Outcast: A Corporation Novel (The Corporation) (35 page)

Karis

I'm mad for the rest of the afternoon, which really helps me get a good chunk of my quota out of the way. The chatter from the old hens is barely noticeable, but I do hear them talking about a third person who’s gone missing so far this month, and their various theories as to what’s going on.

At the end of my shift, I stuff my garments in the appropriate bins and dash out of the room and to my locker. I don't want to see Journey. In her typical fashion, she'll try to talk to me about what happened at lunch and I don't feel like hashing out something that isn't even worth arguing over. She's wrong and that's that. She's just going to have to figure that out for herself; I'm done wasting my breath trying to explain it to her.

I take my secret Mark out and press it against the sensor, being careful to hide what I’m doing. When the metal door springs open, I jam the Mark back in my pocket.

I jerk open the locker door and pull out my duster, punching my arms through the sleeves. I button it up and put my hat, scarf, and mask on. I kick the locker shut on my way out. I'm almost through the doorway when I hear my name being called from behind me. I try to ignore it, but they're persistent.

“Karis!” I turn around to find one of the male workers chasing after me with a piece of paper in his hand. “You dropped this.” He hands it over to me and turns back towards the row of lockers.

I turn it over in my fingers, looking it over. I didn't have any papers or notes in there this morning. I roll my eyes and shove it into one of my pockets. A note from Journey,
blah blah blah
. I'll read it when I get home.

Adami is sitting at the kitchen table when I walk through the door, eating one of Eta's meat biscuits. “Where's Papa?” I ask and take the seat next to him.

“Out.” He slides over a plate. “Said he'll be back before Curfew.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

Adami shakes his head and shoves the rest of the biscuit into his mouth. Papa's been disappearing like this, lately. Since Ethan and Dhevan left, actually. He's hush-hush about it and deflects any questions I shoot at him.

“Sew a lot of socks?”

“And underwear.”

He nods.

“Sleep a lot?”

He nods. “Picked up the house a bit, too.” That's one of the things he's been doing for us, since he can't really go outside during the day. And I've got to say, the small space has never been cleaner.

“I'm going to check on more filters tonight. Want to come?”

“Wouldn't miss it.” He jerks his chin up at my biscuit. “You gonna eat that?”

I push the plate back towards him. I can never handle more than one bite, although right now I didn’t even take that much. I don't find them as appetizing as Adami. Maybe it's because I know what goes into them. “Help yourself.”

“What's for dinner tonight?”

“Vegetable soup. I'll put part of the chicken we have in it to make the broth more flavorful. I think we still have some salt left, too.”

“Sounds amazing.” He smiles at me. “It's wash night, too. Jeret already gathered his things, but if you want to bring yours down, I'll add them to the pile.”

I nod, Journey's words distracting me. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You feel the need to ask me that?” He puts his hand between my neck and my shoulder and squeezes. “You're tense. What's up?”

“Do you want more space than what Papa and I have here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno, it's a small house, and there are a lot of people here. Eta's gone all day on rounds and she lives alone. Would you be more comfortable there, where you have your own space and can be yourself more? Ella can come here, with us.”

“Is this your way of saying you don't want me around anymore?” His eyes hold a hint of uncertainty.

“No! Not at all. I'm just thinking of you. I don't want you sticking around here because you feel obligated to, or anything like that. You're a grown man, you can do what you want. That's all. I wanted you to know that if you want more space, that's totally okay with me.”

“I’m more at home, and more myself, with you than I could be with anyone else in the world. I will stay here as long as I can.”

I let a smile lift my cheeks. “Good.” I stand and go to hang my mask and duster up, taking the paper out of my pocket as I do so.

“What's that?”

“Ugh.” I sigh and toss him the folded piece of paper. “A note from Journey. We got into a fight today at lunch. She's either apologizing or scolding me more. I can't bring myself to read it, either way.”

“I'll do the honors.” He clears his throat and opens the paper, then frowns. “This is a very weird apology and an even weirder scolding.”

“What's it say?”

“6895-A South Point for answers. Midnight.”

“What? That doesn't make sense.” I hold my hand out. He hands over the note. I read it. “This isn't Journey's writing.”

“It looks like a man's.”

I look up at him. “Who gave this to me? What does it mean?”

“Well, whoever sent it thinks that you need answers and that
6895-A South Point
is where you get them. Is that a person or thing?”

“I think it's an address. There's a South Point Place in one of the poorer areas of Neech, near the market. It's just beyond the Gate for the lowest Caste quadrant.”

“A quadrant that you normally wouldn't be able to get into.”

“Exactly. So the person who gave you this note knows that either A, your Mark no longer prohibits you from crossing Castes, or B, you have that extra piece of skin in your pocket.”

“Or C, both. Hold on.” I hurry upstairs and come back as quickly as I can. When I return, I have with me the first note I received. I smooth it out on the table next to the one with the address on it.

“The writing matches,” Adami says. “Do you know who sent this?”

I nod slowly. “I think it’s Bak.”

“The Black Market Artist we're trying to track down?”

I nod again.

“But, how did he know you were trying to find him?”

“The witch?”

“How did he get it into your locker?”

“Does it matter?” I say. “He wants me to go to this address to meet him and get answers.

“And you're not going.”

I stop. “Yes, I am.”

“Karis, it could be a trap. For all you know, Akin or the Corporation is setting this whole thing up. You can't go. That's not an option.”

“Adami, it's not your decision to make. I need to go for answers. Besides, if it is a trap, I'll just be taken into the Inner City sooner than Akin originally planned. He's not going to hurt me or let anything bad happen to me. He needs me.”

“Arrogance is a dangerous thing to wear. Everyone is replaceable. Especially to Akin and the Corporation.” His words are strong and bitter. “And what about your family? So you just end up going to work for him sooner than anticipated. Ever pause and give any thought to what he might do to those you love as punishment for ignoring him? For forcing his hand? He gave you rules to follow, yes? That
he
would come and get you when
he
was ready for you?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“You would be defying the rules he's laid down and you would be publically waving that in his face. He doesn't like to be challenged or embarrassed.”

“You say that like you know him personally.”

“Men like him are all the same. They can't be trusted, especially with the things they want.”

“We agreed I needed to have as much information on my side before going back into Dahn. This is part if that information I need. This could be one more weapon I add to my arsenal.”

“Oh, yeah, right next to that tab of someone else's skin, right?”

“Right up next to it, tight and cozy.”

“I don't like this.” He's pouting a little, but mostly he's worried for me. It makes me smile. “I can't go with you to protect you if something should go wrong.”

“I can't
not
go.”

“The odds of this being from the Corporation are high, since you've been poking around their business. I mean, don't you find it extremely odd you get this mysterious note right after you Comm in a bunch of Guards from a booth in the Black Market?”

“I don't know how to explain it, Adami; I just...I think this is Bak reaching out to me, prepared to give me answers.”

I think about our last encounter, when I got my Mark, and mentally cringe. He didn't make me feel the most comfortable, but I have to take this chance. I need to ask him about my Mark, about Akin, and about my brother. I don't think he has all the answers, but he has more than I do, and that's enough motivation for me.

“Karis, you are so strong willed and hard headed, I don’t know how others deal with us.”

“But we wouldn't have it any other way.”

Adami smiles at me and pulls me in for a hug. I hold on to him like I'm drowning.

Ethan

I blink a few times before my eyes open all the way. The room is filled with muted light, but it's still too bright for me. I close them again. Every part of my being feels swollen and brittle. Waking up this second time feels harder than the first.

“Here, drink this,” a small voice says to me.

There's pressure from a hand behind my head, pushing me up. Then there's the coolness of a glass being pressed to my lips. Liquid spills against my parched lips and I eagerly part them to accept what I'm being given. The liquid is slightly salty and sweet and doesn't come fast enough. I bring my hands up and try to tip the water glass further, but the grip I'm fighting against is strong and withstands my efforts. My wrist restraints have been lengthened.

“No,” she says. “You must go slowly. If you drink too much, too fast, you'll only make yourself sick.” She pulls the glass away and lowers my head back to the pillow. I hear the clink of the glass being set on a bedside table. “I'm going to redress your wounds. It may hurt a bit, but it won't last for long.” I hear some movement and shuffling.

“So, young man, what's your name?”

“Ethan,” I say in a cracked voice.

“It's nice to meet you, Ethan, my name is Mae.” I hear her unscrew the lid to a jar, followed by the sound of something squishy.

“Wasn’t that you I met earlier?”

“Heavens, no!” she says with a quick laugh. “That sour lemon was my older sister, Bev. She helps out sometimes when I’m busy with other things.”

“Where are we?”

“My homestead.” I’m surprised by the sensation of cold goop being spread across my cheeks. It's like ice when put next to my blistered skin, but the discomfort only lasts a few seconds. And it's worth it, because it brings immediate relief. I can feel it seeping into my skin, repairing the damage of days spent out in the unforgiving sun. “I live here with my husband, Ansel.” She slides the rag of ointment across the bridge of my nose and forehead. “The desert is a harsh and unforgiving place.”

“Dhevan,” I say. “Is he alright?”

“Dhevan's fine. I think he's out in the garden with Ansel, helping him with some irrigation.”

“Good.” I sigh, opening my eyes again.

The bed frame is metal, and there's an old, faded quilt covering my body. The room is clean and sparse, but also homey and comfortable. The air smells like musty lemons, a scent both calming and relaxing. This place is full of juxtapositions. There's a window with a film of dirt on the outside. It looks like it hasn't been cleaned in a century. An old mirror and dresser are on the wall opposite me, antique perfume bottles in a rainbow of colors sit on the surface.

I finally come across Mae, who's studying me as intently as I'm studying my surroundings. She's older than I thought she would be. Older than what's safe for out here in the Further. But, it doesn't seem to be a handicap.

Her hair is a mousy brown with strands of white around her face. She has it done in a long braid wrapped around her head like a crown. Her clothes are simple. A worn, floral dress with an apron around her waist, just like Bev. She sits with her hands in her lap, a jar of the ointment in one and a clean rag in the other. Her hands are worn. A day hasn’t gone by where she didn’t do some sort of manual labor, I bet. But her eyes are kind.

“You’re nicer than your sister.”

Mae smiles. “What were you and your friend doing in the desert?”

I study her a bit longer, wondering if I should trust her. If I could. I decide it’s time to try trusting someone out here. There's no harm in offering a little bit of information to see how she reacts.

“We were out exploring. To see what was here, if anything.”

She raises a brow at my story. “You went out into a place like the desert, miserably unprepared, out of sheer curiosity?”

I can see she’s sharper than most and my vague answers don’t satisfy her. “I think I'd better talk with Dhevan before we discuss anymore.”

“Very well, I will respect that.” She wipes off her fingers and closes the salve, placing it and the rag on the nightstand next to the water. I reach for the glass. She glances at me sharply. “Drink that slowly,” she warns, before walking to the window. I see only sky, which means that we're at least two stories up.

She bangs on the frame twice, sending dust and bits of debris to the floor while shaking the room. Then, with more strength than I thought she possessed, she wrestles the window up and leans out. “Ansel!”

“Yeah?” a gruff voice answers from below.

“Send up the boy. This one wants a word with him before he'll speak to us properly.” She doesn't wait for a response before she thrusts down on the window, closing it with a few powerful shoves.

“He'll be up shortly.”

“Thank you,” I say to her back as she walks out of the room.