Outcast: A Corporation Novel (The Corporation)

by RaeLynn Fry

  As I approach the chain link fence, I see a group of hunched bodies, making their way, in a stooped fashion, through the rows of pathetic crops.

  A small group is working diligently, grabbing wilted greens and gently digging them up out of the dry, hard earth. As they shake the plants, they toss them into baskets strapped to their backs, chests, and hips. Shriveled, small potatoes are dumped and collected. As the baskets fill, children just out of Candidacy race up and down the rows, trading full for empty, making a game out of it with each other. At least they're young enough to have fun with the back—breaking labor. Other crops are being harvested, too—onions, squash, parsnips, garlic. The earthy smell of the vegetables being uprooted is comforting somehow, even if the dust exploding into the air makes me sneeze.

  No one notices me as I pass, or, if they do, I'm not exciting enough to look up for. I walk past the rows of crops, making my way to the harvesting area, a large, covered, arid space set with drying racks, tables, baskets, and hooks in the ceiling. Garlic bulbs hang from their brown, dead stalks, where they will cure for the next few weeks. Onions lay in neat, uncluttered rows to rest, and potatoes are gathered in giant weaved baskets, covered and out of the light. All of these things will be ready to go to the Inner City in a couple of weeks. The smell is strong; earthy, and pungent, and adds a bit of sting to the air.

  I walk by, almost bumping into three young boys as they race from the outdoor room with fresh, empty baskets in their arms. A handful of farmers tally inventory on databoards. They mark the quantity of each item, and the numbers are sent directly to the Corporation at the start and end of every day.

  At the end of the field are a series of wood and wire fencings. They're not fortified, mostly there to divide the living areas of the stock. The animals aren't strong enough, or have enough desire to escape to require anything more.

  I slip off a wire loop from a wooden post and pull back the makeshift gate, closing and locking it behind me. I'm walking a narrow path that winds between the different paddocks.

  Pigs lay in dry lots, soaking up the last of the warm rays before winter comes at us, taking advantage of the slim period when there are no flies around to buzz at their ears, nose, and eyes. If it weren't for the occasional satisfied snort, I'd think they'd already died. The nice thing about pigs, they seem to be fat no matter what, because they'll eat pretty much anything.

  Next to the pigs are the goats. Thin and tough looking. Wiry hair, dull and dusty. They have angry eyes, as all goats seem to have, but lack the motivation to butt at you or even offer up a resentful bleat. Sheep are next, with coats thick and full, already growing for the upcoming cold.

  The milking cows and meat cows are next, and I know that's where I'll find Dhevan. The cows are his responsibility, and he takes great pride in his work with them. You'd think they were his children, the way he dotes on them.

  I sidestep and jump over piles of animal manure, and accidently knock into one of the bulls. He gives me an irritated snort, spraying out a chunky mist of snot.

  “Okay, that was just disgusting,” I say as I wipe my arm on the back of my pants.

  There are three pens, separated from the rest, that are the new homes for the calves and their mothers. I spot the heifer from yesterday with the faded blue halter. She looks content, or bored, it’s hard to tell with cows. The calf, though, is busy punching her udders with his nose, searching for what I’m sure will be a sparse meal. I scan the figures out in the pastures. None of them have the sharp hulk that belongs to Dhevan.

  I take the gated path to the right and turn towards the barns. As I near the shabby building, I start to hear voices talking, low and hushed. The closer I get, I notice it's only one voice; Dhevan's. I stand in the doorway and let my eyes adjust to the slight lighting difference. Dhevan's squatted down in front of a heifer, his forehead resting against its furry face. His hands are pressed against the muscled neck, and he's giving the cow a kind of massage. “C'mon girl, you can do it. You just need to relax.” He says some more words, but they're too low to make out.

  “Does Journey know about your woman on the side?” I say.

  Dhevan keeps his eyes closed. “Ignore that one,” he says to the cow, “He's a lot of hot air. I tolerate him for Karis’ sake.”

  “Ouch, man, hard words to be confessing to your bovine friend there.” I push my body away from the doorframe and into the cavity of the building. It's not any warmer in here than outside, probably because of all the drafts creeping in from between the boards and warped door and window frames.

  “Go grab a bucket,” Dhevan says as he stands.

  I throw my coat on one of the pegs on the wall and head to the shelves in the corner lined with dented, metal buckets. I pick one up, rock the handle back and forth and inspect the seams for any holes. I learned all this the hard way. My first time out, I'd given Dhevan a pail lined with tiny holes. We lost about half the milk before we noticed what was happening. The time after that, I'd handed over a pail with a broken handle and he'd lost the entire batch. Let's just say, I don't blame him too much when he gives me a hard time for coming around.

  I drop the pail under the udders of the cow and turn to pull up a milking stool at the same time that Dhevan says, “You're going to have to milk her.”

  I hold up the stool as a kind of salute. “Already on that.” I sit on the rough wood and work my body weight to find a balance on the uneven legs. I push up the sleeves of my shirt, and reach under the cow.

  Her back foot stomps once when I grab the teats of her udder the way Dhevan showed me. I start milking and I hear Dhevan murmuring to her. There's nothing at first, but after a few seconds, milk starts to squirt into the pail in sharp bursts. Dhevan's cadence changes and I know that he's started singing to her.

  “I need a favor,” I say.

  Dhevan interrupts his song only long enough to give me a short, “No.”

  “C'mon, man, you don't even know what it is I'm going to ask.”

  “Don't need to.”

  “For Karis?”

  I look around the stomach of the cow and catch him shooting me a dirty look. Sometimes, I'm almost convinced he really doesn't like me.

  “Not fair,” he says.

  “Part of being successful in business, is knowing how to play your cards. Will you help?”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “I'm not going to agree to do something for you without knowing what it is you want me to do.” He waits.

  “Oh,” I say, with a small cough. “Yeah, I can't blame you there.” I clear my throat. “I'm going out into the Further.”

  Dhevan laughs at me. “Why on earth would you do that?”

  “Neech is demanding proof before they invest anything more into me. I have no choice but to get it for them. And a resistance of one isn’t exactly an intimidating image.”

  “You're serious?” He looks at me with something between surprise and disgust.

  I nod once. “I'd rather not go out there alone.”

  Dhevan has gone a little colder in his words. “And why me?”

  “I trust you.”

  “You trust me. Interesting.”

  “Look, this isn't easy for me to ask. And I haven't even talked to Karis about it yet.”

  He lets out a low whistle. “Playing with fire, there.” He thinks a little longer. “I'm getting Paired tonight, remember?”

  “I know this is a big thing for me to ask. I know you'll be giving up a lot to go with me.”

  “I didn't say yes.”

  “But you haven't said no, either.”

  “Why should I go with you out to a place that holds only death when I will have a new Pair at home?”

  “There are answers out there that can stop my father.”

  He studies me, and I know, in that moment, that I haven’t been giving him enough credit in the smarts department. He sees and understands more than I thought he did. He puts his arm on the haunches of the cow and leans. “What’s your real reason?” He’s
not upset, just matter of fact. I’m not the only one who likes to deal in business.

  “You don’t have a choice.” I lower my eyes.

  “Come again?”

  “Raj Verna is forcing my hand in going out into the Further with him. And he’s forcing yours, too. If you don’t go, he made it clear that Journey would be the focus of his attention.”

  The air goes still, and with it, Dhevan. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and my heart puts in a few extra beats. Dhevan can be a very scary man. His nostrils are flared, his jaw clenches. His entire face goes red and his voice is low and steady.

  “I can protect what’s mine. From Raj and from the Corporation.”

  “Do you think that’s wise? Do you really want to risk Journey’s life like that?”

  He takes a deep breath. He is nothing if not a thoughtful guy. “I'll think about it and give you a final answer tonight, before the Ceremony.”

  “A maybe is better than a no.” I turn away and finish milking.

  Karis

  I keep my head bent through my entire shift at the Factory, skipping the afternoon break to try and get more garments mended. I don't talk much and I try to ignore the old women gossiping as much as possible.

  Kala tried asking me about my brother’s Sponsorship at first, but I think she took the hint when I wouldn't respond. I'm grateful for Ami, she never did try to pry things out of me or pretend that my brother being chosen was a good thing.

  The work bell rings out through the loudspeakers, signaling the end of the work day. I grab my duster, mask, and scarf from the back of my chair and slip my arms through, buttoning up my coat as I weave my way through the crowd. I'm wrapping the rough wool scarf around the bare skin of my neck when Journey comes up beside me, having just flounced down the stairs.

  She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before snapping the elastics of the mask behind her ears. “Thanks again for helping us set up tonight.”

  I give her a genuine smile; they're hard to come across now a days. “Of course. My best friend is having her Pairing Ceremony tonight.” I really am happy for her. Dhevan and Journey do truly love each other, and they've been waiting such a long time for this day. I'm glad they'll finally be together, the way I never really can be. I shake the thought away.

  She lets out a little bit of a squeal. “I can't believe it's actually happening!” Journey gives me a sideways hug, almost pulling me down in the process. When she lets go, I stumble into another factory worker and mutter an apology. Journey hasn't even noticed.

  “Dhevan will have a list ready of what you need to help with, okay?”

  “Journey, it’ll all be fine. Don't worry yourself about it. Go and get your dress perfected.”

  A big grin explodes across her face. “Okay!” She darts away and I head home to get ready for the Ceremony.

  ७

  Papa and I are dressed in our best. I put on one of Mama’s old dresses, I’ve traded in the majority of mine for pants nowadays, and the only one I have left isn’t nice enough for a Pairing. Papa's hair is slicked back and he's trimmed his wiry beard.

  “You look very handsome, Papa.”

  He holds out his arm and I hook my hand in the crook of his elbow. “How’s our guest?” he asks.

  “Gandā is still sleeping,” I say a bit sarcastically, but with no ill will.

  “Good.” Papa's tone matches mine. “You look very pretty, Karis.”

  My cheeks blush a little. “Thanks, Papa.” My lips turn up into a small smile. It feels like we haven’t been fighting and this small moment is a promise of better things.

  We lock the door behind us as we leave, stepping out into the street. Today is a warmer day than it has been, but they won't be around for much longer. Fall tends to tease us. The days start to get cooler, but still manageable. Then we have a day or two of unseasonably warm weather, warm enough where we don’t need a coat or sweater. Then, the temperature drops about twenty degrees and we've officially entered into the tail end of fall and into a quickly approaching winter.

  Today is one of the last warm days of the year and I'm glad I get to spend it outside. The walk is quiet, but not stressed. Neither of us feels the need to clutter the silence with forced words. But there is a question in my mind itching to be asked.

  “Papa,” I say, playing with my fingers.

  “What is it, Karis?”

  “Do you think Ajna misses us?” I’m embarrassed as soon as the words leave my mouth.

  There's a fault in his steps when I ask the question. He pulls me in tight to his side. “Yes, Karis. I think he misses us very much.”

  I want to believe that with all my heart. But I've been to the Inner City, and I know how tempting the things it has to offer are. And for a little boy, they're probably near impossible to ignore.

  “Do you think we'll get to see him again?”

  To this, he just squeezes my hand. We both know the answer. Once a Sponsor is chosen, the Outer City never sees them again. They're taken into the folds of Dahn, and there's no reason for them to ever look back. The last one never did, why should Ajna be any different?

  Because he's my brother, I tell myself. That's why this time will be different.

  Because Ajna has a heart and being better has never appealed to him, motivated him. I hold onto that hope; that when I do find him to bring him home, he will want to be with Papa and me again.

  Soon we’re in the Square. Everyone is working hard in the last of minutes of daylight to make the area ready. There are still chairs that need to be set up and a few other tasks, but it shouldn’t take long. Many hands make light work, as Papa likes to say.

  “I’m gonna to find Déjà.” Papa kisses the top of my head and wanders off.

  This would have been so beautiful at the park in Dahn.

  “Karis!” Journey hurries up to me. Her gown is nothing like I’ve seen in Dahn, but it’s perfect. Pale pink and simple, nothing to compete with her natural beauty. I know she did the embroidery herself, she wouldn’t trust it to anyone else.

  It’s covered in an intricate gold designs from the old days. I recognize enough of the symbols to know they mean love and commitment and destiny. A true Pairing dress. “I don't know if I could have gone through with this without you here.”

  “Yes, you could have,” I say, giving her a hug.

  “I'm so nervous.” But she smiles.

  I take her hands in mine. “You'll be fine.” I smile back.

  “I’d better go. I don’t want to be late to my own Ceremony, but I wanted to say hi. And that I love you.” She pecks me on the cheek and hurries away to wherever it is she's supposed to be. “Hi, Ethan!”

  I turn around and my heart jumps a little in my chest. His blond hair is slicked back, making it a lighter brown. The stubble on his jaw is gone and his light blue shirt and dark pants are clean and crisp. It’s not fair that he looks so handsome in everything.

  “Hey, Journey,” he says, but doesn’t take his eyes off me. I think we both forget how we’re supposed to be feeling towards each other because he brushes his fingers across my cheek and leans in to kiss me; but stops short. “You look more beautiful than you did in Dahn.” He searches my eyes, and I don’t think he finds what he’s looking for, because he pulls away, his features a little sad.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “You look very nice yourself.”

  “Thanks.” The sad moment from before is gone. He looks down at his clothes, pleased with his appearance. “Eta gave them to me. They came from a mysterious trunk hidden in the closet.”

  “Who did they belong to?”

  “Part of the mystery.” He winks at me. “Have we been given our marching orders, yet?”

  I shake my head.

  Ethan puts his arm around my shoulder as we start across the Square. Carefree, easy moments like these—moments of how it used to be between us, not so long ago—make me believe that nothing's wrong. I don't know why it seems easier for us to be ourselves aro
und each other when we're alone. I try not to think too much about it and ruin the mood. Instead, I put my arm around his waist and match my steps to his as we make our way to where the Ceremony will be held. Sometimes, it’s easier to just pretend.

  “How have rounds with Eta been?” I ask.

  He sighs. “Good. We went to see a little boy, Kalaen. He was sick.”

  I remember him. A little boy with a white smile who was in Ajna's Jatis Ceremony. “Was it Maute?”

  “Yes. He passed away last night.”

  The horrible image of Ajna at his worst flits through my mind and I shudder. “That poor family.”

  “Yeah, they look as bad as if they'd had the disease themselves.”

  I change the subject. “I hear Dhevan has a lot for us to do, tonight.”

  “Yeah, he told me a bit about it today when I helped him out in the morning. Doesn't sound too tough, though.”

  We come to the Square just as the sun finishes sinking past the outlines of the buildings that skirt Neech. The Square is lit up with the bare minimum of lights, so I know we will be working through headaches tonight as our eyes strain to see the details of what we're doing. There are a handful of others, more than what I thought would show up, and I'm starting to be hopeful that I'll get to bed at a decent hour, after all.

  “Good, you two finally showed up,” Déjà yells from across the square. “Journey was getting herself so upset she was afraid her makeup would smudge.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Yeah, we were debating on even coming,” Ethan calls back.

  “My daughter would have skinned you alive.”

  True statement. Especially on a day like today.

  “Where do we start?” I ask, when he approaches.

  “Ethan, can you help set up chairs? Here's a map of where they go. Mainly near the front for the two families. Everyone else will have to stand. Karis,” he hands me a small packet of papers, “can you go and make sure that group of delinquents stay on task?” He points to a group of boys Ajna’s age and I flinch just a little, my heart squeezing for a beat.