Outcast: A Corporation Novel (The Corporation) (11 page)

The oddity of this has my curiosity piqued, so I follow Cain. It's still busy enough that he won't notice me tailing him, but I'm easily able to keep up. He stops and talks with five other men—all either from the Lumber Mill or the Steel Mill, I can tell by their uniforms. The pattern is the same—he pats them on the back, they say something in his ear, and he's given ration stamps. Then the two part ways.

What are the ration stamps he's being given, and why? No one in Neech has enough that they can afford to just give away their rations for the month. I try to bleed into what remaining crowd is left and follow the lumber worker that currently has six extra stamps.

He stops at a greens booth and hands over his tickets. There's a small stack, and I can see by their color, that they're not all for greens. The vendor thumbs through them all, shoves them in his pocket and nods. They both look around and head to the back of the stall. I don't dare follow them, for risk of being seen, but I don't have to.

In a minute, the worker is pushing a wooden hand cart out into the street. He hastily flings the corner of a covering over the contents of the cart, but not before I get a good glimpse of what's in there: wood, meat, fabrics, greens. A family's worth of rations. And Cain is wheeling it away.

I wouldn't think it odd except we
never
get to take away our rations when we pay for them. They're
always
delivered. There is no other option. This is getting very interesting. I have to follow him and tell Ethan what I've found. I’m giving him few dozen feet head start when I think I hear my name being called. I look around, momentarily distracted. But that's all it takes. When I look up again, Dhevan’s dad is lost to the crowd.

७

“Get all the rations?” Papa asks as I walk through the door.

“Two cords of wood are being delivered tonight.”

“Ash?”

I nod, heading over to the fireplace. I pick up the poker and stir the embers. Some flare back to life and a burst of faint heat hits my fingers. “Last two.”

“Water rights?”

“Wednesdays at close.”

“That's good. I can help you carry it back. What about electricity?”

“That one was pretty much used up by the time Dhevan and Ethan got a place in line. There was only 1,000 kilowatt hours left for us.”

“Bring home the extra ration stamp?”

“Traded it for some extra food. Figured with that other mouth upstairs and with Sai it would be good. Grain and greens.”

“Good thinking, Karis; we don't go through that much electricity anyhow. We'll make it work.”

“I'm going to go and get ready for the meeting tonight.”

“Another one? Ethan just had one last night.”

“He thinks if we have them nightly, more people will show up. He said he's playing the odds. Whatever that means.”

“Karis?”

“Yeah?” I say, my hand on the banister of the stairs, already knowing what he’s going to bring up.

“There's a bowl of broth on the table for the Untouchable.”

“His name is Gandā.”

He sighs. “Eta's up there, finishing up vitals.”

I grab the bowl and spoon lying next to it and head up the stairs. I sigh as heavily as I can, hoping that the sound carries down to Papa. I know I'm acting like a child, but I don't want to be here doing this. I want to be out there trying to get my brother back.

I kick at the base of the door, swinging it open and knocking it against the wall. I'm not worried about waking him. He's been unconscious for weeks. I doubt that's going to change any time soon.

“Feeling sassy, are we?” Eta says. She doesn't even bother to look up at me. One end of her stethoscope is in her ears, the other is pressed against his chest. Whatever Gandā did wherever he's from, he worked hard at it. His shoulders, arms, chest, stomach, they’re all well-muscled. 

Eta moves the metal disc of her stethoscope around his torso. Satisfied, she takes the metal tubes out of her ears and puts them around her neck. She buttons up his shirt and moves her fingers to his neck, right below his jaw. “Pulse is strong, breathing is good. He's healthy as a horse.”

“Except for the unconscious part,” I say.

Eta just gives me a look before she goes to her bag and grabs a syringe. “You've been taking very good care of him, Karis,” she says as she bends over his arm. Like every visit, she takes a little bit of blood. “He's very clean. That's good.”

My cheeks redden. “Yeah, well,” I mumble, “it's not like I have any choice.”

“That's not the way I see it. Someone who cares for him on the inside does a job like this. Even if they're pretending not to care on the outside. Either way, keep it up.” She stands and gathers her things.

Was she right? Was I really coming to care for Gandā and still trying to act like I didn't? “Did Ethan give you the filters I collected?”

“He left them on the kitchen table for me.”

“What are you doing with them?”

“Studying them, trying to get as much information as I can.”

“Are you trying to find a cure?” My arms are starting to burn from holding the tray.

“Among other things.” She snaps her bag closed and heads to the door. “’Night, Karis.”

“’Night.” I set the bowl of soup and spoon on the bedside table and drag the chair from Ajna’s desk and line it up next to the bed. The Untouchable hasn't so much as twitched an eye. No surprise there.

I scan his body when I sit down. There isn't much light coming in from the window, so his features are a bit more dramatic in the twilight—carved out cheek and collar bones, hollowed out temples, sunken eyes bulging through thin lids.

I don't want to admit it, but underneath all this grime and mess of knotted hair, he could almost be handsome. Realizing part of me is starting to care about him only makes me more defensive. I hate that feelings can be so aggravating and irrational and most of all uncontrollable. But, he's getting better and looking better because of me, of what I'm doing for him, and I can't help but feel a small amount of selfish pride in that.

“I hope
you
appreciate what I'm doing,” I say. I lean over and slip my arms under his armpits and pull him up. He doesn’t smell so bad anymore, so I don’t have to breathe out of my mouth while doing this.

He slumps forward and I grab two pillows with my free hand and awkwardly try to fold them in half so that he's sitting up, making it easier to feed him the broth. When I've managed the pillows, I wedge my arms back under his and try to put him back down as gracefully as I can. The result is him dropping the last couple of inches and his head hitting the headboard.

“Oops, sorry.”

I dip the spoon into the broth and blow off the rising steam. I reach up with my other hand and squeeze his cheeks so that his mouth opens a little and I pour the liquid in. It's not much, but it will have to do. It's not like he can eat anything more than this. Not until he wakes up, anyway.
If
he ever does.

“It was Ration Day today.” I make small talk as I feed him, wiping off drips of soup as they travel down his chin. “There weren't as many fights as there tend to be, but I think it’s because there were more Guards out this time.” I give him another spoonful of soup. I think about what to say next, even though he's unconscious, I don't like stale air between us. I just get the urge to fill it with something. As a result, I tend to babble and spill about everything—things I wouldn't normally tell
awake
people—knowing it doesn't matter.

“I've been having this really uncomfortable feeling every time I go out; like I'm being followed. I mean, besides the cameras around the city and all the people in the streets, it's obvious that others are looking at me, but this feels...different. More intentional. I can't shake it. I felt that way getting rations, too, that someone was drilling me, but I couldn't find anything in the crowd. I'm crazy, I know.” I finish feeding him the soup. “But nothing is how it’s supposed to be, since coming back from Dahn. I feel that none of us are safe anymore. And I know I have a giant target on my back. And so do all the people I love. Because of my actions.” Somehow, in between everything else I’m trying to do, I need to make that right, no matter the cost.

I sigh again and pick up the glass of water and rag. “This is all the water we can spare. We’re at the end of the month and we only just got our new water rights. There’ll be more next week.” I dip the rag in the water and scan his different exposed body parts to see where I should start. I decide to do his other hand and arm. “It's not warm,” I warn, “it's actually kind of cold.”

I wipe the corner of the wet cloth against the back of his hand. When I take the rag away, it doesn't look like I’ve made any difference. I stoop over and squint my eyes in the low light. I can see that the skin is damp, but it still looks dirty. I examine the rag. It's a dark brown. I pinch my face in a disapproving scowl. He's that dirty? That’s disgusting. I sigh a third time and dip the towel back into the glass. I scrub again, and after a few passes, I see the true color of his skin underneath all of that caked dirt.

“You won't be getting your nightly meeting with me tomorrow evening. My best friend Journey is getting Paired, so I'll be busy with that. You did good with dinner today; ate all the soup. I know it doesn't taste like much, but it's all we have. Maybe I can make up something better once our rations are delivered after Ration Day.

“Did I tell you I tried out my Mark yesterday? Well, I did. And nothing happened. It's as if I don't even have one anymore. Like this is just a tattoo. It doesn't stop me from going where I shouldn't. It doesn't even register me with the Gates; and I'm not sure how I feel about that.”

I watch his eyes dart around underneath his thin lids. I pour the rest of the water on the last clean spot of the cloth and start to clean off his fingers. I fan them across the blanket and wipe away at the dirt. I get to the finger next to his pinky and notice an indent near the base that circles the skin. As it gets cleaner, I see it's a lot lighter than the rest of the finger, too.

I rub my thumb back and forth and let it catch on the dip, trying to figure out where it came from. I pull my hand back in surprise. A ring. He used to wear a ring. Papa still wears his.

Gandā was married.

I don't know why it affects me so strongly, but it does. “I know I've said it before, but the feeling has been even stronger, lately. The other morning, Journey and I found him in a side street, and for a minute, he didn't know who we were. He didn't even know our names, he looked so lost and scared. But then, he was fine, as if nothing had happened. It was so strange. And before you say it, no, him hiding whatever it is from me is
not
the same as me keeping my Mark a secret from him.” I prop his head and shoulders up so that I can give him the broth. “I'm keeping this from him because I don't even know what it means yet. There’s no sense in getting him all excited or worried if I don't have an answer of why, yet. If you were awake, you'd understand.”

“I can’t sit here, going through the brainless daily routine that makes up Neech, and pretend like everything is okay with my brother.” I fill the spoon with broth and slowly let it spill between his parted lips. “I need to get inside the Inner City to check on him and see with my own eyes he’s okay. I know I can’t go in there and get him. It would never work.” I feed him another sip of broth, catching a dribble with a cloth as it rolls down his chin. “My Mark doesn’t work the way it used to, it doesn’t keep me out of anywhere, which means I can probably walk through the Main Gate and no one would be the wiser.”

I study his face. He looks kind, thoughtful. I can almost imagine him taking it all in and carefully considering my side. “But using the Main Gate would be suicide. I know Akin knows where I am, and he can come get me whenever he wants, and we have that agreement that I will come and work for him, but I don’t want to risk getting caught making Akin angry.”

I feed him a few more spoonfuls, trying to organize my thoughts. “I think one of the other, smaller Gates into Neech would work best. Once there, I’m familiar enough with the city, I’ll know where to go and where I can hide.”

I sigh and look down at the bowl, it’s already almost gone. I put one hand behind Gandā’s neck and pull him forward a bit, pressing the bowl to his lips and gently tipping it forward. When the contents are gone, I lay him back down and put the bowl on the night stand. I look at him again, and imagine his brow furrowing a bit, not in disagreement or disgust, but in a light shade of concern.

I sit back in my chair. “I know. That’s where my plan gets a little shady. I don’t know where Akin is keeping my brother. It could be at his residence or Corporate Tower. But then again, it could be anywhere. I don’t know what they do with Sponsors or where they keep them. I have a sinking feeling Akin would find me before I even got close to finding Ajna. And there’s no one in Neech that could help me.” I think of D’mitri. “That I can trust,” I add. “No one’s heard from Ella in a while, so it’s safe to assume whatever has happened isn’t good. She was my one chance.”

I sigh again and swallow. “Enough about my problems, for tonight. Thank you for listening. I didn’t think you’d be good for much, but you’re actually really good at this. It’s what I need. Someone to just listen to me, instead of judging and correcting and telling me no.”