Sunblind Serpent: The Zodiac Without A House

Handwritten arrows led Marek out of West District Central. They continued for another three blocks.

The third pointed through the courtyard of a secondary school whose front gate had been removed and laid flat against the pavement. Portable lamps illuminated the entrance. Someone had painted a new name across the original school sign with white paint.

WEST DISTRICT SECONDARY STABILIZATION FACILITY.

Marek stopped to compare the name with the registration page in his notebook. It was the right facility. The building itself barely resembled a school anymore.

Two classroom buildings had become sleeping areas. The covered court held cots separated by cloth partitions. A row of portable sinks occupied what had once been a student parking area, while handwritten notices covered the administration building and directed different Signs toward different rooms.

GEMINI — NORTH HALL.

TAURUS — GROUND FLOOR.

UNSTABLE MARKS — REPORT BEFORE ENTRY.

Marek put the notebook away and joined the line beside the gate. The volunteer processing arrivals barely looked at him until she noticed the edge of the Mark above his collar.

Her pen stopped and said, ”Ophiuchus?”

”Yes.”

The woman looked at the Mark again before turning toward a table occupied by two nurses. ”Wait here.”

Marek waited.

She crossed the entrance and spoke quietly to the older nurse. The nurse looked toward him once, took a folded sheet from beneath a clipboard and read something before approaching.

”Any current instability?” the nurse asked.

”No uncontrolled intake.”

She frowned. ”I don’t know what that means.”

”Then no,” Marek replied.

”Has your Mark activated without you intending it to?”

”Not recently.”

”Recently?”

Marek briefly contemplated. ”Not since I learned how to stop it.”

Laying her eyes on the sheet again, she continued to ask.

”Any occupied scales?”

”Yes.”

”How many?”

”Two.”

The nurse’s attention shifted briefly toward the signs directing unstable Mark-bearers deeper into the facility. ”You’re not going into the unstable section.”

”I wasn’t planning to.”

”If your Mark reacts to anyone, you tell the medical staff before touching them.”

”That is also the plan.”

The nurse studied him for another moment before asking once more, ”Where were you assessed?”

”Linden Metropolitan Exhibition Center.”

Marek then waited for her to ask why he was no longer there, but she did not. Instead, she wrote something beside the volunteer’s form and handed it back. ”Registration only.”

”Yes.”

”Then, go straight there.”

Marek nodded.

The volunteer moved his form to the cleared pile without looking particularly happy about it.

The registration room had once been a guidance office. Three computers sat on desks pushed against the wall, although only one was powered. Printed lists covered the corkboard behind them. Marek gave Mara’s name to a clerk with dark marks beneath his eyes.

The clerk typed slowly.

Marek watched the screen from where he stood.

MARA VALE appeared before the clerk finished typing her surname.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

The clerk broke the silence. ”She was here.”

Marek already knew that, but...

”When did she leave?” he asked.

The clerk opened another page. ”Fourth light period after registration.”

”Destination?”

The clerk searched through the records. Soon, the cleark show him the records.

The records showed three transfer entries. The first listed a district shelter that had never received the transport. The second had been crossed out after a copied evacuation order sent two buses toward the wrong side of the city. The third contained no vehicle number.

But one note remained.

GEMINI MINORS — REASSIGNED UNDER PAIR-VERIFICATION PROTOCOL.

Marek read it twice and asked, ”What is pair verification?”

”We started using it after reports of fake evacuation orders,” the clerk said. ”Two people had to confirm every destination independently. The drivers received matching papers from different desks.”

”Where did Mara’s papers send her?”

The clerk moved through the record again.

”One says North District Annex. The other says West Civic Library.”

”Those do not match.”

”I know.”

”Then she shouldn’t have been transferred.”

The clerk rubbed both hands over his face. ”She wasn’t. Not under those papers.”

Marek looked at the record again. ”Then how did she leave?”

”i have no records regarding that unfortunately.”

Marek did not pursue further. Instead, he asked for the names of the staff assigned to Mara’s transfer. One had been injured during a manifestation incident and moved east. Another remained in the building.

Marek found her in a classroom sorting handwritten family requests into plastic containers.

Mrs. Sorian was small, gray-haired and immediately irritated that anyone expected her to remember one teenager out of several hundred.

Then Marek showed her Mara’s photograph.

Her face showed surprise. ”The girl with the noodles.”

”What noodles?” Marek asked, lowering the photograph slightly.

”She kept asking whether this school’s canteen had any left.”

”Where did they go?” Marek asked. ”North Annex?”

”No.”

Mrs. Sorian looked toward the door before lowering her voice. ”A woman came for the Gemini minors. One thing for sure, I know they’re not from the government.”

Marek’s attention sharpened. ”Name?”

”They didn’t give one.”

”What did that woman look like?”

”Like she had never stood in a line for anything in her life.”

Marek waited.

Mrs. Sorian sighed. ”Tall. Dark hair. Silver-white clothes. Not hospital clothes. Not military. She spoke our language strangely, but somehow perfectly.”

”Astral Mark?”

”Gemini.”

”Did the Mark look different from the others?”

”Very.”

The woman had presented documents nobody at the school recognized, but the Gemini bearers near her had become noticeably calmer. Two government officers attempted to stop the transfer. Mrs. Sorian remembered them returning several minutes later with matching signatures on forms that they had originally refused to sign.

”She forced them?”

”I don’t know.”

Marek asked whether Mara had resisted.

Mrs. Sorian shook her head. ”Your sister only asked her more questions than anyone else. Then she went along with the woman.”

Marek looked at the photograph again.

Mara voluntarily leaving with an unknown woman should have worried him more than another government transfer, but it did not. At least, Mara had been able to ask questions first.

Mrs. Sorian found one more detail after several minutes. The group had left through the northern pedestrian route because the western road had already disappeared beneath water. Someone later reported seeing them near a temporary stabilization post beside the old commercial district.

Marek copied the location.

Before leaving, he checked the family request board.

His own name was there.

MAREK VALE — REGISTERED EXHIBITION CENTER.

Below it, written in different handwriting:

AMARA VALE — SEARCHING FOR MARA.

The note was older than his arrival. His mother had reached the same building before him.

Marek stood there longer than he intended.

Amara had followed Mara west. She had reached the school, found another empty location and continued.

He photographed the board and left.

The commercial district was north of the school. Most of the storefronts were dark, but one convenience store remained open with no staff inside. The front doors had been pushed apart manually. Shelves near the entrance were mostly empty.

Marek passed it. Then he stopped. Something caught his eye.

A stack of instant noodles remained behind the counter. He looked at them through the glass. Mara’s messages from before Day 367 echoed through his mind once more.

Do not forget again.

Do not forget the noodles.

Marek entered the store. He took six packets and left several bills beneath the register. He was already turning away when he stopped, looked back at the stack and added two more. Then he added another bill.

Celeste spoke while he placed the noodles inside his bag. ”Eight?”

”She eats more than she admits.”

”You are carrying limited water, medical supplies and one change of clothes.”

”I know.”

”And eight packets of noodles.”

Marek closed the bag. ”I know what is inside my bag.”

Celeste did not answer.

Marek adjusted the bag on his shoulder and continued north. The temporary stabilization post was his next lead.