Outpost (10 page)

I could live with the consequences. After all, the women of Salvation couldn’t make life more complicated than they already did. Their whispers had followed me since my first day in town. Maybe they judged Tegan in the same fashion, and that was why she was trying so hard to fit in, making friends with their daughters. Whereas I chose to fight alongside their men.

After we ate, I did the cleanup while they chatted in the sitting room. The warm, soapy water felt soothing; it was a mindless task—scrub and rinse. Along with the sewing, this was one of my chores, and I was happy to do it in exchange for regular food in my belly. But I was starting to realize that even if I refused to help at all, Momma Oaks would still make sure I got fed. She was that kind of person.

It was full dark, so Edmund lit candles and lamps to brighten the gloom, a prettier glow than the torches down below, and they smelled better too. The air was all around fresher and cleaner here, even with Freaks stinking up the wasteland beyond. This was a cozy room, made more so by the warm yellow curtains on the window and the polished beams that framed the upstairs.

Momma Oaks settled in a chair next to her husband’s, which left the small sofa for Fade and me. He didn’t seem to mind, and he sat close enough to hold my hand. Since I’d kissed his cheek of my own free will before the whole town, guards and all, it seemed wrong to quail at this. My foster parents exchanged an indulgent look, amused at our affection, I suppose.

“We should have a story,” the older woman said.

Edmund appeared amenable. “Which one, Mother?”

It struck me strange that he used that as an endearment for her, as she clearly wasn’t his dam. But she didn’t argue it, so I didn’t either.

“You should tell the one about the founding of Salvation.”

Inwardly, I groaned. Mrs. James had relayed this tale before, and I invariably wandered away mentally, before the long, boring recitation concluded. But I didn’t want to hurt Edmund’s feelings when I’d only just realized that in his way, he cared what became of me. He wasn’t demonstrative like his wife, but he’d come out to the gate to make sure of my safety. So I squeezed Fade’s hand, telling him silently to be polite, and he returned the pressure with a half-smile so lovely that it made me forget my unvoiced objections to an extra history lesson.

“In the old days,” Edmund began, “humankind had horseless wagons that moved at incredible speeds and carriages that flew through the air. You could cross the whole country in just three hours if you took the flying carriage into the sky.”

I shook my head in disbelief. We’d seen the remnants of the horseless wagons, rusted and useless, in the ruins they called Gotham. But I had never seen anything that made me think there had been flying carriages; I couldn’t even imagine what they might look like. Birds, maybe? That sounded like the nonsense the Wordkeeper made up about the Topside world to keep us under control. Regardless, if Edmund had an imagination this powerful, his version might be more interesting than Mrs. James’s, especially if it became more fairy story than history lesson.

“They had machines to do their work for them: solve problems, cipher numbers, and print writing. People grew lazy. They knew too many blessings, and so they lost the ability to appreciate what they had. They always wanted more, more, more, and that road,” he intoned, “led down into darkness.”

“What happened?” Fade asked, sitting forward, wide-eyed at the idea of machines that could do arithmetic.

Surely he didn’t believe this. For a machine to count, it would need a head, wouldn’t it? And fingers? That would make the thing like a mechanical person. I shook my head with a faint smile. Such fancies might be improbable, but they made for an interesting tale.

“There came endless wars of escalation. The dragon fought the eagle, and the hydra wrestled the great bear. They sent fiery death unto each other, but even that was not sufficient for the demon humankind had become. They created new weapons, time and again, dust and powder and gas—”

I was drawn, despite myself. “What’s gas?”

“Like a mist,” Momma Oaks answered. “Only instead of rising up out of the ground, it came from men, and it was filled with poison that seared the lungs.”

Maybe that was why the Wordkeeper fixed on the idea that rain would scour our flesh from our bones. Stories had been passed down until they took a wrong turn, so poison gas became burning water. My tribe had been down below a long time, by any reckoning, and our reality lost touch with the actual state of the world.

“Some say it did worse than that.” Suitably somber, Edmund went on with his tale. “The world fell to chaos, and the pride plagues came.”

Momma Oaks answered the question before either of us could ask. I’m sure she read curiosity in our rapt expressions. “It was a disease that struck down great and small alike.”

Fade and I shared a significant glance. Both his parents had died from something he thought had to do with the water they drank. It sounded as if a lot of people had. I wasn’t positive pride had anything to do with it, but I didn’t like to interrupt.

Edmund gained enthusiasm for his story. “People fled the ruins in droves, taking only what they could carry. Some of our brightest visionaries pushed north, where it was reputed to be safe and clean.”

Like Fade’s dad told him.

“They left behind the devices and idols that had brought destruction raining down upon them. In time, they were led to this site by the prophet Matthew, who predicted they would find a safe haven that had been built twice before, and in building here that sacred third time, for three is the trinity and the holiest of numbers, we would find sanctuary from the world’s travails, so long as we cleave to the old ways and do not cast our eyes to habits that anger heaven.”

I had no idea what that meant, nor any notion why heaven would care what went on so far below. But I’d managed to stay focused on the story this time, which I counted as a good thing. For once, I’d learned about history without passing out from boredom. That was a credit to Edmund’s ability to spin a good yarn, and I said so.

“Thank you. That was way more interesting than Mrs. James.” But I had a question. “I’ve heard the pride plagues gave rise to the … Muties.” In my head, I still called them Freaks. “Is that true?”

“It’s one belief,” Edmund answered, nodding. “I can’t say whether it’s right.”

“Now, we should go up,” Momma Oaks said, casting a speaking glance at her husband, who rose immediately.

My foster father inclined his head. “We’ll leave you two to talk a bit. Mind you don’t stay up too late.” With that, the older couple retired.

The ceiling creaked overhead, as they readied for bed. It was a homey sound, one that reminded me I wasn’t alone. However unlikely, I had family in Salvation. Down below, only Stone and Thimble would have noticed my absence … and they wouldn’t have mourned me long. Death was too much an accepted part of our world for it to be a shocking event.

“I like them,” Fade said softly. Then he shifted closer, drawing me against his side as he had done to comfort me in the past. This time, it had other meanings, and I curled into him, accepting those new terms. His warmth felt delicious, sinking into my skin and making me indolent.

“They’ve been good to me.” I paused, thinking about the story Edmund told. “Do you think there’s any truth to it?”

“What part?”

“The world being like it is as some kind of punishment?”

He shook his head. “My dad never mentioned it. And he was right about a lot of other things. So it seems like it’s just something that happened.”

“Then why do you think they tell the story that way?”

Leaning his head against mine, he contemplated the question. He rubbed his cheek against my hair, and I was glad I had taken it down, so he could feel its softness, even if it wasn’t bright burnished like some. At last he answered, “People try to make sense of things, and if they don’t know the answers, they make them up, because for some, a wrong answer is better than none.”

That rang true, as it echoed what I had been thinking about the Wordkeeper earlier. “I guess. But I’d rather have the truth, even if it was uncertain.”

“That’s because you’re a brave and honest soul.”

“Aren’t you?” I asked.

“I try to be.”

Which wasn’t the reply I expected, necessarily, but he distracted me by cupping my cheek in his hand and kissing me. His mouth tasted sweet from the cider he’d had at supper, and it was hot on mine, delicate and delicious. One kiss turned into several; he ran his hands over my back, pressing me close. I touched his jaw, feeling his movements as he kissed me. Then I slid my hands into his hair, silky and cool, sliding through my fingers. The heat escalated until I couldn’t sit still, and I fought the urge to climb on top of him. By the time he pulled free, he was shivering as if he had a fever. Worried, I touched his brow, and he gave a shaky laugh.

“I’m not sick, Deuce. You don’t know your own charm.”

My charm?
I hadn’t been aware I had any.
It must be the dress
, I thought.

“Hm.”

I felt shaky, fluttery in ways that embarrassed me, like I could never get close enough to him, no matter how hard I tried. The warmth of his palms on my back made me want to arch like a sleepy cat. So I drew away, partly in self-defense, and left only my hand in his. From his expression, he understood the tactical retreat, but his fingers stroked mine as if to keep those sensations alive. Tingles spread from my fingertips up my arms to sharp little sparks in my elbows.

“Do you like it here?” he asked.

“In Salvation or with the Oakses?”

“Both. Either.”

I nodded. “It’s different, and some of their beliefs don’t make sense, but overall, I do, very much.”

“Then you’re not sorry.”

In his dark eyes, I saw another question, so I shook my head. “Not anymore. I wouldn’t go back if I had the option. I have more freedom here.”

A sigh escaped him, as if he had been worried that I wished I’d never left the enclave. I hadn’t done that for him, though. I’d sacrificed myself so that my friend Stone wouldn’t be sent on the long walk. The only regret I had was that I hadn’t been able to explain to my brat-mate that I’d made a false confession to save him.

Fade took my hand between both of his and bowed his head over it, so a lock of night-black hair tumbled over his brow, hiding his eyes. “Can you explain why you spent so much time with Stalker if you weren’t—if you don’t—”

“If I didn’t give him exclusive kissing rights?” I suspected he was asking a different question, but I couldn’t identify its nature.

He glanced up with a relieved nod. “That. Can you?”

“He made it easy,” I said, wondering if that was clear enough. “He was always around, and I got tired of my own company.”

His brow went up. “So that’s all I have to do? Show up?”

“It’s a start,” I muttered.

For a moment I thought he might get mad, but he laughed. “Well, I wasn’t doing that. I gave up too easy, I guess.”

“I didn’t even know…” I trailed off, struggling to put my confusion into words. “I didn’t realize you believed something about us that wasn’t true.”

A frown lingered on his face, a trace of doubt. It was like he had some picture in his head, and he couldn’t put it aside. I had made things clear, though. There were no secrets standing between us. Then his expression cleared, as if he’d made some decision. Hopefully it was to stop being jealous for no reason.

“That was my mistake,” Fade said, kissing me lightly. “I forgot that if you had something to tell me you’d say it straight out.”

“I would.”

He raised my hand to his mouth. “You don’t recall, but as we came into Salvation, I told you how I felt. When you didn’t reply in kind, I thought … well. Never mind.”

“What did you say?” I asked, fascinated.

Fade laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think so. You’ll have to work to hear it again.”

Whatever he’d said, I had a feeling it would be worth the wait. For the first time, I noticed that Fade had been sitting on the edge of the sofa the whole night. I thought back to when Edmund had been telling his story, and sure enough, he had been perched just like this. I wondered if that meant he was nervous, but before I could inquire, he changed the subject.

“Are you happier now that we’re part of the summer patrols?”

I answered, “Of course. I need a purpose.”

“I think everyone does.”

Fade wrapped his arm about my shoulders, drawing me to his side, and I rested my head on his shoulder. “It felt good to fight beside you again.”

His smile warmed me to the tips of my toes. “It did. I don’t think anybody will question your ability to hold your own now.”

He was right; I’d earned my place. Despite the day’s losses and my quiet worry, I felt good about that part. “Do you remember when we go out next?”

“Two weeks, Longshot said. The seeds need time to take root. After that, we’ll patrol regularly so the growers can tend the fields.”

“Remove plants that don’t belong,” I guessed, “And make sure birds aren’t eating the green shoots.”

“That’s what he said.”

If today had been any indication, this task would keep us busy all season. We could expect more Freak attacks, and they might shock us with their capacity for planning. I wished I knew what form that animal cunning might take.

He pushed to his feet, then. “I should go. The Oakses trusted us to have some privacy, and I don’t want to give them a reason not to invite me over again.”

“Good night, Fade.” I stretched up to kiss him.

The farewell lasted longer than I intended. With some effort, he pulled back, breathless, his hands curling into fists so he didn’t reach for me again. “I
really
have to go now. Before I forget all the reasons why.”

I went up to bed after he left … but guilt over the way I’d treated Stalker wouldn’t let me sleep. I expected a tap on my window tonight, and I unlatched it because he deserved an explanation. I couldn’t continue being a coward. Half an hour later, he slid inside and landed lightly. My room was candlelit, throwing long shadows. At once I saw that his anger had died into quiet confusion.