Outcast: A Corporation Novel (The Corporation)

by RaeLynn Fry

  “You're saying this is what's going to happen to me?”

  “Well, no, not you.” He folds his hands. “To your father. To Journey. To Eta. The more people you know, the more lives need to be scrubbed clean. You, however, will be safe inside the walls of Dahn. The rest of those you care about will not be so lucky. And there's nothing you can do to save them.”

  “Akin wouldn't dare.”

  “Oh, no?”

  “I'll tell him he has to keep my family safe; that those I love are not to be harmed. If he doesn't agree, I won't work with him.”

  “No offense, but you don't have that kind of power. Akin already has you, there's nothing else he needs to bargain for to get his way. Your family serves no purpose.”

  My blood is heating up and my breathing quickens. He's right. My family is going to have to get out of Neech. They can’t wait for me to get Ajna back. He and I will have to meet them out in the Further, whenever we can escape. They need to go and hide somewhere the Corporation can't get to, get help from wherever they can out there.

  “But I can help you.”

  This is it. This is why he really called this meeting. “How?”

  “If you agree to work with me, I will take care of your family. When the time is right, if it comes to it, I can get them out. I can keep them safe.”

  “There's no way I can trust you. You work for the Corporation. You have no reason to keep those I care about safe.”

  “Correction, I work with the Corporation when it suits my needs. I work with others as they suit my needs. There are many of us in Dahn who feel the Corporation is getting too big for its britches. We are gathering up aces to shove up our sleeves for when the end game comes. You and your family would be one of those aces.

  “You really don't have a choice, Karis. You can either trust me and your family lives, or you don’t and your family dies. I have more information you need, but I won't give it to you until you say yes. When you're in Dahn, I will find you, and you'd better have the word yes on the tip of your tongue for me.”

  “I already have all the help I need. People I know I can trust and who will keep my family safe.”

  “Oh, you mean people like Ethan? Should he and Dhevan even make it back alive from the Further, what makes you think you can trust Ethan? After all, he's Akin's son. Or is it your mother, who is entrenched with the enemy? “

  “Ethan is nothing like Akin, he despises his father and is fighting against him as much as I am.”

  “And you can trust him with anything?”

  “Beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

  “Oh, good.” Bak stands up and walks over to the pile of junk in the middle of the floor. “Let's see, here.” He roots around until he finds what he's looking for. “Oh, isn't it just my lucky day.” He stands up with a picture frame in his hand. He leans forward and blows on it, wiping away whatever grime coats the surface. He scowls and spits on the glass, rubbing at it harder with his sleeve. “This shouldn't bother you too much then.”

  He hands me the photo, but I refuse to look at it while he's here, because I know that's what he wants. “What if I need to talk to you again?”

  “You can't. I won't be in Neech anymore and you won't have the time to look for me in Dahn.”

  “But I didn’t get to ask you my questions.”

  “That wasn’t the purpose of this meeting.”

  “You aren't wearing the Mask I traded you.”

  “Honey, at this point, the poisonous air in this forsaken city is the least of my worries.” He leaves his chair where it sits and walks through the doorway and into the kitchen. I wait until I hear the back door open and close before I look down at what he gave me.

  It's hard to make out so I take it to one of the front windows to illuminate it with the weak light that filters in. It's a portrait of a woman and a man and a small child. The Sponsor and his family, no doubt. And while I don't recognize the parents, there's something familiar about the little boy's eyes and smile. I know it well. My stomach drops to my knees and my heart falls. Staring back up at me is Ethan Hughes.

  Ethan

  I wake to my wrists being messed with. My eyes snap open and I expect to find Mae at my side, but that's not who it is. Faded, dusty overalls, a sweat-stained shirt and silver, balding hair on a wrinkled frame. A man fiddles with the ties near my hands with fingers that look like they've been broken and never set properly before healing.

  There's a shotgun resting against the nightstand, barrel up. The leather straps fall away from my skin and the air is shockingly cool against the sweaty, irritated skin. The man picks up the gun by the barrel and moves down towards my leg, leaning it against the iron footboard, and starts untying the knot there. It hasn't escaped my attention he keeps his firearm within reach for himself, but far from mine.

  “Why are you untying me?”

  He moves to my other leg, repeating the process. “Breakfast.”

  These are some very strange people. “Breakfast.” I say the word slowly as he unties my other arm.

  “You're hungry, ain't ya?” He's a snappy old man, that's for sure.

  “Well, yeah. But I was hungry yesterday, too. That didn't seem to matter to the lady of the house.”

  “Mae didn't feed ya because you can't eat within 24 hours of the medicine. Otherwise, you'd just toss it all up. Only water.”

  “Is that why she had me tied up, too?”

  He takes his gun and pokes me in the chest with it. “That was because ya might be dangerous. Standard procedure.”

  “So, I'm not dangerous anymore, then?” Nothing about this makes any sense.

  “That has yet to be seen. But I'm home now, so we don't have to keep you tied.”

  “No offense, sir, but you're not exactly a spring chicken. I don't think you and Mae would be able to do much to stop my friend and me from leaving.”

  His eyes narrow and he pushes the gun a bit harder into my chest. I make an unpleasant grunting sound. “Don't need to be. My aim only improves with age. Now march.”

  I swing my legs over the side of the bed and take my time standing up, letting my blood settle slowly and my legs and feet get used to carrying my weight again. The drug's residue is still swirling inside my head and the room dances around just a little before it settles. “Where's Dhevan? The guy that was brought in with me.”

  “Eating all the breakfast. That boy can put it away. Mae already had to make seconds so we could have somethin’. He's going through our reserves too fast.”

  My stomach lets out a vicious growl at the mention of food. “Mae didn't say much the other day,” I say as the man lets me out of the room first. I never lose awareness of the fact that the gun isn't too far from my back. Every single stair creaks majestically as we walk down.

  “She ain't much of a talker.”

  “I see. Must be why the two of you get along so well.”

  “A funny guy. Haven't had one of those in a while. Mae's probably already noted your chart.”

  “My chart?”

  “Mmm. Charts for every one of ya.”

  The sound of silverware scraping and clinking against dishes is rapid and ravenous. Dhevan's sitting at the end of the table, hunched over two plates, shoveling eggs and sausage into his mouth. Pancakes with butter and syrup pile the other plate. There's a cup of hot coffee, dark and steaming from a mug.

  An empty table setting, mine presumably, sits next to his. Mae leans against the sink with her arms folded judgingly across her chest. She stares down at Dhevan, a disapproving scowl on her face. She looks up at me and the man. “Make sure they pay us extra for this one.” she pushes herself away from the counter and leaves the room.

  “Morning,” I say to Dhevan as I sit. I reach for the plate of pancakes but he smacks my hand away with his fork, not breaking stride.

  “Get your own.”

  “I would, but it seems that you're eating what is meant for both of us. Hell, probably all four of us.” He doesn't respond. I never was a
fan of pancakes, anyway. The man brings me a cup of coffee, keeping his gun in his free hand.

  “You know, you can put that down.”

  “You mind your business, and I'll mind yours too.” He drops his plate of food on the table and sits across from me. His mouth settles in a way that maks his lips press together to look a bit like a duck's bill, all jutting and droopy.

  “Does asking for your name count as minding my business?”

  “Mmm.” He takes a mouthful of bacon and studies me. “Ansel,” he finally says.

  “Ansel and Mae. Well, it’s nice to meet you both. My name is Ethan, and that one there is Dhevan.” I point to the still eating man. “Say hi, Dhevan.”

  Dhevan looks up at me, annoyance clearly on display. “I've already done my pleasantries.”

  “How is it that no one has a smile on in this house this morning?” I reach for a plate and try to pile it high with food but my hand is knocked away.

  “Not for you, young man.” Ansel and his gun stare me down while he chews on the end of a pipe. When did he grab that?

  “You're not going to let me eat? Who knows how long it's been since I've had a decent meal?”

  “Exactly. You need to ease in. Broth and some bread for now. We'll see how you do with that and maybe give you porridge, later.”

  I'm in shock and see Dhevan smirk as he takes a big bite of bacon. “But what about him? He's eating real food.” I can't help that I revert back to the age of a Candidate. Food does that to me.

  Ansel's chair scrapes as he scoots it back and makes his way to a steaming pot on the stove. I watch with distaste as he fills up a bowl with a bland looking broth. “That one's been up for two days longer than you have.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “You are a good deal smaller than he is,” Ansel says, as if it isn't an insult.

  “I'd use the word puny,” Dhevan says.

  I shoot daggers at him, which does nothing. Ansel sets the bowl down in front of me, dropping it the last couple of inches. The yellow murky liquid splashes up over the rim.

  I grab a spoon and dig it into the liquid and don't look up. “I'm not puny,” I mutter. “I'm just lithe.” I hear Dhevan snort.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Yeah?”

  “Does my face look as bad as yours?”

  “Worse.”

  ७

  By day two I demand real food. Begrudgingly, Ansel and Mae agree. Though they say, that if I make a mess, I get to clean it up. I do everything I can to keep the food down in my stomach, where it belongs.

  Dhevan and I are assigned chores for the short time we’re here. Dhevan and Ansel are outside and I’m inside with Mae. Ansel says it’s because my soft hands aren’t suited for men's work. I’m beginning to not like him. Which means Dhevan and he get chummy, and I'm pretty sure whenever they’re laughing together, it’s at my expense. I’m glad we’re not supposed to be here for long.

  I pull laundry duty, and since the homestead doesn’t have much electricity, it means it gets done by hand. I half expect Mae to take me down to a river to beat the clothes against rocks, but she surprises me when she leads me to the cellar where a 50 gallon barrel stands. Inside is a basket just smaller than the barrel. We fill it with clothes and fill the rest with water and soap. I screw on a lid and spend the next fifteen or so minutes agitating the basket inside with a pole that sticks up through the lid. I'm pretty sure Mae never does it for this long, but she’s having me do it for that long. Mae’s standing at a table folding various pieces of clean laundry.

  “Tell me about these charts you keep on us,” I say.

  “Basic information,” she says without pause. “Weight, condition coming in. Date in, where you came from. That sort of thing.”

  “Why?” My biceps are burning.

  She shrugs. “Because they ask us to.”

  “Ah, the mysterious they.”

  “The group that collects you lot. Don't know much more about them than that.”

  “Shouldn’t the fact that you’re keeping charts and collecting all this information for them be a secret?”

  “Makes no difference to me what you know. Ain't never going to see you again.”

  “That sounds ominous.” It's been close enough to fifteen minutes. I drain the dirty water.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Don't know what they do with you when they come and get you. This here's just a waiting station. One of many stops along the way.”

  “So there are more places like yours?”

  She doesn't say anything. Maybe she's realized some information you don't give out, even if you're pretty confident the other person won't be in the capacity to use it when they leave.

  “What's going to happen to us?”

  “Don't know.”

  I sigh, carrying the batch of wet, heavy clothes to the next station—a tub to rinse and a wringer to press all the water out before we dry them. “Well, do you know when they're coming for us?”

  “They pick up every full moon. That's tonight.”

  I try again. “Who are these people?”

  She grabs her folded laundry and starts up the stairs. “You'll find out,” she says, and then leaves me alone.

  Karis

  Adami and I have talked about it in great length and we both agree that a meeting is order. Tonight is that meeting.

  I've required the attendance of Papa, Eta, Ella, Adami, Journey, and Déjà. Dhevan and Ethan would be here too, if they weren't in the Further.

  I'm a mix between nervous and furious, and I feel both are equally weighted and justified. I'm tired of being lied to. I'm tired of being kept in the dark. It's time everyone comes clean. And that includes me. We all need to be on the same page, have the same information if we are to stand a chance and to be effective. What good is having knowledge if it's kept secret from the very people who need it? And I need to stress the urgency of them leaving the cities. We're sitting around the living room. Adami is tending the fire and Eta is passing out tea.

  “Why did you ask us here, Karis?” Déjà asks.

  “You all need to leave Neech. As soon as possible. Tonight would be ideal.”

  Papa sputters into his mug. “What? Why?” He looks at me as if I’m a simple creature.

  Adami hangs the fire poker back in its spot and settles in next to me, an arm lying on the back of the couch across my shoulders. My tension eases at the warmth of his body.

  “It’s too dangerous for us to stay here anymore.”

  “It’s no more dangerous than it was yesterday,” Journey says, glaring at Adami’s arm.

  “What’s going on, Karis?” Papa says. “You’ve been acting strangely lately—ever since you’ve come back to Neech, actually, but more so in the past week.”

  Adami gives my shoulder a squeeze, encouraging me to keep going. “I haven’t been honest with you in a lot of things. I’ve been keeping secrets and lying, and I’m tired of the weight it’s putting on me. In fact, I’m tired of the secrets we’re all keeping from each other. I asked everyone because I think it’s time we all come clean. If we all add our individual parts, I think we’ll get a clearer picture of what is really going on with the Corporation; what Akin has planned.

  “We’re carrying too many secrets, thinking we’re doing so to protect everybody else, but that isn’t the case. I'm tired that all of us are fighting the same battle, but refusing to share mutually beneficial information. It's dangerous and it needs to stop. It's going to stop. Tonight.”

  “What secrets could you possibly be harboring?” Journey says, folding pale arms over her chest. “A crush on Adami?”

  My face turns red and I lean forward, but Adami pulls me back. “I should be so lucky, Journey,” he says. “But no, that isn’t what she’s talking about.”

  “Oh, so you know her secrets now and I don’t?”

  I’ve never seen her be jealous and petty before, and it’s something I don’t need the added inconvenience of. I rub at my temple. “W
hen Ethan and I were in Dahn, we heard a lot of things. We heard more about the goings on in Neech than I ever did living my entire life, here.” I look at Papa and Déjà and take a breath. “The Corporation knows.”

  “Knows what?” Papa says. He's getting better at concealing his emotions.

  “Akin knows there are increased raw materials and the mysterious lack of finished product. But I need to know what he doesn’t; I need to know where it's going and what you're doing with it.”

  “Honey—”

  I hold up a hand. “Don't bother trying to tell me you don't know what I'm talking about or that I don't need to worry about it or that it doesn't concern me. I know you know what I'm talking about. I do need to worry about it and it does concern me. It concerns all of us. Dhevan and Ethan are out in the Further, risking their lives for us. For all of Neech. To try and find something that will help our fight against the Corporation. And Akin is willing to do just about anything to stop the people trying to usurp him. If there was something here this entire time that you two were helping to hide from us, which could have saved Ethan and Dhevan a dangerous trip out into the Wasteland, I will never forgive either of you.” My voice has been steadily rising and I feel Adami's hand slide down the back of the couch and across my shoulders, where it stays.

  “It's not what you think,” Déjà says, shifting his weight in his chair.

  “Daddy!” Journey says with a gasp. “She's right? You've been up to something and haven't told me about it? Could Dhevan have stayed here with me?”

  “No, honey. No.” He pats her knee.

  “Tell her, Déjà,” Papa says.

  He presses his lips together into a fine line. “Adami isn't the first Untouchable we've come across. There are tunnels under the city that get them safely in and out, and rooms where they can stay and rest. Heal, if necessary.”

  There's an explosion of sound from Journey and me. “What?!” My head snaps in the direction of Papa. He's just sitting there, not surprised at all. “You knew about this?” I accuse.