Chapter 16 — The One Who Counts Bridges

The warning line vibrated in Linh An's pocket while she was standing on the steps of the cultural house. An automatic message from station Moc-07 reported a water level increase of 28 centimeters in ten minutes. The second news came soon after: the east outlet was unresponsive.

Khai reads the screen. “Which door?”

“Construction site door.”

“No. There are three outlets in the file.”

“Two doors are recorded, one door is deleted.”

Yen ran out from the yard, holding a raincoat. "The radio received eight calls, the market under the bridge is being flooded with water. The Infrastructure Department has not issued a warning yet."

Linh An called Mr. Minh. Machine busy. Called a second time, the secretary heard and said he was in the operating room. She asked for an urgent connection, but the secretary said a decision had to be made.

“What decision?”

“Decided to issue a warning.”

“Water does not wait for decisions.”

“I understand, but you can't do it on your own.”

Linh An hung up the phone. She looked at Khai. “Where is the construction site gate?”

“East, next to the material warehouse.”

“Go there.”

Yen blocked her. “If the station broadcasts without confirmation, they will say we are causing panic.”

“We have the signal from the station, two independent people listening, and the actual water level at the market.”

“I want to be sure.”

“It's probably better than waiting for someone else to say you're right after the water has passed.”

Van walked out of the culture house. She heard. “Mom comes along.”

“Mom, you don't need it.”

“Mom knows the way.”

Khai started the minivan, but the riverside road was clogged. They had to walk a distance, carrying ropes, lights and plastic-wrapped maps. Tung ran behind, wearing a homemade radio. As she walked, Yen called the station, asking to issue a temporary warning: the water level rose abnormally, people under the Old Wharf moved to the old school, did not enter the fenced area.

“We don't have the key code,” Khai said.

“Some people do,” Linh An replied.

“Huy?”

“Or Hung.”

The road to the construction site gate is blocked by a corrugated iron fence. Water has covered the lime line on the road surface. A security guard stood inside with a lantern, saying no one could enter because the ground was collapsing.

“Open the gate,” Linh An said.

“I don't have orders.”

“Emergency drainage order?”

“I only take shifts.”

Van pointed back. "There's a house stuck in the kitchen entrance. If you don't open it, they won't be able to get through."

The guard looked at her, but still shook his head. He called his superiors. No one listens.

Khai walked along the fence, looking for the extra lock. The course has two classes, one for the construction site and one for the Infrastructure Department. On the column is a piece of paper with the old house phone number on it. Van recognized the person on duty as Mr. Bay.

“Call him,” she said.

Linh An called. Mr. Bay answered the phone, his voice was calm as if he was fixing the radio.

“The construction site door has three latches,” he said. “Top pin, bottom pin and human pin.”

“What is a human lock?”

“The person holding the key.”

“Do you know anyone?”

“People who know usually don't stand outside the gate.”

The sound of water hitting the roof grew louder. Tung listened to the radio and said the signal increased four hours, rested, six hours.

“Exhaust port number six is opening backwards,” he said. “The water rushed toward the market.”

Khai looked at Linh An. “If you don't go in, the market will be flooded.”

“Do not break the lock,” Linh An said. “Find another way.”

Van pointed to the lower sheet of metal to the south. “There is a path behind the cement warehouse.”

“They covered it up,” Khai said.

“Covered with corrugated iron, not concrete.”

They followed the fence to the back of the warehouse. The corrugated iron plate is fixed with new screws, but there is a gap at the bottom. Khai removed two screws, enough for one person to get through. The security guard called out that he would be disciplined. Khai replied: "Write my name on the record."

Linh An crawled in first, the map pressed close to her chest. Inside the construction site, water has spread in a thin layer on the ground. The half-erected steel poles reflect the yellow light. A pump runs but the discharge pipe points into a covered ditch.

“The way to the main gate,” Khai said.

Tung pointed to the ditch. “No. The duty house is over there.”

“Why do you come to the house on duty?”

"Whistle."

Linh An looked at the map. If you turn on the siren from the duty house, people on the north bank will know that the water is rising. But the construction site gate is still locked. Need someone to open the latch.

They ran through the scaffolding, to the makeshift operating room. The door opened, and inside there were three technicians arguing. The large screen displays Moc-07 water level, the red line exceeds the scenario.

“Turn off the warning,” one person said. “If this screenshot goes out, we are responsible.”

“Not turned off,” Linh An said.

Huy stood at the back of the room, his shirt wet, his left hand in a temporary bandage. He looked at her, then at Van.

“Which way do you guys get in?” Huy asked.

“Human road.”

“You can't be here.”

"The gate is locked. Please open."

Huy turned to the shift leader. “Who locked the eastern gate?”

“Under safety orders.”

“Whose orders?”

No one answered.

Huy walked to the screen. “Moc-07 is sending real data?”

“Yes,” Tung replied. "But the cable line is overturned. The water is rising in the east."

The technician looked at him. “Who are you?”

“Radio listener.”

Huy looked at the series of numbers on Tung's paper, then called. No one listens. He took the key from his pocket and gave it to Khai.

“Open the east gate.”

Khai did not accept it immediately. “Are you sure?”

“If I wasn't sure, I would have told you to turn off the screen.”

A technician stopped me. “Brother Huy, if you open it and someone comes in, your responsibility—”

“The responsibility is out there,” Huy said. “It was almost as high as the edge of the road.”

Khai holds the key. Linh An gave Huy a three-layer map.

“And exhaust number six.”

Huy looked at the white area to the east. “That door doesn't exist.”

“Water is flowing through it.”

“There is no lever.”

“There is a red valve in the old warehouse.”

Huy looked at her. “You went into the warehouse?”

“I saw.”

“Now it's covered.”

"The new concrete only covers the door. The valve is under the foundation."

Huy turned to the technician. “Call the drilling team.”

“The team has withdrawn.”

“Call back.”

“No one came in when the foundation collapsed.”

Van stepped forward. “I'm coming in.”

Huy looked at her. “She had no protective gear.”

“I used to pass by when there was nothing.”

Linh An held her mother's hand. “Mom stays at home on duty.”

“I don't have anything either.”

“I know the map.”

“I know you.”

The words made Linh An stop. Huy took a life jacket from the rack, gave it to Van, then gave another one to Linh An.

“I'll open the way to the warehouse,” he said. "Khai opened the gate. Yen sent out the warning. Tung was at home on duty with the radio."

“You give us orders?” Yen asked.

"No. I assign tasks while the construction site has water."

“I need to clarify that the Infrastructure Department has not issued a warning.”

"Speak."

“Say your name too?”

Huy looked at her. “Say my name too.”

Yen nodded, stepped outside and called the radio.

Khai ran to the gate. Huy led Linh An and Van down to the old warehouse via the western entrance. The water had reached the third step, mud covered the floor. The new concrete slab covers the door, but the bottom edge has cracks.

“Wait no,” Huy said. “There's a crowbar.”

Linh An shined the light on the background and saw water swirling around a point. “The valve is here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Water lines don't lie.”

Huy and she used a crowbar to pry up the concrete layer. Van stood behind, pointing through the steps. There was a metallic sound, water sprayed through the slot. Huy pulled Linh An back, but she saw the red lever under the mud.

"Open?" he asked.

"If you open it backwards, water will rush into the market. You have to turn it partially."

“How much do you know?”

"Are not enough."

Van looked at the flow. “Turn towards the house on duty. There's an old groove there.”

“The old trench has been filled,” Huy said.

“Not all. Father and son dug deep under the rocks.”

Linh An looked at her mother, then at the map. A dashed line under the water line map connects the warehouse with the duty house. She marked the rotation angle at 30 degrees.

Huy used both hands to turn the valve. It's stuck. Van took a hammer and hit the latch. Linh An held the ruler on the valve body, counting every centimeter. After the seventh shot, the valve turned on.

The water changed direction, swirled off the stone steps and flowed into the old ditch. Ink in the warehouse decreases slowly.

Outside, flood sirens sounded. One long sound, three short sounds. People started to move away from the market.

Yen broadcast a live warning, stating that data from the Moc-07 station was being checked, Mr. Huy had agreed to open the construction site gate, and the Infrastructure Department was organizing forces. She did not turn Huy into a hero, nor did she hide that the gate was locked.

At home on duty, Tung listened to the radio: the signal sequence changed to four hours, rest, seven hours.

“The water is at seven,” he said. “The pedestrian bridge can take another ten minutes.”

Khai opened the gate. People, strollers, two old ladies and a group of children ran through the construction site yard to the high ground. Huy stood at the checkpoint, showing the way, but no one asked for papers.

An explosion sounded from the east abutment. Vibrating scaffolding. Khai called everyone to move to the left. A steel bar fell and hit him in the shoulder.

“Khai!” Linh An ran over.

He remained standing, his face wrinkled. “It just hurts.”

“If it hurts, sit down.”

"After."

Huy pulled him out of the falling area, then looked up at the scaffolding. A cable was cut, not lost due to water. He picked up the end of the cable and saw the new cut.

“Someone removed the latch first,” Huy said.

Linh An looked towards the warehouse. There were triangle heel prints in the mud, pointing towards the back door.

Someone was here before them and tried to make the floodgate open backwards.

Yen received a call from the radio: a resident said he saw a white car leaving the construction site when the rain started. Tail number plate 17.

Huy listened, his face stiffened. “Quan Anh's car.”

“You know?” Linh An asked.

“I sent him to check the cable.”

“Where is he?”

Huy did not answer. He called continuously, no one listened.

The rain is heavier. But the water in the old ditch has changed direction, no longer flowing into the market. The pedestrian bridge shook slightly, the railings could withstand the last stream of people.

Linh An returned to the warehouse. On the wall, the number four paint mark was visible under a layer of water. It's not the number four that's been erased, but four lines drawn around a red valve.

The counter doesn't just record the bridge.

They had written down a place that had to be opened when everyone else had locked it.

When night falls, the water still rises but slowly. The city survived the first dangerous hour. Huy stood by the gate, his left hand bleeding through the bandage.

“What will you say in the minutes?” Linh An asked.

“That I opened the gate without orders.”

“I know I could lose the project.”

"I know."

“Why do you still do it?”

Huy looked at the people sitting on the high beach, sharing raincoats. “I was standing on the other side when your father came back. This time I don't want to stand there anymore.”

In the distance, a white car horn sounded and then stopped. The British army has not returned.

Linh An opened the book and wrote: "Construction site door — opened at 10:41 p.m. — person holding the key: Huy — consequence: people passing, project out of control."

Then she added a line: “The cable was cut before the water rose.”

The water level has not yet reached its peak.

But from now on, everyone knows where the tenth bridge is.