Chapter 9 THE CALL

The rain eased sometime after sunrise, but Blackwater still looked drowned. Water rolled through the gutters beneath layers of neon reflection while exhausted crowds pushed through the streets pretending not to notice the armored patrol vehicles stationed at major intersections. Giant digital screens mounted across nearby buildings repeated the same broadcast every few minutes.

CAIROS REED, WANTED FOR MULTIPLE HOMICIDES, REPORT SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITY.

His face stared down at the city from every direction now. Cairos kept his head lowered beneath the hood Darren had given him. He moved carefully through side streets near District Nine while trying not to attract attention. Every passing siren made his pulse tighten, and every stranger looking too long in his direction felt dangerous.

The diner was several blocks behind him now, but the footage from the television still lingered inside his head. The gun, the corridor, and the way the man on the screen moved exactly like him. Cairos shoved the thoughts away before they could settle properly. Thinking too deeply about any of it lately felt dangerous somehow, like standing too close to a collapsing edge. He stopped beneath the overhang of a closed phone booth and pulled the burner phone from his pocket again. The screen reflected weakly against his tired face. There were no new messagesn or numbers, except the recordings. He held it, looked around and walked into the booth.

For several seconds, he simply stared at the device while people passed nearby beneath umbrellas and flickering advertisements. Then another thought surfaced, his aunt. His mind has blurred her since the happening of that evening.

Cairos hesitated immediately after thinking it. He had not spoken to Aunt Mara in almost two months, not because they fought, that was simply how life worked in Blackwater. People drifted between jobs, districts, exhaustion. Still, he remembered she used to call him constantly when he was younger. She practically raised him as he never knew his mother. If anyone would help him, no, the thought stopped halfway. The news had already turned him into a murderer, calling her could put her in danger but standing in the middle of the street with nowhere to go felt worse.

Slowly, Cairos went to a phone booth, put in some money and dialed her. He was perplexed for a while before making the call. The call rang three times before the line connected. Each line was quiet for a moment not of normal silence but sharp breathing. "Aunt Mara?" Cairos asked quietly.

A small sound escaped immediately from the other end, almost like relief breaking apart. "Cairos..." she said. Hearing her voice nearly hurt, she sounded exhausted. "Thank God," she whispered. Cairos shut his eyes briefly against the wall behind him. "I need you to listen to me please" he said quickly. "Something's happening and I don't understand..."

"I know," she interrupted immediately which made him stop. Rainwater dripped steadily from the edge of the overhang beside him. "You know?" he asked carefully. There were static sound crackling softly across the line. "I saw the news," she said quietly. "They've been showing your face all morning." Cairos swallowed hard. "I didn't do anything."

"I know," she said. The answer came too fast, too certain. His stomach tightened slightly. "How do you know?" he asked.

Her breathing became uneven again for a moment. Somewhere through the phone he heard movement inside a room, very faint voices. "Find a safe place to be, do not let yourself get caught," she deflected the question.

Cairos frowned immediately. "What?" he asked. "No," her voice sharpened suddenly. "Don't start asking questions over the phone."

The words unsettled him instantly. "Aunt Mara, I do know who to trust, I'm scared," he said. Mara was quiet for a while before she said softly, "You will be fine. You always are."

"Auntie..." Cairos said quietly. "What does that mean?" He had recently started to read meaning to things he didn't believe mattered "Leave wherever you are right now," she said. His pulse stumbled slightly. "What?" he asked.

"Do not contact me again," she whispered. "But I'm glad you did." The fear in her voice sounded genuine now, but prepared. Cairos looked out toward the street as people hurried past beneath the rain. "Can I at least come there for a whi...?" he asked before thinking too hard about it. "No," she said sharply cutting him off.

The word hit harder than expected. "I can't help you if you come here," she whispered. "Do you understand me?"

"Auntie," he started. "We love you, Cairos," she cut him short again. The suddenness of it made him stop speaking. "I always will," she continued softly. "But you cannot trust anyone right now."

Static crackled again, a bus roared past nearby with a siren echoing faintly somewhere in the distance. "But yourself," she continued, her breathing shook slightly. "And not even me," she finished.

Cairos felt his chest tighten slowly, before he could answer, another voice suddenly spoke faintly somewhere near her side of the call. "Mara," the man's voice said, calm and professional. Cairos straightened immediately.

His aunt inhaled sharply. "Listen to me carefully," she whispered quickly. "If they realize you're starting to remember then..." the line distorted violently, with static bursting across the speaker before the call ended.

Cairos stared at the dial booth phone without moving, rain tapped steadily against the street around him. For several seconds he remained completely still beneath the overhang while unease spread through his chest piece by piece. Then the burner phone vibrated once in his hand. UNKNOWN NUMBER. A message appeared on the screen. THEY TRACED THE CALL. MOVE.

Cairos's stomach dropped instantly, he looked up sharply toward the crowded street around him. Nobody seemed unusual or was watching him but suddenly Blackwater felt too open again, and exposed. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and disappeared into the moving crowd.

Many miles away, a woman sat silently inside a dim apartment while rain rolled against the windows behind her. Her hands trembled slightly. Three operatives stood inside the apartment. Black tactical uniforms, expressionless masks, weapons lowered but ready. One of them stepped forward slowly. "You should cooperate, Miss Reed," the operative said.

The woman stared directly at him without moving. Fear existed in her eyes, but so did defiance. "I have no reason to," she said quietly. The operative said nothing, another operative moved through the apartment nearby while scanning shelves and drawers methodically. The little girl who had been holding her hand tightened her grip around the woman's hand. "You're making this harder than necessary," the first operative said calmly.

The woman's jaw tightened slightly. Then she answered with the same quiet certainty. "No," she said. "It's you people who already did that."