Outcasts

by Jill Williamson

  He used some scraps of fabric from his cape and made a belt bag to hold his cans of paint. Then he put his costume back on and went out again. He crept along Cinnamon Mountain Road until he reached Belleview Drive, turned down Belleview, passed the messenger office, the Cinnamonster ice cream shop, and the laundry. He left his mark along the way, adding words like, “Trust the Owl,” “The Owl sees all,” and “Hoo is the Owl?”

  That last one made him smile. If he did this every night for a few weeks, he could mark the entire Midlands. Once he’d done that, he could do the same in the Highlands.

  But graffiti alone didn’t make a superhero. He needed a master plan.

  He returned home and had barely changed out of his costume when the doorbell rang. His fear was that Red had returned, but a look through the peephole showed it was Zane.

  Omar opened the door. “You’re out late. How was the meeting?”

  “It was a meeting.” Zane limped in, punching Omar’s arm as he did. “This place is a pit. What goes on here?”

  Omar looked around his apartment. It was still a mess from Red’s hissy fit. He’d really only cleaned up his studio — kitchen — so he could finish his costume. “Levi keeps me too busy to clean, and Red wasn’t much help.”

  “I’ll bet.” Zane sat on the back of the couch, his feet dangling. “So, where’d you stash your owl suit?”

  Omar shut the door and turned to look at his guest. “What?”

  “The ghoulie tag you stole from the train station made a purchase outside Bender’s warehouse. So I went to check it out. I saw Owl Man handing out burgers. Recognized your voice.”

  Great. “Please don’t tell anyone. It’s just … You were right. I wanted to do something that made a difference. I’m a loser and a traitor to my people, plus now that I’m going to be a father, I — ”

  “Calm down, peer, I get it. I do. But if you’re going to do this thing — which I think is stimming awesome, by the way—you need a voice modifier. And I’m going to build you one.”

  Omar relaxed. “You’re not going to tell anyone?”

  “Walls, no. Clearly you don’t think the rebels’ plans are enough. And I agree with you. The Safe Lands people need something like this. Someone who’ll voice their darkest fears. The things everyone wonders but is afraid to ask. People are talking about what you did tonight, Owl Man. If you keep it up, it won’t be long before you have more press than a harem queen. But you’re going to need help to keep from getting caught. Let’s work together to make you someone the public can trust. The Owl Man sees. Trust the Owl Man. It’s good.”

  “It’s just the Owl, not the Owl Man.”

  “Fine.”

  It would be nice to have a partner. “But Levi can’t know.”

  “No problem,” Zane said. “Let’s keep this between you and me.”

  “Deal,” Omar said. And they shook on it.

  For the next hour, they talked about their plans, and only after Zane had left and Omar cleaned up the floor of his place did he find the message that had been slipped under his door. It was unmarked, off-grid. The mere sight of it filled his stomach with dread. He opened the envelope and read:

  Omar,

  Blessed is a man who perseveres under trial. But remember: God tempts no one. A man is tempted when he’s dragged away by his evil desire and enticed. Once desire is conceived, it gives birth to sin, which when fully grown, gives birth to death.

  God did not create you and cause you to live with the purpose of wishing to die. I believe, in my heart, you were intended to value life and enjoy it. So falls the rain after the fire, and this too shall pass. Remain steadfast.

  Love from

  a messenger

  This wasn’t from Bender. Omar’s first thought was Jemma, for only she could quote words that touched the aching soul. But he knew Jemma’s handwriting — still had a birthday note from her in his desk back in Glenrock. This wasn’t from her.

  The dread had not wholly vanished from his heart. But it was no longer dread for himself. It was dread for this messenger, who was attempting something very brave yet very foolish.

  Just like him.

  CHAPTER

  12

  Shaylinn’s days in the cabin were far too quiet. There was nothing to do but cook, clean, or watch the ColorCast, all of which Shaylinn was sick of. Clearly Omar had forgotten to get her some fabric.

  Or maybe he’d found out the truth and was avoiding her.

  It had been only two days since he’d chased Kendall out the door. Perhaps no one had told him still.

  After dark, Jordan returned to the cabin and set several grocery bags on the kitchen table. “I got you some fabric.” He pulled out a wad of blue denim. “It should make a nice pair of pants.”

  Shaylinn took the fabric and stroked it. Denim was exactly the type of fabric her brother would have picked out for his son. Thick and sturdy and tough. What kind of fabric would Omar have chosen?

  Before they’d escaped the harem, Luella Flynn had said on her show that Naomi’s baby was a boy. Naomi said Ciddah had confirmed it. Shaylinn wondered about her own babies. Kendall had predicted girls. She strained to remember her dream, to recall if the children had been boys or girls. But she couldn’t remember.

  She’d just have to be surprised.

  A door down the hall opened and Naomi jogged into the kitchen, holding her belly with one hand as she moved faster than must be comfortable. “Hey, baby!” She crushed herself to Jordan. “What did you bring me?”

  “Cookies, cookies, and more cookies.”

  “Good man.” She dug a package of cookies out from one of the bags and tore into them. “You having any cravings yet, Shay?”

  “No. Everything’s revolting.”

  “I still can’t believe you’re going to have two babies.”

  Shaylinn forced a laugh. “I’ll be huge.”

  “Surely Omar will take some responsibility in this,” Naomi said. “You can’t raise two kids on your own.”

  “She won’t be on her own,” Jordan said. “She can stay with us.”

  Shaylinn glared at her brother and Naomi. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m your responsibility now, like I can’t take care of myself.”

  “Can you?” Jordan asked.

  “I’ve always been a decent hunter. And I fish better than you. I respect you, Jordan, and I love you both dearly, but my babies are not yours. You and Naomi are not my parents. And I won’t let you take over my life.”

  “I don’t want him in this house,” Jordan said.

  “This is not your house, brother. And stop acting like Omar took advantage of me. No one is to blame for this but our captors. I don’t need your pity.”

  She grabbed the fold of fabric, stomped to her bedroom, and slammed the door. She fell onto her bed and let the tears come. She had never been a crier until she’d become pregnant. Now the tears came whether she wanted them to or not. It was so unfair. Her pity party was short-lived, though, as nausea sent her running to the bathroom.

  After yet another bout of sickness, she washed her hands at the sink and tried to decide if it was safe to return to her room.

  Someone knocked on the bathroom door, and Jemma cracked it open. “Can I come in?”

  “Why does Jordan hate Omar and Mason so much?”

  Jemma came inside and closed the door. “He doesn’t hate them, honey. He’s still angry at Omar for betraying our village. He may be angry about that for the rest of his life. And Mason … it’s only because he doesn’t understand Mason.”

  “I’m not afraid of these babies.” The dream she’d had showed a peaceful, happy future. “Don’t you see? This is God’s will.”

  “How come I never knew that you liked Omar?”

  Shaylinn lowered the lid on the toilet and sat down. “I hid it from everyone. Even Penny and Nell. I miss them, Jemma.”

  “You have me.”

  “It’s not the same. I know you love me, but we’ve ne
ver spent much time together. You’re always with Naomi or Levi.”

  “Well, that can change, can’t it?”

  “I suppose.” But Shaylinn didn’t think it ever would.

  “And change, it shall. It might take Omar a while, but I’m sure he’ll come around. Honey, try to remember: he’s only sixteen, and you’re only fourteen. That’s very young to be dealing with these things. I’m so proud of how brave you’re being.”

  Yes, Shaylinn could be brave, but that didn’t make her any less lonely. She convinced Jemma that she needed a nap, then returned to her bedroom to work on her messages. She’d used Jordan’s Wyndo to find out where the people on her list lived and was almost ready to make another delivery trip. If she couldn’t give hope to herself, at least she could give it to others.

  When everyone was sleeping, Shaylinn went out into the night. Mapping out her route on the Wyndo in advance would have been wise. She’d backtracked three times already and still had two messages left.

  She left the Twister apartment building and crossed the parking lot, heading back toward the Paradise.

  “Hay-o, Shaylinn.”

  She jumped and scanned the dark lot. Rewl was leaning against a black car beside an opened back door. Shaylinn wanted to run, but Rewl’s friendly smile compelled her feet to keep a steady pace. Just act calm, she told herself. But all she could think of was Bender’s threat that Rewl would kill Kendall.

  “You’ve been delivering messages.” Rewl’s eyes seemed to devour her. He held out an envelope. “I have one for you.”

  Someone had written back? Shaylinn walked up to the car and reached for the envelope. Rewl pulled his arm back a little and grinned. The SimArt on his teeth made them look rotten in the darkness. Shaylinn reached farther. Rewl held the message above his head. Shaylinn sighed and reached up, knowing he’d only move it again. But this time he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into the back of the car.

  Hot fear seized Shaylinn, and she screamed. “Let go!” She kicked and clawed at Rewl, but he held on. The door rolled closed and the car pulled away from the hotel. Someone else was driving? She strained to look, but the car had a divider that hid the driver from view.

  Rewl lay on top of her, chuckling, like this was fun and games. He squeezed her waist tighter. “Simmer, shimmer. I just want to ask you some questions.”

  Shaylinn stopped struggling, and Rewl released her. She slid over against the opposite door and tried to open it, but she didn’t have a SimTag anymore.

  “Jumping out of a moving car … much more dangerous than some quick words with me. I’m just pointing that out.”

  Shaylinn’s body trembled all over. “Let me out.”

  “First tell me where you’re staying now. Levi just up and moved away without telling Bender a thing.”

  Oh no. What if he followed her? What if he already knew where the cabin was? “He doesn’t owe Bender any explanation. Bender doesn’t own us.”

  “No, but he invested in you people. Levi owes him.”

  She wished Jordan were here. “You’ll have to take that up with Levi. I don’t know anything about it.”

  Rewl stared at her, ran his tongue over his creepy teeth. “Then why don’t you explain why you’ve been delivering messages that are off-grid. Where did you get them?”

  Her heart thudded inside her. “I wrote them myself.”

  “This isn’t Levi’s way of recruiting his own people?”

  This question brought a different kind of fear over Shaylinn. “No! Levi knows nothing about this. I just wanted to write to people. To encourage them.”

  Rewl chuckled and slid his fingers over her knee. “Convince me.”

  She pulled her knees closer to the door. Maybe if she let him read one of the messages she’d yet to deliver, he’d let her go. But he had no right to boss her. “You don’t scare me.” Such a lie.

  “Which is why your voice trembles every time you speak. Are you pairing up with Omar?”

  His question made Shaylinn gasp. “You’re rude.”

  “And you’re prude. Ba-boom. Poetry, shimmer. It’s a gift.” He slid closer to her on the seat. He smelled spicy and sweaty, and Shaylinn wanted to get away. “Look, Shaylinn — that’s such a pearly name, you know it? I don’t want to hurt you. But you’ve been poking around, stepping into parties you haven’t been invited to. I need to know why. If you don’t tell me …” He shook his head and grabbed her knee again.

  Shaylinn couldn’t get any closer to the door, so she pushed his hand off her knee. “I’m trying to help people, that’s all. Stop touching me.”

  He chuckled and moved back a little. “I’ve seen you and Kendall Collin make deliveries together.”

  “Once,” Shaylinn said, “just so I would know how to do it.”

  “I don’t trust Kendall Collin. I’ve seen her talking to enforcers. Getting picked up in fancy cars from City Hall. Plus, she was helping Chord.”

  The name sent another jolt of fear through Shaylinn. “What’s so bad about that?”

  “Chord was a traitor. Making things up about Bender. Spreading lies to everyone. Trying to help Otley.”

  Could that be true? Was Chord’s message to Ruston a lie?

  Rewl chuckled and stretched his arm over the back of the seat. “Not so sure anymore, are you? You thought you could trust Kendall. You know she’s after Omar, don’t you? I’ve seen her coming and going from his place.”

  Tears flooded Shaylinn’s eyes. Don’t believe him! “You’re a liar. I want to get out now. Please stop the car.” Shaylinn examined the car door again, looking for some kind of emergency latch.

  “In a minute, shimmer. Look, you need to stop with the messages. Even if they’re harmless, they’re confusing people, and Bender doesn’t like it. So why don’t you move into that glossy apartment we got you, relax, play, and come dancing with me tonight.”

  She watched him warily. If he tried to touch her again, she’d punch him. “I don’t think I’m a very good dancer.”

  “I know Levi told you to stay away from us Safe Landers, but Levi doesn’t know something about me. See, I’m not infected.”

  More lies. Shaylinn pursed her lips.

  “Have you heard of Naturals?” Rewl asked. “Some people call them ghosts.”

  Ghosts? Shaylinn frowned, trying to remember where she’d heard that term. It seemed like something Jordan and Levi had been talking about.

  “It means I’m not a regular Safe Lander. I wasn’t born in the MC. I wasn’t raised in the boarding school. I grew up with the rebels in the basements. I have parents, like you.”

  A chill ran over Shaylinn. “There are people here who have parents?”

  “Everyone has parents, shimmer, whether they admit it or not. I just happen to have been raised by mine. Bender is my dad.”

  Dad. A term she’d never heard a Safe Lander use. But if Rewl was Bender’s son, of course he’d claim his father’s innocence. But what if he was innocent? Maybe Chord had been working for Otley. Maybe Rewl and Bender were the good people.

  She needed to speak to Kendall.

  “I like you, Shaylinn,” Rewl said, his voice low. He scooted close, right up next to her, leaving only an inch of air between them. “You’re kind and beautiful.”

  Why did she only ever hear she was beautiful from drunk men or men she didn’t like? “I’m pregnant,” she said, hoping that would make Rewl stop saying such things.

  His breathy laugh warmed her ear. “Yeah, I don’t mind.”

  This confused her. What did he want? Only to dance? “I want to get out now.”

  Rewl sighed and leaned back against the seat. “Okay, femme.” He rapped his knuckles against the dark glass separating the front seat from the back. The car slowed to a stop. “Thanks for the talk, shimmer. Think about dancing sometime. I’ll find you.”

  Shaylinn’s door slid open, and she jumped out without a backward glance. The car sped away. Tears flooded her eyes, relief that she was free.
<
br />   She was standing in the parking lot of the Paradise, almost exactly where Rewl had grabbed her. Should she tell anyone what had happened?

  What if Rewl had been telling the truth? Maybe he was a good guy. And if she stopped delivering the messages, maybe Rewl would leave her alone.

  She started to cry. She’d been so stupid to think she could make a difference, do something good. All she’d done was put herself in danger. And now she had to be careful getting home because Rewl could be watching. If she was going to keep this up, she needed to find a new way to and from the cabin. A way that Rewl couldn’t follow.

  CHAPTER

  13

  Try it,” Zane said.

  Omar tapped “voice” on his flexible Wyndo wristband, then said, “The Owl sees. Trust the Owl.” His voice came out magnified, deep and distorted, from speakers Zane had installed in his new helmet and gloves. Perfect! He grinned at Zane. “It works!”

  “Of course it works,” Zane said. “Now toggle back to me.”

  Omar tapped “nest” and said, “Owl to the nest. Do you hear me?”

  “Excellent.” Zane’s voice came through the SimTalk implant in Omar’s ear as simply as if he had used it to tap anyone.

  They were in a secret room in the basement of Zane’s house in the Midlands, a room filled with computers and guns — both killers and stunners. Omar was sitting on a chair before a green wall, which Zane said would enable him to project any image behind Omar. Across the tiny room, Zane sat before a GlassTop desk. A Wyndo wall screen covered the length of the wall above him. Zane had assured Omar that this was the ideal location for their base of operations — or “the nest,” as he’d been calling it. The Owl was about to make his first broadcast to the Safe Lands.

  “We ready, then?” Omar asked.

  “I think so. I can only hack the ColorCast for thirty seconds at a time before they can track me. We can’t let them find us, so if I have to, I’ll pull the feed early. Read your lines from the Wyndo wall screen, and I’ll do the rest. Now put your voice back on.”