Outpost (Razorland, #2)

by Ann Aguirre

“Longshot will be mad if we stir the Freaks up and draw them back here.” “Then we make sure they don’t spot us,” Stalker said. Fade added, “And if they do, they don’t reach the outpost alive.” I asked myself, What would you do if you sneaked into a camp of sleeping Freaks? Would you slit all their throats? The answer that emerged made me wonder if I were more of a monster than the creature that stole our fire. That doesn’t necessarily establish that they’re capable of mercy. Maybe it was just cunning enough to know that stealth was its only chance to survive the theft. For obvious reasons, it was terrifying to consider what Freaks could do with a burning brand. As far as I knew, they didn’t cook. Mind racing, I considered other alternatives. It hadn’t smelled as rank, so maybe it had been some deformed human, living as an outcast in the dangerous forest. I would love if that were true. We’d find out shortly, one way or another.

I bent and touched my fingers to the damp soil, as if it could answer what had come this way. In my heart, I feared I knew. Night birds sang to each other in the trees. Squirrels chattered. As we traveled, I’d learned the names of the creatures whose world I shared. Sometimes I ate them. I always admired them. There was far less life down below, where I had grown up.

Natural trepidation bubbled up—not at the darkness, but at being surrounded by so many trees. I found them faintly disquieting, things that lived and seemed to watch, but never moved. It was like being surrounded by a silent army that might, when you least expected, strike you down.

Instead, we were after information, which could offer as much value toward survival in some cases.

The deeper we went, the more the woods stank of Freak—rotten meat, unclean flesh, the sickly sweet of a putrid wound. How could they stand each other? But I supposed one got used to anything. When I lived down below, I only noticed the unpleasant smell on bad days, but by contrast, the air Topside smelled of a hundred things—most of them beautiful and fresh as a morning rain.

One touched another on the head in what I took to be a soothing manner, and the worst thing? There were small Freaks here. I had never seen their young, never given much thought to how they repopulated, but this proved they weren’t created through biting or infection. They were legitimate, natural creatures of this world, just as we were, though how they had come to be was still a matter of some disagreement and conjecture. Nausea simmered in my gut. I didn’t want to see this. They had learned too much. They were becoming more like us, only they were too far from original humanity for me ever to see this ending well—for the mutants or us. Drawing back, I pulled the boys with me. There was no way the three of us could mount an attack against so many. Not unless we wanted to die. My heart in my throat, I scuttled along the path, retreating for all I was worth. I hadn’t expected to find such an impossibility. I had no context to explain it. In silence, we retraced our steps until a stray Freak lurched out of the bushes. It was obviously wounded, clutching its bloody side, and I sank my daggers into its throat before it could snarl. The beast died quietly, which was what we needed. We couldn’t let it return to the others and warn them, I thought. But the ruthless act troubled me. The one that had come into our camp could have killed so many of us, but it had chosen another course. Why? I wanted to believe it was all part of a plan to intimidate us, but I no longer felt sure of...

Horrible. So horrible. Freaks had children; that meant breeding. My dinner threatened to come up. “What the devil,” Stalker said. He’d been learning the bad words, I gathered, from the other guards. “They’re never going to believe us.” Fade rubbed a shaking hand across his eyes. “This is just like Nassau.” I turned, gazing back into the trees, feeling uncertain. “Longshot will. He knows we wouldn’t lie. Though what he can do about it, I have no idea.” It was time to head back and face whatever consequences came from our unauthorized recon mission. I only hoped the warning came in time to do some good.

“I’m not a leader of men. I drive head wagon on the trade runs, and sometimes I make trips by myself. It’s not the same.” “Then why did you volunteer for this?” His serious gaze swept me from head to toe, suddenly somber. “Because you made me feel ashamed.” “Of what?” I held my breath, wondering why. I admired Longshot so much. “The whole damn town.”

“That much is good. But, thunderation, I have no idea what to do about this.” It seemed like a bad sign that Longshot would speak so freely in front of me. He was the elder, and he should display certainty to keep the men following him without question. Or maybe that was a trait encountered only down below. Topside leaders might be more honest about their lack of knowledge. If nothing else, it made him seem more human. That wasn’t necessarily a comfort in times like these.

“So that’s the rule? No witness, no crime?” Longshot laughed. “You’ve got guts, girl.”

“None of them are soldiers,” I said quietly. “True. But that’s no excuse for simple incompetence. I’ll have a word.” Longshot made a shooing motion. “Get out of here. Go toughen up those muscles.”

The three of us shared a look of mutual horror at the idea of being stuck inside and forced to do chores. While living rough had its disadvantages—no proper baths for instance—at least out here, we had the possibility for excitement and that something we did might make a difference. Plus, it would be beyond shameful to be sent back as unsatisfactory when these other guards were still on duty. None of them fought half as well as us.

“Why do you think he’s so mad at you?” Frank asked. “Some people just need somebody to blame.” But it was deeper than that for Miles, I thought. He was likely one of those men who couldn’t stand for a female to do anything besides cook his food and lie down for his pleasure. If he had a partner back in Salvation, she had my sympathies.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, absolving him. “I can handle myself.” “Miles is going to be a problem for you,” he said. I nodded. “I don’t think it’s going away. It would be best if Longshot replaced him, but that would send the message that giving me a hard time gets a man posted back to Salvation.” He set his hand on my thigh, consciously erasing the memory of Miles’s greasy fingers on my leg. I didn’t mind. Fade had the right to touch me. But he drew his hand back before anyone could remark on the familiarity and then come at me later with evil insinuations. “Any ideas on how to discourage him?” he asked. I had lots of them, all unpleasant. “I might have to kill him.” That made him smile. “Short of that.” “I prefer the killing,” I muttered. “Me too. But it might be bad for morale.” He considered for a moment, and then slid me a sidelong glance. “We could deliver him as a gift to the Freak village.” “Tempting. What were you saying to Stalker earlier?” He froze, dark eyes flickering guiltily to his plate. “You noticed that?” “The whole camp did.” I nudged him with a gentle elbow. “Come on, tell me.” “I might’ve mentioned that he needs to stop staring at you like a hungry wolf.” I slid Fade a sidelong look. “Isn’t it enough that I gave you exclusive kissing rights? What does it matter how he looks at me?” Color touched the tops of his sculpted cheekbones, and my fingers itched with the impulse to smooth his raven hair away from his forehead. “When you put it that way…” Fa...

To reassure myself, I touched the bloodstained card I kept in my pocket at all times. As long as it was intact, nothing truly dreadful could happen to me. That was enclave lore. Unfortunately, I didn’t know if I believed it anymore. If we put faith in anything down below, it was in the power of a naming token. My foster mother would say it held something of our souls … but that was a confusing thought. Stalker—and all of the folks in Salvation—lacked such an item, so did that mean they were soulless or just unprotected? Maybe it was nonsense, something the Wordkeepers thought up a long time ago.

“Do you hear that?” “Something’s following us.” Both of us knew what it must be. The only question was how many … and would they strike before we reached safety? Even if the ones we’d spotted in the village weren’t the best fighters, it didn’t mean they couldn’t attack. They might take the opportunity to target easy prey. If they hit us, it certainly revealed a particular, calculating intelligence. It meant they watched and gauged their assaults according to our behavior. Terrifying thought. Life had been difficult enough when they acted like mindless monsters.

It felt like much longer since I’d been here, as if living with Edmund and Momma Oaks belonged to some other me; just as the one who lived down below was someone else, so many versions of the girl I glimpsed in the mirror. I felt grown, enough not to need to attend Mrs. James’s stupid school, but maybe I wasn’t the person I might become yet either. Perhaps that was the point; life, if you did it right, meant learning and changing. If you didn’t, you died—or stopped growing—which amounted to more or less the same thing. So I would slide in and out of different roles until I discovered the one that fit me best.

“Would you dance with me tonight?” “I’d love to. But if we’re going to celebrate with the rest of the town,” I decided aloud, “then we should go wash up.” “I’d like to see you in a dress again … and with your hair down.” Considering what we’d been through together, his words shouldn’t have made me feel shy. Inexplicably, they did. Perhaps because he meant to spend the evening with Deuce the girl, not Deuce the Huntress, and I didn’t know my feminine side very well. In fact, before Fade and his kisses, I’d have said there was little connection.

“Sir, I need your permission to walk out with Deuce. My intentions are honorable.” What? Tegan had mentioned this to me in passing, but I wasn’t even sure what “intentions” entailed. Before I could get a word out, Edmund nodded. “It’s good of you to ask. And granted.”

It was important to keep people’s spirits up during dark patches. Otherwise panic set in faster if the worst occurred. Not that I wanted to discuss that—or think about it—right now. Fade and I deserved to be lighthearted before we returned to endless dread.

I turned over the idea that she considered me her own, her real daughter. Such a thing seemed impossible, but my throat thickened at the prospect. I’d never imagined a home like I found in Salvation, or parents of my own. I was also curious about that odd little interchange between Fade and Edmund.

“So what does it mean?” “He asked that?” Her hand flew to her heart in delight. “It means he’s serious. When a boy goes to a girl’s daddy, he’s paying respect and promising he won’t trifle with her. He’s been raised right.” I puzzled over that revelation. “Which means no illicit breeding?” “Lands, the way you talk.”

“It’s too fine,” I protested. “You should have something pretty for your first official date with Fade.” Date. A new word. I suspected it had to do with sparking, and given what we planned to do that evening, it must relate to having fun. I didn’t ask for clarification.

I swept down the stairs to find Fade waiting for me at the bottom. His dark eyes widened, and for the first time since I’d known him, he was speechless. He stared up at me like I was everything he ever wanted. My heart skipped at the intensity of that expression, but it was a little scary, too, to have that much power. I took a step toward him, despite my uncertainty. Edmund cleared his throat. “Pretty as a picture, isn’t she?” Fade only nodded. His hungry stare brought color to my cheeks, and I was too conscious of the warmth of his fingers when he touched me. Just on the arm, but my skin was bare, and it felt shocking, intimate, too daring in front of my foster parents.

“I want to drag you off and hide you away,” he whispered. “Why?” “I always knew you were beautiful, but now everyone else will too. I won’t be able to keep other boys away from you, and it’ll make me crazy.” I laughed, thinking he was trying to make me feel less self-conscious about the dress and my hair, which tickled the back of my neck each time I moved. But he kept his hand on my arm, as if he thought someone would pop up to steal me away. Dazzling heat blazed between us, fiercer than the lamps hung around the green. Not far from the dancers, he pulled me into the shadows and drew me up against him. “One kiss before I have to share you.” Hardly knowing myself, as Deuce the girl held sway tonight—and the Huntress watched with quiet embarrassment—I tipped my face up. His mouth touched mine, light as a breath, but brushed again and again, a tease, until I reached up and cupped his face in my hands. Then the kiss flared like lightning, deeper and more thorough than he’d ever dared before. When his tongue touched mine, I pulled back, shocked and breathless. “Where did you learn that?” “You’d only get mad if I told you.” I muttered beneath my breath. Probably, he was right. I didn’t want to hear he’d kissed some girl down below. If there had been another female for him since we arrived in Salvation, I needed to cut off all her hair and beat her half to death. The strength of that impulse scared me, and I took a step back. Deuce the girl was every bit as vicious as the Huntre...