Outpost (Razorland, #2)

by Ann Aguirre

its way, Salvation was every bit as remote as the enclave had been down below.

I smelled the monsters long before I saw them. In daylight, my vision was never the best, but it was impossible to mistake the stench carried on the spring wind. It reeked of dead and rotten things, of hopes irreparably lost, and the torment of endless hunger.

“Perhaps we should turn back. The planting doesn’t have to be done today.” “And what day will be perfectly safe?” Longshot asked in disgust. I could understand his impatience … and why he chose to go off on the long, lonely trade runs. The townsfolk he protected were as timid as mice, hiding in their walls. I much preferred having the enemy within reach of my blades, where I could see an end to the battle before the next one began.

As for Fade and me, we fell in back-to-back, as we had ever done, and something sweeter than fear sang in my veins. I had my blades in my hand, and my partner at my back; therefore, I feared nothing, not even death.

This was the reason I had been born—to fight these predators and drive them away from my people. I wasn’t a child. I was a Huntress.

“Leave them,” Longshot said quietly. “If we don’t get these seeds in the ground, then they died for naught.” It was a grim procession that continued on toward the fields, and I wondered what greater woe the season had in store. If I had known then, perhaps I would have chosen my course differently. Or not. I was, after all, born to be a Huntress.

“What’s the planting usually like?” “Not like this.” His tone was grim. “Not in years anyway. Those numbers were downright … unnatural.” That couldn’t be good news.

“You don’t usually guard the fields?” Fade asked. Longshot shook his head. “No need. They don’t organize. They rove.” “I told you, the ones we ran into have gotten smarter.” I’d warned him on our arrival, but I didn’t know how seriously he’d taken me. Now he sighed. “Just what we need, as if life out here isn’t tough enough.”

“What do you think?” I said, low. “The monsters are different.” He confirmed my opinion in a soft voice. “Do you have any idea what’s changing them?” Fade shook his head. “If I did, maybe I could help somehow.” Yes, that was the crux of the matter. I cherished the small bit of respect I’d garnered in the fight today, and I didn’t want to lose it by circulating wild theories with no solutions. Maybe my time down below had made me reluctant to offer my thoughts to the elders, but at this juncture I couldn’t be faulted for caution. It was a precarious situation, and one that left my stomach tied in knots as we approached the front gates. We’d borne so much; the threat of losing my safe haven scared me—and if I wasn’t fighting, fear preyed on me just as much as the next person. I was just better at hiding it than most.

Only a crazy person like me would feel like such a risky job made her life worth something.

“Hug her,” Longshot advised me kindly. “She’s lost children before, and now that she’s adopted you—” “Adopted.” That was a new word. I didn’t know what it meant, but I thought it had something to do with the way her hands fluttered toward me, and then back, like she didn’t know what to do with them. Feeling awkward, I stepped in and added my consoling touch to Edmund’s. Women are emotional, his gaze said. For the first time, I shared a moment with him of complete understanding. If this was how women reacted to things in Salvation, I didn’t think I’d ever be one, no matter how many dresses Momma Oaks sewed for me.

“Could we invite Fade for supper?” Momma Oaks radiated surprise, but not because I wanted him there. “Of course. You can have your friends over whenever you like. Our home is yours, now.” Until tonight, I had thought of her only as someone giving me a place to stay out of obligation, out of charity. I hadn’t known she cared. Why would she? I wasn’t a proper girl, nobody she’d have chosen for her kin. And yet her regard was unmistakable; she had been worried about me. I didn’t think anybody ever had been before. I was a Huntress, so if I went out and died, then I had done my job. Warmth began in the pit of my stomach and it radiated outward until my fingertips tingled. On impulse, I gave her a quick hug as I had seen other girls do. Momma Oaks stared at me in wonder, as if I had done something special. She wasn’t my dam, but I doubted the girl who had borne me down below would have given a moment’s thought to my safety. The enclave had its rules and it didn’t permit bonds to form between offspring and parents. For the first time, I almost understood what a loss Fade had suffered, because he could remember both of his.

“Come eat with us.” He glanced down at his stained, bloody clothes and shook his head. “I can’t.” “Wash, change, and then come. Please.” It was the last word that won him. I saw the yielding in his face, because it was something he wanted too, but for some reason, he was afraid. Stalker watched us, and that gave me an unpleasant twinge. But I couldn’t change what I’d done to encourage him, only what I did going forward. And for me, it had to be Fade. My choice would always be Fade. “All right,” he said. “Mr. Jensen won’t mind.” In his words, I heard a lot more. The man who had taken him in didn’t care about him. He wanted the free help. And I was the lucky one, this time. But maybe I could share what I had, what I hadn’t even wanted, with Fade, who was hungry for what he’d lost. Maybe I could make it better for him somehow. I surprised him when I reached up and kissed his cheek. There were people all around who might judge me for having such impulses. They might think all sorts of things, but I didn’t mind. He touched his face with a kind of wonder, much as Momma Oaks had when I hugged her. Until then, I hadn’t realized I was so much like my own knives, sharp edged, cold, and perfect for keeping people at a distance. That done, I ran back the way I’d come, to my foster family, and then together, we returned to the house that had become a home to me, quite unexpectedly. I had a cozy room all to myself, a finer bed than I’d ever known. This unexpected welcome made me determi...

It didn’t seem strange that a man of his age would ask me for an update about the wider world. I had trained my whole life to protect people. He had another job in town; the shoes I had on, he’d made with his own hands. I didn’t know how to do that, and it felt right to me that we each did the work to which we were best suited. I didn’t need to know how to make shoes, so long as Edmund did. And he didn’t need to fight, as long as I was here.

“I think they’re drawn to people,” Edmund said, elaborating on his theory as we went. “Not just because they’re hungry, but because they hate us. Blame us. For what they are. It’s not just survival with them. I think it’s war.”

If you had a weapon you didn’t fully understand, and you used it to hurt a lot of people, wouldn’t it be better to destroy it so nobody else could make that same mistake?”

I knew I wasn’t as pretty as some girls at school, but that seemed irrelevant. I was strong and I could fight; surely that mattered more.

He looked different to me, somehow, since I’d accepted that our partnership had personal meaning. I’d always been fascinated by his face, but now I paid too much attention to his mouth when he spoke. I felt awkward, as if I had five thumbs on my hand, until he laced his fingers quietly through mine. Then I settled like a bird on just the right limb.

After the life I’d led, it wouldn’t bother me to be used for my labor. It was, in fact, precisely what I was used to. But Fade? I wanted him to be happy, more than anything.

Discussing the illness would bring all those memories to life again; there was no call to salt a good meal with old sorrow.

But I didn’t want to hurt Edmund’s feelings when I’d only just realized that in his way, he cared what became of me. He wasn’t demonstrative like his wife, but he’d come out to the gate to make sure of my safety. So I squeezed Fade’s hand, telling him silently to be polite, and he returned the pressure with a half-smile so lovely that it made me forget my unvoiced objections to an extra history lesson.

“They had machines to do their work for them: solve problems, cipher numbers, and print writing. People grew lazy. They knew too many blessings, and so they lost the ability to appreciate what they had. They always wanted more, more, more, and that road,” he intoned, “led down into darkness.” “What happened?” Fade asked, sitting forward, wide-eyed at the idea of machines that could do arithmetic. Surely he didn’t believe this. For a machine to count, it would need a head, wouldn’t it? And fingers? That would make the thing like a mechanical person. I shook my head with a faint smile. Such fancies might be improbable, but they made for an interesting tale.

tribe had been down below a long time, by any reckoning, and our reality lost touch with the actual state of the world.

For once, I’d learned about history without passing out from boredom. That was a credit to Edmund’s ability to spin a good yarn, and I said so.

However unlikely, I had family in Salvation. Down below, only Stone and Thimble would have noticed my absence … and they wouldn’t have mourned me long. Death was too much an accepted part of our world for it to be a shocking event. “I like them,” Fade said softly. Then he shifted closer, drawing me against his side as he had done to comfort me in the past. This time, it had other meanings, and I curled into him, accepting those new terms. His warmth felt delicious, sinking into my skin and making me indolent. “They’ve been good to me.” I paused, thinking about the story Edmund told. “Do you think there’s any truth to it?” “What part?” “The world being like it is as some kind of punishment?” He shook his head. “My dad never mentioned it. And he was right about a lot of other things. So it seems like it’s just something that happened.” “Then why do you think they tell the story that way?” Leaning his head against mine, he contemplated the question. He rubbed his cheek against my hair, and I was glad I had taken it down, so he could feel its softness, even if it wasn’t bright burnished like some. At last he answered, “People try to make sense of things, and if they don’t know the answers, they make them up, because for some, a wrong answer is better than none.” That rang true, as it echoed what I had been thinking about the Wordkeeper earlier. “I guess. But I’d rather have the truth, even if it was uncertain.” “That’s because you’re a brave and honest soul.” “Aren’t you?” I a...

“Are you happier now that we’re part of the summer patrols?” I answered, “Of course. I need a purpose.” “I think everyone does.” Fade wrapped his arm about my shoulders, drawing me to his side, and I rested my head on his shoulder. “It felt good to fight beside you again.” His smile warmed me to the tips of my toes. “It did. I don’t think anybody will question your ability to hold your own now.” He was right; I’d earned my place. Despite the day’s losses and my quiet worry, I felt good about that part.

If today had been any indication, this task would keep us busy all season. We could expect more Freak attacks, and they might shock us with their capacity for planning. I wished I knew what form that animal cunning might take.

“I only came because I want to understand. You were lonely? You were using me?” “No. We’re friends … and sparring partners. That’s what we always have been … and still are.” “You didn’t make it feel like that,” he snapped. “Or at least, you gave me the impression it might be more someday.” “I’m sorry.” “This hurts,” he said wonderingly, as if he couldn’t have imagined the feeling before I inflicted it on him. “I didn’t mean to.” He laughed, a bitter sound. “That’s all right, then.” Stalker climbed halfway through the window, just about done with the conversation—and me. But he turned for a final, parting shot. “He won’t make you happy, dove. He’s soft in ways you and I aren’t. Ultimately, you’re going to break him.” As I lay in bed, unable to sleep, those words echoed in my ears and I feared to my core that Stalker was right.

without fear of censure. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when…” She trailed off, knowing I’d understand what she meant. “I just had so much to think about. First, it was my leg, and once I got better, there was school. I felt like I had to focus on fitting in, and—” “I don’t.” Apart from my fellow guards, people had made that clear. “You make your own rules. I respect that, but I’m not you. I want folks to like me. I love it here.” “I don’t expect you to walk my path,” I said.

“Are you still working with Doc?” She nodded. “I’ve learned a lot. He says I have a real knack and I might be able to take over doctoring someday.” “You don’t mind dealing with sick and injured people?” That required a fortitude I didn’t possess. “No. It makes me feel good, actually. With Doc’s help, I’m learning how to make a difference.”

It sounded to me like Salvation could use some shaking up. New blood with fresh ideas might be just what the town needed.

In Tegan’s place, I would’ve fought until I died. Nobody would’ve touched me while I still drew breath, so there wouldn’t have been any unborn brats to lose … yet I would’ve died. Her path of quieter resistance led to survival through suffering. Tegan wasn’t a Huntress, so according to enclave rules, she would’ve likely been a Breeder if we’d found her, because as Stalker had judged, she had no skills and no visible defects. Yet in the enclave, Breeders didn’t fight their roles. Tegan had. That meant her mother had taught her that she didn’t have to bear young for the benefit of the group. Such freedom seemed foreign … and irresponsible. Down below, no one ever hinted that my own desires could be more important than the good of the whole. But that didn’t make Tegan mistaken; it meant the Wolves punished her. And that, I did believe, was wrong. So far as I could tell, nobody had invented the perfect system, and it was awful to hurt people who disagreed with you. That enclave had done it too. The Wolves should have turned Tegan loose when they realized she wouldn’t conform.

“What’s a birthday?” I asked. Tegan blinked at me. “The day you were born. You celebrate and people give you gifts. When my mom was alive, she threw a little party for me.” That idea seemed outlandish. “Why would people give you presents for something that was none of your doing?” It wasn’t like earning a name. I’d gotten gifts on my naming day because I survived for fifteen years, long enough to deserve them. That, I understood. This tradition made no sense at all. “Because they care about you,” Tegan said, seeming to realize I wasn’t joking. “But every single year?” “Of course.” She fought a smile. I tried to wrap my head around it. “Maybe it’s for surviving that long?” That seemed almost logical. “That’s … one way of looking at it.”

Topside or down below, they always needed someone to blame.

Yet for Tegan, I’d go. I’d try to make people like me, using an ability other than stabbing monsters with my knives. If that wasn’t a mark of true friendship, I couldn’t imagine what one might be.

“Deuce has better taste than that.” Which made me bristle on Stalker’s behalf. I felt pulled in three directions, and as if I would wind up being disloyal, no matter whose side I chose. I understood why she hated him, but it was hard for me to blame him when he hadn’t been taught otherwise. The things I’d done on the elders’ orders filled me with hot shame now. I had killed an innocent man as a test of loyalty, and I’d let them murder a brat in cold blood. My own hands weren’t clean. Maybe Tegan’s were; and she’d never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. I couldn’t help what I’d done before I learned it was wrong. I could only do better in the future. And the same held true for Stalker, whether anybody else believed it or not. Whether he could rise above the person he’d been in the gangs, well, that rested squarely in his own hands. Tegan had asked me not to tell anyone what she went through. These shallow girls would think she was damaged, unclean, and that was their mistake. What she had survived made her stronger, far tougher than they could imagine. But I understood why she wanted to fit in and keep her secrets. I’d guard them with my life.

“Sometimes we don’t get a choice,” I murmured. “We do what we have to.”

I wondered if Justine knew how lucky she was to have such good friends, and to have a family who would go to such trouble for her. Even here, I was on the outside, looking in, and trying to make sense of customs that seemed strange to me. This, I realized, watching her disinterest as she pushed small parcels aside to get to bigger ones. This is what Edmund was talking about when he said the people had too many blessings. The thought unnerved me because, from here, it was only half a step to people blaming Justine for the Freak attack that afternoon. Whatever reason the monsters had for hating humanity, I was sure it had nothing to do with a girl’s party, or how many presents she received. But others might not see that.

“He’s not as bad as you think,” I said quietly. “And he’s completely alone.” “I never understood why you spent a minute with him when you had Fade staring at you all the time.” I stopped, incredulous. “For the last two months, he hardly said a word to me. He was always with you.” “Not with me. You didn’t think—” “I don’t anymore.” “Deuce,” she said seriously, moving again. “I may never get close to a boy. I’m not saying that to make you feel sorry for me. I’m happier than I’ve been since my mom died. I like the Tuttles and I feel safe with them. But Fade and me?” She shook her head. “Even if he felt that way about me, I couldn’t. I need time to heal … and to accept that not all boys are like the ones in the gangs.” “They do seem more civilized,” I offered, as we neared my house.

“Has anybody talked to Doc Tuttle about you?” Tegan shook her head. “I haven’t given anyone the necessary encouragement. Anyway,” she continued, “it was always you. Fade talks about you with me sometimes, you know?” A burst of warmth flared in the pit of my stomach. “I had no idea. What … what does he say?” “How you ran through the tunnels together, hiding from Freaks, and watching each other’s backs. Fade told me you saved him down there.” “He saved me too.” So many times, and in ways I couldn’t describe, as if I had been dying of a wound I didn’t know I’d taken. “He also said it was the first time he felt safe since he joined your enclave.”

“You don’t have to go to any trouble. I just want the company.” “You don’t understand mothers at all,” she said gently. “I guess not. I never had one.” Momma Oaks touched my cheek. “I know, Deuce. Just accept that I do for you because I want to. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t. It’s just that simple.” For some reason, a lump swelled in my throat. “Thank you,” I said thickly.

“Strategy.” I turned the word over in my head. It sounded as if this game might prove valuable in other regards, if it sharpened my ability to plan. I might be able to apply what I learned about chess in a martial fashion.

It was moments like these that made everything else worthwhile. Bad dreams and worse memories couldn’t touch me now. I felt safe, but it was frightening too, because I had something lovely to lose. A nervous shiver rolled through me.

I hugged her in the dark but she didn’t weep. This was a loss grown old and dull, like a knife left out in the rain. But Tegan returned the hug with full strength, and it made me feel important, worthy of her friendship even if I didn’t come from perfect people. I’d bet none of her new friends received such confidences.

By the time I finished, I had a knot in my chest, and Tegan’s hand rested on my hair, not petting, just making contact, like she knew it was all about to overwhelm me. I hadn’t grasped that it still hurt so much, but the ache lessened as I fell quiet. Sharing helped. “So that’s why you left. That sounds pretty horrible, Deuce.” “It was,” I said softly. “I just didn’t realize that while it was going on.” She sighed. “Because you weren’t raised to know better.” A verbal reply was beyond me. So I nodded. “In the ruins when you told me to give Stalker a clean slate, I hated you for it. But I think … I finally understand. Maybe he didn’t see that he was doing wrong, until later. Maybe he knows now. I’ll … try to judge him according to his actions.” “I don’t care if you ever forgive Stalker,” I said quietly. “That’s between the two of you.” “Thank you for that. Thanks for being my friend.” It was good knowing I had the power to comfort her too. I hugged her words close to my heart as I fell asleep.

Fade greeted me by quietly taking my hand. Though I wasn’t comfortable with open affection, I didn’t pull back, and my forbearance paid off when he smiled in delight. I’d never get enough of his smiles, as I hadn’t seen many of them. Down below, he was known for his intense personal reserve and brooding air. Stalker strode past us without a glance in greeting, joining the older guards, who seemed to like him well enough. I managed not to follow him with my eyes, but I heard his words in my head. He won’t make you happy, dove. He’s soft in ways you and I aren’t. Ultimately, you’re going to break him. I won’t, I told myself. I, too, was softer than a Huntress ought to be. I’d proven it time and again, so that made me a perfect match for Fade. Didn’t it?

With a shake of his head, he told me he disagreed with Longshot; the trouble wasn’t over. Instead, I had the dark and unsettling impression that it was just beginning.

As for me, I took a long look, for this was the new face of an old enemy. As warnings went, this one was masterful. Not only did it instill terror and revulsion, it also told us there were more Freaks hidden nearby. Watching. Waiting. And we had no idea of their numbers. Longshot thought we got most of them, but some had clearly hung back, then crept out after we left and eaten our dead. Horror crawled up my spine like a many-legged insect, insidious and inexorable. “They’re trying to starve us out,” I said softly to Fade. He nodded. “That’s not simple instinct. That’s—” “Strategy,” Stalker finished. It was the first time he’d spoken to me since he came in my window, but apparently he judged this situation worth setting aside his personal grievances. “I don’t like this,” I muttered. “It’s a caution,” Stalker went on. “The gangs post similar messages, just not with heads.” He didn’t elaborate on the difference, and I was glad. Genuine fright flared. Though there was plenty of food now, one bad growing season could destroy Salvation’s prosperity. Momma Oaks had a small kitchen garden for us to augment the crops planted for the whole town—and of which each family received a share—but it wouldn’t be enough to last the winter. Other families didn’t have the space or inclination to plant anything at all. “What do we do?” a grower asked Longshot. “Do we clean up and sow a second time?” It was an excellent question. But now that the Freaks had worked out the importance of this sit...

They thought walls still represented safety, but there was none outside of your own strength. I’d believed it down below, and I still did as I received the first rush, Freaks maddened by the possibility of success—and a feast greater than they’d ever known. This is sheer cunning, and they have such numbers. I became a creature of reflex and training, born to slash with my daggers.

Fear boiled in my veins. I fought it even as I lashed at the Freaks. If I let this feeling grow, it would overwhelm me. I’d break and run, and if I did, others would. The battle would be lost. The Freaks attacked; therefore, they would die, or I would. It could end no other way.