The Fifth Healer

69.

We split up. Niles heads back to the tower. Ainsley to the top of the Acropolis. But I know I'll be the one to find him. I know he'll be at the stadium.

We aren't allowed on floors one through three, but there's no rule against leaving the Kastro. I slip out and head down the hill. I find Wally at 2:07 p.m.. The area in front of the stadium is packed, but I know where he'll be-standing in front of the fence, gazing at that podium. I walk up and stand beside him, realizing I have no idea what to say. Finally, with his gaze still fixed on the mostly full stadium of spectators waiting at the finish line to the marathon, Wally says, "The real bitch of it is that there isn't even a fourth-place level on that medals platform."

I remain silent.

"Fourth place watches from off to the side," he says, "sitting on the loser's bench."

I start to push back. "Wally-"

"Don't. Just don't, okay?"

I nod.

"How did you know where to find me?" he asks.

"You're a quarter Greek," I say. "And you're an athlete. Where else would you be?"

Wally snorts. "You know they do this Athens Marathon every year? Starts in the city of Marathon. Ends right here. The same route as that first marathon a million years ago."

"The start of chronopathy."

"The start of the Gnomons."

"We should probably leave," I say. "There will be security."

"Imagine that race," says Wally, not bothering to look away from the inside of the stadium. His voice is flat. "Thousands of people running a race that actually honors the first use of chronopathy. And they don't even know it."

"But you do," I say, trying to inject life into the remains of someone I've come to see, despite his quirks, as a friend. "You know the secret, Wally. We know what they're running for."

"That's the thing, Nikolai," says Wally. "There is no we anymore. You're a chronopath. Me? They tell me the secret but won't let me use it."

"You couldn't move the sundial," I say, guessing what happened.

"Not even one freakin' minute forward."

"I'm sorry, Wally."

"I pushed so hard, my arms were shaking, and my vision was blurry, and I ran out of oxygen and like passed out on the platform," Wally says bitterly. "Then Papas reached down and shifted it back and forth with a flick of his pinky finger. Just to double check it was working still. You know, for the right people."

"It's not a test of strength, Wally," I say.

"Everything is a test of strength, bro," says Wally. He shakes his head. "Everything."

I'm not sure how to respond, how to be helpful. I reach out and pat Wally on the shoulder.

"Sorry, uh...bro," I say.

Wally nods. "Me too, bro. Me too."

"Now what?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Who cares?"

"You're still a Fifth, right?"

He scoffs.

"So you're..." I say, pausing, wary of how he'll react to the words spoken aloud, "a non-chronopathic Fifth. You're-I mean, you get to be-a Gnomon?"

Wally's nose wrinkles in complete disgust. "A Gnomon? Are you serious, Nikolai? You think I'd waste my life being a servant to all those self-important Chronopaths?"

"But Wally-"

"I'm not gonna be some glorified taxi driver for a bunch of wanna-be doctors who think they're better than me. Forget it." He taps his pants pocket. "Good thing I kept that fake passport on me. I'm on the first plane out of here, back to America."

"You have money?" I ask.

He looks down.

"I'll get a job at a tourist shop for a couple weeks or something and scrape the money together," he says. "But don't worry, I'll keep the secrets. For you three, not for the guild. Tell Ainsley and Niles, uh, you know, bye for me. I won't forget any of you."

That comment stings. By now, the guild must have noticed Wally's lack of interest in becoming a Gnomon, judging by his absence. They'll be searching for him. They'll retromance him. His only chance of leaving with his memories intact is to get away as soon as possible. But do I trust him to keep our secrets? Is it safer for Wally to be retromanced?

"Here," I say, reaching into my inside vest pocket for the gold eagle Dr. Khan gave me before the marathon back in DC. "I know you spent yours. Have mine."

"Thanks," he says. "Two bucks. Only need like $998 more for a plane ticket."

"It's worth more than two dollars, Wally."

"Okay, two-fifty," says Wally. "You got me. Every cent counts."

"No, Wally. The worth of this coin isn't face value."

His eyebrows press together, questioning.

"This coin," I say, "is made of solid gold."

His eyes go wide.

"And it's a collector's item," I add.

"I can't believe I wasted mine on two dollars worth of snacks."

"Well, now you have another one."

"You know what it's worth?"

"It must be at least thousands of dollars-you can just sell it at a jewelry store or pawn shop."

"I don't know what to say," he says. "No one's ever done anything like this for me before."

"Thanks would be fine."

"Thanks."

"Go with the gods, Wally."

"Yeah. You, too."

He flips the coin with his thumb, catches it on his palm and slips it in the pocket of his torn jeans.

"By the way, bro," he says. "You can have all my dope t-shirts. They're in my locker. Combination is 69-69."

"Um, thanks," I say.

"Oi, leaving without saying good bye?"

I turned he find Sloan has materialized out of the crowd.

Wally looks down.

"We should talk," Sloan says to Wally. "I need to talk to you, to, Nikolai, but from the looks of things Wally is the more urgent case."

Wally shrugs.

"I'll leave you to it, then," I say, eager to find Ainsley before she returns to the Kastro. It's the only way we'll be able to talk freely.

I head through the ruins, by the Tower of the Winds and up the side of the Acropolis.

I ascend the northwest side, past the small Temple of Athena Nike, and circle the Acropolis, spotting her back at the small stone wall at the edge of the cliff, overlooking Athens, toward the Tower of the Winds. She's wearing a knee-length cream-colored sweater. Homemade, I assume. I also assume my watch and flask are in the pockets of her leggings underneath the sweater.

I take a deep breath and then approach.