Outpost (Razorland 2)

The light trickled from the day, dimming to black, and then the stars winked into sight. Once, I had thought they were torches that belonged to winged people who lived in a city high above, but Mrs. James had taught me otherwise. Sometimes truth pared away the magic. Darkness would soon prevent us from moving farther, but then—I drew up short. We didn’t need the trail anymore.

I knew where they had taken him.

The Freak encampment surpassed anything I’d seen or imagined, a horde capable of conquering not only Salvation but every human settlement. It had to be a thousand strong; fires blazed into the night—doubtless stolen from our outpost—smoky signals announcing their presence without fear, for who would challenge them? Stalker grabbed my arm and pulled me down into the tall grass, though we were too far for them to smell or hear us.

Did that mean the village functioned as their outpost, keeping watch on us? I hadn’t been able to figure out what purpose it served, but this thought sent a shiver through me because their behavior had become eerily similar to ours. I wondered now if these Freaks had been assigned the task of taking Fade and Frank in a coming-of-age rite; if they brought back human prey, then they could become adults or something, like earning a name in the enclave. There was no way for me to know for sure, of course; it wasn’t like I could ask. But it made sense.

It was also possible that the village was unrelated to this horde. Just like there were different groups of humans, maybe there were other kinds of Freaks. For some reason, the monsters who stole my boy had avoided the forest settlement. Whatever the truth about the two factions, it didn’t impact my goal.

“Fade’s there,” I breathed.

I felt it in my bones.

Impossible odds. With our skill, we’d had a chance against a small hunting party, but Miles’s treachery delayed us too long, and they’d rejoined the horde. Keen night vision allowed me to glimpse their movement—so many Freaks. Quite apart from rescuing Fade, we had to get back and carry word. Preparations must be made.

“It’s your call,” Stalker whispered.

The seconds felt like hours and weighted with terrible uncertainty. But I could make the tough calls. I was pure steel.

“You can’t go with me. Your leg won’t hold at a run, and if something goes wrong … if I don’t make it back, you have to carry word to Longshot.”

His hands clenched into fists, and an agonized breath escaped him. “Don’t ask me to leave you, dove. Ask me anything but that.”

I touched his face, his scars, knowing this moment mattered. It might be our last. Stalker let me, as he always had, even when he said it would look like weakness. Something gave in my chest. “I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to find Fade. As long as it’s safe, wait over there until just before dawn, and then head back. If it gets ugly before then, then go. Move fast and quiet. Above all else, warn Longshot what’s coming. It might be our only chance.”

I’d never seen him look so grim. Despair etched his features, pulling his red scars taut. “If you want me to do this, then you need to kiss me good-bye.”

“Fair deal,” I said.

He’d stolen a kiss once, but this was the first time I leaned in on my own. This felt different too, maybe because it was my choice. His mouth was soft and warm beneath mine, lingering; I sat back, startled, but he wasn’t smiling. His expression told me he thought I wouldn’t survive the plunge into the seething Freak multitude. I had to admit, the chances didn’t look good. If I planned a frontal assault, I might as well stab myself in the chest and then lie down as breakfast.

That wasn’t on the agenda tonight.

Quietly, I outlined my plan, and he nodded. “It’s your only chance.”

Now I had to gather the supplies and wait.

* * *

There was no moon, just the starlight, but darkness didn’t frighten me. The horde did. Ruthlessly I fought down the fear and left my pack with Stalker. He was hidden in the tall grass near the lake, far enough away that the Freaks shouldn’t detect him. If I couldn’t get back before he left, I wouldn’t need provisions anyway—and extra weight would make my passage louder as I crept inside enemy lines. To succeed, I had to move like a ghost, like fog.

Can’t believe I’m doing this.

I’d returned to the forest’s edge earlier to collect my gruesome accessories, and I shuddered at what I was about to do. But if Freaks hunted by scent—and they did—then I had to cover mine. I couldn’t let a stray smell rouse them from their awful, flesh-devouring dreams. Closing my eyes, I took the entrails I had harvested from the Freaks and rubbed them all over my body and then added fetid blood.

Stalker watched me without expression. “I still want you, you know.”

“Like this?” I laughed to pretend I thought he was joking. If it spared his pride, it was worth him judging me a bit dim. Then I sobered. “Good hunting.” It was the highest compliment I could pay, acknowledging him as an equal, and he seemed to realize it. His smile came, quick as a cloud sweeping past the moon.

Without another word, I moved through the tall grass, slowly, so as not to draw attention. There might be sentries posted, or possibly some of the monsters were nocturnal. Either way, I had to risk it. This number of clustered Freaks smelled bad enough to make me nauseous. As I drew closer, I heard little sounds, like snoring, but more liquid in the throat, a wet gurgle, but it didn’t make me think they were in pain, quite the opposite. It was contented, a rumble I’d never heard from the Freaks, and I’d heard all manner of their screams, keens, cries, and growls.

Please let them be resting.

They were. They slept in piles, like animals, and like them, they had natural weapons: fangs and claws for rending their prey. At the perimeter, I froze. My nerve failed me. And I almost turned. He couldn’t possibly be alive in here. Not in this. At best, I’d find his corpse and die for nothing.

Better a dead Huntress, Silk said silently, than a live coward.

Squaring my shoulders, I agreed. I pushed forward at a measured pace, my movements small and silent. I sneaked past a knot of sleeping Freaks, my skin clammy with terror. Any minute they would rouse and snarl the alarm. Lunge at me with unreasoning hatred burning in their eyes, tearing me limb from limb.

I’ll be overwhelmed.

And none of that mattered. I was committed; a plan in place to ensure Salvation didn’t suffer due to my loss. If I died here, it wouldn’t be for nothing. It would be for Fade.

I swallowed hard, breathing lightly through my mouth. He didn’t want Stalker touching you, and look what you did. I shook my head. Who I kissed was the least of anyone’s worries. Emotions would get me killed, so I wadded them up and forced them away. I’d deal with it after I saved my boy.

Find him, Huntress.

Then I heard a noise that gave me hope. From somewhere within the camp came the sound of human weeping. I didn’t think it was Fade, but who knew how he would react in these circumstances? I’d probably cry too. I felt grateful for the guidance as I maneuvered around the sleeping Freaks. I wondered if they felt the same terror when they crept into the outpost, fear of our rifles, fear of discovery. Do Freaks fear death? It seemed I should have asked myself that question before.

In time, and through pulse-pounding dread, I came all the way to the center of the massive horde. Crouched low, I stared with utter disbelief at the source of the weeping. Down below, dying brats sometimes sounded like this; the white-eyed brat Fade and I failed to save did as the guard hauled him away.

Human pens.

In Salvation, they kept small animals for milk, eggs, and occasionally meat. I was familiar with chickens and goats enough to understand the Freak purpose. Here, a rudimentary fence had been built, via stakes in the ground, similar to the ones they’d mounted the severed heads on, and those inside the enclosure had been hobbled to prevent them from escaping. Hysteria rose in me.

They want to domesticate us.

This must be a new development. If Longshot had seen—or heard of—anything like this during his trade runs, he would’ve informed Elder Bigwater. People would be talking about this all over town. Since he hadn’t, I could only conclude this was more emerging Freak behavior. Lucky me to get the first glimpse.

Regardless, I had a job to do. If Fade was anywhere, alive, he’d be in there. So I pressed closer, until I slipped inside. Most hostages lay insensible with horror or grief, apart from the woman who wept in quiet, choking sobs—and their captors were doubtless used to her noise; her pain covered my approach. I crept among the hostages, seeking Fade, and my heart fell a little further at each strange face.

They woke at my touch, moaning, recoiling when they smelled me. In the dark, they might think I was a Freak come for a midnight snack. I ignored their weak blows and scuttling movements in favor of cutting them loose. It was all I could do. Whether they chose to leave or stay, it was in their own hands.

“Be quiet,” I whispered as I went.

Some immediately scrambled toward freedom. Others stared in dazed wonder, as if they’d dreamed my arrival. I never saw Frank. I looked for him; I did, thinking of how I’d face his sister in Salvation, but he wasn’t anywhere in the pens.

Maybe they already ate him. Fade too.

No. I searched faster. At last I found my boy, beaten until I hardly knew him. His features were grotesquely swollen, eyes blackened, and lips split over his teeth. His scars identified him as I rolled him over, and I muffled his groan with a hand over his mouth. Fade fought me like an animal. Even in his battered state, he managed to throw me. I landed on my back, the wind knocked out of me.

Around us, the horde was stirring, roused by fleeing humans. If we delayed any longer, they’d have us.

“Fade, it’s me. Deuce.” Avoiding his flailing arms and legs, I slashed his bonds and rubbed his hands and feet quickly, desperately. “Can you run?”

Please say yes. I don’t think I can carry you. I’d try, of course. And we’d both perish. I didn’t want to die here. It might be a glorious death for a Huntress, seeing how many I could take before I was overwhelmed and eaten, but the girl in me would rather run into the dark, in the confusion, and live.

“Deuce…?” He was making the connections too slow.

Snarls said more Freaks were waking up. Human screams filled the night air. I’d wanted to give them a shot at freedom, not use them to cover our escape. No time for remorse or regret. I couldn’t have left them tied up here while I freed Fade. It was time to move or we weren’t getting out of this alive. Our only hope was to be faster and bolder than those already fleeing through the horde.

“Run,” I begged him. “Don’t fight. Don’t stop. Just follow me and run.”

Flight

So many times, I shoved Fade ahead of me, dodged a lunging, snarling Freak, or leapt over the corpse of a person who hadn’t been so lucky, and we ran. For our lives. Only the darkness and upheaval saved us.

And the others who died in our stead.

But surely some of them got away. Maybe they would find Salvation and receive a second chance, as we had. If not, at least they wouldn’t die in the slave pens, butchered for their meat. Did the Freaks fatten them first? Revulsion shuddered through me, but I put it aside.