weight to one side or the other. Once everyone was settled, the side of the floor that abutted the door shifted up about two feet, and the numbers on the wall raced up and down as people reorganized themselves, coming to a rest at 377,042,581.
Neela did the calculation without being prompted. “That’s five hundred and two million, one hundred and forty-four thousand, three hundred and one.”
“Means nothing to me,” Kevin said. “Switch?”
They shifted chairs moving one seat clockwise, like a complicated game of musical chairs. This time the floor tilted back toward the door, but not far enough.
“Three hundred and seventy-two million,” Neela began, “nine hundred and—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mackenzie said, cutting her off. “We know it’s not right. Keep moving.”
They shifted again, and again the floor dipped toward the door. Again, not far enough.
“Neela,” Riot asked as he stood up from rotation number three, “how many different permutations are there for the four of us at four tables?”
She didn’t even hesitate to do the math in her head. “Twenty-four.”
Persey glanced up at the ceiling, close enough now that an NBA player going for a dunk might be in mortal danger. “We don’t have time to try all of them.”
“The numbers must mean something,” Kevin said, shifting to the next table. “But I’ve never seen fuck all of three hundred million or whatever dollars.”
Three hundred million dollars…“Holy shit.” She was a fucking idiot. “Neela, how much did you say the Brownes lost after the Prison Break debacle?”
Neela gasped. “Two hundred and fifty million!”
“Backward math,” Kevin said, pointing at Neela. “Stat.”
She was way ahead of him, eyes closed, lips working as she did the mental calculation. “One hundred and eighty-seven million, seven hundred and sixteen, two hundred and fifty pounds.”
“And a partridge in a pear tree,” Kevin added dryly.
The ceiling was dangerously close—another couple of minutes and Kevin and Riot, the tallest ones in the room, were going to have to crouch as they moved from table to table—and even though they suspected their target amount was correct, it was still a moving target. Neela, poised at the center, directed traffic. Persey could see her eyes flashing back and forth between the tally and the tables, watching as the numbers raced up and down.
“This is useless,” Kevin panted, eying the rapidly approaching roof as they futilely switched places yet again. “We’re about to be Swiss cheese, people.”
“Swiss cheese?” Neela asked.
“Holey.” Kevin forced a laugh at his own joke. “Man, I wish there was actual food with this….” He bent forward to look at the bill on his table. “Twenty-four and a half pound tea. I’d like something for my last meal.”
“Twenty-four pounds fifty…” One check had been for twenty-two fifty, another for seventeen. The one at the table where she currently sat was for twenty. Those numbers, all different, couldn’t have been random. Nothing in these rooms ever was. “Guys, the numbers on the checks are all different. Maybe that’s a clue to where we’re supposed to sit?”
“Huh,” Mackenzie said. “I just turned twenty last week.”
“And I’m seventeen.” Persey straightened up. Could it be that simple?
Riot raised his hand. “Twenty-two and a half,” he said. “Almost to the day.”
They all turned to Kevin.
“Any chance you’re twenty-four?” Persey asked.
He smiled. “That’s what my ID says!”
“And I’m nineteen,” Neela added. “But since apparently I wasn’t supposed to survive this long, it makes sense that my age would not be represented.”
Persey didn’t know what was going to happen when they all took their “assigned” seats, but it wasn’t as if they had much of a choice. Without further discussion, they scurried around, dodging sliding books and one another, and took their places: Kevin was nearest the door, Riot farthest way, Mackenzie and Persey in opposite corners. Neela stayed at the dead center of the room, trying to remain a neutral weight. Kevin was the last to take his seat, and then they all turned to the tally on the wall. It should have been 187,716,250 pounds, if their theory was correct.
“One hundred and eighty-two million, five hundred thousand, seven hundred and twelve,” Neela read. “It didn’t work.”
“Fuck!” Mackenzie started to stand up. “This is pointless. We’re all going to die!”
“Don’t move!” Persey cried, holding up her hand. She was watching the wall near her table, where the floor wasn’t perfectly perpendicular to the wall. She waved to her left. “Neela, can you shift that way?”
Neela complied with little baby steps. The tally shifted slowly, rising