Outcasts Page 13

  Hunger panged in his stomach. He checked his Wyndo and saw it was 12:36. Time for lunch. He’d forgotten how stimulating conversation with Ciddah could be. He’d also gotten off course with his rowing and had to steer them back toward the island.

  Mason got out first, secured the craft, then helped Ciddah out. They left their life jackets in the boat. He took hold of her hand and led her down a winding path that entered a forested area. Ahead, on the side of the path, a small crowd of people was clustered around a bronze statue of a man and a woman wrapped in a loving embrace. The man was kissing the woman’s neck, and the woman’s head was thrown back, her face frozen in laughter.

  “What does this sculpture represent?” Mason asked Ciddah.

  “It’s the Champion Memorial.” And at his blank stare, Ciddah continued. “Loca and Liberté Champion founded the Safe Lands in the aftermath of the Great Pandemic.”

  Ah, yes. Papa Eli had spoken of this pair. They were not heroes in Glenrock history, but hedonistic megalomaniacs. Strange that the Safe Lands and Glenrock cultures each deemed the other in such negative light.

  The crowd moved on, and Mason stepped closer so he could read the words inscribed under the couple’s feet. “ ‘Find pleasure in life.’ The task director said that to me.”

  “It’s the motto of the Safe Lands,” Ciddah said. “Loca and Liberté wanted to create a place where people were free to enjoy themselves, where cost wasn’t a factor.”

  “Yet the pursuit of such pleasure cost the people everything,” Mason said, “the thin plague being a blood-borne virus.”

  Ciddah’s posture stiffened. “Mason, you don’t understand. Everyone was already infected. Because of the Great Pandemic.”

  “Is that what they teach in your boarding school? Ciddah, my great-grandfather met Loca and Liberté Champion. And when he saw how carelessly they treated the virus, he and his friends fled this place. That’s why my people aren’t infected and yours are. The blood-borne strain came after the ‘Safe Lands’ were founded, not before.”

  Ciddah didn’t answer, so Mason looked at her. She was staring at him, tears in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I broke my rule and argued.”

  She sniffled and brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. “You like to be right.”

  He looked back to the statue. “I’m always happy to be proven wrong.”

  But Ciddah made no comment.

  They left the statue and continued through the forest until Mason found a flat, grassy spot under a tree. “This will do.” He removed his backpack and unzipped it.

  “Will do for what?”

  “For lunch.” Mason removed a blanket and spread it over the grass, then set out the meal he’d packed, which consisted of a chicken salad sandwich for Ciddah, a peanut butter and jelly one for him, potato flakes, apple wedges, and cupcakes from BabyKakes. “One spice cake and one chocolate.”

  Ciddah groaned but smiled. “Did you make these sandwiches?”

  “I bought them at the G.I.N. store.”

  They enjoyed their meal, and Mason was careful to keep the topics away from anything controversial. He asked her what it was like to be raised in the boarding school, but she had little to say on that subject. Did she suspect him of trying to gather information to free the children?

  After lunch, they rowed back to the boat rental return, then got on the train headed west.

  “You realize we live the other way?” Ciddah said. “Don’t tell me. It’s another surprise.”

  “The day is not over yet.”

  It was only one stop to the second location on Mason’s agenda. They got off the train and walked two blocks until they stood outside what looked like a huge warehouse.

  “Virtual Floors?” Ciddah said. “Is it a home décor store?”

  “It’s a museum,” Mason said, pleased that she’d never been there. He held the door open for her, then took hold of her hand again when he joined her inside a small room.

  A man stood at a counter, and Mason paid the entry fees.

  “Welcome to Virtual Floors,” the man said after they both tapped in their SimTags, “a journey into your imagination. Each chamber will transport you to a different place in time, from the heights of City Hall, to the depths of Calamity Cliffs. Stepping on and touching the floors is encouraged. You cannot ruin the art. Press your SimTag to each door and it will open only when the next chamber is empty, allowing you a private experience for each room. Your tour begins through those doors, but beware of the beasts that lurk in the waters. They aren’t often fed, and may find you quite appetizing.”

  Ciddah’s eyes lit up, and she smiled at Mason.

  “Let’s go in,” he said, pressing his fist to the pad beside the door to the first chamber. It opened right away. Ciddah took hold of his hand again and they walked through the door.

  Inside, the room felt damp and smelled of hay and mildew. It looked like the outside of one of Jemma’s fairy tale castles. Walls of stone and ivy were in fact only painted to look that way. A three-dimensional image of a drawbridge was down and passed over a moat that was filled with crocodiles with teeth as long as Mason’s hand. The reptiles seemed to be snapping at their heels. It looked so realistic that Mason jumped.

  “It’s wonderful!” Ciddah said.

  Mason slid his shoe back and forth over the edge of the drawbridge and the crocodile’s teeth. It was completely flat. He bumped Ciddah’s side, knocking her onto the painted water. “Look out!”

  She laughed and pulled him with her. Mason jumped onto a crocodile’s head and pretended he was trying to keep his balance. Ciddah pulled his hand again and stepped onto the blue water.

  “You got eaten,” she said.

  “Well, you’re drowning.” He motioned to her feet. “Omar would love this place.”

  “Your brother?”

  “The younger. Omar’s an artist. He paints and draws everything.”

  “Do you miss him?”

  The question gave him pause, and he realized that from Ciddah’s view, Omar had gone into hiding last month as a rebel. “I miss the way things were when we were younger. Levi’s relationship with Jemma turned everything into a competition with Omar. Ever since, things have been difficult.”

  The second chamber was a forest. It smelled of pine and wildflowers. A raging, three-dimensional river rapids stretched diagonally across the floor. An inflated yellow raft had been painted just above a waterfall, and Mason and Ciddah sat cross-legged on the painting of the boat.

  Ciddah giggled and lifted her hands. “We’re going to go over the edge!” She pretended to slip out of the boat, but Mason grabbed her waist, and she fell across his lap on her back.

  “You saved my life,” she said, staring up at him.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, making sure to count to five before looking away.

  The next room was an aerial view of the buildings in the Highlands with the walls painted to match the surrounding view — even the ceiling was blue and filled with clouds. A soft breeze wafted through the room, and Mason could smell metal and tires and a hint of popcorn.

  He stood on top of City Hall and looked toward the forest that once had been Glenrock. It was nothing but trees. The experience chilled him. “How do they make the smells?”

  “I don’t know,” Ciddah said,” but I think it’s wonderful.”

  Some of the other chambers they passed through were a cathedral, a cavern with a rope bridge, a room where the floor was crumbling underfoot, one where monsters were crawling up from a fiery lava pit and trying to grab their ankles, a nightclub, and a burning building. Each one seemed tangible and incorporated smells and appropriate temperatures, which Mason found absolutely brilliant.

  By the time they finished the museum, it was 5:26 p.m.

  “Are you hungry?” Mason asked, taking her hand as they left Virtual Floors.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  They took the train back to the heart of the Highl
ands. According to the grid, Below Zero was a restaurant bar made of ice. Mason had thought it would be a nice touch after Virtual Floors, but now he wondered if it would only be more of the same.

  But when Ciddah saw the sign, she squealed. “I’ve always wanted to come here!”

  “Why haven’t you?” Mason asked.

  “They don’t allow minors, and once I started working, I never had time.”

  They stepped inside the restaurant, and an instant chill clapped onto Mason’s arms. The place was small, no bigger than the front half of his apartment. The blue and white walls glowed brightly, coated in real ice and frost. A bar chiseled from ice stretched down one side of the room and maybe a dozen people on barstools sat there, draped in animal pelts. Mason quickly counted eight booths made of ice on the opposite wall.

  A woman approached them. She wore a bright blue fur coat that made her look huge, though her face was slender. “Name?” she asked them.

  “Mason Elias,” Mason said, glad he’d made a reservation.

  The woman left and returned with two fur coats. Mason was given a black one, Ciddah a white one. The woman in blue also gave them matching fur caps. They helped each other put them on, laughing at how silly it all seemed.

  The hostess seated them in a small booth with a view of a man chiseling a statue from a block of ice in the middle of the room. Mason ran his finger over the table, then the bench. Both were made of real ice. Fascinating.

  Mason ordered a zucchini grinder sandwich. Ciddah ordered a polar bear burger, which the waitress said was beef, not bear. When the food came, Mason’s sandwich was a long white bread roll, sliced horizontally and stuffed with chunks of baked zucchini, red and yellow peppers, marinara sauce, and melted white cheese. Ciddah’s was a stack of three chubby, square patties topped with a square bun. It reminded Mason of City Hall.

  “How am I supposed to eat this?” Ciddah asked.

  Mason fought back a laugh. “One bite at a time?”

  They ate and watched the sculptor chisel away at the ice, which slowly took the shape of a woman riding a bird.

  “That’s from a movie,” Ciddah said. “Gogo Magie. It’s the story of a girl who finds magic in everything she touches and uses it for all kinds of frivolous reasons, yet when a boy she loves is injured, and she tries to use the magic to heal him, she discovers that the magic had been flowing out of her all along, not in. And now she’s empty. She wasted her magic in pursuit of her own pleasure, and the boy suffered a premature liberation.”

  “That’s a Safe Lands story?” It seemed to speak to discipline, rather than the pursuit of pleasure.

  “It’s a cautionary tale to remind us that each individual is sacred, as is each life,” Ciddah said. “It reminds us that we come into this earth with great potential, and we should give pleasure to each other in each life, not simply live to please ourselves.”

  Intriguing. But Mason wanted to point out that had the girl used her magic on others, she still might not have had any left to heal the boy. The only way for her to have had magic available for the boy was if she had hoarded it all her life, which was also selfish. But he’d agreed not to argue, so he remained silent.

  When they finished their meal, they returned the fur coats and hats and walked outside. A gust of warmth surprised Mason. The sun had not set fully yet. “It was quite cold in there,” he said, taking Ciddah’s hand.

  She smiled at him, so he held her gaze and counted to five. Six … seven … eight … nine … lost again in her eyes.

  “What?” she asked, her lips curving into a smile.

  He shook his head and led her down the sidewalk. Below Zero was close enough to their apartment building that they were able to walk home. Mason told Ciddah one of his favorite childhood stories on the walk. It was the story of how the tortoise beat the hare in a race.

  “I’m a lot like the tortoise,” he said. “I might not be the fastest or strongest, but I’m persistent and smart. It helps me remember that size or speed isn’t everything and that defeating the stronger adversary is possible.” Like Otley or Lawten or the thin plague or, when he was younger, Levi.

  “I like that story,” Ciddah said. “I think I’m a tortoise too.”

  They reached the Westwall and rode the elevator to the third floor.

  At the door to Ciddah’s apartment, she turned to face him and bounced on her tiptoes. “I had a great time today, Mason.”

  So had he. And he’d learned nothing about the boarding school. Figured.

  “Do you want to come in?” She looked hopeful, waiting for his response.

  Did he? Mason stared at her. He did. But also … he didn’t.

  Ciddah leaned against the wall beside her door. “Mason, you’ve been sending me signals all day.”

  “Have I?” Of course he had. He’d done everything Jemma and Zane had suggested. He might not have understood why those things had pleased her, but he could see that they had.

  Ciddah eyelashes fluttered. “I like you very much, Mason. And I think you like me too. I know you’re uncomfortable with the way things are done here, but I imagine that even in Glenrock it would have been unfair to flirt with someone if you didn’t intend to see that person again.”

  He’d flirted? To be honest, he hadn’t expected any of it to work. And Zane had said to wait until Tuesday to arrange a second outing. Since Zane’s advice had worked so far, it seemed wise to stick with it. “But I’ll see you in the lobby. And when I return to the SC to task, I’ll see you — ”

  “I want you to kiss me,” she said.

  Oh. He started tapping his leg as his mind raced, looking for escape. “Some scientists of Old hypothesized that the practice of kissing originated from animal feeding rituals when a mother masticated food, then passed it to her offspring by mouth.”

  Ciddah blinked and tilted her head to the side. “Mason, I want a kiss, not your regurgitated sandwich.”

  “Sorry.” His stomach clenched, and he looked at the floor. Nothing to do now but kiss the girl and hope she found it satisfactory. Or he could just run for it.

  He didn’t want to run, though. He liked Ciddah very much. She was perfect — except for being the enemy, of course, and for her views on procreation, and the fact that she had the plague. And he should likely weigh her dishonesty more heavily against her as well. And her friendship with Lawten.

  Why did she have to be the enemy?

  He looked up and found her staring, and in her gaze, he lost his train of thought. Such a lovely girl. Smart too. It would hurt when she betrayed him again. It seemed almost as if she’d taken his heart from him already. Put it in a box. He felt fragile and empty at the very idea of walking away and never seeing her again.

  He couldn’t.

  For Levi, right? For Glenrock? A little pain was worth the cause of freedom for his people. Even if it bound him to this woman.

  He inched forward, and the soles of his shoes scratched over the carpeted floor. Should he do something with his arms? In Old movies men were always grabbing a woman’s face or waist or pushing them up against a wall.

  Mason reached out and took hold of her hands, threaded his fingers with hers. He dove toward her lips, but their noses struck. Ciddah turned her head, but Mason pulled back. “Sorry.”

  Ciddah tugged on his hands. “You’ve never kissed anyone, have you?”

  Mason’s cheeks burned. “I have.” Though Eliza had instigated the act. Apparently there was more to instigation than he had surmised. Flustered, his hands began to tremble. He tried to pull them free.

  But Ciddah held tight. “Why don’t you try again?”

  Try again? When he’d rather go home and avoid Ciddah for the rest of his life?

  But he couldn’t very well do that, not after all the work he’d put into today. And he couldn’t stand outside her door any longer, either.

  Twelve. He’d been twelve the last time Eliza had kissed him, and he felt twelve all over again. He hadn’t anticipated kissing Ciddah, or he
would have researched the topic on the grid.

  Mason leaned toward her, slowly, hands still trembling. She turned her head a little and closed her eyes. Mason waited until he was certain of his aim before closing his eyes.

  Their lips met. His were stiff and puckered, hers soft. She released his hands, and hers slid around his neck, pulling him closer. The space between them seemed to disintegrate. While Mason was awkward, Ciddah was confident. And just as hormones flooded his bloodstream, creating a sense of euphoria, Ciddah pulled away, leaving Mason winded and wanting.

  She smiled, resplendent, and set her fist against the door pad, never breaking eye contact. “Good night, Mason.”

  He released a quivering breath. “Good night.”

  She went inside and closed the door, abandoning Mason to the hallway. He stood there, still stunned by the effect she’d had on him. He’d thought he was going to lure Ciddah into his trap, but somehow things had gotten completely turned around.

  CHAPTER

  10

  Levi rode with Zane in a black bullet truck through the Midlands. It was Saturday, after lunchtime. Levi had been up since 4:30 a.m., which was the only way to get a ride from the cabin if he needed to visit the city in the daytime.

  The electrified gauges on the windshield and the silence of the engine still amazed him, but his thoughts dwelled on Beshup from Jack’s Peak. Zane had confirmed that Beshup was in the Safe Lands and tasking in the Midlands. If Chief Kimama had heeded Levi’s warning and helped him back when he’d asked, things might be different now. But there was no point in saying “I told you so” since they were all in this prison now. They may as well work together — if Beshup would agree.

  Zane took Gothic Road to Outrun. Once they passed 4th, warehouses ran all along both sides of Outrun. Zane pulled into a parking lot outside a long building labeled Leather Works Design.