Outpost (9 page)

It made sense to me that they would try again.

My instincts were also telling me that if these Freaks were bright enough to plan a rudimentary ambush, there was no telling what else they might think up. These were definitely the smartest I’d ever seen, and it was downright terrifying. Stalker didn’t have enough experience with the creatures to judge; I fell into step with Fade on the way back, wondering if he felt the same.

“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.

“What happened?” the guard called.

“Muties,” Longshot replied. “Six lost. Now open the gates ’fore it’s dark!”

A rumble went through the men on the walls, and soon the word rushed through town. From out here, I heard the hue and cry of people carrying word. The men on the wall tonight had to be glad they weren’t on summer patrol. Only a crazy person like me would feel like such a risky job made her life worth something.

They let us in without ceremony, and there were wives and husbands waiting to see if they’d lost somebody. To my surprise, I found Momma Oaks searching for me, Edmund in tow. The fact that he’d come out in the dark to meet us made me feel a little lighter. I’d wondered if he saw me as a nuisance who slept in his house and ate his food … but apparently not.

“You’re covered in blood,” she said on a little sob. Her eyes teared up, and Edmund patted her ineffectually.

“I’m not hurt.” I didn’t understand what was happening here.

“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.

“She’ll be all right in a minute,” Edmund told me.

“I’m fine now,” she snapped through her tears. “We should get you home and washed. Those clothes may never come clean.”

That, I understood. Down below, sometimes people would fuss about things, when it was really something else bothering them. That was a common human trait, it appeared. So, without protest, I went with my foster parents, while casting a bemused look over my shoulder at Fade. It seemed wrong that I should have both of them waiting when he had nobody. Mr. Jensen had
not
come to see if his assistant made it back alive.

“Wait,” I said, refusing to be towed farther.

Edmund frowned, as this delayed his evening meal. “What’s wrong?”

“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.

I turned and ran back to the gate, where Fade still stood, watching us go. “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 determined to protect this town better than I had my own enclave. When it came down to it, they had thrown me away, down below. Taken my devotion and decided it was worth nothing in comparison with the need to keep everyone cowed by fear. Today, Salvation made me feel like I was worth something again, and so the unpleasant parts—like school, mocking brats, and Mrs. James—mattered less.

“He’s coming,” I said, breathless.

Momma Oaks smiled. “He seems like a fine young man.”

“Was it bad out there?” Edmund asked.

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’ve only seen the Freaks gather like that in the ruins,” I answered.

“Gotham,” Momma Oaks breathed.

I nodded. “They were swarming when we left.” That had been one of the primary reasons we went looking for a safer place.

“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.”

His words raised a cold chill on my arms, as they reminded me of Mrs. James’s story about hubris and how the Freaks came to be. Momma Oaks made an unhappy sound but she didn’t contradict him. Since Edmund had unintentionally reinforced the teacher’s version of the story, I thought about the idea all the way back to the house.

As we went inside, I asked Edmund, “Do you believe Mrs. James’s history?”

In the lamplight, he had a tired face and lines around his eyes from squinting at the leather he sewed all day. His hands were scarred too. He trudged to his chair in the sitting room and sank into it with a relieved sigh. Then he contemplated the question, one hand rubbing his chin.

“About how the Muties were born?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.” That pleased him. He sat up straighter in his chair. I guessed people didn’t often use an honorific for a man who made shoes. But to me, it seemed like an important job. Without Edmund, we’d all be barefoot and freezing in winter.

Seeming glad that we were talking, if not about the conversation topic, Momma Oaks went into the kitchen, leaving us to finish the discussion. She rattled pots and pans and the smell of dinner prompted a growl from my stomach. I had gotten accustomed to three meals a day, plus random snacks, in the quantity I desired.

Edmund nodded at thoughts he hadn’t yet shared and then said, “It’s true, so far as we know. The records are spotty, you understand, and in the early days, Salvation founders did away with knowledge they didn’t approve of. They made a conscious choice to return to older, simpler ways in hopes of pleasing heaven better than what man had done before.”

I studied him, puzzled. “So they had artifacts from the old world but they discarded them?”

“That’s my understanding.”

“But why?”

He pushed out a weary breath. “It’s hard to explain, Deuce, but I’ll try. 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?”

That, I understood. “Thank you. You’ve given me something to think about,” I added, heading for the stairs.

I needed to change, so Fade wasn’t left to make awkward conversation with Edmund. My nerves skittered as I ran up the steps. I couldn’t say why this was different, as I’d eaten with Fade countless times as we traveled. But some part of me recognized there had never been an occasion like this one before.

In a great hurry I washed up and took my hair down from the plaits I’d adopted for fighting. The brown strands fell around my shoulders in unruly waves. I had a small mirror in my room, but as ever, I felt no connection to the girl who stood, playing with her reflection. 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.

I scrambled into a green dress that I didn’t hate, as it was simple. Wearing it instead of my own clothes would please Momma Oaks; she had sewn it for me without frills. Turning this way and that, I decided I was clean and presentable, so I went down the stairs at a run. Edmund was just answering the door, ushering Fade inside, and my heart thumped with silly pleasure. I’d spent all day with him, more or less, even if work hadn’t permitted time for talking.

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.

“We should see if she needs help,” I said, tilting my head toward the kitchen.

Fade agreed with an alacrity that made me glad I’d suggested it. Had he once helped his mother in the kitchen? Clearly he knew what he was doing better than I did, so I took a seat at the table and watched them.
He should be here with the Oakses
, I thought.
Not me.
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.

Bittersweetness

Over a fine meal of fried meat and potatoes, my foster family made an effort to get to know Fade. They asked him what it was like down below, and then about life with his parents in the ruins. At first, I didn’t think he felt comfortable talking, but the more Momma Oaks plied him with food, the less reticent he became.

Down below—and as we traveled—we’d survived on much less. So much to eat, freely given—and this was a basic meal by Salvation standards because it was left from last year’s growing season. This seemed to me like a land of plenty. Part of me still couldn’t believe Fade’s dad had been right.

“So you lived in Gotham with your parents?” Momma Oaks asked. “I don’t mean to touch on a painful subject, but how old were you when—”

“When they died?” Fade finished.

The older woman nodded. “Yes.”

I was fascinated because I’d never asked him much about his life Topside, mostly because I had no faith he’d answer me. I had failed to believe him when he wanted to talk, and that left him faintly angry on the whole subject. So I looked forward to his answers.

“I was around six when my mom passed, eight or nine when my dad did.”

Edmund and Momma Oaks shared a significant glance, though what about, I had no idea. “Were they … sick, son?”

Fade nodded, but from his expression, I sensed he didn’t want to talk further. His face tightened; his eyes dropped to his plate. Discussing the illness would bring all those memories to life again; there was no call to salt a good meal with old sorrow.

So I said, “This roast is delicious. I’ve never had anything like it.”

“It’s pheasant,” Momma Oaks explained. “Hunters went out yesterday and we bought one of the birds.”

That gave me a pang. I would’ve liked to be included in a party that brought back meat for the settlement. It was what I ought to be doing, according to my training, not sitting in a schoolhouse. But we’d had that argument before when I first came to stay; and I had done well enough getting included in the summer patrols.
One step at a time,
I told myself. I couldn’t expect to circumvent all their rules right away. It was enough that here, unlike down below, some citizens like Longshot and Momma Oaks were willing to hear about other ways of doing things.