Outcasts

by Jill Williamson

  The woman on the Wyndo wall screen was explaining different ways to sauté onions when the screen blinked off and then showed the Owl’s face in front of a busy city street.

  Omar.

  “This is not an error,” the Owl said through the mask in his low, electric voice. “The Messenger Owl has truth to deliver to the people of the Safe Lands. Truth brings freedom. Listen well. Everything on the ColorCast is screened and approved by Lawten Renzor before you see it. Fortune’s numbers are based on genetics, not divine knowledge. Life numbers identify people with similar DNA. What is liberation, really? Soon you will know. But there is only one life before Bliss, not nine. Make yours count.”

  The screen blinked, and the cooking show resumed.

  “That guy’s a freak.” Jordan stood leaning against the impost between the living room and kitchen. Shaylinn had been so captivated by Omar that she hadn’t seen him come in.

  “Why?” she asked. “He’s trying to tell the truth.”

  “Seems pretty brave to me,” Naomi said.

  “He’s a freak because he’s dressed like a bird,” Jordan said.

  “He can’t very well show his face,” Shaylinn said. “Enforcers would arrest him.”

  “I guess,” Jordan said. “But why does he think he can figure out what liberation is when people like Zane don’t even know?”

  Shaylinn had no answer for that. She prayed Omar would be careful.

  Shaylinn and Naomi finished cutting out the pieces for the two items of clothing. Naomi went to bed early, so Shaylinn bundled up the dress pieces to sew later and carried the pants pieces to the couch perpendicular to the one Chipeta and Eliza were sitting on. Once situated, she began to baste the pants together. Her stitches were never as nice and small as Jemma’s, but babies grew so fast that it likely wouldn’t matter if these pants were imperfect. She sewed for an hour, watching more of the cooking channel while Jemma and Aunt Mary baked in the kitchen, and Jordan sat in the armchair cleaning the pistol he’d gotten from Zane. When Shaylinn finished basting the pants, she decided to take a break from them and baste the dress too.

  She had finished the skirt portion and was starting the top when someone knocked at the door. Shaylinn froze. She hated living like this: always wondering if they were caught again.

  Jordan went and opened the door, his muscular body blocking the opening. “What do you want?”

  “I’ve come to see Shay.” Omar’s voice.

  Shaylinn’s heart soared. He’d come! Her messages were going to get delivered.

  “She’s busy.” Jordan started to shut the door.

  “Jordan.” Shaylinn glared at her brother’s back. “Let him in.”

  Jordan backed up a step, barely cracking the door. Omar turned sideways and squeezed through. He held shopping bags in both hands. He stumbled past Jordan, who was purposely making it difficult.

  Omar carried his bags into the living room and set them on the floor in front of the couch Shaylinn was sitting on. He looked so handsome. He’d combed his hair back over his head, but the long ends fell off the sides of his head and curled around his ears. “I see you managed to get some fabric already,” he said.

  “I brought her some.” Jordan was now leaning against the arch impost with his arms crossed, watching them.

  “Eliza,” Chipeta said, “let’s go see if Mary needs help with those pies.”

  “Okay.” As Eliza followed Chipeta into the kitchen, she elbowed Jordan as she walked past. But he didn’t budge.

  Omar’s forehead wrinkled as he looked down on Shaylinn. “Sorry I was so slow.”

  “No matter.” She gave him a big smile, hoping to make it clear that she wasn’t upset. It had taken him a little longer than she’d hoped, but he’d passed her first test. “Forgive me for not getting up. I’m sort of trapped by these dress pieces until I get them basted together.”

  “You’re fine.” He sat on the edge of the other sofa and watched Jordan.

  Her brother walked back to the armchair he’d been sitting in, picked up his handgun from the coffee table, and sat, keeping his gaze locked on Omar, whose couch sat opposite the chair. Jordan took apart the handgun again, one piece at a time, until the parts lay on the table. Then he grabbed a scrap of the denim that he’d taken from the trash and began polishing the pieces. Again.

  Poor Omar. Her brother was trying to intimidate him, and from the look on Omar’s face, it was working.

  “Three babies,” she said, hoping to distract Omar from her brother’s gun. “Soon there will be three little ones around here. We’ll need lots of clothes, so I’m glad you brought more fabric. Did you know they don’t sell baby clothes in the Safe Lands? Since no one has children, there’s no need to buy them things. Isn’t that sad?”

  Omar opened his mouth as if he were going to speak, but Jordan suddenly started piecing the gun back together, as if racing someone. The metal clicked and clacked until he finished. Then he aimed the gun at Omar, squinting one eye.

  “Jordan.” Shaylinn scowled at her brother. “Could you go away, please?”

  “I’m your chaperone,” he said.

  Shaylinn glared at him. “That’s really not necessary.”

  “Of course it’s necessary.” He gestured to Omar. “I can’t leave you alone with a … boy.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What’s he going to do? Get me pregnant?”

  Omar snorted, fighting back a laugh, and the women giggled in the kitchen.

  Jordan stared at her, then stood and stepped toward Omar, towering above the sofa. “It’s not funny, maggot.”

  “Jordan!” Shaylinn said. “Please, go away. Please!”

  Jordan set his jaw as if biting back a volley of curses, which likely involved at least two uses of the word maggot. He finally said, “You touch her, you die,” and he tapped the barrel of the pistol against Omar’s forehead.

  “I won’t touch her.” Omar shrank down in his seat and lifted his hands out to the side.

  “Good.” Jordan turned and stalked from the room.

  Shaylinn didn’t hear his bedroom door close, which meant Jordan was likely in the kitchen, eavesdropping. Such a pain. “It’s not loaded,” she said to Omar. “Zane gave it to him, but he doesn’t have any ammo for it yet.”

  Omar sighed and nodded.

  “So?” Shaylinn gestured to the bags. “Are you going to show me what you brought?”

  “Yeah.” He stood and handed her one of the bags.

  She reached in and pulled out a jar of pickles. She held it up and wrinkled her nose. “Pickles?”

  He ran his hand through his hair, causing it to stand up in waves. “Levi said pregnant women crave weird things. I went on the grid to see, and it said pickles.”

  “Oh, well, maybe pickle cravings come later.” She peeked inside the bag. He’d also brought her an assortment of breads and crunchies.

  “You said you could only eat breads.”

  Aww. “Thank you, Omar. That was very thoughtful.”

  He lifted the bag of food off her lap and replaced it with two bags of fabric. Omar had chosen fabrics so soft they felt like fur. There was a blue-and-green print, a red-and-brown stripe with fat white dog bone shapes, a purple-and-yellow plaid with little smiling duckies, a fluffy pink fabric that looked like a blanket, and some of the same in light blue. There was also a pink-and-white plaid flannel, and a blue-and-white flannel with funny little cars.

  “These are amazing!” she said. “Where did you get them?”

  “Zane knew about a warehouse where they make fabric for the nursery.”

  “They’re precious. Thank you so much.”

  He smiled — he was so cute when he smiled! “There’s some needles and thread in that second bag. And some yarn too. I couldn’t remember if you knew how to knit or crochet, so I bought both kinds of tools.”

  “I can do both.” She peeked in the second bag and admired the different textures of yarn. “Omar, you’re much better at choosing fabrics than my bro
ther.”

  “What?” Jordan’s voice. Then, “Let go of me, Aunt Mary.”

  “You stay right here and let them be,” Aunt Mary whispered loudly.

  Shaylinn and Omar laughed, but Omar quickly cut off his laughter, though he was still smiling. “Well, denim is good too,” he said, loud enough for Jordan to hear.

  “It’s sturdy,” Shaylinn said. “Jordan’s child will be a hunter, boy or not.”

  “He’s a boy!” Jordan yelled from the kitchen. “That doctor woman said so.”

  “Will you stop it or must I send you to bed?” Aunt Mary scolded.

  When no other sound came from the kitchen, Omar said, “I have one more thing for you.”

  “You’ve given me so much!” Shaylinn said. “I’ll be sewing the rest of my life.”

  “Well, this one is a present.” He pulled a small canvas out from the last bag and handed it to her.

  She flipped it over in her hands and looked into her own eyes. It was a painting of her, Penny, and Nell, the way they would have looked had Omar painted them when he’d promised to that day months ago. It was just their faces, with Shay in the center and a forest in the background. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh! Omar …”

  “I had to do it from memory, so it’s not very accurate.”

  But it was. “It’s perfect. I love it.” She pushed aside the bags and the sewing and got up from the couch. She stepped to where Omar was standing and kissed his cheek.

  He looked at the floor, and his cheeks flushed. Oh, he was so adorable. She didn’t dare hope that he would be there for the babies, did she? Omar had never been the most reliable person, and he’d almost died once from smoking his weird pipe. She would just keep praying that he’d learn to fight the temptations in his life.

  Because she wanted him to stick around.

  CHAPTER

  17

  Omar is the Owl?” Levi asked.

  “That’s what Kendall told me,” Jemma said.

  Kendall? “When did you talk to her?”

  “She tapped me on my Wyndo, looking for Omar.”

  Levi growled at this. That woman needed to stay away from Omar. Levi and Jemma were sitting in the dusty living room of Zane’s abandoned house waiting for Omar to arrive before Zane took them to meet the mysterious Ruston Neil. Jemma had been begging to come out to the city with Levi, and he figured today was a safe day to placate his wife.

  But he couldn’t believe how continually stupid his brother was. “And Omar told her this?”

  “No. Shaylinn figured it out,” Jemma said. “We all should have. I mean, an owl? Omar? It should have been obvious.”

  Levi had never understood his brother’s obsession with owls. “I guess.”

  “I think it’s wonderful,” Jemma said.

  “It’s a mess, Jem. Hijacking the ColorCast will only make Otley and his goons angry.”

  “And what’s wrong with that?” Zane asked, walking into the living room from the kitchen. His hair was flat today, like he’d just rolled out of bed. At this hour, he likely had.

  “Because Otley will tighten security and increase enforcer patrols until he catches the Owl.” Which would also make it harder for Levi to free the kids.

  Zane sat in the rocking chair across from the sofa Levi was sharing with Jemma. “Don’t you think people deserve the truth?”

  “Safe Landers aren’t my business,” Levi said. “And they’re not Omar’s business either.”

  “TeleFlash, peer,” Zane said, “I think Omar feels more like a Safe Lander than an outsider. And I think he wants to help people.”

  Levi scooted to the edge of the couch. “He needs to help his own people. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, and he’s liable to get himself killed.”

  “I see what this is really about,” Zane said. “He went behind your back, and that burns you because you want to be the boss of him.”

  “I am the boss of him,” Levi said. “I’m the village elder.”

  Jemma’s hand touched his back and moved side to side, scratching lightly, comforting him.

  “Look, I know what it’s like to come into this place naïve and get taken in,” Zane said. “To ruin your life because, even though you were warned, you didn’t know any better. I didn’t want that to happen to you, Levi. Which was why I helped you that day at Café Eat. But I didn’t know you yet. And now I know that never would’ve happened to a rule monger like you. And that’s fine. But Omar. That kid …” Zane shook his head. “He got taken by this place, like I did. Now he’s trying to turn it around. But you’re standing in his way with your list of rules. Get out of the way, Levi. Let the kid do what he’s got to do to make up for his pain.”

  A pang of remorse shot through Levi. He should be the one standing up for his brother, not Zane. “But nothing will ever make up for his pain. Sometimes consequences are just too great.”

  “Maybe. But Omar has to walk that road himself. You can’t tell him how it’s going to be. You can’t wish him better. This Owl thing … it’s a good idea. It’s making people ask questions and doubt the Guild.”

  Hang the Guild! Levi wanted to scream. “But what does that have to do with getting our kids out of the Highlands?”

  “Your agenda is all that matters to you, isn’t it?” Zane asked. “Why should I let this meeting happen? You want to meet Ruston so you can figure out how to get your kiddies, not so you can figure out what Bender is up to. Am I right?”

  Levi glanced at Jemma, who was still scratching his back. “The kids are my top priority.”

  “Well, maybe I’m tired of doing cartwheels for your priorities, Levi. You expect a lot from everyone you meet. But I don’t owe you anything. So, I’ll do the meeting today, but for Omar, not for you. You want my help in the future? You’re going to have to start caring about more than your own pet agenda.”

  Ouch. Levi glanced at Jemma again. Her eyes were wide and empathetic, supporting him even when he was being insolent. He’d never been good at thinking about other people’s feelings. When he had a job to do, the job consumed his thoughts until it was done. “I feel a lot of pressure to take care of my people. I guess I get a little obsessed. I’m sorry.”

  “Just try to be flexible, okay?” Zane said. “And stop jumping to the worst-case scenarios all the time.”

  Was he pessimistic? “Troubleshooting the worst is an elder’s job.”

  “Then do it in your head and wait for the facts before you start yelling. Do you even know how to — ”

  “He’s here,” Jemma said.

  Omar shut the front door behind him. Zane limped over to greet him.

  “Ask him about Red,” Jemma whispered.

  Talk about pet agendas. Not again with this. “Omar and Shaylinn’s business is their own,” Levi told his wife.

  “But Kendall said Omar is still with Red. Shaylinn needs him now, Levi. And Omar needs your guidance.”

  “He’s never listened to me before. Why would he now?” Besides, Omar was only sixteen. Shaylinn fourteen. They were too young to be worrying about getting married, though it might happen eventually. Levi was much more concerned about the whole Owl thing. Omar was a puppy picking a fight with a mountain lion.

  Levi walked toward his brother in time to overhear Zane say, “… skip patrols tonight. Oh, and Levi knows.”

  “What?” Omar’s shocked expression shifted from Zane to Levi. His jaw tightened into a scowl. “I can’t believe she told you.”

  As if Levi would be spending time with Kendall Collin. “She told Jemma.”

  “But she promised … Whatever.” Omar pushed past Levi, walking farther into the living room.

  Levi grabbed his arm. “Hey, let’s talk about it.” He chose his next words carefully. “It seems pretty dangerous.”

  “Are you worried your little brother might get hurt?” Omar asked.

  “I am, actually.”

  “Well, don’t bother. I’m dying anyway. I may as well do something good with my life on my way ou
t.” Omar flopped down on the couch beside Jemma, and a cloud of dust puffed around him.

  This was the kind of talk that really scared Levi. “That’s what this is? Suicide?”

  “I’m just not afraid anymore, okay?” Omar said. “Let them come and get me. I’m putting up my best fight.”

  “This isn’t our war, brother,” Levi said. “We need to get our people out and — ”

  “Maybe it’s not your war, but maybe it is my war.” Omar tapped his chest. “I made the deal that got us here, as you like to remind me. And they lied to me. I can’t forget that. I need to do something. And since I’ve been the Owl, I’ve felt lighter than I have in weeks. I haven’t had a puff from my PV all day. So, maybe I can get high off my new purpose instead of stims.”

  “That’s great, Omar,” Jemma said.

  Levi didn’t think any of this was great. “They’re going to catch you.”

  “Nah,” Zane said. “I’ve installed a SimTag detector in his Wyndo wristband. It alerts him when someone approaches, and he can identify who it is by looking on the grid.”

  “Wait. You’re helping him?” Levi asked. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  Zane shrugged, the beginnings of a smile on his face. “You didn’t ask, peer.”

  “Zane is my partner,” Omar said.

  “More like his sidekick tech wizard,” Zane said. “I work from the nest.”

  “What’s the nest?” Jemma asked.

  “Our lair.” Omar grinned and jumped up from the couch. “Want to see it?”

  Zane and Omar led Levi and Jemma down to the basement of the house, which was nothing but a small room with cement walls. The air was colder down there. A ratty old couch sat across from a washer and dryer. And a long bookshelf filled with cardboard boxes stretched along the wall opposite the stairs.

  “This is your lair?” Levi asked. Because it wasn’t a bit impressive.

  “Watch and see,” Omar said. “It’s mad wild.”

  His brother’s enjoyment annoyed him. This was a game to Omar. He was playing superhero, like a character from the Old cartoon comic books he liked so much.