THE COLD EYES OF CHICAGO
1251 Words
The apartment smelled like lavender and something else. Something metallic. Something that reminded Declan of the basement, of the bloodstain on Lara's carpet, of the iron taste of fear.
Margaret closed the door behind him and locked it.
Three locks.
Deadbolt. Chain. A sliding bar.
"You're careful," Declan said.
"I'm alive. Same thing, in the end."
She walked to the kitchen and put a kettle on. Her movements were slow, deliberate, controlled. Like someone who had learned to measure every action, every breath, every heartbeat.
"You've been watching me," Declan said.
"For years. Since before Elias died. Since before you even knew he existed."
"Why?"
"Because you were interesting. Because you were different. Because you survived when everyone else broke."
"I didn't survive. I just kept breathing."
"Same thing."
---
Margaret set two cups on the table.
Tea. Herbal. The kind that was supposed to calm your nerves.
Declan didn't drink.
"Daniel said you were dangerous," he said.
"Daniel is afraid of me. That's not the same as dangerous."
"What is he afraid of?"
"That I'll do what he couldn't. That I'll finish what Elias started."
"Which is what?"
"To prove that the children of Elias are not monsters. That we can be normal. That we can be saved."
"And can you?"
Margaret was quiet for a moment.
"I don't know. That's what I've been trying to figure out."
---
She sat across from him.
"I was born in this city. In a hospital Elias funded. My mother was one of his patients. She didn't know she was part of an experiment. She thought she was getting treatment for depression."
"What happened to her?"
"She died when I was seven. Cancer. The doctors said it was genetic. I think it was the drugs. The ones Elias gave her. They damaged her body as well as her mind."
"Who raised you?"
"Foster care. Group homes. The streets. I've been on my own since I was fourteen."
"How did you find out about Elias?"
"I found letters. In my mother's things. After she died. Letters from Elias, talking about the experiment, about the drugs, about me."
"What did he say?"
"That I was special. That I was different. That I was part of something bigger."
"And you believed him?"
"I was seven years old. I didn't know what to believe."
---
Declan leaned forward.
"Why did you agree to meet me?"
"Because I'm tired. Tired of hiding. Tired of being afraid. Tired of wondering if I'm a monster or a victim."
"Which are you?"
"Both. Neither. I don't know anymore."
Margaret reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"This is a list. Names of the people Daniel couldn't control. The ones who are more dangerous than him."
Declan took the paper.
Dozens of names. Addresses. Photographs. Some he recognized from the photograph that had been sent to him.
"Why are you giving me this?"
"Because I want them stopped. Before they hurt anyone. Before they become what Elias wanted them to be."
"And what about you? What do you want?"
"I want to disappear. Start over. Somewhere no one knows my name."
"I can help with that."
"I don't need your help. I just need you to leave me alone."
---
Declan stood up.
"Margaret, if you know where these people are—"
"I've told you what I know. The rest is up to you."
She walked to the door and unlocked the three locks.
"Don't come back here. Don't try to find me. Don't tell anyone about this conversation."
"Margaret—"
"Goodbye, Declan."
He walked out.
The door closed behind him.
The locks clicked into place.
---
Declan called Reyes from the street.
"I have a list. Names of the ones Daniel couldn't control."
"Where did you get it?"
"From a woman named Margaret. One of Elias's children. She wants to disappear."
"Can we trust the list?"
"I don't know. But it's all we have."
"I'll start cross-referencing the names with our databases. See if anything comes up."
"Do that. And Reyes?"
"Yeah?"
"Margaret is scared. Of us. Of Daniel. Of herself. If we find her, don't hurt her."
"We're not in the business of hurting people, Declan."
"Sometimes it feels like we are."
---
Declan flew home that night.
The city was dark. The streets were empty. The world was quiet.
Claire was waiting on the porch.
"How did it go?"
"She gave me a list. Names of the ones Daniel couldn't control."
"Can you trust her?"
"I don't know. But I don't have a choice."
Claire took his hand.
"You always have a choice."
---
The next morning, Declan received a letter.
Plain white envelope. His name written in black ink.
He opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Margaret's apartment building. Taken from across the street. This morning.
And on the back, in handwriting he didn't recognize:
She's not the only one who wants to disappear. Some of us just want to watch the world burn.
Declan's blood ran cold.
Someone had been watching Margaret.
Someone who knew she'd talked to him.
Someone who was still out there.
---
Declan called Reyes.
"Someone sent me a photograph. Of Margaret's apartment building. Taken this morning."
"One of the people on the list?"
"Probably. Which means they know she talked to me. Which means she's in danger."
"I'll send a team to Chicago. Find her. Bring her in."
"Do that. Before they do."
---
The team found Margaret's apartment empty.
No furniture. No clothes. No photographs.
Just a note on the kitchen table.
Gone. Don't look for me.
Declan stared at the photograph Reyes sent him.
Margaret had disappeared.
Just like she'd wanted.
But someone else was still watching.
Someone who had sent him the photograph.
Someone who wanted him to know that they were there.
That they were watching.
That they were waiting.
---
That night, Declan couldn't sleep.
He sat on the porch, staring at the stars, Margaret's words echoing in his head.
I want them stopped. Before they hurt anyone.
But he couldn't stop them.
He didn't even know who they were.
Claire brought him tea.
"You're thinking about the list."
"I'm thinking about all of them. The ones who want to be saved. The ones who want to watch the world burn."
"You can't save everyone, Declan."
"No. But I can try."
Claire sat beside him.
"That's what makes you different."
"Different how?"
"You don't give up. You never have."
---
The next morning, Declan received another letter.
Plain white envelope. His name written in black ink.
He opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
A man. Mid-thirties. Dark hair. Cold eyes. Standing in front of a building Declan didn't recognize.
On the back, in handwriting he didn't recognize:
My name is Victor. I'm one of the ones Daniel couldn't control.
I'm coming for you, Declan.
Be ready.
Declan folded the letter and placed it in the drawer with the others.
The drawer was overflowing now.
Letters. Photographs. Memories.
The past.
But the drawer wasn't his life.
His life was outside. In the sun. With his son.
He walked out the door.
Finn was waiting.
"Dad! Come on! We're going to be late for school!"
"I'm coming, buddy."
Declan ran to catch up.
The sun was shining. The birds were singing. The world was turning.
Normal things.
Beautiful things.
And Declan Cole knew that the fight was far from over.
But for now, he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
- Writer
