Sunblind Serpent: The Zodiac Without A House

[FOREIGN CONDITION DETECTED]

[TRANSFER ATTEMPT IN PROGRESS]

Marek froze.

Something outside the van was trying to enter his Mark.

The dark-red scale beneath his collarbone grew hot against his shirt. The First Motion contained inside it was moving again. It pressed against the hollow space behind the scale.

The Taurus man had already stepped away from the open rear of the van. He was staring at Marek.

Several words appeared.

[TRANSFER PATH IDENTIFIED]

[VESSEL COMPATIBILITY: CONFIRMED]

[CASE BOUNDARY INCOMPLETE]

Marek frowned.

Vessel compatibility.

He had seen similar words when Elia was dying.

A gunshot struck the side of the van. A jagged divot punched into the exterior.

The concussive ring was loud inside the damaged vehicle. A metallic vibration remained in Marek’s teeth. Everyone lowered themselves against the gritty floorboard. The security officer turned toward the intersection and fired through the open rear.

Another shot came from somewhere near the pharmacy across the road. It struck the pavement several meters behind the van. Concrete dust kicked up into the air.

The Taurus man moved behind the rear corner of the vehicle with the other detainee. For several seconds, nobody fired again.

In Marek’s sight, the words were still there. The transfer attempt had not disappeared. Whatever his Mark had detected was still somewhere nearby.

The student crouched beside the opposite wall. ”What’s happening?”

”I don’t know,” Marek answered, his attention still on the Taurus man.

The Taurus man heard him. ”You did something.”

”So did you.”

”I only tore the doors off.”

”I noticed.”

The man’s attention went to the red scale visible just under Marek’s collar. ”That’s not what I’m talking about. Don’t try to distract me with your replies.”

Marek was about to answer when another gunshot struck the front section of the van. Safety glass shattered over the dashboard. The security officer fired back.

Someone shouted from across the intersection. Then came the crash of a storefront window caving in.

The officer remained near the open rear. ”Stay inside until I know where the shooter moved.”

The student glanced toward the missing rear doors. ”What if they shoot from behind us?”

The officer kept his attention on the intersection. ”Again, stay low and keep away from the opening.”

Marek was about to move away from the opening when he heard a cry. It came from somewhere ahead. He turned toward the front.

The driver was still slumped against his seat. One hand was pressed against the side of his head. Blood had dried along part of his face in dark flakes, but he was conscious. He was at least trying to stay conscious.

Marek turned to Cooper. ”Keep him talking.”

A cry broke the silence. Not from their vehicle. The sound cut through the settling dust. Marek crouched low. He moved closer to the damaged front cabin and peered through the fractures of the windshield.

The lead vehicle had stopped at an angle near the intersection after the first attack. Its rear section was partly hidden by their van, but one of the doors had buckled open several centimeters.

A small hand appeared through the gap. ”There is a child in there.”

The security officer glanced toward the lead vehicle. ”Stay here.”

”Anyone else inside?” Marek asked.

”I don’t know.”

The lead vehicle had stopped only a short distance ahead of them. Its engine let out a dying hiss against the bent streetlight.

The shooter had already fired at anyone moving around the convoy.

The child cried again.

Marek moved toward the rear.

The officer caught his arm. ”I said stay here.”

Marek did not move. ”A child’s crying.”

”I heard it.”

”Then let me check.”

The officer turned toward the building where the shots had come from. ”Wait.”

Another shot came from the pharmacy. This one struck the side of a parked car.

Marek waited.

The officer fired twice.

Nothing came back.

The officer kept his weapon pointed toward the pharmacy. ”Go now. Stay behind the vehicles.”

The maintenance worker followed him. Marek stopped. ”You don’t have to come.”

”You might need help.”

Marek knew it would be a waste of time to argue, and every second wasted could put the child inside the vehicle in more danger.

They moved quickly. Marek kept low until they reached the lead vehicle. The heat of the asphalt radiated through his boots. He pulled at the rear door.

It did not move.

”Let me.” The maintenance worker came beside him and checked the crumpled frame. ”The latch is jammed.”

A broken metal bar lay near the tire. He picked it up and wedged it between the door and the frame. ”Help me.”

Marek grabbed the other end. The metal was hot to the touch. They pushed together. The door shrieked against the frame. The damaged latch finally gave way with a snap.

Marek leaned inside. The cabin smelled of deployed airbags and copper.

A boy sat in the rear seat, probably no older than five or six. The restraint across his chest had locked tight during the collision. It dug into his shoulders.

An unconscious woman was beside him. The boy had one hand wrapped around her sleeve.

”Mom.”

Marek checked the woman. She was breathing.

There was blood along the side of her head, but he could not properly examine the injury from where he was standing in the cramped doorway.

Marek crouched to the boy’s level. ”Your mom’s still breathing.”

The boy continued holding her.

”I need to get you out first.”

Marek pressed the release button on the seat-belt buckle, but the plastic was cracked and it did not open.

The maintenance worker leaned into the heat of the cabin and examined it. ”The buckle’s also jammed.”

He reached for a flathead tool still attached to his belt and worked it beneath the damaged housing. He ground it against the internal spring.

After several seconds, the buckle released with a click.

Marek pulled the restraint free and lifted the boy out. The child wrapped both arms around Marek’s neck. He buried his face in Marek’s collar.

Another gunshot echoed from across the road. The pavement chipped nearby.

The child in his arms flinched. Marek crouched lower. He pressed his back against the warm panel of the vehicle. The maintenance worker crouched close beside him.

The chemistry researcher ran over from the van when the officer signaled.

Marek passed the child to her. ”Hold him.”

She took the boy and moved closer to the shelter of the rear wheel.

Marek pointed toward the woman. ”She’s unconscious. Seems like head injury and some bruises. I haven’t checked anything else yet.”

”We need to get her out.”

Marek nodded. Then he turned to the maintenance worker. They had already spent hours together yet they still did not know what to call one another.

”What’s your name?”

The maintenance worker stared at him. ”Henry Cruz.”

Marek nodded. ”Hold the door. Don’t pull any harder than you need to.”

Henry positioned himself beside the damaged frame. His boots crunched on the shattered glass.

The chemistry researcher shifted the boy against her side. ”Clara De Vega.”

The student had followed them only as far as the front of their van. He noticed. ”Cooper Lacson.”

”Marek Vale.” He leaned back into the wreckage. At least he knew what to call them now.

Clara kept the child behind the vehicle while Marek checked the unconscious woman.

Her pulse was fast. The bleeding near her head had slowed. Her hair was matted with it. Marek checked her neck alignment as carefully as the cramped space allowed before speaking to Henry. ”We’re going to move her, but keep her head stable.”

Henry crouched beside the door. ”Tell me what to hold.”

”Support her back and legs.”

Marek positioned the woman’s head and shoulders while Henry moved into place.

A gunshot struck the chassis of the lead vehicle. The frame shuddered.

The child screamed. Clara pulled him lower against the tires behind the rear wheel.

Marek felt the vibration travel through the metal directly into his knee. He held his breath. He waited several seconds. Nothing else struck the vehicle.

”Move.”

Henry followed his lead. Together, they pulled the woman from the cabin. They lowered her onto the pavement behind it.

The child tried to go toward her.

Marek caught his arm before he crawled too close. ”She’s alive. Clara’s helping her.”

Clara crouched near the woman’s head and checked the bleeding.

Marek looked toward the intersection.

The Taurus man had moved closer to the lead vehicle. His bare feet stepped over the debris. The other detainee was still hidden behind the van.

The officer kept his weapon pointed toward the buildings. The air felt heavy. Concrete dust mixed with the death rattle of the engine. Nobody seemed certain where the shooter was anymore.

Marek’s Mark flared with heat again.

He looked toward the Taurus man.

[TRANSFER PATH IDENTIFIED]

[VESSEL COMPATIBILITY: CONFIRMED]

[CASE BOUNDARY INCOMPLETE]

The Taurus man noticed Marek staring. ”What?”

”Nothing yet.”

”What does that mean?”

”It means I don’t know.”

The man’s jaw set. ”You keep saying that.”

”I’ve had this Mark for less than a day.”

”So have I.”

”Then you understand why I don’t have answers.”

The Taurus man turned to the officer. ”The government does.”

”Someone does.”

That much, Marek believed.

The instructions had existed before ordinary people understood what the Marks were. Project Meridian equipment had already been installed inside machines around the city. Dr. Mercer had known enough to tell governments how to control twelve Signs and had later issued a specific warning about Ophiuchus.

That did not mean every officer following those instructions knew where they came from.

”They told us not to touch you.”

”Who did?”

”People at the detention center.”

The security officer heard him. ”Who exactly?”

”I don’t know.”

”Guard? Medical staff?”

”We were locked in a holding area. Nobody introduced themselves.”

The officer lowered his weapon slightly but continued watching the pharmacy.

The Taurus man continued, ”We heard them talking about these Marks. Don’t threaten them. Don’t restrain them unless you have to. Don’t put unstable Awakened beside them.”

The officer frowned.

”That last one wasn’t in your directive,” Marek said.

”No.”