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Chapter 3

Turner Towers

· The Time Travel

We walked to Turner Towers while trying to wipe off the sweat from our clothes. Once we reached Turner Towers, I was shocked at the appearance of Turner Towers. It looks like a burnt down school with a four-legged odd-shaped tower resembling a water tower beside it. It was in an overgrown field. We struggled to get across the field but when we reached the building, we found a huge metal door. It was very rusty and heavy. Clayton pushed the door as hard as he can. It screeched open and it was pitch black inside.

“After you,” Clayton said.

I rolled my eyes and switched on my phone to use its torchlight app while Clayton brought a small torch. Clayton took out his camera. I was really grateful that it had night vision mode. We looked around to see what we can find. The floor and walls were charred. Most of the stuff was covered with a huge white cloth. The cloth did not look white anymore as the dust has taken over it. Under some most of the white cloth was burnt furniture but some were rusted equipment. The windows were covered and there is very little ventilation. When we got deeper into the building, we realized something.

“Hey Clay, did you notice that the walls and floor are darker now, as if more charred,”

“Yeah, your right”

“That means we can find the source of the fire!” we shouted simultaneously.

We continued to follow the walls. The deeper we got into the building, the darker it got. It eventually led us to a small room. We entered it and it was empty. When I shined the light towards the wall at the end of the room and I noticed something peculiar. There was a small portion of the room which was not charred- a perfect rectangle, like some sort of door. I touched one of the bricks and there was a thick layer of dust. Clayton came up beside me and pointed to a small portion of the wall- the part I touched. It had a letter ‘L’ carved on it. Clayton brushed the dust away and a puzzle materialized. There were four buttons and a question.

“Will was in a living room with a grandfather clock. If 5 seconds pass between each chime, how long will it take if it chimed 12 times?” read Clayton.

“The answer is 55,” I replied smartly.

He argued it was 60 as 12x5 is 60. I told him that there are only 11 intervals and we stop timing at the last chime. Which means 11x5. He nodded as if he learned something new. He pushed the button with a 55 on it. Suddenly the room shook violently. I felt a tug behind my shirt and was pulled back. The wall in front of us collapsed. Clayton helped me get up. There was another metal door. It didn’t have a handle so I tried to push it. Wow. This is hard.

“You going to help me or what?” I asked while still pushing as hard as I can.

He smirked and asked me to move aside in a mocking tone. He swiped the door to the side. He smiled cheekily. He raised a brow while folding his arms. A sliding door. Of course! As I slapped my forehead

“Was that so hard?” he mocked.

I smiled sheepishly and punched Clayton in the shoulder. He rubbed his shoulder in pain. Clayton and I shined our torches towards the dark and eerie room. I took this opportunity to mock Clayton.

“After you,” I giggled as I made a bow.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny,”

We entered the room and the charred walls led us to a weird mechanism in the middle of the room. I scrutinized the mechanism. It is a large circle supported by a semi-circle base-like something you could find in a sci-fi movie. There was also a small hole on top of the mechanism. Once again, Clayton noticed the mechanism had a writing on the base. Why are there so many puzzles? I read the puzzle out loud for the camera.

“I have 17 candles. The wind blew out two. I closed the windows but before I could, the wind blew out three more. How many candles do I have left? Five, twelve, seventeen, or ten?”

“It’s 17, their all still candles whether with fire or not,” I said proudly.

“I don’t think it’s that straight forward,”

“So, what are you thinking?”

He rubbed his chin like he was deep in thought. He said that the answer is five. Confused, I asked for the reason for his answer. He said that the candles that were burnt out eventually burned out, leaving those extinguished by the wind. I said it was reasonable so I pressed the button with the number five. The strange mechanism was making a whirring sound which made me excited. The surroundings of the large hole lit up the room. The louder and brighter it got the wider I smiled then suddenly it seemed to turn off. No more light or sound was being emitted by the mechanism.

“Well, that was anti-climactic,” I commented.

We came closer to the machine. It made its last whirring sound before it emitted a blinding light. I tried to turn around but ended up slipping on a small rock. As I fell towards the machine, I grabbed Clayton’s parka to try to balance myself but he to, fell into the mechanism. I fell on my back and Clayton landed on me.


“Argh! Safe landing?”

Clayton got off me and he looked around in curiosity. I stood up and my eyes widened in shock. It was the same room but it was not charred anymore. It smelled of fresh paint. There were some candles in the room and we heard a buzzing sound coming from outside. Clayton and I looked at each other. We followed the sound and when we stepped out of the room, everything changed. The windows were open. The furniture and equipment were no longer covered with a white cloth. The light above us was bright and the smell of coffee lingered the area. Confusion overwhelmed us. The sound got louder and we followed it upstairs.

It led us to a man holding a blowtorch. He was welding two short pieces of metal rods together. I tried to call the man but he did not seem to hear me. Clayton nudged me and shook his head. With confidence, I asked him what was the worst that could happen. I continued to call the man but he didn’t hear me. I finally dared myself to approach the man. I tapped his shoulder and he jumped up in shock. Surprised by his reaction, I fell backward. He turned around and took off his face shield. He was a thin man and his hair was neatly combed. He had a thin moustache that looked combed. He looked a tad familiar. And then it hit me.

“Nik Turner!” we shouted in unison.

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