by RaeLynn Fry
Outcaste
RaeLynn Fry
Terebinth Tree Publishing
Idaho
Sale of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this book is coverless, it may have been reported to the publisher as “unsold or destroyed” and neither the author nor the publisher may have received payment for it.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, business establishments, or events is entirely coincidental.
OUTCASTE
All rights reserved.
Published by Terebinth Tree Publishing
Copyright © 2016 by RaeLynnFry
Cover art by Rachel Bennett
Image from iStock Photos
This book is protected under the copyright law of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork here in is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
First Printing: May 2016
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition: May 2016
ISBN: 9780989213462
ISBN-13: 978-0-9892134-6-2
Dedicated to my amazing husband and beautiful baby girl. I love you both with your whole hearts. <3
Prologue
Karis
Waking up in the morning is getting harder and harder, even though nothing about my morning ritual has changed. I’m still awake before the sun. I still meet Journey and we go to work at the factory. I still have my chores to do. I’m a small cog in an impossibly large, grinding machine that never shuts off.
But my brother and my Pair, Kavin, aren’t a part of my routine anymore and that rubbing fact makes it near impossible to go on as if nothing has changed; as if everything is normal. Life is as far from normal as I thought it could ever get.
How can the world keep turning when it’s lying in a thousand jagged pieces at my feet?
Ajna is with a monster. I don’t know if he’s safe, what he’s doing, what the Corporation is doing to him. Scariest of all, I don’t know if I’m ever going to see my brother again. He’s with Akin Hughes—the Corporation's President—and I don’t know if that keeps him protected or in more danger.
So yeah, I guess today is just like every other day since coming back to Neech—a day in a life I never thought I’d have to live.
I'm standing in the doorway to my bedroom, leaning my shoulder up against the frame. I can't iron out the creases in my furrowed brow. It's my body's reaction every time I walk down the hallway past my room. I take a slow breath through my nose, but the knots in my face don't loosen.
The small space is a mess. It smells. I can't use it. I'm sleeping in Ajna's room. And the cause of this upheaval is lying unconscious in my bed; dirtying up my sheets and fouling up my air. What's worse? I've been assigned to look after him. Yeah, he may have loads of information, but with this little issue of him being nonresponsive, it seems I’m the only one who has recognized his actual uselessness.
“Keep that look on your face much longer, and it's gonna to stay that way.” Papa walks past me.
“I can’t help it,” I say, trying not to taste the air as I talk. “Why does he have to be here? In our house? In my room?”
“Karis.” Uh-oh. It's that tone again. He's been using it a lot lately; with me. “You know good and well why. It's too dangerous to move him and he may have information we can use.”
“May,” I breathe out. I spin around and look up into Papa's scruffy face. I take in the new lines that seem to creep up every night while he sleeps. “I should be out there doing something,” I gesture to the streets, “out there looking for Ajna, helping Ethan. Not in here, taking care of a man who does nothing but sleep and who smells like Dhevan's pigs.” My frustration is plain and well known.
“That's a great idea.”
My eyes widen and I let the corners of my mouth turn up just a little. “So, you finally agree?”
“Absolutely.”
I narrow my eyes ever so slightly, the pale smile that was forming, disappearing from my lips. Papa’s failed to agree with anything I’ve said of late. “You'll let me start helping Ethan out more and start taking the steps needed to get Ajna back?”
“I agree that you need to do something and that our guest smells like Dhevan's pigs. When you get off your shift tonight, you should probably clean him up a bit and change your sheets. In fact, I’ll move him into Ajna’s room today.”
I clench my teeth and try to push down the sudden anger that’s flared up like a fire in my gut. I don't want to say anything I'm going to regret when I look back on this moment. I love my papa with all my heart and I'd do anything for him. He's all I have left, I remind myself, and I don't like where our relationship has been going lately.
“Now get off to work or you'll be late.” He kisses the top of my forehead and walks down the stairs.
“But...” I can't find the words. It doesn't matter anyway, Papa's already gone. I clench my teeth again and growl—actually growl—before shooting the most offensive glare I can at our guest. “You'd better wake up soon,” I say, “because I'm getting tired of this.” I turn on my heel and stomp down the stairs.
Ethan
The room is quiet. Breakfast is on the table. I touch the outside of the bowl. Still warm. Eta left not too long ago. I sit down to eat and see a tiny scrap of paper pinned underneath my meal.
Go help Dhevan in the fields. I don't need you today.
“Well, there's a whole lotta love behind those words,” I say to myself. I wolf down the bland, glue—like porridge and head out the door.
Karis hadn’t been joking when she told me that all of Neech was awake before the sun rose, but Eta's up before even that. She has to be, in order to get to all of her rounds before they have to be to work.
I wish had the self-control to wake up as early as she does, but my body still longs for the cushy life of Dahn, with its late mornings and deliciously filling breakfasts.
Being in Neech is so outside my element. I have a hard time being myself. I'm off balance. Sometimes, though, I think that the off—centeredness of being in the Outer City is helping me find my real self; that who I was in Dahn wasn’t who I was supposed to be. When I get that feeling, I don’t know what to do with it. So I push it aside.
I think the thing that disturbs me the most about the Outer City, is how overwhelmingly empty it feels. It doesn't matter if the streets are full, everyone moves about like they're lost souls looking for their door, hardly making a sound or imprint in the world they’re in. It's eerie. I much prefer to be out in the late hours of the day when there's no one around. At least, then, the silence feels normal.
There are only a handful of citizens out right now, all looking the same—heads ducked, shoulders hunched. Dusters and masks and scarves pulled up around their necks and mouths. The constant buzz of the filters echoes around me, an impossible-to-ignore white noise. The other citizens are used to it and don't give it a second thought, it seems. But coming from the filterless streets of the Inner City, it's a steady companion, always at the edge of my consciousness.
Hell. I hate comparing everything to Dahn. But it's inevitable.
It's been eighty-five days since Karis and I got back into Neech and sixty-four days since my father came for Ajna. Sometimes, on the really bad days, I wish that I were back home, in Dahn. That I'd never met Karis and been dragged into this world that I've found I know nothing about. I’m a piece of a puzzle, but not one that fits anywhere here.
I
'd been lying to myself all along, thinking that I belonged here, in the slums, rather than the golden streets of the Inner City. I'd told myself that I was adaptable and could survive anywhere. But that was before my feathered mattress and hot baths were taken away. Before I knew what it was like to fight for the Neech's limited fresh water supply, hoping to get at least a few drops. Before I knew what it was like to have your stomach juices start to digest your stomach because it had nothing else to consume. Before I knew the anxiety and worry of wondering if those you love would live long enough to see tomorrow. Before I knew the people of Neech hated me.
At first, it was easy to continue being who I was—Ethan William Hughes. To be the one that Karis could lean on. The one that Jeret and Eta could come to count on. The leader our slowly growing pool of resistance could rely on to get them through this. Whatever this was. It was before I started not knowing what to do. What to say. Before the nightmares.
Days have turned into weeks and weeks into months. There’s no sign of Ajna being rescued. In the Inner City, Ella has gone mute. The Corporation is a silent, sleeping beast in the middle of the cities, waiting for the opportune moment to devour us with one swift bite. I know it’s coming, but I don’t know when or how.
I'm an orchid sent to survive in the driest of deserts. I'm not made for the Outer City.
It's at these lowest moments that something buried deep inside me is unearthed, and I know that I can survive. I know I will open my eyes after the night is done and again see the sun and hold in my arms those I care most about. Today is another morning, proving the night has not overtaken me, yet.
I stick to the main parts of the Outer City as much as possible. My father knows I'm here, but I don't need him to be able to pinpoint my exact location at any given moment by moving through different Gates and passing every Guard on duty. I've been refraining from using my Mark as much as possible. Which puts an even bigger burden on those keeping me here. Eta only has rations for one, and Karis and Jeret's rations have been decreased since the Corporation Sponsored Ajna. And then there’s Sai, the Sharma's illegal infant daughter.
Thinking of that brings the weight of the world back to my shoulders. How am I going to stop the Corporation? Every day I see the Outer City dying, piece by piece. It turns my stomach when I think about everything everyone has back home and the nothingness everyone lives on here. But changing the way the world works isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.
I thought I'd be able to blaze into Neech, give a handful of rousing speeches, and lead an army to the Main Gate, ready and eager to take down my father. But it's going to take a lot more than words to build up the courage I need them to have, I just don't know what that is.
The people here are miserable and bitter, but they all want to keep their heads down, they don't want to risk making things worse than they already are. None of them are willing to do what needs to be done to make a difference. They'd all rather complain and have someone to blame for their lot in life.
That's not how I work. I take action. But I'm having a hard time finding someone to take action with me. Karis is sidetracked; part of me blames her and part of me understands. She helps me out when she can, but she seems....distracted. And it's not like we have a lot of time to talk about it. That's another thing on my list, right under Destroy the Corporation—Fix things with Karis.
Not long before I left for Neech, my father gave me a note. I hate to admit it, but sometimes he knows me better than I know myself. He had planned on me leaving Dahn for something greater, and he let me go.
I keep the letter in the top drawer of my dresser as a reminder and make myself read it when I get up in the morning and before I go to bed at night. I had memorized it by the second day.
Live your life how you want, for the time being. Your freedom won't last long, anyhow; you might as well have felt like you had some say in it. But get in my way, and I take the boy from her in a way that even you can’t undo.
Day One
Karis
I turn over in my bed, twisting the rough sheets against my bare legs, and groan. I bury my face deeper into the thin pillow. My internal alarm still goes off at the usual hour, but my body is more reluctant to get up than it was the day before.
I roll over and dig the heels of my hands into my eyelids, pressing down as hard as I can stand. The motion releases something in me, an easy discomfort, giving me the motivation I need to wake up and face the coming hours.
I drag my legs over the side of the bed and pause, hunched over, letting my feet get used to the cold of the floor. Fall is in full force and everything in the house is cold. I don’t do well with the cold. It turns me into someone with a short temper and constant frown. I shuffle over to my dresser and grab my brush, mechanically running it through my long hair, not having even half the effort in my body to care that I’m missing most of the tangles.
The medicine Rebeka gave Ethan and me worked against my faulty Mark, but I still look like I should be six feet under the ground and not walking around on top of it. I haven’t been able to gain back all the weight that I lost, partly because we don’t have enough rations to make any difference and partly because I don’t have much of an appetite.
My eyes aren’t as hollow, but there is a shadow beneath them that won’t go away—a lingering bruise testifying to my recent abuse. My cheek and collarbones are more defined and look like you could lift me up by them. My color isn’t as bright. I look a little more...worn.
I slip on a pair of pants and a shirt worn to softness and attempt to motivate myself to start the day. I’m tucking in my shirt when two knocks sound at my bedroom door. Then I hear Papa heading down the stairs. Two knocks means he's finished changing the Untouchable and I get to start my babysitting duties.
I furrow my brow and sigh, grinding my molars just a little bit more than I already was, and head to my brother's old room. I don't know why I have to be the one to take care of this smelly new visitor. I have other, more important things to do with my time—like getting Ajna back and figuring out how we can escape the Corporation and Akin.
I twist the knob in my hand and push the door open. The top corner catches in the frame and makes a loud sound as it frees itself. Papa and Eta always try to be quiet and respectful, like he's taking a nap or something. Me? I don't care. He's not waking up and I don't see the point in being respectful.
My nose wrinkles on its own at the stench that permeates the room. It's not as bad as it was when he first got here, but it's still noticeable; like he's stained the walls and furniture and everything else with his stink. I doubt it will ever come out.
I make my way, dragging my feet and taking my time, over to the side of the bed. Papa set up a small, wooden chair next to the headboard, within arm's reach of the night stand. There's a small bowl of water and worn rag waiting for me. The water isn't much, but with our already meager rationed amount, it's a significant sacrifice. And it's being wasted.
I’d told Papa as much—that we might as well just pour it out into the dirt. He’d given me one of his really disappointed looks before walking away.
The Untouchable is lying on his back, more or less in the same position we put him in almost three months ago. Papa and Eta change his position throughout the day to prevent sores and to help with his muscles fading, but every morning he’s back in this same position. The blanket is tucked around his torso, arms at his sides.
His matted, dirty hair is splayed across the pillow. It’s long—almost to his shoulders—and tangled and knotted at the ends. Near his head, at the roots, it's gathered together in oily clumps. Taking care of his hair must not be a top priority for him.
Dirt that looks three years old outlines his face and gathers at his hairline and collects in the creases of his sun—worn face. I'm pretty sure it's permanent. His skin is a dark brown, tanned more by the sun from what I guess is an already dark pigmentation. It doesn’t look soft or anything at all like real skin; more like the hide of Dhevan's pi
gs or the leather made from his cows down at the tannery.
The smell clogs my nostrils as I hover over him. My face is screwed up into a disgusted sneer. Another subconscious action my body has developed around him. I close my eyes and relax my features, trying not to gag. It's hard to believe that he and I have come a long way since he first got here.
In the beginning, I refused to even go into the room. Papa had to threaten me with everything he could think of, including a good whipping, to get me in there to take care of him. In the end, it was my own guilt that did me in. I would describe my current mindset towards him as tolerable with an sliver of disgust. I'm working on being a little more civil and warm towards him, as Papa says. That’s why I started talking to him while I clean.
“Why did you have to even come here?” I ask as I sit down. “Are you really even unconscious? You're probably just faking all of this.” I put the rag in the bowl and in a matter of seconds, it soaks up most of the water.
I run my eyes over the parts of his body not covered by ragged clothes or thin blankets. I’ve already washed his right hand and arm so I take hold of his left side. I decide to start with his hands, at the fingers. That doesn’t require getting too intimate.
It started out innocently enough, our conversations. I had no one to talk to about all the thoughts pressing at the seams of my mind. Ethan has enough on his shoulders with the resistance. Or is it the rebels? He keeps changing the name, trying to find something that will inspire and motivate people. I’ve tried telling him it’s not about what they’re called. He hasn’t listened, yet. Papa sits on his hands or goes down to the Tavern with Déjà when he's not busy at the mill. I'm the only one who actually wants to do anything to bring Ajna back home, and the only one I can talk to about it without being criticized is the Untouchable. But that doesn't make us friends.
