Outcasts (13 page)

“Because it’s … weird. It’s no fun anymore.”

She narrowed her eyes, as if getting angry might actually change his mind. “You’re such a liar, Omar. You can’t tell me you’re not having fun when we’re together.”

“I’m not. Seriously. It’s too … crazy.”

Which instantly seemed the wrong choice of words.

“I’m
not
crazy!”

Omar inched to the side.

“What? You’re afraid of me? Is that it?” She lunged toward him, and he flinched, which made her cackle. “I can’t believe you’re afraid of me.” But then her bottom lip trembled and tears welled. She blinked, clearing two heavy streams of tears from her eyes. “You want someone else?”

“No. It’s not that.” Though he guessed it really was …

“Then what, Omar? What is it?”

“I just … I don’t know.” He again recalled the word Zane had taught him. “It’s just too gummy. I want some space.”

She stepped close to him. “You didn’t want space when I first met you.”

He stepped back. “Well, I want it now.”

“You’re dim!” Red pounded her fist against Omar’s chest. Once. Twice. “You stupid shell!” Then both fists, alternating, nonstop. He stood still, taking her abuse, wishing she’d stop. Otley might hear.

Why did he keep thinking about Otley?

“I hate you!” Red went to the front door, picked up a dumbbell, and came back to the kitchen. She lunged past him and heaved the weight at his easel, knocking it over, sending the old Night Owl marquee and his tray of paints skidding across the hardwood floor. The dumbbell thudded against the floor. Bottles and tubes bounced and rolled. Red kicked over the stool, then spun around, glaring.

Omar’s lips parted to speak, but he supposed she really wasn’t hurting anything. Let her get her anger out and be done with it. But then she ran toward his stack of canvasses and grabbed his painting of the owl’s shadow on the street.

“Red, don’t. Calm down.”

“Calm down?”
She held the painting before her as if trying a new outfit. Then she slammed the canvas against her bent knee, ripping a hole through the center.

“Hey!” Omar grasped for her arm, but she slipped away and seized another canvas, this one of Jemma.

“No! Come on, stop.”

“You like this one, don’t you, you pathetic little boy?” Red held it up and punched her fist through Jemma’s face.

Omar lunged toward her and grabbed her arms, squeezing hard.

She screamed. “Let go of me!”

“When you calm down.”

“You going to beat me up, tough boy? That what you’re going to do? You want to fight?”

Omar released her at once. “Of course not. Just stop wrecking my stuff.”

“ ‘Of course not. Just stop wrecking my stuff,’ “ she mimicked.

“Oh, very mature.”

“So I’m crazy
and
immature?”

“I didn’t say that.”

She turned and ran into his living room, pulling over a floor lamp as she passed by. It crashed on the floor, and bits of glass shot across hard wood.

“Red! Come on, quit it.”

Omar followed her through the living room. She shoved a chair over, knocked over an end table, and pulled the cushions off his couch and threw them at him. When she picked up the floor lamp and ran toward his Wyndo wall screen, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back.

She bucked against him, dropped the lamp, and dug her fingernails along his arms and his left cheek, then bashed the back of her head against his face. His lip split on his own teeth, and salty blood filled his mouth.

He pulled her to the floor. They lay on their left sides, Omar holding Red’s back against his front. Her body trembled, her shallow gasps proof that she’d let her anger morph into tears.

Red’s behavior made no sense. Why would she care if they broke up? She had lots of guys. Said she liked it that way. But he didn’t know what question he might possibly ask to understand her, so he remained on the floor on his side, sucking on his bloody lip and holding this shattered human being.

Another life he’d help ruin.

A
re you sure you’re okay?” Jemma asked, sitting on the end of Shaylinn’s bed. “He didn’t hurt you?”

Shaylinn sat up and leaned against the wall. Her eyes stung from the early hour. If Levi and Aunt Mary and Jemma weren’t awake now, she might have thought Omar’s visit had been a dream. “No, I told you. He just wanted the wetsuit.”

“He wanted to go swimming in the middle of the night?”

“I don’t know,” Shaylinn said. “It was scary. His eyes were all red. And he was saying such weird things.”

“Levi thinks it was because of his vaporizer,” Jemma said. “Like being drunk.”

“I suppose.” Why did Omar have to be so stupid? And if he’d been drunk, he likely hadn’t meant it when he’d said she was beautifully pretty.

“Honey, I’m sorry.” Jemma patted Shaylinn’s leg through the blanket. “You know, I need to tell you something. Mason came to see us last night after you were in bed. Before Omar’s … visit. It’s about Omar, though.”

Shaylinn already knew he was dying. She’d heard Levi and Chipeta talking about it. “It takes a while to die from the thin plague, doesn’t it?

“Oh, Shay, not that.” Jemma wrung her hands.

“Stop it.” Shaylinn leaned forward and grabbed her sister’s arm, pulling her hands apart. “You’re frightening me.”

Jemma looked up, frowning. “It’s just that … you asked Mason to find out who the donor was, for your pregnancy. Well, he found out two things, Shay. You’re carrying twins, and they’re Omar’s.”

Shaylinn’s body tingled all over. Omar’s twins … “You’re sure?”

“Mason said so. I guess Omar was the only one from Glenrock who complied with the Safe Lands demands on the men. Plus his Safe Lands ID number was listed in your medical record for the … whatever they call it. The procedure.”

Tears blurred Shaylinn’s vision. It was as if God had taken everything she’d ever wanted and twisted it into a knot. Could such a mess be untangled? But then she recalled her dream. The children blowing dandelion clocks. The faceless husband. Could he have been Omar?

Jemma hugged Shaylinn then, pulling her back to the present. She hadn’t realized she was shaking until she felt her body trembling against her sister’s. “Does he know?”

“Not yet.”

Shaylinn pulled out of the hug. “Does Jordan know?”

Jemma winced, as if there was no right way to deal with this whole mess. “Levi wants to tell Omar first, then he’ll tell the others. Right now, only you, me, Levi, and Mason know.”

Shaylinn was thankful. She could only imagine what Jordan might do to Omar. “If Omar’s drunk or whatever, what if he doesn’t show up? It’s only an hour until three now.”

“Levi went to look for him. He’ll bring him back.”

But would he be in any state to help them move? And if Levi told him about the babies, would he even remember in the morning? And if he did, what would he say? What would he do? Nausea raged in Shaylinn’s stomach, and she pressed her hand over it, hoping the pressure might calm it.

“Might as well pack now, since we’re all up. Can I help you?” Jemma asked.

“No, I’ll manage.”

Shaylinn had few belongings anyway. As she folded the last of her clothes and tucked them inside her pillowcase, someone knocked on her door.

“Come in.”

The door swung in, and Omar stood there holding a cardboard food box in one hand. His hair was flat, hanging down over his forehead like he’d showered recently but hadn’t bothered to brush it. He was wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and jeans. He smelled like minty wood and fried eggs.

Shaylinn’s eyes swelled so wide the air tickled them, and she blinked to stop the strange feeling. The smell of eggs turned her stomach. “Did you talk to Levi?” she asked.

“About what?” He gave her a small smile. A nervous smile. The whites of his eyes were red, but he looked calm, sober, and a little curious.

He didn’t know. Should she tell him herself? But she couldn’t! How could anyone deliver such news? She wanted to crawl into bed and sleep, maybe cry.

“I, uh … wanted to apologize for last night, um … I mean, a few hours ago,” Omar said, scratching his finger over the top of the cardboard box. “I don’t remember much, but I know I came here and woke you up.”

Shaylinn hugged her pillowcase. “You scared me.” And how was he even awake right now? Shouldn’t he be passed out?

He hung his head. “I’m so sorry, Shay.” He looked up, his eyes pleading. “I’d never hurt you. I swear.”

“I wasn’t afraid for me. I was afraid for you.”

“Oh, well, I’m fine now.” He smirked. “No more cocktails for me.”

Whatever a cocktail was. “That’s good.”

“I brought you some breakfast.” He handed her the cardboard box, and the eggy smell attacked and made her stomach churn.

She backed away, shaking her head. “The smell.”

“You think it smells bad?” He lifted the box and sniffed it, and the movement sent another wave of odor to Shaylinn.

She pushed past him and ran to the bathroom, embarrassed that her stomach had ruined his thoughtful gift.

When she returned, she found Zane, Jordan, and Naomi waiting at the bunker door. Levi and Jemma were standing just inside the entrance to the main room, arguing in low voices. Aunt Mary, Chipeta, and Eliza were standing in front of Levi and Jemma’s room.

Shaylinn went into her bedroom and grabbed her pillowcase. She stepped back into the corridor. “Where’s Omar?”

“He took the eggs into the kitchen,” Naomi said. “Levi’s going to eat them.”

“I’m here.” Omar squeezed past Jemma and Levi at the door to the main room, which only increased the urgency of their whispers. When he reached Shaylinn, he rolled his eyes. “Married people, huh?” He darted a glance at Jordan and Naomi and waggled his eyebrows. “Hey, I’m sorry about the eggs, Shay. What
can
you eat?”

“Breads are the only thing I can keep down lately,” she said. “Meats and eggs — I can’t even stand the smell.” But Omar’s minty wood smell was nice now that he’d gotten rid of the eggs.

“Sounds mad annoying. Can I carry your, uh, pillowcase?” He smiled that smile that lit up his face, took the fat pillowcase from her hands, and swung it over his shoulder.

“Thank you.” Her cheeks burned, and she hoped she wasn’t blushing.

“You follow Shay, Omar,” Jordan said. “Make sure she doesn’t fall. I’ll be right behind you, so don’t mess up.”

“I got it,” Omar said.

Shaylinn grimaced and stared at the floor. Goodness. Why did her brother always make everything more awkward than it already was?

Finally, Levi and Jemma walked toward them.

Levi stared at Omar, then Shaylinn, and the intensity of his gaze tempted her to run to the bathroom again. “Tap me when you get there,” Levi said to Jordan.

“You’re not coming?” Shaylinn asked.

“I have a meeting with Bender,” Levi said. “Zane says if I go with you right now, I won’t be back in time.”

“Why meet him at all?” Omar asked.

Levi glanced at Jemma. “That’s what my wife said. I think it’s best to maintain peace with Bender until I’m certain you all are safely moved. If I don’t meet him this morning and he comes looking … It’s not worth the risk.”

Which left no time for Levi to tell Omar he was going to be a father. How very awkward. Maybe Shaylinn should try to tell Omar, though she couldn’t begin to think of what she might say.

Levi kissed Jemma good-bye, then Zane led the eight of them out of the bunker and into the dark storm drains. It was just after three in the morning, so the only light came from the Wyndos they carried, Zane and Jordan’s flashlights, or distant lamplight shining through the occasional grid overhead.

They moved very slowly. Zane in the lead, followed by Eliza and Jemma, who kept turning around to check on Aunt Mary. Then Chipeta, who was carrying Aunt Mary’s things. Then Shaylinn, followed by Omar, Naomi, and finally Jordan.

Shaylinn held her Wyndo in one hand and kept her feet on the sides of the pipe, one foot on each side of the water, which was only a few inches deep in the center. Thankfully it had been a while since it had rained. Aunt Mary kept one hand pressed against the tunnel wall and slogged through the water.

“How long will this take us?” Jemma asked.

“It’s about an hour to Prospect Drive,” Zane said. “There I’ve got a friend with a van, and I’ll drive you the rest of the way.”

“What friend?” Jordan asked.

“He’s safe,” Zane said. “His name is Nash. He and I go back about as far as two people can, okay?”

“Nash, who lives in the Mountaineer?” Omar asked.

“That’s right,” Zane said. “Why?”

“I met him once, that’s all,” Omar said.

“Fine. Remember that we need to be quiet,” Zane said. “Enforcers have been exploring the storm drains, and we don’t want to be overheard.”

Zane led them through the storm drains all morning. Omar stayed behind Shaylinn the entire way, which made her neck prickle. They barely spoke, just walked. Shaylinn’s racing thoughts made the silence worse. Plus it was stuffy, and she almost threw up twice when strange smells overwhelmed her.

They came out of the tunnel in the basement of a small house. Zane took them upstairs and let them rest and take turns in the bathroom, then they all went into the garage and got into the back of a white van. Jordan and Zane shut them in. They never met Nash.

The back of the van had no windows. It seemed almost darker than the storm drains had been. The engine started, and the vehicle rolled out onto the road. Shaylinn’s emotions got the better of her, and she started to cry. Hormones, anyway …

“Hey, Shay.” A gust of minty wood rolled over her, and she felt a body slide up against her side. Omar’s fingertips grazed her leg, her elbow, and then trailed down her arm to her hand. He took hold of it and squeezed. “This is nice, huh? Who needs to see?”

The feel of his hand in hers rendered her speechless for a few seconds. “You do,” she finally said. “To see colors.”

“Aw, I’ve got them all in my mind. But you’re right. Colors are good. Real good. You know what else is kind of good?”

“Smells? Not eggs, of course. But flowers. And mint.” And wood.