Chapter 27: Seeking Hope
The transport stopped three times before the rear doors opened.
Nobody explained the first two.
During the third, something heavy passed close enough to make the metal walls vibrate. Cooper looked toward the ceiling. Henry moved his foot away from the center of the compartment.
Clara remained beside Cooper. His injured arm had been placed inside a temporary sling, although the medic had warned him that it did not mean the injury was properly immobilized.
The vehicle moved again.
Several minutes later, it slowed and turned. The floor beneath them changed from damaged road to something smoother. The sound from the tires became quieter.
Then the engine stopped.
Locks moved beyond the rear doors. The first one opened. Light entered the compartment. Marek stepped down and stopped.
The building had once been the Linden Metropolitan Exhibition Center.
He had seen it from the outside several times. The university held graduation ceremonies there when its own hall was too small. Companies used it for trade fairs, government agencies for public examinations, and schools for events that required more space than anyone reasonably needed.
He had never been inside the main exhibition hall.
The size of it was difficult to understand from the entrance.
The ceiling rose several floors above them. Steel supports crossed beneath it, holding rows of temporary lights and public-address speakers. Elevated walkways surrounded the upper walls. On the opposite side, workers standing on one of those walkways appeared small enough that Marek could not tell what uniforms they wore.
Several government vehicles had been driven directly inside.
Not parked near the entrance.
Inside.
Buses unloaded people between rows of metal barriers. Ambulances moved through lanes marked across the concrete floor. Portable medical stations occupied the sections nearest the walls. Temporary partitions divided areas that had once held exhibitions.
The partitions did not reach the ceiling.
Neither did the sound.
Thousands of voices rose through the hall without becoming a single noise. Announcements passed through the speakers. People called names, while medical personnel shouted instructions. Somewhere near the center, a child was crying. Someone else was laughing loudly enough that it sounded less like amusement and more like something that had continued after the reason ended.
A large symbol had been attached to the wall above the processing area. It showed a serpent crossing between two sections of a broken circle.
Ophiuchus.
Everyone Marek could see beneath it carried the same Mark. Not in the same place, though. Some had it across the shoulder. Others along the upper chest, the neck, the back, or the arm. The shapes varied slightly between people, but the parts remained recognizable.
A black center.
Thirteen broken scales.
Some of those scales were empty.
Others were not.
Dull Gold. Ember Orange. Sallow. Pale Rose. Violet.
Colors Marek had already seen and several he had not.
For the first time since midnight, Ophiuchus did not look rare. That did not make it look normal, nonetheless.
A woman near the entrance was crying while another Ophiuchus held both of her hands. Several people stood around a man whose violet scale had begun glowing during transport. He kept asking whether anybody knew what it contained.
Nobody did.
A teenager had pulled the collar of his shirt low enough to compare his Mark with the Marks of two strangers. All three appeared relieved that the black circles looked the same.
Several meters away, an older man had covered his shoulder completely. He kept one hand over it whenever someone came near.
Some people looked frightened of the others, while some seemed relieved to be surrounded by them. Two complete opposites, but not only them. Others also felt angry. Some were quite tired due to lack of sleep.
Marek understood all four.
A security officer approached them. Ophiuchus had been printed across the laminated card attached to the front of his vest.
"Names?"
The officer from Route Eight answered first. "Marek Vale. Henry Cruz. Clara De Vega. Cooper Lacson."
The man checked his tablet. "Four from Linden University classification?"
"Yes."
"Manifestations confirmed?"
"Yes."
"How many occupied scales?"
The Route Eight officer looked toward Marek.
"Two," Marek said.
The processing officer looked up. "Two?"
"Yes."
"What conditions?" The processing officer turned his gaze to Marek.
"One uncontrolled First Motion. One progressive structural condition."
"Can you release them?"
"No."
"Can you prove they’re stable?"
"The interface says they are."
The man stopped entering information. "What interface?"
"That is what everyone keeps asking."
The Route Eight officer spoke before the other man could continue. "His classification file contains the initial report. Meridian-connected diagnostic manifestation. Special review."
The processing officer read something on the tablet. His expression changed slightly. "Right. That one."
The man looked toward Henry and Clara.
"One occupied scale each," Henry said.
Clara nodded.
The officer turned to Cooper. "None."
Cooper adjusted the sling. "I haven’t found anything I wanted to put inside myself."
Marek looked at him. "That sounded a bit..."
Cooper noticed. "What?"
"Nothing." Marek shook his head.
"You make that face when it isn’t nothing."
"I do not have a face for that."
"You do."
The processing officer entered the final information.
"Section Nine. Ophiuchus assessment and containment history. Do not leave the marked area until you’re cleared."
"Are we detained?" Clara asked.
"No."
"Can we leave?"
The officer looked toward the thousands of people behind him. "Not yet."
Clara nodded. "That means yes."
"You sounded a lot like Marek now..." Cooper clicked his tongue.
However, the officer did not argue with Clara.
Their escort began speaking with another security team. Marek took out his phone. The screen remained dark. He pressed the power button.
Nothing.
He held it longer.
Still nothing.
The battery had been below ten percent when they left the university. He had spent the rest of it checking messages that were never sent and trying calls that never connected.
He pressed the button again.
The phone remained dead.
Henry noticed. "Dead bat?"
"Yes."
Henry removed his own phone from his pocket. A crack crossed the lower half of the screen. It turned on after several attempts.
Two percent. But no signal.
Marek held it toward the open loading doors.
Nothing changed.
He attempted Mara’s number anyway.
The call remained on the screen for several seconds before failing.
He tried his mother. The result was the same.
Clara looked toward another part of the hall. "There are charging stations near the registration tables."
More than fifty people were already standing around them. Extension cables ran between portable generators and several tables covered in phones.
Most of the screens showed the same thing.
No service.
Marek returned Henry’s phone. "Thank you."
He returned the phone after confirming that finding a signal inside the facility was no different from searching for a single grain of sand across an entire beach.
Beyond the barriers ahead, a sign directed the Ophiuchus bearers toward Section Nine. His mother and Mara were still somewhere in Linden City. Marek could not reach them from here.
For now, he had to trust that they were currently somewhere safe.