Outliers_A Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Novel Read online

  “I am okay.” She waved me off when I reached for her, and her brown eyes focused on me. “Xandra is not who you are angry at. It is Bodhi. He is the one who broke his word. He is the one who went into the city. I know that being angry at him feels wrong, but do not confuse your feelings, Indra. You and I both know he alone is responsible for his actions.”

  I started to shake my head, but it was no use. She was right. The Sovereign had caused this and they had used the Fortis to kill my husband, but he had made his own choices. He was the one who decided he had to go into the city. He was the one who had put Xandra in an impossible situation.

  I swallowed and met my mother’s gaze. “I am so angry at him for leaving me. So hurt.”

  “It is normal.” She took my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “You will heal over time, and as you do you will learn how to forgive him. You may even find that you will come to understand why he chose to do something so risky.”

  “What do I do until then?” I pressed my free hand against my chest. “How do I stop the pain whenever I think about him?”

  “You cannot. You just need to find something else to live for. Something that means as much to you as Bodhi did.”

  It was impossible to imagine anything or anyone in the world that would ever mean as much to me as my husband, but I nodded anyway.

  22

  The day finally came when I was strong enough to go out into the woods to hunt. For weeks I had been waiting for this moment, for the freedom and distractions the forest would bring, and lying in my hut with nothing to do, it had sounded like the ideal solution. Only, now that the opportunity was in front of me, I suddenly found that I was less excited than I had been before. Something was holding me back.

  Summer had not yet come to an end and the sun still beat down on the wilds as if wanting to set them on fire, only it was not the heat that made me hesitate. I found the vast expanse of the wilds scary. Bodhi and I had gone out into the woods together to shoot dozens of times, but I had never been out there on my own before, and I was suddenly unsure if I could do it.

  Standing at the edge of the village with a sheath of arrows on my back and a bow in my hand, it hit me just how much I had really lost. Not only had my partner in life been stolen from me, but also my hunting partner and protector, and the man who had vowed to take care of me for the rest of my life. I was alone again, and as a Winta woman, that was a very big thing.

  I was an Outlier, not Sovereign, and in the wilds women did not rule, especially not women from my tribe. My whole life I had been taught that I needed a man to take care of me; that I was too weak to do it on my own, and even the help and encouragement my husband had given me when he was alive was unable to completely erase the teachings I had grown up with.

  Still, there was a part of me that knew I needed this. Not just for me, but for my family as well. My job in the city was gone, taking with it the extra provisions we had always depended on, and it was up to me to do something to provide for my family. If I did nothing they would suffer, and that was something I could not stomach even thinking about.

  It was the prospect of my mother and sister starving that finally forced me into the woods. Still, I was hesitant. At first I stayed close to the village, always sure that the huts were within my sight. I was far enough away that I felt wrapped in the surrounding wilderness. It was quiet and welcome, peaceful even, and it gave me courage to go further.

  So I did. I moved away from the village, deeper into the wilds in search of game just as I had done with Bodhi dozens of times before. I knew that the greenery of the forest would make it difficult to track the animals, but I was certain that if I tried hard enough I would be able to get something. I had to. My family needed it.

  My first day out, however, I returned to the village with no more than I had left with. There had been a couple moments when I had thought I might get a kill, but I was out of practice and still sore at times, and my arrow missed every time. Still, being in the woods was even more reinvigorating than I had anticipated. It had made me feel closer to Bodhi, like he was in the forest with me, watching over me the entire time. It eased my tired mind so much that when I lay down that night, I drifted off immediately, and for the first time since Bodhi’s death, I did not dream.

  The next day I returned to the woods without hesitation, and even though I still went home with no game, my aim was improving. Day three came and I repeated the process, going deep into the woods in search of game, only this time I actually managed to take out one of the small rodents that were common in the forest. The surge of pride that shot through me when I collected the animal was the same one I had felt the first time I killed a forest cat, only there was something else too. I felt as if I had found my place in the village, or maybe even a purpose in life, and it gave me a peace I had not felt since before Ronan’s punishment.

  My life continued on this way. I went out into the forest in the morning, hunting for game while gathering any nuts, berries, or mushrooms I came upon. Some days I wandered far from the village, as far as the cliff behind the cave Bodhi and I had visited so many times, while other days I kept closer to home. Any game I got was brought back to the village and split between my family and Ronan’s, the leftovers going to the Head to distribute among other needy families. While none of the men were happy that I had taken to hunting in the woods alone, no one tried to stop me. And they were not foolish enough to refuse the meat I brought in.

  My mother seemed to improve a little, as if my lifted spirits were medicine, and even Anja looked more at peace and once again began spending time with Jax. Our wounds were still healing and we still missed Bodhi’s presence, but more than ever before I felt as if his spirit was watching over me. During the day, as I traveled the wilds in search of food, I felt him with me. In the hut at night, eating the food I had brought in thanks to his instruction, it seemed as if he was constantly at my side.

  It still took quite a bit of time before I was able to be around Bodhi’s family, something I felt his disapproval over. His father, mother, and brothers were suffering over his loss just as much as I was, but being with them had at first hurt too much. Ilian was approaching his fifteenth year, and his resemblance to his older brother was so stark that it nearly took my breath away. I could see Bodhi in every tilt of Ilian’s lips, in the way he helped his younger brother do things around the hut, in how much he cared for his mother and father. At first when I had been healed enough to move around I had gone to see them a few times, only to find that being in their presence had been too painful. But, thanks to my time in the forest, I found that this was another part of myself that healed.

  Nearly six weeks had passed since Bodhi’s death when I happened upon Ilian as I was returning from the forest. The urge to duck away before he could see me hit, but a whisper in my ear that could only have been the spirit of my husband urged me to call out to him. When I did, the boy’s face lit up, and I found that even though the smile he gave me was the same as Bodhi’s, it did not sting, but instead filled me with warmth. That was when it hit me that Bodhi was here as well, in his family and in the village. And it filled me with peace.

  Weeks passed and my heart and soul healed a little more each day. Not as thoroughly as my back had, but enough that I no longer felt like a broken plate that had been glued together. I hunted, spent time with my family, and allowed myself to grieve. It was all I could do, but it was beginning to be enough.

  I had been going out into the forest for nearly two months when I decided to head further east, toward the river. It was a direction Bodhi had never taken me, and even though I knew why and the dangers that accompanied being so close to Fortis territory, I found myself moving in that direction without reason or thought. But I had not even reached the valley the river ran through when the beat of horse hooves broke through the silence of the forest.

  The one and only time Bodhi and I had come across a Fortis hunter in the woods, we had hidden, and at that moment, alone and shaking,
it was all I could think to do. I crouched down behind a bush, careful to stay out of sight. A blink later they were in front of me, seemingly coming from out of nowhere as they materialized from the thick foliage the wilds offered. Fortis hunters.

  There were two of them, both on horseback and both loaded down with weapons and the spoils of their long day in the wilds. The one man had three of the small rodents that were so plentiful in our part of the woods, as well as a rawlin, its feathers bright red against the black horse, while the second had a large forest cat draped over the back of his horse. It was a lot of food, more than I would probably be able to get in a week, and the sight of it sent my mind whirling.

  It was unfair how the Fortis always had so much when we were given so little. They had the help of the Sovereign, who grew fruits and vegetables in their climate controlled buildings, while we had to scrounge to survive. No wonder they were big and strong while we wasted away.

  When I notched my arrow though, I was not thinking about the food and how much it would mean for my village. I was thinking about Mira helping me from the city, after Bodhi’s death and my flogging. That was the last time I had seen any of the Fortis, and seeing them now, remembering the man who had so callously cut Bodhi’s head off and then whipped me until I was certain I would be joining my husband, filled me with rage. I did not even pause to consider what I was doing or why I was doing it, or even what the consequences might be, I simply pulled the string on my bow back and stood.

  The second I released the arrow I regretted it, but by then it was too late. It flew through the air, finding a home in the head of the man closest to me. He went down before his friend had a chance to even look around, his body hitting the forest floor with a thud I knew I would never forget. By the time the second man had turned his head in my direction, I already had another arrow notched, and his eyes met mine only a beat before the point sank into his throat.

  The horse startled, throwing the injured man from its back. It trotted around in a circle but did not take off, and neither did the second horse. I also stayed where I was. My head was screaming for me to run, but I was frozen. All I could do was stare at the two men I had just shot.

  That’s when it occurred to me that these two men might not be the only hunters in the woods. I notched another arrow as I looked around, holding my breath and straining my ears for any sound that might indicate there were others, but the woods were silent except for the sounds of nature. Leaves rustling above my head, the scratch of small feet scurrying through the forest, and the whoosh of hot wind pushing its way through the trees. Nothing else.

  When I was certain no one else was coming, I darted over to the men. The first one was already dead, and the lifeless blue eyes that stared up at me gave me pause as the reality of what I had done hit me. I had killed a man. Taken a life. The Winta were not great warriors like the Huni, but we did hunt and eat animals. But even then, the taking of a life was not something we did thoughtlessly. We only killed what we needed, and we used every part of the animal. We did not hunt for sport the way the Mountari and Huni did, and we never killed other people.

  Guilt rushed through me. Guilt over the life I had taken, over how little I had thought about it before I had released my arrow.

  Then the face of the dead man morphed, and suddenly the person in front of me was the same man who had wielded the sword that took my husband’s life. Then it was Greer’s face, and then Thorin’s. It changed again and again, and each time I saw the face of a man or woman who had tortured and abused my people, the guilt became less intense. In no time every ounce of remorse I felt at taking his life had been sucked away and replaced by satisfaction. Satisfaction that he would never be able to hurt anyone again, that there was one less Fortis man who could rape and beat and plunder my people.

  I turned to the second man and found him choking on his own blood. He was also staring up at me, but his expression seemed more surprised by the sight of me than scared at the prospect of dying. This time there was no guilt, and there was also no hesitation. Even though I knew he would very soon be joining his friend, I pulled out my knife and plunged it into the man’s head anyway, and he finally went still.

  Now I had not just taken one life, but two. I stood over the bodies, staring down at their empty expressions as I waited for the remorse to come, knowing that it should and that it would be a legitimate feeling if it did. I had shot these men out of revenge, an act that I was certain would follow me into the afterlife, but even staring at their lifeless bodies now, I could feel nothing but satisfaction. There was no guilt inside me. Not after everything that had happened.

  I was, however, concerned that someone would find the evidence of what I had done and come to my village to get their own revenge. The first thing I needed to do was cover up the fact that an Outlier was responsible for the deaths. I pulled my arrows from the men’s bodies, but I took nothing else, not wanting it to look as if they had been robbed. Hopefully, the animals in the forest would get to the men before anyone found their bodies, and it would help cover my tracks further. Once that happened, it would be impossible to tell that an arrow had ended their lives.

  Even though I still felt no remorse for what I had done, I found myself kneeling next to the bodies anyway. I was uncertain whether or not the Fortis believed in a god or the afterlife, but as a member of the Winta tribe, I felt compelled to do something for these men as their spirits left their earthly shells. Only the traditional Winta prayer felt wrong. These men did not deserve swift travels to the afterlife. They did not deserve to be anywhere near my husband or the other souls who had been ripped from this world at their hands.

  My mind spun, and on instinct I lowered my head and instead whispered the simple prayer reserved for animals, and the moment the words left my lips, I knew it had been the right choice. “May your death provide life to our people and sustain us through hard times.”

  Once that was done, I freed the smaller game from the first man’s horse and smacked the animal on the rump, sending him charging into the woods. If he was found they would probably assume that a forest cat had hurt his rider, or possibly even a flock of rawlin. No one in the Fortis village would ever consider that an Outlier was responsible for the death. At least not without evidence.

  The second horse carried the cat, so I pulled myself up on its back and directed it to turn around. The cat was much too big for me to carry very far, so my plan was to ride the horse as close to the village as I could before unloading it and sending it after its friend. I still felt no remorse for what I had done, but the Winta would never look kindly on the fact that I had taken human life. Even humans so unworthy of the air they breathed.

  Everything went exactly as planned. I stopped the horse just out of sight of our village and pulled the carcass down before sending the horse on his way, and then I dragged the animals through the trees. The second someone in the village spotted me, I had help. Everyone assumed I had killed the animals myself; there was no other explanation that made sense. No one had a clue where the game had actually come from.

  I expected the guilt that had evaded me in the forest to come that night when I lay down to sleep, but still it evaded me. Instead, a great sense of relief came over me when I thought about how I had been able to rid the world of two Fortis men. They were two men who would never again be able to prey on Outliers. Who would never be able to harass Mira as she walked home from work, and who would never be able to hammer one more nail into the prison they were building for my people. I clung to that knowledge as I closed my eyes and my body relaxed, and it helped lull me to sleep.

  After that I stopped hunting animals and started hunting men. I had always known that the further east I went the more likely I was to run into a hunting party, so every morning when I left my village, I set off in that direction. The Fortis avoided the borderland that separated the Lygan Cliffs from the wastelands, instead sticking to the valley that held the river. It was their hunting ground, their territory. And it w
as where I would find my next kill.

  Using that knowledge to my advantage made finding the hunting parties easier than I had expected. I soon learned that they had a pattern and stuck to certain areas to hunt, making tracking them simple. They never went out on foot, and so every morning I would scour the forest in search of fresh hoof prints until I came upon a party small enough to take out. Some days, if I was feeling too tired, I would simply climb a tree and wait for them to pass by so I could shoot them from above, making it nearly impossible for anyone to get the jump on me. I never attacked unless there were three or less, but fortunately it seemed that these people liked to travel in small groups. And they never saw me coming. I was an anomaly, something that should never have existed, and it gave me the advantage.

  Weeks passed and the number of deaths that followed me through the woods piled up. Two turned into five, and then twelve. With each life I took I made a notch on the belly of my bow, often running my fingers over the grooves while I sat in the trees and waited for a party to cross my path. Before long the marks went halfway up my bow, and I had to concentrate on each little groove to count them. More than fifty men had died at my hands, and despite the knowledge that my actions would most likely follow me into the afterlife, I was unable to make myself feel bad about it. The Fortis had held me prisoner in fear for too long, but I now knew that I was stronger than my tribe had led me to believe. Stronger than anyone I knew. As long as I still had breath in my body, I would never return to the way things had been, and I would never again cower in fear.

  23

  Summer had come to an end and fall was underway, bringing relief from the heat that radiated off the wastelands and invaded the wilds. After months of losing people, the Fortis had started sending larger hunting parties out, making it more difficult for me to find targets. But today had been a good day, and I had come across a party of two, who I had promptly killed and relieved of their game. Now though, I was exhausted from the long day of hunting and anxious to rest. Only, I was forced to put the idea on hold when I returned to the village and found Mira outside the hut I still shared with my mother and sister.