Outcasts

by Jill Williamson

  “If we had Ciddah with us, she could do half the SimTags,” Mason said.

  Again with the medic? “No,” Levi said. “We need you with us tonight, brother.”

  Mason eyed Levi a moment, lips pressed into a thin line. “Then perhaps I should teach someone how to remove SimTags. It’s not that difficult. One of Bender’s people removed mine.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Zane said. “You’ll have lots of time. I’m going to broadcast one of the Owl videos we prerecorded at the same time you enter the school. And one of my peers is going to put on the costume and create a disturbance in Champion Park. That should keep the enforcers distracted a bit.”

  “So it wasn’t you in Omar’s costume last night?” Levi asked.

  “With my limp? Naw, peer. Just someone who owes me a favor.”

  “He better not mess it up,” Omar said. “And do you have any plan for the nursery?”

  Hadn’t Levi already said? Was Omar not listening?

  “Just to the doors,” Zane said to Omar. “We’re going to have to talk to Kendall tomorrow about what to do once we get in. But here’s what I know. The nursery is on the sixth floor of the Medical Center. The nursery team will follow you through the tunnels to an alley off Gothic. Then you’re going to walk to the MC. I’ll figure out which cameras to tap, so I’ll be your eyes. It’s going to be tricksy, though. I’ve never tried to swipe babies from the MC.”

  “Skottie had a femme who’s gatekeeper for the RC,” Omar said. “So that’s you, Zane. You’re our gatekeeper. We couldn’t do this without you.”

  Levi conceded that much. Without Ruston and Zane, they’d be lost. He hated feeling that way, but there was nothing he could do about it. The Safe Lands were like a foreign world. It would be a miracle it they ever got out alive.

  CHAPTER

  24

  It was still dark. But at 5:00 a.m., the moment the clerk opened the Lift on the corner of Anthracite and Winterset, Omar went inside with Mason and sat at a table to wait for Kendall to arrive. Omar used the ghoulie tag ring Mason had given him to purchase a smoothie drink with five lifts of grass, hoping it would stop the itch for his PV. Now that he was off-grid, he didn’t have any credits to buy a new one since ghoulie tags never had many credits on them.

  “You’d be wise to avoid stimulants, brother,” Mason said. “It only complicates your condition.”

  Ice shot up Omar’s spine. “Why does everyone feel the need to tell me what to do? Wait — “ He tapped his Wyndo watch to the memo screen. “I forgot that you were an expert on my life. Let me take notes.”

  “I’m sorry, Omar,” Mason said. “I didn’t mean to criticize.”

  Another chill ran over him, one that reminded him that Mason was right. “Look, Mase, five lifts of grass is like vaping a two in a PV. It’s not doing much, trust me.” But he hoped it would.

  Omar took a long drink through the straw. Only two nights had passed since Otley had shown up at his apartment. He’d been itching something fierce since he woke up in the RC. He’d tried going to his apartment last night, but enforcers had been camped outside. Apparently Otley didn’t like that Omar had cut out his SimTag the same day he’d been warned not to. Surprise, surprise.

  Two nights felt like two hundred. He was still mad at Zane for not helping him get a new PV and some juice. Zane said Omar was better off without them, but Omar needed them — was sick without them. He was so tired, but he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even get comfortable. Plus, it was seventy degrees out, and he was freezing. Shivering and shaking like a kitten in a toddler’s hands.

  Maybe that was the lynchpin: destroy wherever stimulants were created. Without juice to vape, Safe Landers would go insane, government officials included. Then Levi and the rebels could sweep in and take over. It actually wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe the Owl could do it. Omar the Owl, though, not Zane’s copycat impostor.

  “She’s here,” Mason said. “What in all the lands?”

  Kendall trudged into the Lift parking lot holding her birdcage in one hand, a suitcase in the other.

  “Could she be any more obvious?” Mason asked. “The whole point of doing this when it’s still dark is so no one will see us. But a girl carrying a birdcage is pretty memorable.”

  It was stupid. If she’d wanted to bring the bird, she could have tapped Omar about it. “I’ll wave us a cab.”

  “Where are we going to put the bird until I’m done?” Mason asked.

  “I don’t know.” Omar hoped this was one of those things they’d laugh about someday. Right now he wanted to wring Kendall’s neck. He took another drink, still not feeling the effects of the grass. What if the clerk had forgotten it?

  “How about you sit with it while I take her into the bathroom?” Mason suggested.

  “Just make it quick,” Omar said. “This bird talks.”

  Mason walked down the hall to the bathrooms seconds before Kendall opened the front door to Lift. Omar got up and took the cage so she could drag her suitcase inside. He carried the bird back to the table and sat down.

  Seconds later, Kendall dropped her suitcase beside the birdcage. “What happened to your eye?”

  “Meet Mason in the bathroom,” Omar mumbled. He repositioned his chair in front of the cage, hiding it as best he could. Now, if the critter would just stay silent. He watched Kendall knock on the bathroom door, then slip inside.

  “Give me a kiss. Tch tch tch.”

  Omar jumped. So much for that plan. Why hadn’t she covered the cage? He opened her suitcase to see if she had brought the cover, but clothes blossomed out and spilled onto the floor. Great. No sign of a cover, either. Omar did his best to pack it back nicely.

  “Basil’s a budgie, budgie.”

  “What do you have there?” the clerk asked from behind the counter.

  See? That bird was guaranteed to cause trouble. “Oh, it’s just a dumb bird.”

  “Juice off, Lawten. You’re a shell!”

  The clerk eyes widened and he walked over to Omar’s table. “You teach it to say that?”

  “Naw. My friend’s idea of a joke.” Omar took a drink of his smoothie. Why couldn’t he taste the grass? He wasn’t feeling a thing.

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a friend,” the clerk said. “An enforcer hears that, they’ll arrest you for slander.”

  They’d arrest him for more than that. “Yeah, well, that’s why I’m trying to get rid of the dumb thing.”

  The clerk eyes widened. “You selling it?”

  “Tch tch tch. Omar’s the Owl.”

  Omar blanched. She’d taught the bird to say that? What was Kendall’s problem, anyway? “Hey.” He kicked the cage. “People are trying to enjoy their drinks.” He wished he was enjoying his, but the grass lift must have been defective. Maybe the clerk forgot to add it.

  “Did he just say Omar’s the Owl?” the clerk asked.

  Omar did his best to think fast and make it sound legit. “The bird’s name is Omar. He saw all that stuff on the ColorCast about that Owl fellow. Now he thinks he’s the Owl.”

  The clerk laughed. “Walls! That’s funny.”

  “Tell me about it.” Omar glanced down the hallway to the bathrooms. Today, Mason. His muscles ached — his very bones ached. He sucked down the rest of the smoothie, desperate for the grass to provide some relief.

  The clerk squatted beside the cage and looked at Basil. “Well, if you’re selling him, I’m interested.”

  Of course he was. “Yeah? Well, I’m headed over to the Prospector now to meet a potential buyer, but if it doesn’t work out …” Omar pushed up his sleeve and held out his Wyndo watch to the clerk.

  “Oh, sure.” The clerk tapped his fist against the Wyndo screen, which displayed the clerk’s face with his name and ID number underneath.

  “Thanks, Keny,” Omar said, reading the screen.

  “What time is it?” Basil said. “Tch tch tch. Owl. Omar’s the Owl.”

  Omar rolled his eyes at Keny. “I’m warning yo
u. He never shuts up.”

  “I think he’s stimming decked,” Keny said. “Well, I should get back. Hope to hear from you.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see.”

  The clerk returned to the counter, and Mason and Kendall came back to the table.

  “I’m going to wave a cab.” Omar got up and walked to the door, anxious to get out of there. “Come out as soon as you see I got one.” He didn’t wait for their answer. Omar’s the Owl? What had that crazy femme been thinking?

  He waved a cab, and they all piled in, but Basil’s chatter drew them into another awkward conversation with the driver. Omar had to interrupt Kendall’s explanations to give the same story he’d given Keny. Consistency was key in a situation like this. Otley wouldn’t have any trouble tracking them if he thought to ask about the bird.

  When they were all safely inside Zane’s house, Omar let Kendall have it. “What were you thinking, bringing the dumb bird? And why did you teach him to say Omar’s the Owl?”

  “He copies me sometimes.” She frowned and looked at Basil’s cage on the living room floor in the middle of the circle of chairs. “I didn’t want to leave him behind.”

  Copies her? “So who did you say ‘Omar’s the Owl’ to?”

  Her cheeks flushed and she glanced at Omar, bottom lip pouting like he should feel sorry for her. “No one. Just … myself.”

  Kendall had already proved how big her mouth was. She’d told Jemma about the scene Red had made at the train station and that Omar was the Owl. And the bird wouldn’t have been there for that conversation. “Are you sure you haven’t accidentally told anyone else anything about me or the rebels or the Owl or where you’re going?” Omar asked.

  “I’m sure. I don’t have any friends.” And now her eyes were all teary, which made Omar feel like a jerk.

  “You do now,” Mason said, ever the peacemaker.

  Omar picked up Basil’s cage and headed for the garage. They needed to get to the cabin unseen, so they were taking the van. Omar carried the “tch tch tch-ing” bird, Mason the suitcase, and Kendall followed them. Nash drove them to the cabin, the bird yakking the whole way. Omar had never been more thrilled to get to a place where everyone thought he was a traitor.

  The three of them created quite a stir when they entered the cabin. Jordan came running, gun in hand. Omar wondered if he had any ammo for it yet. Aunt Chipeta ushered Mason up to the attic with Kendall’s suitcase. Shay and Jemma came next. Shay looked pale, and he wished he’d thought to get her a pastry from the Lift. Or maybe she was unhappy to see him. Either way, he owed her an apology. He dropped the cage in the hallway and took her hand, pulling her toward the bathroom.

  “Is that Basil?” she asked, plodding alongside him.

  “I want to talk to you,” he said.

  “Tch tch tch. Omar’s the Owl.”

  Shaylinn gasped and looked over her shoulder. “Did he just say — ?”

  “Yes, and I wish he’d stop.” Omar pulled her inside the bathroom. He shut the door and locked it, then lowered the lid on the toilet seat. “Will you sit down?”

  Shay sat.

  Omar sat on the side of the tub and took her hand. “I’m sorry, Shay. I was a jerk. Kendall told Jemma that I was the Owl. In case you missed his announcement, she even told the bird. And who knows who else. I should have believed you when you said you kept my secret, but I was too busy being angry. And I said cruel things that I didn’t mean. Your messages are so special to people. To me. Will you forgive me?”

  She grinned, though her eyes were teary. “Of course I forgive you.”

  Really? “That’s it?”

  She tugged on his hands. “Did you want me to yell and make you feel guilty?”

  “I guess not.” The smile on her face filled him with a rush of joy, and for a few seconds he almost felt better. He wanted to ask to paint her, then wondered how long his paint supplies would be in his apartment before the Registration Department assigned the place to someone else.

  “I don’t like fighting, Omar.”

  “I’m sorry.” Those words had become his mantra. He really needed to quit screwing up all the time.

  “You already said that. No need to say it again.” Shay set her hand on the top of his head, and her touch made his heart race. “What happened to your eye?”

  “Otley punched me.”

  “Oh, Omar. Please be more careful.” She let her hand fall back to her lap. He wanted to hold it again, but didn’t feel like he had any reason to. The tub had started to hurt his backside, so he moved to the floor and leaned against the wall. It was cold and he shivered, his arm hair standing on end. “How do you know what to write in your messages?”

  She fidgeted with her hands and her skirt. “I pray and take my best guess.”

  “ ‘Temptation,’ you wrote in mine.”

  Her cheeks flushed the color of brilliant magenta. Not many people turned so dark when they blushed. Shay and Jordan did, but not Jemma.

  “Your PV always seems to be attached to your hand,” she said, “though I don’t see it right now.”

  Oh. Her messages had been referencing his temptations to stims, not women. She was spot on with both, though. What was he doing here with someone as good as Shay?

  “Do you believe a lie about yourself, Omar?” she asked.

  He admired the way her hair curled over each shoulder and into her lap. “If I did, I suppose I wouldn’t know it was a lie, since I believed it.”

  She chuckled, and the sound was light and fun and made him smile. “I never thought of it that way.”

  But Omar suddenly knew his answer. “I believe I’m worthless.”

  Shay tilted her head and stared at him, her eyes sad but accepting.

  “Nobody ever wanted me around,” he said. “But it’s not a lie.”

  “You’re wrong.” She leaned over and squeezed his shoulder. “I’ve always wanted you around.”

  How did she do that? Make him feel so worthy? “Why?”

  “Because you’re funny and talented and handsome. I loved watching you sit in the square and paint, and you’d always tell us about your dreams, that you were going to do great things. It made me want dreams of my own.”

  She’d been listening. Always. He wanted to kiss her then, but he stayed put on the floor. Shay was too special to move so fast. He needed to wait for her, to be patient. He needed to make himself good enough for her. Do something to earn her respect. “I’m sorry I was mean to you,” he said. “Ever.”

  She smiled and blushed again, this time putting her hands on her cheeks like she had felt it happen. “Thank you, Omar. But I’ll not accept any more apologies from you today.”

  He winced, overplaying it. “That might not be wise. I mess up a lot.”

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek. She smelled sweet, like honey, and her hair tickled his neck. “I will always forgive you. Now go away so I can be sick.” She set her hand over her stomach and suddenly looked paler than she had before.

  Omar slipped out of the bathroom and closed the door. Standing felt good — for three seconds. He stretched, then wanted to lie down and weep at the intensity of the itch.

  It struck him as ironic that his father had always threatened to marry him to Shay, a fate Omar had dreaded. How stupid could he have been?

  After Kendall had helped them plan out the nursery rescue, the day was filled with agonizing boredom. Everyone sat around, waiting for night to come. Basil was the only entertainment. Some took naps. Omar went down to the basement for a while and lay down on one of the beds, where he tossed and turned, drenched in a cold sweat. But when he couldn’t sleep, he decided to go check on Shay. He went upstairs and found Kendall sitting alone on one of the couches in the living room. It was late now — 11:33 p.m. Almost time.

  “Will you sit with me awhile?” Kendall asked. “I’m worried about tonight.”

  Omar sat beside her on the couch. “Worrying won’t do you any good.”

  “Once I get Elyot,
where will I go?” Kendall asked.

  “Into the basements with us until we can get out of this place,” Omar said, wondering how he’d get stims from now on. Perhaps the Owl would need to visit a hit room and help himself. If he didn’t get something real soon, he had a feeling he’d die.

  “I’ll have no way to earn credits,” Kendall said. “How will I provide for my son?”

  Like he knew how life would be underground. “I don’t think they use credits in the basements. I’m sure some of the Natural women can help you figure all that out. Everyone will have the same problems. The Naturals wouldn’t bother helping us if they didn’t care about how we’d all live.”

  “Will you help me?”

  What did that mean? He turned to look at her. “What could I do?”

  She bumped her shoulder against his. “Keep me company. Maybe help me raise my son.”

  His cheeks tingled as the blood drained away. “Kendall … I don’t know anything about raising a kid.”

  “But you’re going to be a father. You’ll learn.”

  Which still terrified him. “Sure, but — ”

  She kissed him, and he turned his head to stop her. “Kendall, I can’t. Shay …” He should have made himself clear before. “If I’m going to help anyone, it’s her.”

  Kendall rolled her eyes. “She’s not like us, Omar. You and me, we have the thin plague. How could you expect to be with her and not infect her? You’d kill her.”

  Kill Shay? Omar’s chest tightened. “I don’t know.” He hadn’t thought about all that — the future. Once they freed the kids, there’d be time to figure everything out. To talk to Shay. See what she wanted. He was only sixteen, for crying out loud. All his life he’d wanted to be treated like an adult, now he just wanted the simplicity of being a kid again.

  But his childhood was gone forever.

  “I think we could work, Omar,” Kendall said, taking hold of his hand. “You and me. Lifers.”

  Lifers …?

  She kissed him again, and this time he let her, trying to decide if she was right. He didn’t want Shay to be infected. But if Mason could find a cure, then —