Outpost (Razorland, #2)

by Ann Aguirre

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 asked. “I try to be.”

know…” I trailed off, struggling to put my confusion into words. “I didn’t realize you believed something about us that wasn’t true.” A frown lingered on his face, a trace of doubt. It was like he had some picture in his head, and he couldn’t put it aside. I had made things clear, though. There were no secrets standing between us. Then his expression cleared, as if he’d made some decision. Hopefully it was to stop being jealous for no reason. “That was my mistake,” Fade said, kissing me lightly. “I forgot that if you had something to tell me you’d say it straight out.” “I would.”

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.

Tegan would get better as her leg healed; it wasn’t a permanent disability. She was already stronger than she had been. Ruthlessly, I put the past where it belonged and asked, “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.” At the school back in the ruins, I remembered Stalker yelling how she had no useful skills. He couldn’t say that anymore. “How does

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.

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

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.

“He’s not as bad as you think,” I said quietly. “And he’s completely alone.”

“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.

Tegan and I both laughed softly at their silliness, but it cast a warm glow over the meal that didn’t fade even through the washing up.

“You know the Oakses have a son who never comes to see them?” I spoke into the dark, rolling on my side to face her. “Why not?” I shook my head. “I’m not sure. They had a falling-out, but I don’t know what it was about.” “That’s too bad,” Tegan said softly. “I’d give anything to see my parents again. I miss them so much.” “I know.” 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 realized then that I’d never told her the whole story. So much of our time and energy while we traveled had been devoted to survival. “Then you had to leave them for good.” In a rush I explained things to her fully—the rules about hoarding, the blind brat, how the elders treated Fade, Banner’s alleged suicide, and how the headman routinely sent people on the long walk to put fear into the enclave’s heart, which led to Stone being accused of a crime he didn’t commit. 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.

“I haven’t thanked you for stepping forward with me,” I said. “Don’t thank me for doing what my heart asks, Deuce. I’ll be with you as long as you let me.” Which seemed like an odd thing for him to say. I’d never once asked him to leave me alone, even when I thought he was crazy. But maybe it had to do with his frequent losses. In his heart, I suspected he thought nothing could last forever, not even us. And that one day, I’d go away like his sire and dam had done—or that he’d be sent from me, for some reason we couldn’t yet fathom. I resolved, then, deep in my soul never to let him go. I’d be the one never to leave him. I’d prove to him that some things could be for always—that we could be.

fermented. “Do I need to take the strap to you again?” My vision went red at the idea he had been whipping Fade, who had never mentioned a word about it. Didn’t he trust me?

My hands trembled a little. This wasn’t like rubbing salve on battle wounds. Those didn’t bother me. These did, because a human—who didn’t have the excuse of mutation, disease, or insanity, whatever ailed the Freaks—had inflicted them.

I found it difficult to sleep alone. I was used to Fade, Tegan, and Stalker camped out nearby. I wasn’t accustomed to silence and privacy, and I’d found it lonely.

“I know you mean well,” she whispered as she rose, “but I don’t need to be coddled. I know exactly what I can handle.” “Sorry. I won’t do it again.”

I eyed Miles with open dislike; he had a mind like the latrine he’d dug for punishment.

If I became the girl in the mirror, I might lose my ability to protect myself, physically and emotionally. I refused to be that girl. Yet, I had two broken halves—and each quietly waged war against the other.

“Sometimes the truth isn’t as bad as you imagine.”

“That’s…” Words failed her. “But it explains a lot. Stalker came to Doc’s last night. He apologized. He also said he knew that didn’t change anything, and I’m free to hate him forever, but … he’s sorry.” “I’m glad,” I murmured. “I’m sure it doesn’t matter, but—” “It does, actually. Hate is … it’s a weight … and when he said those things, I felt it go.”

“How bad is it out there?” She frowned. “Don’t worry about it. You need to rest … and heal.” “Ignorance isn’t conducive to rest.”

So … thank you, Deuce. You’ve been a blessing to our house.”