No Escape by Julie Moffett
Chapter Forty-Nine
Lexi Carmichael
Slash continued to slowly rotate the ring, and the stars moved with him.
“Not all the stars are moving,” Alessa said after a minute. “It’s only those in a band near the ceiling.”
Slash stopped pulling on the rod, and the stars ceased moving. “Try the hole in the next circle,” I suggested. “Let’s see what happens then.”
Slash moved the rod and pulled. The stars moved, but this time it was a different band immediately below the previous one. He completed this exercise for all the rings. As he moved outward on the rings, the band of stars that rotated moved down the wall as well.
When he finished the outermost band, he studied the stone device and then the stars. “So, now we know we can align and realign the stars on the wall by moving the stone circles.”
“What does that have to do with the gold discs and the numbers on them?” Oscar asked, clearly confused.
“We haven’t connected those dots yet, Oscar,” I said. “We’re still collecting data, so to say.” I walked over to the wall for a closer look at the layout of the stars. Although there was no boundary between the layers of stars—and they were just pinpoints of light—it was possible, on closer inspection, to tell they were somehow out of alignment.
After a moment, I returned to the table. “I think we have to line up the numbers on the discs from the prior challenges in order to get the stars in the proper alignment.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Slash said. “Let’s try it.” He stuck the rod in the hole of the outer circle and pulled. “What number is on the outer disc?”
“It’s 395,” I said. “And it should be adjacent to 509 on the ring next to it.”
Slash moved the circle into position and removed the rod, putting it into the hole of the next circle. “The disc number on the third ring is forty-five, followed by sixty-four, and then 121,” Gio called out as Slash methodically worked his way through the circle. “The last number is 476.”
Slash removed and replaced the rod in each ring, rotating it until the designated discs were all in order. I returned to the wall, noting the stars appeared to be aligned, and familiar patterns emerged.
“Is that Orion?” my dad said, pointing at some stars on the wall.
“It is,” Mom confirmed, coming up beside me. She traced the constellation with her finger. “See it, Lexi?”
“I do,” I said. But I didn’t recognize any other constellations, and to my disappointment, nothing else had happened.
Slash stared at the stone circle, one arm resting against his forehead, the other hand holding the rod. “I think the problem is while I have all the numbers lined up, I don’t have them pointed in the right direction.”
“The direction,” I mused. “Good thinking. But what would we orient the numbers against? The gnomon in the center, perhaps?”
Slash looked up, his dark hair falling over his forehead. “The snowman?”
I stared at him and then laughed, shaking my head. “No, Slash. Not a snowman, the gnomon. Like on a sundial. It’s the metal part that sticks up in the middle and tells you what time it is by where the shadow falls. Gnomon.”
“Gnomone su meridiana,” Father Armando quickly translated.
“Ah,” Slash said and then grinned. “Gnomone. I’m disappointed. I was looking forward to seeing how a snowman fit into all of this.”
Still chuckling, I pointed to the gnomon and said, “See what happens if you align the numbers with that, Frosty.”
“Ha. Now I know who that guy is.” He arced an eyebrow at me. “Which way do you want to align the discs? Toward the way the base is pointing or the other way?”
It was a good question. I looked both ways, thinking. “If we use the direction toward which the base is pointing, it’d turn us back toward the door we came in through. Let’s try the other direction first. If that doesn’t do anything, we’ll follow the base direction.”
“Fair enough.”
Slash once again started moving the rings, slowly realigning the numbered discs so they lined up with the gnomon. We watched as the stars on the wall followed his movements. As the inner and final ring swung into place, two unseen spotlights on the ceiling suddenly popped on, shining at a spot on the wall where the gnomon was pointing. The precisely aimed lights illuminated the vague outline of something previously hidden in the shadows.
“It’s a door,” my mom gasped, stepping forward and squeezing my shoulder.