Chapter 86: The Silver Invitation

Amara answered Marek’s new authentication question a few hours later through another station. Once again, she managed to do it without appearing in front of him. The more this happened, the more it became bizarre to him, direction-wise. Before, he could still make sense of how they kept missing each other. At the moment, however, their movements no longer seemed to align.

This time, they apparently reached a volunteer message station located beneath an old parking structure where westbound and southwest civilians exchanged notes before separating into different routes. Marek and Rhovan went to the bulletin board where notes from various families were pinned while the others were busy refilling water bottles.

Marek immediately recognized his mother’s handwriting.

SPECIMEN LABEL WAS CORRECT. REPORT WAS SENT TO THE WRONG PATIENT.

Marek exhaled. "That’s hers."

Nadia caught up with the two of them while the others went outside to observe the surroundings. She then leaned close enough to read without touching the paper. "You can really tell her handwriting apart from others, no?"

Marek shook his head and replied, "Not just that. She complained about this incident for years already. Although it had nothing to do with her laundry work, this mistake had happened at the hospital. There was a correct laboratory result attached to the wrong patient after testing, making one person believe a serious infection had disappeared while another briefly believed he had acquired it."

He then looked up at the ceiling. "I even asked her so many questions when we had our dinner during that time to the point that she threatened to make me file the incident report myself."

Strangely enough, the memory felt very appropriate now. He had learned, spending his days venturing from one place to another, that even the right answer could become dangerous when it was given to the wrong person.

Amara’s message continued beneath the answer.

STILL MOVING SOUTHWEST.

DO NOT FOLLOW DIRECTLY.

I AM TRYING TO REACH YOU.

Marek, once again, just like he did with the others, read the last line twice. He still wanted to move toward wherever she had most recently been seen, but doing that had already proven how easily two people could spend hours circling the same city while missing each other. This time, he forced himself to follow the instruction rather than his first impulse.

Then, they went outside the station.

Rafe adjusted their route so they would continue through the large civilian corridor instead of chasing the last place Marek’s mother had registered. He did not explain every old-map discrepancy, and nobody asked him to. At this point, they only needed to know which streets they could safely pass.

Eren used the delay to check a newly posted government bulletin from outside the station. The Exhibition Center request for Marek had been updated once more. While the content was the same, the date it was issued was different from the previous one. It wasn’t a specific date, but the number of days since Day 367.

MAREK VALE — OPHIUCHUS

MISSING — SPECIAL CLASSIFICATION

CURRENT LOCATION REQUESTED

"It seems like they’re not giving up," Marek said as his brows knitted. ’I shouldn’t have revealed what I can do back then. It’s a relief I told those other three that the interface I once had has disappeared. Otherwise, it would be a hassle. Even now, knowing some people are trying to follow my tracks is very annoying.’

Eren studied the wording before answering. "Yes, but at least it’s still MISSING, not WANTED."

Marek glanced at him. Eren always seemed unusually attentive to the wording of government notices. He understood the difference between terms like missing and wanted more carefully than most people would. Marek noticed it, but decided not to ask why yet.

The entire station remained busy for another hour. They were just sitting on the deformed rocks right outside the station while Rafe worked out the next route. Dario used the time to help several volunteers move boxes toward the covered loading bay outside. When a little girl nearly slipped from a chair while reaching for a package, however, he caught the box first and waited until her mother had taken hold of her shoulder before helping her down.

The hesitation lasted less than a second. Dario noticed Marek was watching, so he quickly walked to another box to carry.

Marek left him on his own.

Kellan had apparently fallen asleep once more... against one of the concrete columns. A metal shutter slammed somewhere behind the loading area, and he woke with red light already running across his Astral Mark. His first glance went to the nearest exit before he seemed to realize where he was.

’What an odd guy,’ Marek observed. ’And he would get rage-baited again by Rhovan. Well, the guy was busy admiring his own reflection in a glass window right now.’

Meanwhile, Nadia opened her mouth, probably trying to tease, then changed her mind. She must be thinking about something ridiculous again.

Silas returned from the street shortly afterward and handed Marek a strip of white fabric. It was neat, finely woven, and far too delicate to have come from any of the tarpaulins or other fabric materials inside or outside the station.

"Where did you get this from?" Marek asked.

"Rail outside the northwestern passage," Silas answered.

Marek rubbed the cloth with his thumb and index finger. It matched the description that kept following Mara’s trail: silver-white clothing, unusually clean even in places where dust typically clung to everything else.

"Was she there?" Marek asked, his tone carrying a hint of suspicion.

But Silas shook his head. "No. However, I saw something else that might lead us to something important."

"Show me," Marek said as he stood up from a crooked stone. All the others also followed them. Dario stopped carrying boxes to help.

Kellan, however, grumbled. "Where are we going now?"

"Tch," Rhovan reacted. "Just follow, dimwit."

"Who are you calling a dimwit?!"

"A dumb asshole might be better."

Kellan just groaned like he was in agony. "I’ll pray that you’ll never have a peaceful dream from now on."

"I don’t sleep."

"Fuck it!"

Silas led the group toward the northwestern passage.

Damp footprints crossed the concrete near a leaking pipe. One trail ran across the passage normally. Beside it, a second trail repeated the same pattern, with each footprint falling at almost exactly the same distance as the first, as though another person had matched the first stride perfectly. The paired tracks ended at the same point beneath the rail where the strip of fabric had been tied.

Marek crouched without touching them.

Nadia shuddered as she thought of many things. "That’s creepy..."

Rhovan looked more interested than amused by this discovery. "This is most likely a deliberate move by someone."

"She wants us to follow? That silver-white-clad woman?" Marek asked, clearly confused.

Instead of answering directly, he gave another possibility. "Or wants us to know she knows where we are."

Marek did not like the sound of either possibility. Still, the clue was different from the woman merely being seen across a road. The fabric had not simply fallen there. Someone had tied it beneath the rail where the paired footprints ended.

’This is definitely not some kind of coincidence. Deliberate, huh?’

The northwestern passage led to an old bus terminal civilians still used as a transfer point. Marek did not rush there immediately. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and realized it was almost dead already. ’I need to find a charging station soon.’

But before that became another problem, he quickly took a picture of his mother’s answer and carefully stored the original in his notebook. Then, he left another reply with the volunteers that contained no family names.

Before they left, Silas checked the street once more and found no patrol watching the station.

Kellan stretched his shoulders and looked toward the damaged road. "How bad is the next one?"

Rafe answered, "Passable."

They entered the northwestern passage with Amara’s message folded safely inside Marek’s backpack and the strip of silver-white fabric wrapped separately in paper. For the first time, the woman following Mara’s route had left something that looked less like an accident and more like an invitation.