Outcasts (2 page)

The answer came a second later. Omar. The new rover. Tayo had
introduced him at Monday’s staff meeting. See? It was okay. He had a right to be here. So … probably not a murderer, then. Right?

“Hey.” Omar crouched and picked up the back of her Wyndo from the floor beside his foot. He held it out, baring thick black SimArt lines that swirled and knotted their way up his left arm. A chain. “Don’t worry. It’s probably not broken. For bits of plastic and glass, they’re pretty sturdy.”

She snatched the back from him and fumbled with the pieces, trying to put the contraption back together. She had the solar pack upside down, so she flipped it over and clicked it into place.

Enforcer 10 was coming. She’d be okay.

“Aren’t you that Kendall girl from the ColorCast?” Omar asked. “The queen? The one who just had the, uh …?” His gaze flicked down to her belly.

“No,” Kendall said, hating that she’d lied. Lawten had made her afraid of everyone. Her legs shook from squatting so long, yet she felt safer crouched against the counter.

She snapped on the back of the Wyndo, but when she tried to power it up, the glass remained dark.
No!

“So, what’s your name, femme?” Omar asked.

She met his gaze then. A risk. But perhaps conversation would distract him until Enforcer 10 arrived. His eyes were slate blue, rimmed in thick, dark lashes. Natural eyes that made her think he might have once been an outsider too. His skin looked healthy — she could see actual pores. No Roller Paint. But he was marked 9X. Weird. Outsiders weren’t usually nines, but they did tend to get an X or two before they figured out how to live here. Especially the men. Maybe he hadn’t been in the Safe Lands long. Maybe he wasn’t like the others.

But maybe he was.

“Why do you want to know my name?” she asked, tempted to look at Chord’s body, wanting to help him in case it wasn’t too late, but wanting to get away even more.

Omar’s lips spread into a slow grin that completely lit up his face. “Okay, never mind. Um …” He ran his fingers through his hair,
creating three thick waves that swooped back over his head. “Have you seen Chord? I was supposed to meet him.”

His words threw the fear back in her face. “You were supposed to meet him?”

“That’s what I said.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Shards of ice slid down her back. If Omar had hurt Chord, would he hurt her too? Kendall couldn’t help it. Her body betrayed her, and she glanced down the aisle to where Chord lay.

Omar followed her gaze and gasped. “Wait, what?” His voice rose in pitch, panicked. “Is that Chord?” He ran down the aisle. “No! Why?” He picked up Chord’s messenger bag, reached inside it. “His messages are gone.” He turned back to Kendall. “What happened? What’d you do?”

He wanted Chord’s messages. The ones Chord said were secret.
“Me?”
Kendall stood, fumbled for her bag, and backed toward the end of the counter. “I didn’t do anything. I just came in to task out for the night and found him there. He said — ”

“He spoke?” Omar walked toward her, his eyes bearing down, intense.

Kendall turned and ran around the end of the counter.

“Whoa! Hold on!” Chord’s bag clutched in hand, Omar jumped against the counter and slid his legs over the top, landing on the other side and cutting off Kendall’s exit. He was standing so close she could smell the hint of metallic mint on his breath. He was a user.

She wanted to scream but had no lungs or legs or breath at all.

“What did he say?” Omar asked. “Did he say anything about his messages?”

Kendall shook her head, almost a tremble, back and forth, back and forth. Chord had said to tell no one about the messages. And if Omar had killed Chord, he would kill her too. She tried to walk around him, but he stepped to the side, blocking her way.

Where was Enforcer 10?
Hurry!

“Please.” Omar dropped Chord’s bag on the floor and grabbed her shoulders. “It’s important.”

Beastly hands squeezing … Kendall screamed.

Omar quickly let go, swallowed, and held up his hands, palms facing her. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to know what he said.”

Lies. Lies. Her voice came in a rush, sounding like someone else. “All he said was, ‘Help me,’ so I tapped Enforcer 10.”
Can I go now? Please let me go. Need to walk. Need to run.

Omar closed his eyes and exhaled a breath that took four inches off his height. That stopped Kendall, confused her. He wasn’t exactly acting like a killer. And the mention of Enforcer 10 being on the way didn’t seem to alarm him. But why had he been going to meet Chord here? And why did he seem to be looking for the messages?

The sound of a siren grew in the distance — finally! — giving strength to her legs. Kendall darted past Omar, but he caught hold of her messenger bag and looked inside it, deflating again when he found it empty.

Kendall snatched it back and walked toward the door, holding her wrist against her hip to keep Chord’s messages from sliding past her waistband. She stepped outside just as Enforcer 10 arrived.

The enforcers questioned Kendall and Omar, scanned their bodies for blood residue — finding it only on their shoes — then released them. The process took so long that Kendall had mostly calmed down by the end, though she kept Omar in sight. He hadn’t hurt her, but he still could.

She tried to slip away, but a familiar voice called her name. “Kendall! Come say hay-o, you sweet femmy.”

It was Luella Flynn, the ColorCast co-host and most famous face in the Safe Lands, waving her signature handheld microphone like a flag, her silver hair shining brightly under the streetlamps. Kendall groaned but knew if she ignored Luella now, the woman would simply invite herself to Kendall’s apartment later. Might as well get it over with.

Kendall walked up to Luella and Alb, the cameraman who was Luella’s shadow. Luella looked stellar, as always. Tonight she wore a purple-and-yellow houndstooth jumper over a silver bodysuit. She’d
been wearing the tinsel weave in her hair for a few weeks now. Silver: a trend that had lingered longer than the celebrity usually allowed. Half the Safe Lands had been dressed in silver since Lonn’s liberation four weeks ago. Maybe the purple and yellow was a sign that the fashions were about to get brighter.

Luella kissed both Kendall’s cheeks and then spoke into her microphone. “Kendall Collin, our former queen, can you tell us what’s happened here tonight?”

“I don’t know if I’m allowed. The enforcers didn’t say.”

“You can tell me, femmy. Lawten okays everything I record before it’s broadcasted, so no need to worry.”

Lawten.
The man was on a first-name basis with far too many women.

“I understand a man was murdered tonight?” Luella said, eyes shining as if death was thrilling. “Chord Prezden? And you called Enforcer 10.”

“Well, I don’t know if he was murdered. But he is dead.” Though if Luella knew that Chord was dead, she knew all that Kendall knew — except for the messages tucked into the waistband of Kendall’s shorts.

“Did you witness the murder?” Luella asked.

“No,” Kendall said. “I had just finished my shift and found him when I went to task out. There was no sign of any attacker.”

“Can you describe how he looked for the Safe Lands viewers? How was he killed? Did he suffer?”

“I …” Chord’s dying body flashed back to her mind, helpless, bleeding.

“We really didn’t see much of anything, Miss Flynn,” a soft voice said.

Kendall looked just behind her. Omar stood there, his attention focused wholly on Luella Flynn. Where had he come from? And what did he want? Did he suspect she had the messages?

Luella’s eyes narrowed. “And you are …?”

“Omar Strong. I’m the new rover. I came by just after Kendall
called Enforcer 10. Chord and I had plans for tonight. We were supposed to meet here and then go to Dreamland. Have you ever been?”

Luella pressed her hand over her chest, displaying her purple-and-silver-striped fingernails. “I adore Dreamland Disco. Most turbulent music in the Midlands.” Then she smiled and set her hand on her hip. “And you’re a clever raven to change the subject. How’d you get your X, Mr. Strong? Don’t bother lying, either. I can look it up.”

“Look it up then,” Omar said. “Pleasure meeting you, Miss Flynn. Sorry we couldn’t be more helpful. Kendall? Are you ready to go?”

His question took Kendall off guard, as did the way he held out his hand like they were a pair. Pairing up was all Safe Lands men ever wanted. “Um …” She
did
want to get away from the microphone and the woman holding it, but she didn’t want to give Omar the wrong idea. She stepped beside him and glanced at Luella, who watched them with raised brows.

Omar took hold of her hand anyway. His palm was rough, like he tasked outdoors. She wanted to let go, embarrassed to touch a stranger in such a familiar way, but she didn’t want Luella to ask any more questions.

“Good night,” Omar said, pulling Kendall away from the camera.

“Maybe I’ll see the two of you at Dreamland,” Luella called after them.

“Maybe,” Omar said, without looking back.

But Kendall looked back at Luella three times as they walked away, worried that the woman would follow them, see they weren’t really together, ask more questions. Then she changed fears and hoped Luella would come so Kendall wouldn’t be alone with Omar. But finally Luella waved her microphone at one of the enforcers and stepped into the crowd, Alb on her heels. Gone.

Kendall pulled her hand from Omar’s grip, and they continued walking side by side, though Kendall’s senses were on alert. It was only another few yards to the corner where she could wave a cab and get away from Omar. “You’re asking for trouble, playing games with Luella Flynn.”

Omar shrugged one shoulder. “You looked like you wanted to escape. I was trying to help.”

She
had
wanted to get away from Luella. “But the way you cut her off and didn’t answer her question about your X … You don’t want her as an enemy.”

He shoved his hands into his front shorts pockets. “Aw, she doesn’t scare me.”

Fool of a man. “She should. Luella Flynn is the most powerful woman in the Safe Lands.”

Those bright eyes of his met hers again. “Why’d you say you weren’t Kendall Collin?”

She didn’t owe him any explanations. “How
did
you get your X?” Murdering someone, perhaps?

His smile lit up his face and eyes, making him look even younger. She wanted to ask how old he was but doubted she’d get the truth.

Omar stopped walking and turned to face her, hands still stuffed into his pockets. “Can I walk you home, Kendall?”

It could have been a line from one of the Old movies Kendall had seen as a child. Men didn’t say such things in the Safe Lands. “No, thank you.”

Omar pulled his hands from his pockets and stepped toward the curb. “Let me wave you a cab, then. I don’t like the idea of you walking alone with a murderer on the loose.”

Again with the chivalry. How could she know whether or not it was an act? He had a macho way about him, though he wasn’t much taller than she was. He had some muscle on his arms as well, but if she wasn’t recovering from childbirth, she’d bet she could run faster than he could. “I like walking. It’s why I task for the messenger office.”

“Okay.” He pocketed his hands again. “Well, good night, Kendall. Be careful.” He flashed one last wide smile and walked off down the sidewalk.

What a weird man. Boy. Guy. She forced herself to stop watching him and waved a cab. Sure, she preferred to walk, but Omar had made a good point. No need to tempt a murderer.

Not until she was safe in her apartment with the door locked did she remove the messages from the waistband of her shorts. She carried them to her kitchen table and spread them on the glass surface.

There were four white envelopes addressed to Dane Skott, Ruston Neil, Domini Bentz, and Charlz Sims. None had a grid code or return address. Three were private residences, and the fourth was an MO Box from her own branch.

She didn’t recognize any of the names. But Kendall had lived in the Safe Lands only a few months before she’d gotten pregnant and been sent to the harem, so she’d never met many people outside the messenger office. Chord had always been kind, had never tried to pair up with her. He’d been a real friend. Kind and authentic. And if delivering these messages was his dying wish, Kendall would make it happen, murderer or not.

D
efying any government was a dangerous game. And while Safe Lands enforcers considered rebellion an X-able offense, the acts that inspired rebellion were far greater crimes, in Mason’s opinion. Crimes against humanity and liberty. Crimes of manipulation and terror.

Ciddah would likely disagree.

Mason pushed the beautiful woman from his thoughts and entered the train station. Zane had told him to find locker 127. The lockers were located outside the gate, and he found number 127 easily and tapped onto the pad the code Zane had given him.

The locker clicked open. Inside, Mason found a small metal box. He opened the lid and removed a pair of black gloves that supposedly held a generic SimTag in the right hand. The metal box had somehow concealed the SimTag’s location, which would now appear on the grid.

Ever since rebels had cut the official SimTag from Mason’s hand, he had to choose whether or not to carry it with him. Today he’d left it in his apartment, hoping those monitoring him might think he was watching the ColorCast or sleeping. But he couldn’t pass through the
gate from the Highlands to the Midlands without a SimTag of some kind, hence these gloves.

He pulled them on and shut the locker, then walked to the Midlands turnstile and tapped his right fist — his right
glove
— on the SimPad. The turnstile light turned green, and Mason walked through.

Of all the remnant of Glenrock, only he, Mia, and Mia’s mother, Jennifer, still resided in the Highlands. The others were now in hiding in the Midlands under the protection of the Black Army rebels. Except Omar, who had a Midlands apartment.

Mason took the train to the Belleview station and got off. He found locker 127 in that train station and deposited the gloves into the metal box inside. Now, without a SimTag on his person, he should be invisible to enforcers monitoring the grid. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t being followed.