Chapter 17 — The One Who Counts Bridges

Khai refused to get into the ambulance. He sat on the concrete steps next to the construction site gate, tied his left shoulder to his chest with a cloth strap while still directing people to follow in groups. The laceration on his forehead was not deep, but his arm swelled quickly.

“You have to let the doctor see,” Linh An said.

“I'm looking.”

“Looking at your hands is not an examination.”

“My hands still move.”

“I just dropped the key three times.”

Khai looked at the key on the floor, this time without arguing. Medical staff took him to the car. Before leaving, he held Linh An's wrist.

“The north door still has a latch,” he said. “If the water changes direction, don't go through the scaffolding.”

“Are you talking to me or to the map maker?”

“For people who have a habit of walking straight into danger.”

The ambulance left. Linh An looked at the red light hidden behind the rain, then returned home to be on duty. Tung stood in front of the electrical panel, his face pale but his hand still holding the radio.

"Water level?"

"Increasing slowly. But the signal from Moc-07 is intermittent."

“Have you called the rescue team yet?”

"Called. They're on the south bank. They can't get through the gate because our team only opened one gate."

Linh An looked at the map. The east gate was open, but the road to the duty house was cut off by water. The north gate leading to the old school building is still intact, but new scaffolding is blocking the way. If one bar is removed, one can pass; If removed incorrectly, the whole frame will fall.

Huy walked in, holding a walkie-talkie. “The rescue team needs the north route.”

“Can't get through the scaffolding.”

“Maybe if unloaded diagonally.”

“Who knows?”

“The British Army.”

The missing person's name hangs in the room like a hook. Huy called again, still no signal.

Yen arrived, her raincoat was covered in mud. "The station just lost transmission. Listeners only received half a warning."

“Did someone cut it?” Linh An asked.

"We don't know yet. But the generator on New Bridge lost power."

Tung pointed to the map. “Generator factory at the old light station.”

“That road is flooded,” Huy said.

“There is a path under the bridge,” Van replied. She just entered, holding a hammer and a string bag. “Your father fixed the lamp that way.”

Huy looked at her. “Do you know the way?”

"Know."

“I'll go with you.”

“No. I opened the gate.”

Huy looked at Linh An, then gave the walkie-talkie to Tung. “Can you lead?”

Tung did not answer immediately. He looked at the radio, then looked at the paths on the map.

“If everyone listens to me.”

Huy nodded. “From now on, you are the liaison to the house on duty.”

“I'm not an adult.”

“But you know something we don't.”

Tung holds the walkie-talkie. Linh An was afraid of this sudden trust, but also knew that he had followed the bridge system with his feet for many years. They didn't make him a hero; They gave you exactly what you had practiced.

Tung called the groups via walkie-talkie, asked for each person's location, and recorded it in the notebook. He did not say "everyone follow me", but said "the group of yellow shirts stood next to the light pole, the group of carts waited behind the abutment". The way of speaking is short and specific, like the way Mr. Bay keeps a book.

Linh An and Van followed the path under the bridge to the transmitter station. The water is not deep, but the steel floor is slippery. Van went first, hitting the railing with a hammer every time there was a missing section. Linh An marked the places they passed with chalk.

“Aren't you scared, Mom?”

"Afraid. But fear is not the reason to quit."

“Mom used to sign because she was scared.”

"Correct."

“Is this time different?”

“This time I know who I'm signing with.”

“I didn't sign anything.”

“Mom signed by leaving.”

The transmitter station is located in a wall compartment. The metal door is blocked by a steel bar. Linh An realized that this latch was not bent by water, but installed from the outside. Van grabbed the hammer, but Linh An stopped.

“Let me.”

“Do you know how to hammer better than me?”

“I know how to close it.”

She looked at the structure, found the extra screw and pushed it with the tip of a screwdriver. The latch clicked, the door opened. Inside, the transmitter wire is unplugged from the source and placed neatly aside. Not an accident. Someone turned it off on purpose.

Yen called over the walkie-talkie, saying the transmission line could be reconnected if it got power from the light station. Linh An and Van plugged in the wire. The signal returned, Yen's voice echoed through the radio: "Radio Ha Luu continues to broadcast warnings. People do not enter the main bridge. The path leading through the ramp is only used according to rescue instructions."

At the north gate, Tung reported that the scaffolding was shaking strongly. The rescue team wanted to remove the cross but there was no one to show the structure. Huy over the radio said they needed the drawings.

Linh An opened the drawing in the waterproof bag. She remembered Khai had told her not to go through the scaffolding, but had to instruct someone else to remove it. The diagram has three bearing bars, a locking bar and a support leg placed on a weak foundation.

“Tell them to remove the south cross bar first,” she said. “Keep the crossbar high. Do not cut the outrigger.”

Tung passed it back, repeating every word. A worker asked who was directing. Huy replied over the radio: "Linh An."

Linh An heard her name echoing in a construction site without her, amidst the sound of rain and steel. She understood that signing the instructions was not honorable. If it's wrong, someone else will bear it.

“Tung, tell them to stop if the ground moves.”

“I know.”

“No, be clear.”

Tung transmitted. The crew removed the cross bar. The scaffolding tilted but did not fall. A gap enough for people to pass opens up.

Suddenly, the sound of someone calling from the north bank. A group of children are trapped under the corrugated iron roof of the material warehouse. The warehouse door was locked, the water was up to my knees. Tung received the position by a boy's description: "There is a yellow light, three pillars, the smell of gasoline."

“Warehouse number three,” Tung said. “The back door has a wooden latch.”

Huy asked: "Inside or outside latch?"

"Outside."

“I'm coming.”

“The gate still needs people,” Linh An reminded.

Huy looked through the rain. "Khai's gone. I'm leaving."

Tung ordered the crew to open the door. Linh An and Van returned to the duty house, where people gathered on the high ground. There was an old lady in a wheelchair, the wheels stuck in the mud. Linh An wanted to push, but Van took two boards and placed them under the cake.

“Soft sugar needs a hard surface,” she said.

They took her through the connecting path. The bridge shook underfoot, but the railings held. Each person goes through a beat, Linh An counts in her head: one, two, three, about a step, four, five. Don't count to remind yourself that you're right. Count so you don't miss anyone.

At the last span, a railing turned screwed. Van grabbed and pulled the person behind him over. Linh An told everyone to stop. Khai wasn't there, but his words were in his head: the connection must know when to stop.

Tung called out: "Warehouse group number three is out. Huy opened the door manually, but one person missed."

"Who?"

“The British Army.”

Huy found the missing person. British troops were trapped behind the warehouse, their legs were injured, and next to them was a metal barrel labeled M07.

Linh An heard the sound of interference on the frequency band. Huy said: "The device is still there. I will give it to you."

Quan Anh shouted over the radio: "Don't give it! If you open it, everyone will die!"

“What did you say?” Huy asked.

“Wrong valve code. Data is pulling water into the side channel.”

Linh An took the map. "M07 doesn't pull water. It measures. The valve was reversed before."

Quan Anh gasped. “It's not me who is the island.”

"Who?"

No reply.

Van looked at Linh An. “Don't ask when people are overwhelmed.”

Huy pulled Quan Anh out and gave the box of equipment to a worker. When they arrived at the duty house, Huy placed M07 on the table. Water drips from the metal case. Thuan over the radio requested not to open the seal without a record.

“If you don't open it, you don't know the data,” Huy said.

“The device is sending,” Linh An replied. “Don't break it.”

They hooked up backup power. The radio display shows a more even signal range. The water level in the east exceeds the peak, but the flow direction has been shifted to the old ditch.

The British soldier lay next to the wall, his leg in a temporary brace. Huy came and squatted in front of him.

“Who told you to remove the cable?”

Quan Anh closed his eyes. “I don't take it off.”

“Who handed over the warehouse key?”

“Hung.”

Linh An heard clearly. Hung was not present in the room, but his name entered the water.

“What did he say to do?” Huy asked.

"Take the sensor out before the inspection. Reverse the valve so that if someone opens it and water rushes back to the market, the project will be blamed."

Huy stood up. His face no longer looked calm.

“Do you have a message?” Linh An asked.

Quan Anh nodded and took his phone from his pocket. The screen is cracked, but the message is still there. The sender is Hung, time was 9:17 last night. Content: "Clean the crowded route. Do not let the data run before the inspection team arrives."

Linh An does not touch the phone. Thuan asked Quan Anh to keep it intact and make a record to hand it over when the authorities arrived. Yen said he would not release the content of the message immediately because he needed to protect Quan Anh and the chain of evidence.

Huy looked at her. “You still don't want to say the person's name?”

“I want to speak at the right time.”

"At this time, the people heard me open the gate. They should also know who locked it."

“When there is confirmation.”

Huy nodded. He took the radio and told the operation team: "From now on, every command to open and close the valve must read the name of the person giving the command."

It's a small rule, but Linh An writes it down in the book. A bridge needs more than just a span. It needs someone who is willing to accept a decision.

Near morning, the rain lightens. Khai returned from the medical station with his shoulder in a soft cast, still trying to hold a cup of tea. He looked at M07, then at Quan Anh.

“What did I miss?”

“The gate is open,” Linh An said.

"Good."

“You are injured.”

"Not good."

Van gave him a bowl of porridge. "Eat."

Khai admitted, did not argue.

On the radio, the M07 signal transformed into a final sequence: five o'clock, rest, five o'clock. The water began to recede.

Linh An opened the book and wrote down the time the water level reached its peak, the person who opened the gate, the person who operated the valve, the person who led the group of children, and the person who brought the old lady through. She did not write “hero”. Just write your name and job.

At the bottom of the page, she added: “The British were found because warehouse number three had a yellow light.”

Tung stood next to him and asked: "Do you count me?"

"Have."

“What do you think?”

“The one who keeps in touch.”

“Not the one counting?”

Linh An gave him a pencil. “Everyone is counting tonight.”

Outside the door, Bridge Number Seven appeared after the rain. The ramp is still standing, but part of the railing is bent. On the bridge abutment, black paint mark number four spread out like an ink stain.

Linh An doesn't know how many other traces the water has swept away.

But she knew that from that night, no one could say the tenth bridge never existed.