to?"

I point at the Washington Monument. We start walking in the direction.

"So you think 1:15 is at the Washington Monument?" she asks.

"No," I say. "I looked at the map. The monument is exactly one mile from the Lincoln Memorial."

"Two-tenths of a mile short of a marathon. Then why are we walking toward it?"

"I think the meet spot is exactly two-tenths miles from there."

We're walking along the sidewalk by the reflecting pool, the long, narrow reservoir between the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument. Each step is painful. I'm limping pretty badly.

I wonder again if I should tell her about my leg. I don't remember how people typically react to finding out. But I like the way she looks at me now. If she knew, I'm afraid she'd look at me with something else-pity.

I guess that's why she didn't talk about her cancer before. She doesn't want those looks, either. I wonder if I'm now the one looking at her with pity. Knowing as I do about her cancer, I now notice some heart-wrenching signs of illness. The pale skin. Eyes that I previously took for world-weary, but I now see are just plain tired.

Together, with my limp and her illness, we make a pretty sad-looking pair to any joggers or tourists who give us a close look. But from my perspective, they're the sad ones. Ignorant of their ignorance. Joggers run by the sundial without a second thought. Tourists snap smiling photos without noticing it's in the background.

"So walk me through where we're, you know, walking to?" says Ainsley.

I say, "Okay. We agreed this was a time puzzle. Remember how Dr. Khan said she was dropping us off at three o'clock, six o'clock and nine o'clock? And we were racing to the center?"

"Yeah..."

"And we know humans first measured time using the sun and-"

"Sundials," she says.

I nod. "Now look around. What do you notice?"

"Segway tours. Selfie sticks. The commodification of civic history."

"I meant the buildings. What they have in common."

"You mean the height ordinance?" she says.

I nod.

She says, "Yeah, we learned that on a field trip here. The other buildings can be no taller than the U.S. Capitol. So that the Washington Monument stands taller-holy crap, Nikolai."

I smile. "You see it now?"

"The Washington Monument...it's a giant sundial."

I nod. "That's my theory, anyway."

I'm hoping when my parents talked about "General Washington's sundial," they meant the monument.

We stroll past the World War II monument, a large oval-shaped structure surrounded by rectangular pillars. By the time we climb the gradual incline to the base of the Washington Monument, it's 12:28 p.m.

As we look around, a flash of insight passes over Ainsley's face. "Nikolai, do you feel like you know exactly where the sun will be at 1:15? Like, you just know?"

I shield my eyes from its direct light, looking at the sky. "Yeah, actually."

She puts her hands on her hips, surveying the area. "So if the monument is a sundial, maybe we're supposed to follow the direction where the shadow will point at 1:15?"

My breath hitches. She's right. That must be it.

I orient myself to the line the shadow will take at that time. I'm startled to see where the route leads.

"The White House?" I ask.