Outcasts (19 page)

Shaylinn looked from Jemma to Levi. “No one said that.”

Seriously? Levi sputtered to find a response that didn’t involve shaking some sense into the girl.

“No one should have to say that,” Jordan said. “It’s completely obvious.”

Shay’s eyes misted. “She tapped me that she wanted to join the rebels. I told her Bender’s group wasn’t safe. She’s one of us, though. She’s an outsider too.” Shay’s gaze slipped away from Levi’s to the kitchen table where Omar and Kendall were chatting it up, and her eyebrows sank. See? Even she could see this was a bad plan. But maybe that was the best angle.

“Omar and Kendall seem to be hitting it off,” Levi said.

Jordan glanced over his shoulder. “That dung-eating maggot. I told you.”

“She’s not right for him,” Shaylinn said. “But only God can show him that.”

Oh-kay. Time to backtrack. “How is someone not from Glenrock one of us? And why didn’t you consult me first?”

Shay focused on Levi again. “I’m sorry. But she was taken from her home too, and her child is also in the nursery. She’s been there, Levi. The task director general let her hold her baby once. She can help us get inside. And Zane is here, and Beshup. They’re not from Glenrock.”

He hated that she was challenging him this way, that she’d put him on the spot. “It’s not that I disagree entirely, Shay. But the Elder Council approved Zane and Beshup in advance. We did not approve Kendall. If we’re going to build a new village and keep everyone safe, we all need to follow the same rules. Tell Kendall that we’ll discuss this and let her know what we decide. Fair enough?”

Shay blinked at him, eyes wide and disbelieving. “You mean she has to leave?”

“I’m sorry. But yes.”

“I’ll get rid of her,” Jordan said.

Shay jumped up and grabbed Jordan’s arm. “No, I will.” She pushed past him and walked back to the kitchen table.

Levi couldn’t hear what was being said, but both Kendall and Omar’s gazes shot to him as Shay explained. He walked slowly back to the table.

Everyone stared as Kendall stood, cheeks flushed, and walked toward the door, keeping her gaze on her feet.

“I’m really sorry, Kendall,” Shay said as Kendall opened the cabin door and left without uttering a word.

“Wait!” Omar ran after her, jerking the door open. “I think someone should walk her home,” he said to Levi. “After all, she did risk everything to come. Plus, what if she was being followed and led someone else here? I’ll look around, make sure no one else is out there.”

“Fine,” Levi said. “Make it quick.” Which he knew was impossible as far as they were from Kendall’s apartment in the city.

“I’ll try,” Omar said, “but don’t wait for me to continue the meeting.” And Omar left.

Great. Levi hoped his baby brother wouldn’t do anything stupid.

O
mar raced after Kendall. Any excuse to get out of that cabin and away from the never-ending guilt. “Hay-o!”

Kendall turned. She was really cute. Maybe that was the cue for him to turn back. After what Mason had just told him about Shay, he’d be wise to stay away from all girls until he figured out what to do.

He just wanted to be the Owl. That was all. He’d barely finished his costume this morning before Levi had tapped him and told him to go meet Mason and Jordan at Zane’s house. Maybe he could try it out tonight.

“I did
not
lead anyone else here,” Kendall said, her peachy face flushed. “And if someone was following me, you should know since you’ve been following me all week.”

She’d seen him? The Owl wouldn’t be very effective if he couldn’t even follow a girl without being seen. “Bender had to make sure he could trust you.”

“Chord asked me to deliver the messages and keep them a secret. If you wanted to know that, you could have asked me yourself, like Shaylinn did.”

His stomach tightened at Shaylinn’s name. “You’re mad at me?”

She shoved him. “Yes, I’m mad at you! I’ve been terrified ever since I read that message.” She folded her arms and stalked ahead, her shoes crunching over the gravel road.

Omar ran to catch up, and they walked in silence until they reached Kokanee Lane.

“Did I get Shaylinn in trouble with Jemma’s lifer?” Kendall asked.

Omar chuckled at the very idea. “I don’t think that’s possible. Levi gets mad fast, but he worships his wife. And Shaylinn is his wife’s little sister, so …”

“It was my fault,” Kendall said.

“It was Shay’s fault. She should have asked Levi before inviting you. Then everyone would have voted you in already and we’d be in the meeting instead of out here in the dark.” Though Omar was glad to be out of that cabin.

“You’re so sure? I don’t think that Jordan fellow likes me.”

“Join the club,” Omar said.

“The Jordan Hater Club?”

“No, the Hated by Jordan Club.”

“Why does he hate you?”

Why didn’t he hate Omar? But right now, it was because of Shaylinn.

Omar was going to be a father. A dad. So weird.

They reached Prospect Drive and turned right onto it. Kendall stayed beside him. So far they’d seen no cars, but it wasn’t that late. Only nine thirty or so.

“Well, anyway,” Kendall said, “I don’t understand how Jemma and Levi can be married if marriage doesn’t exist here.”

“Jordan married them,” Omar said, glad to change the subject. “In our village you need an elder to marry you.”

“And Jordan is an elder?”

“Enforcers killed all our elders, so Levi and Jordan and Mason are the last of the men.”

“And you,” Kendall said.

“But I’m not an elder.” And never would be, with his mistake record.

“Why not?”

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. No point in bragging about his stupidity.

“You have ranks. Is that what you mean?”

“Sort of. Levi’s the boss. The rest of us do what he says. And Jordan makes sure we do. And Mason’s smart. But I’m not an elder because it’s my fault we’re all here.”

“Shaylinn told me. Omar, I don’t think you should blame yourself. The task director general, he … he’s a bad man. He would have come for you all eventually.”

Maybe. No one could ever prove that, though. They walked in silence until they passed Wildhorse Village.

“So you and Shaylinn, huh?” Kendall said, smirking at him.

Twins. His stomach churned. He took out his PV and inhaled a long drag. “Did she tell you that too?” he asked, his voice a croak from holding his breath. Couldn’t girls keep their mouths shut about anything?

“That’s bad for you, you know.” She gestured at his PV.

He blew out the fog. “Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

Again they walked in silence. Omar wasn’t sure what he was doing with Kendall. This walk was way too long. But the train station was just up ahead at the corner of Prospect and Gothic. He’d have to get the gloves from the locker if he was going to go home and try owling tonight.

“You like SimArt?” This time Kendall pointed at his arm. “Wait. Where is it?”

Omar winked, liking her confused expression. His SimArt didn’t work when he wasn’t wearing the gloves that held his official SimTag. “I like real art more.” He stopped at the crosswalk to Gothic and watched the cars pass. “You want to see some of my work?”

“Where?”

“My apartment. I live in the Alexandria.”

Kendall chuckled low. “I don’t think so.”

She thought he was trying to pair up. “I’m not trying to get you to come to my apartment for — I mean, you’d be coming only to see my paintings.” Why was he even asking her over? He should go home and get to the business of owling.

The light changed, and they crossed the street. “Paintings?”

“Yeah, I have a couple dozen.” He’d have to hide the ones of Belbeline, though.

Three yards from the entrance to the train station, someone stepped in front of them and cut them off. It was Red. Her eyes were bloodshot, the centers were green tonight, and she wasn’t wearing any Roller Paint. She looked awful, her skin like crackle paint.

“Hay-o, trigger.” Red leaned in to kiss him, but he stepped back. “Oh, so it’s like that, is it?” She jerked her head at Kendall. “You upgrading to a queen?”

Kendall looked from Red to Omar, her eyes large and sad. Puppy dog eyes.

“Shimmer, you don’t want to get involved with this one,” Red told Kendall. “It’s all a game to him and his peers. They dare each other — ”

“What are you talking about?” Omar couldn’t believe this was happening. “She’s lying.”

“Men.” Red rolled her eyes. “They always deny everything.”

“I’m going to go,” Kendall said, stepping around Red toward the train.

“Wait!” Omar yelled after her, then to Red, “What is wrong with you?”

“Nice meeting you, Kendall Collin!” Red waved, as if they were old friends. “See you around, Omar.” And Red strode away.

“Why did you say that?” he yelled after her, but she pretended not to hear. Or she outright ignored him. Either way, Omar stood alone on the platform, gritting his teeth. He decided to try to catch up to Kendall, but by the time he reached the right platform, the train was rolling away. Stupid Red. It was probably for the best.

Omar used the gloves in locker 127 to ride downtown. Rather than
putting them back in that station’s locker, he kept them on, hoping to make use of the ghoulie SimTag for his owling quest.

He went to check in at the messenger office but found nothing in Chord’s former sorter, so he went home and donned his Owl costume. It had turned out great. It wasn’t quite as tight as the costumes worn by the superheroes in his Old comic books, but he liked that better. Though he’d been lifting weights and could tell it was making a difference, skin-tight clothing would only call attention to how tiny his muscles still were.

Owls had two features that aided their hunting skills: they were silent flyers and their feathers camouflaged them in the forest, making them difficult to spot. Both features allowed them to sneak up on their prey.

Omar’s goal was simply to not get caught.

He’d painted the wetsuit in shades of brown with white accents and made a mask to match. He’d also made a brown cape from fabric he’d bought when he’d gone shopping for Shay’s fabrics, which he still had sitting beside his door. He wanted her to have them; he simply didn’t know what to say to her now.

He looked at himself in the mirror, flexed his arms, and tossed his cape over one shoulder. Not too bad, actually.

What should be his first heroic act? Was he just supposed to lurk in dark alleys until he witnessed a crime? It might be best to start small. Do a good deed. Something safe. Something people would see and talk about. Something to build respect for his new persona.

Bender ran a safe house in the warehouse district. People who were looking for a place to hide or get clean could crash there. Once a week someone brought food, but the people were mostly on their own, many of them hungry.

Omar used his off-grid Wyndo to tap Café Eat and order fifty cheeseburger meals to be delivered to the safe house in a half hour. Then he tapped a cab. If the cab driver found Omar’s costume strange, he didn’t comment. Omar supposed with all the pierced and painted people in this city, his Owl costume wasn’t that odd. But when he
tapped to pay the fare and a woman’s face appeared on the windshield, Omar realized he shouldn’t use ghoulie SimTags for anything but riding trains. Good thing he was wearing the mask.

He’d have to find a way to be the Owl without credits.

The cab dropped him off at the warehouse. Omar waited outside until the Café Eat truck arrived with the huge box of cheeseburger meals. The Owl went inside and started handing out food. Everyone looked at him strangely. He scared one woman half to death. Whenever someone asked, “Who are you?” Omar simply replied, “The Owl.”

By the time all the meals had been handed out, a crowd had formed in the doorway.

“That’s all the meals I have for today,” Omar said, then raised his voice to the whole room. “The Owl is wise. The Owl sees all. Trust the Owl for answers.” He ran out the door, across the street, and around the next corner. He didn’t stop until he was certain no one had followed him. He felt awkward and embarrassed, like he’d just made a fool of himself.

Maybe he had.

What now? It had probably been dumb to leave his apartment in the costume. He couldn’t keep coming and going from there dressed like a superhero. He slipped into an alley and removed his costume, which left him in his boxers.

He was an idiot.

He rolled the costume around his arm until it was a small bundle, then he started back, trying to keep to the darker streets so no one would see him in his underwear.

As he made his way home, he critiqued himself. His slogan was too wordy. Plus he had no real powers to impress anyone. He wished he knew how to build a hang glider, but he’d likely get himself killed trying to fly between the buildings.

He needed to think this through. What was his goal? It wasn’t about playing superhero like a child or even a vigilante. This was about revenge against the Safe Lands government for how they’d used him. It was about justice for himself, for Glenrock, and for all Safe Lands
nationals. Renzor and Otley had everyone trapped, but most nationals didn’t have a clue. Omar wanted the people to see the truth. Then, if they still didn’t care, fine. But if he could expose the lies of the Safe Lands for all to see, then people could make an educated decision about who they were going to serve.

But how? Where did superheroes find trouble? Clark Kent had been a reporter. Peter Parker a photographer. And the commissioner had used the Bat Signal to call Batman.

Omar needed a mark. A symbol of his identity. A way of being recognized. He could use that mark to build up intrigue, leave it all around the Midlands.

When he got back to his apartment, he got out a pencil and paper, ready to create a symbol for the Owl. But what should it be?

The Black Army used a bird’s wings to symbolize flying to freedom. Omar liked that. For his mark, he drew fat owl’s wings, arching up in a V for victory, with talons at the bottom, clutching the Safe Lands bell logo. When he was happy with how it looked, he created a stencil that would make spray painting his mark a quick and simple act.