Outpost (2 page)

They’d placed Stalker in a different foster home, where he could do valuable work—therefore, they apprenticed him to the blacksmith—and Stalker said he didn’t mind learning how to make weapons and ammunition. Tegan stayed with Doc Tuttle and his wife; it was a long month while she fought infection. I stayed with her as much as I could, though after the first few days, they made me go to school. Three weeks ago, she joined us in the schoolhouse. In the afternoons, she assisted Doc with patients, cleaned his instruments, and generally made herself useful. As for Fade, he went to live with Mr. Jensen, the man who ran the stables, and he cared for creatures like the ones that towed Longshot’s wagon.

Of us all, only I remained with Edmund and Momma Oaks. She kept me busy sewing, though I had little aptitude, and it annoyed me to be saddled with Builder work. They were wasting my potential. I didn’t see any of my old friends as much as I once had, and I hated that too. Sometimes I missed the house by the river, where nobody told us what to do.

These musings carried me through our silent progress away from the wall. By tacit agreement, Stalker and I didn’t head to our respective beds. Instead, we had a secret place within Salvation, as we were forbidden to go into the countryside, a half-finished house near the north side of town. They’d gotten the roof on, but the interior hadn’t been smoothed out, nor had the second story progressed past beams and slats.

Some young couple had planned to live here once they married, but the girl took a fever and died, leaving the boy wild with grief. Momma Oaks told me he went out into the wilderness without so much as a weapon.
It was like he was asking them to kill him,
she’d said, shaking her head in disbelief.
But I reckon love can do strange things to a body.
Love sounded terrible if it made you so weak, you couldn’t survive without it. Regardless, their misfortune left Stalker and me with the perfect place to hide and talk—and spar.

“We don’t belong here,” he said, once we settled in the shadows.

I didn’t think so either, not in the roles they intended us to play. They couldn’t accept that we weren’t stupid brats who had to be supervised. We’d seen and survived things these folks couldn’t imagine. Though I hated to judge people kind enough to take us in, they weren’t very worldly in some respects.

“I know.” When I finally answered, I kept my voice soft.

People already said this place was haunted; that was why nobody had continued the construction. I hadn’t even know what that meant until Longshot explained it to me. The idea of a ghost was foreign; that part of a person could live on outside his body made no sense on the surface, but sometimes I wondered if I had Silk’s spirit in my head. I’d asked Longshot if people could be haunted like places, but he’d said,
I’m not even sure places can be, Deuce. You’re asking the wrong man if you want esoteric knowledge.
Since I didn’t know what
esoteric
meant either, I let the matter drop. Topside had lots of foreign words and concepts; I was digesting them as fast as I could … but so much strangeness made me feel small and stupid.

I hid those moments as best I could.

“We could leave,” Stalker said.

In the dark, I studied my fingers as if I could see the tiny marks from the needle I wasn’t accustomed to plying. “And go where?”

We’d almost died traveling from the ruins, and there had been four of us. Tegan wouldn’t leave Salvation, and I wasn’t sure about Fade. For all I knew, he was happy working with the animals. I hadn’t talked to him to say more than a handful of words in weeks—and that was another reason for my quiet unhappiness. Sometimes I tried to bridge the distance, but Fade avoided me at school, and his foster father was a brusque, impatient man who shooed me away from the stables on the occasions I had visited.
Go on,
Mr. Jensen would say.
The boy doesn’t have time to wag his jaw.

“There are other settlements.”

He’d passed through the same wreckage as I had while we pushed north. Most towns and cities had been overrun. In all these months, Longshot was the only human we’d seen in the wilderness. Even if we didn’t like our lot, it made sense to stick it out until we were old enough to have some say in town decisions. Unfortunately, that could be a long time. That was incredibly frustrating because I wasn’t a brat anymore; I’d passed my trials and become an adult. The things I had survived had moved me beyond childhood, and I had wisdom to offer, no matter how many years I had.

“Enough of this.” He pushed to his feet and fell into a fighting crouch.

And
that
was why I met him in secret. He understood. Stalker wouldn’t let me forget who I was. Momma Oaks had suggested I disregard my old life and try to become a “regular” girl. My first week in her home, she explained how females were expected to behave in Salvation. She made me long-sleeve blouses to hide my scars, and put my hair in neat braids. I hated the clothes, but the hairstyle was practical for fighting, at least.

He lunged; I blocked. Even in the dark, I could tell he was smiling as my fist slammed into his torso. Sometimes he let me land a few hits early on, but he would never admit it. We circled and sparred until I had no more breath, and several new bruises. Good thing my foster mother insisted on modesty, or I wouldn’t be able to hide this night’s work.

“You all right, dove?”

I wasn’t; I longed for Fade and I hated lessons and I missed being valued for my skill. As if in consolation, Stalker tipped my chin up and tried to kiss me. I sprang away with an aggravated sigh. Though I wasn’t interested in more than training, he had great determination that he’d change my mind someday. I couldn’t see it happening. If he thought I’d ever breed with him, he’d better be ready for an argument that ended with my knives in his gut.

“I’ll see you at school,” I muttered.

After confirming the path was clear, I left the little house and headed for the Oakses’ place. Climbing back into my room was more challenging than getting out. First, I had to shimmy up the tree, inch along the branch, and then leap over to my window. It wasn’t too great a distance, but if I landed wrong, I’d fall, which would prove impossible to explain. This time I managed without waking the household. Once on my return, I had Momma Oaks in my room demanding to know what I meant by that racket. I’d pleaded a bad dream, which led to her
poor lamb
ing me, and hugging me to her ample breast for intended comfort. This always left me feeling awkward and unsure.

That night, I lay awake a long time, remembering times long gone, and people I would never see again. Stone and Thimble, my two brat-mates … they’d acted like they believed the charges against me—that I was capable of hoarding—and that still hurt. I missed so many people: Silk; Twist, the elder’s right-hand man; plus the little brat 26, who looked up to me. In a fever dream, Silk told me that the enclave was no more; I wondered if I could believe that knowledge, but I didn’t see a way to confirm it. I’d lost nearly everyone I cared about when I left home. Now it felt as if I’d lost Fade too. Up on the wall, when Longshot had killed its companion, the surviving Freak cried out, and that protest made me wonder if the monsters felt, like we did, if they could miss the ones taken from them. Wrestling with that uncomfortable possibility, I fell at last into an uneasy doze.

The nightmare began.

My flesh crawled with the smell as we made the last turn. I’d long since gotten used to the darkness and the chill, but the stink was new. It smelled like the time when the Freaks had surrounded us in the car, only a hundred times worse. Fade stilled me with a hand on my arm. I read from his gestures that he wanted us to stay close to the wall and move very slowly on the approach. He got no argument from me.

We came upon the busted barricade first. There was no guard posted. Inside the settlement, Freaks shambled about their business. They were fat in comparison with the ones we’d encountered on the way. Horror surged through me. For a moment I couldn’t take it all in; the silence of corpses drowned every thought.

There was no one here to save, and our elders had killed the sole surviving Nassau citizen. That meant our nearest trade outpost lay four days in the opposite direction. Fade put his hand on my arm and cocked his head the way we’d come. Yes, it was time to go. We could do nothing here but die.

Though I was tired, terror gave my muscles strength. As soon as we gained enough distance through stealth, I broke into a headlong run. My feet pounded over the ground. I’d run until I buried the horror. Nassau hadn’t been prepared; they hadn’t believed the Freaks could be a large-scale threat. I tried not to imagine the fear of their brats or the way their Breeders must have screamed. Their Hunters had failed.

We wouldn’t. We couldn’t. We had to get home and warn the elders.

My feet moved, but I went nowhere. Running, as the earth opened, trapping me. Openmouthed, I tried to scream, but no sound emerged. Then blackness swirled in, carrying me away. Everything shifted.

The enclave sprawled before me, filled with a hateful crowd, their faces twisted with condemnation. They spat on me as I passed through the warren toward the barricades. I lifted my chin and pretended not to see them. Fade met me there. We stood mute while they rifled through our things. A Huntress flung my bag at my head, and I caught it. I hardly dared breathe when she stepped close.

“You disgust me,” she said, low.

I said nothing. Like so many times before, Fade and I climbed across and left the enclave behind. But this time, we weren’t heading on patrol. No safety awaited us. Without thinking, without seeking a direction, I broke into a run.

I ran until the pain in my side matched the one in my heart. At length he grabbed me from behind and gave me a shake. “We’re not going to make it if you keep this up.”

The scene changed. Pain and shame melted into terror. I had no choice but to leave my home. The unknown would swallow me up.

Soon the shadows devoured us and I could only see the vague Fade-shape nearby. “I’ll go up first.”

I didn’t argue, but I didn’t let him get far ahead of me either. As soon as he started to climb, I did too. The metal was slick beneath my palms; several times I nearly lost my balance and fell. Grimly, I continued up.

“Anything?”

“Almost there.” I heard him feeling around, and then the scrape of metal on stone. He pulled himself out of what looked like a small hole. Diffuse light spilled down, a tint different from any I’d ever seen. It was sweetly silver and cool, like a drink of water. With Fade’s help, I scrambled up the rest of the way and saw the world above for the first time.

It stole my breath. I spun in a slow circle, trembling at the size of it. I tilted my head back and saw overhead a vast field of black, spattered with brightness. I wanted to crouch down and cover my head. It was too much space, and horror overwhelmed me.

“Easy,” Fade said. “Look down. Trust me.”

Morning came after a night of devastating dreams, most of them true, and with it a dull, throbbing headache. Still shaking, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Everything had a price, and this was mine. During my waking hours, I could be calm and in control, but at night, my fears crept in on quiet feet, haunting my sleep. Sometimes my past felt like a heavy chain about my neck, but a Huntress wouldn’t let it prevent her from moving forward and taking action.

Exhausted, I crawled out of bed, washed up in cold water, and got ready for school. As I trudged down the stairs, I shook my head at the waste. What did I need to learn that I didn’t know already? But there was no convincing anyone of that. Apparently, it was a rule that I had to attend until I was sixteen—at which point I could remove myself. If Momma Oaks had anything to say about it, I would work with her full time, making clothes.

Sometimes I’d rather go back down below.

School

The school was the size of a large house, the interior space divided up by age groups. Colorful charts and pictures decorated most of the walls, except for the one where the blackboard hung. It was smooth, but hard like a rock, and Mrs. James, the teacher, used white sticks to write on it. Sometimes the brats scrawled stupid messages on it, often about Stalker or me.

Mrs. James moved among us, supervising our work. I hated this because I sat with brats younger than myself. I held my pencil awkwardly; writing didn’t come as easy as using my knives. The brats laughed at me behind their hands, eyes amused and innocent. I couldn’t even bring myself to dislike them for their careless prejudice.

They knew only safety and comfort. These brats were smug and self-assured, confident of their place in the world. In some respects I envied them. They didn’t have nightmares, or if they did, they weren’t about real things. Most had never seen a monster, let alone killed one. They’d never seen a Freak feeding on someone who died in the enclave, and then was cast out like garbage. They didn’t know how ruined the world was beyond the walls; they’d never felt claws tearing through their flesh. Small wonder I had nothing in common with these Salvation young.

As for the teacher, Mrs. James thought Stalker was a savage. Fade she liked a little better, because his scars could be hidden, and he knew how to show a polite, distant face. He had been doing it for years, after all, well before we went Topside. Nobody saw anything he didn’t intend to reveal. Mrs. James liked Tegan, much as all adults did, whereas she sighed at me, calling me an “unfortunate case of blighted potential,” whatever that meant.

Today, she was running on about some terrible tragedy, determined we’d learn from our forebearers’ mistakes. “And so, that’s why it’s imperative to pay attention to the past. We don’t want to repeat such errors, do we?”

While Mrs. James lectured, my mind wandered. Things that happened in the enclave—that I hadn’t questioned at the time—troubled me now. I wondered how bad a person I was for not realizing there were problems sooner. Sometimes worry and regret balled up in my stomach like a sickness.