Outcast: A Corporation Novel (The Corporation) (2 page)

Day One

Karis

I turn over in my bed, twisting the rough sheets against my bare legs, and groan. I bury my face deeper into the thin pillow. My internal alarm still goes off at the usual hour, but my body is more reluctant to get up than it was the day before.

I roll over and dig the heels of my hands into my eyelids, pressing down as hard as I can stand. The motion releases something in me, an easy discomfort, giving me the motivation I need to wake up and face the coming hours.

I drag my legs over the side of the bed and pause, hunched over, letting my feet get used to the cold of the floor. Fall is in full force and everything in the house is cold. I don’t do well with the cold. It turns me into someone with a short temper and constant frown. I shuffle over to my dresser and grab my brush, mechanically running it through my long hair, not having even half the effort in my body to care that I’m missing most of the tangles.

The medicine Rebeka gave Ethan and me worked against my faulty Mark, but I still look like I should be six feet under the ground and not walking around on top of it. I haven’t been able to gain back all the weight that I lost, partly because we don’t have enough rations to make any difference and partly because I don’t have much of an appetite.

My eyes aren’t as hollow, but there is a shadow beneath them that won’t go away—a lingering bruise testifying to my recent abuse. My cheek and collarbones are more defined and look like you could lift me up by them. My color isn’t as bright. I look a little more...worn.

I slip on a pair of pants and a shirt worn to softness and attempt to motivate myself to start the day. I’m tucking in my shirt when two knocks sound at my bedroom door. Then I hear Papa heading down the stairs. Two knocks means he's finished changing the Untouchable and I get to start my babysitting duties.

I furrow my brow and sigh, grinding my molars just a little bit more than I already was, and head to my brother's old room. I don't know why I have to be the one to take care of this smelly new
visitor
. I have other, more important things to do with my time—like getting Ajna back and figuring out how we can escape the Corporation and Akin.

I twist the knob in my hand and push the door open. The top corner catches in the frame and makes a loud sound as it frees itself. Papa and Eta always try to be quiet and respectful, like he's taking a nap or something. Me? I don't care. He's not waking up and I don't see the point in being
respectful.

My nose wrinkles on its own at the stench that permeates the room. It's not as bad as it was when he first got here, but it's still noticeable; like he's stained the walls and furniture and everything else with his stink. I doubt it will ever come out.

I make my way, dragging my feet and taking my time, over to the side of the bed. Papa set up a small, wooden chair next to the headboard, within arm's reach of the night stand. There's a small bowl of water and worn rag waiting for me. The water isn't much, but with our already meager rationed amount, it's a significant sacrifice. And it's being wasted.

I’d told Papa as much—that we might as well just pour it out into the dirt. He’d given me one of his really disappointed looks before walking away.

The Untouchable is lying on his back, more or less in the same position we put him in almost three months ago. Papa and Eta change his position throughout the day to prevent sores and to help with his muscles fading, but every morning he’s back in this same position. The blanket is tucked around his torso, arms at his sides.

His matted, dirty hair is splayed across the pillow. It’s long—almost to his shoulders—and tangled and knotted at the ends. Near his head, at the roots, it's gathered together in oily clumps. Taking care of his hair must not be a top priority for him.

Dirt that looks three years old outlines his face and gathers at his hairline and collects in the creases of his sun—worn face. I'm pretty sure it's permanent. His skin is a dark brown, tanned more by the sun from what I guess is an already dark pigmentation. It doesn’t look soft or anything at all like real skin; more like the hide of Dhevan's pigs or the leather made from his cows down at the tannery.

The smell clogs my nostrils as I hover over him. My face is screwed up into a disgusted sneer. Another subconscious action my body has developed around him. I close my eyes and relax my features, trying not to gag. It's hard to believe that he and I have come a long way since he first got here.

In the beginning, I refused to even go into the room. Papa had to threaten me with everything he could think of, including a good whipping, to get me in there to take care of him. In the end, it was my own guilt that did me in. I would describe my current mindset towards him as tolerable with an sliver of disgust. I'm working on being a little more civil and
warm
towards him, as Papa says. That’s why I started talking to him while I clean.

“Why did you have to even come here?” I ask as I sit down. “Are you really even unconscious? You're probably just faking all of this.” I put the rag in the bowl and in a matter of seconds, it soaks up most of the water.

I run my eyes over the parts of his body not covered by ragged clothes or thin blankets. I’ve already washed his right hand and arm so I take hold of his left side. I decide to start with his hands, at the fingers. That doesn’t require getting too intimate.

It started out innocently enough, our conversations. I had no one to talk to about all the thoughts pressing at the seams of my mind. Ethan has enough on his shoulders with the resistance. Or is it the rebels? He keeps changing the name, trying to find something that will inspire and motivate people. I’ve tried telling him it’s not about what they’re called. He hasn’t listened, yet. Papa sits on his hands or goes down to the Tavern with Déjà when he's not busy at the mill. I'm the only one who actually wants to do anything to bring Ajna back home, and the only one I can talk to about it without being criticized is the Untouchable. But that doesn't make us friends.

I sit on the edge of the chair and lean forward, stretching out my hand to rub at his fingers. His skin moves with the towel, preventing my efforts from having any noticeable result. I'm forced to touch him, to pick up his hand with my free one to hold the skin taught.

I drag my chair across the floor and take his hand in mine. It's warm. I don't know why I didn't think of that, and it’s an unexpected sensation. His palm is rough and calloused, like he's been doing manual labor all Of his life. I scrub again, and the dirt comes off a little easier than before. I can see a patch of cleaner skin underneath the marks of the towel and I realize that he's a lighter tone than I originally thought, there's that much dirt on him.

“I don't know why Papa's making me do this,” I say. “We need this water to survive, and it's not like bathing you is going to make you magically wake up, or anything.”

I give him a sideways glance through my hair, to make sure it isn’t doing just that. I wait a few minutes before I speak again. Not for the first time, I wonder why I'm talking to him; he can’t hear me.

“A very evil man has taken my brother, and instead of doing what I'm supposed to be doing—going in and getting him—I've been assigned to take care of you and give you baths. Even
you
would see the ridiculousness in that.”

For the rest of my time with the Untouchable, I scrub and wipe away as much dirt as possible. By the time I'm done, the towel is covered in grime and the back of his hand and fingers are clean. I push the chair back, grab the empty bowl and dirty towel, and stand.

“That's all for this morning. I'll see you tonight.” I walk to the door. With my hand on the knob, I turn and look at the Untouchable one last time. “I might as well call you something other than Untouchable all the time.” I think about it for a second and then give a crafty smile. “I think
Gandā
will do.” I open the door and step through. “Until tonight,
Gandā
.”

When I get downstairs, the fire’s already going and porridge is steaming in two bowls on the table. Another giveaway that things are far from normal. I’ve always been the one to start the day, not Papa.

“Mornin’. Hungry?” Papa’s tending the fire, but stops briefly to glance up at me. “How's the Untouchable?” His eyes are weary, but somehow, they manage to get even wearier when they take me in. Gone are the dresses, slipper shoes, combed shiny hair. I’m solidly embracing the functionality of loose pants and shirts, boots, and the simplicity of whipping my hair up into ponytail.

“Gandā,” I say as I sit down at the table, trying to ignore his look of frustration.

“What?”

“I've named him.”

“And you chose
Gandā
? He's not a pet, Karis. You can't treat him like one.”

“I know he's not a
pet
, Papa. And the name is perfect. It suits him very well.”

He sighs and I try to ignore the disappointment that’s seeping my way as I sit down. “It seems that name would suit you, too,” he says.

We have this same discussion every morning, and I’m sure he’s not eager to have it again. I know I’m not. He thinks that because I look the way I look, and that I don't put as much effort into my appearance as I once did, that I don't care anymore. But that's not it at all. Other things are more important to me now than dresses and pretty hair. I hate this new us, but I can't stop it from happening.

I play our usual conversation over in my mind as I stare down at the lumpy, gray breakfast.

We need to keep livin’ our lives. The Outer City doesn’t stop just because Ajna’s not here.

And we can’t pretend like everything’s normal.

That’s not what I’m sayin’, Karis.

How do you even know he’s safe? We have no idea what they do to Sponsors, not really.

We have to believe he is, and do what we can to get him back.

I’m glad we’re in agreement, because that’s what I’m doing.

Not brushin’ your hair won’t stop the Corporation. Complainin’ constantly about helpin' with the Untouchable won’t stop them, either. And neither will actin’ like a brat.

Having pointless meetings and not taking action doesn’t stop the Corporation, either.

Ethan says—

His
brother isn’t the one who’s been taken!

He cares for him as if he were.

It’s different.

Only because you make it that way.

Instead, Papa says, “How's our guest doin'?”

I stab at the slop in my bowl with my spoon for a little while. “Still sleeping,” I mutter. I can feel Papa staring at me with a look on his face similar to displeasure mixed with frustration. I know he’s going over the same conversation I just did.

He lets out a heavy sigh, our main language of conversation, lately. “What do you want me to do, Karis?” His fingers ball into fists on the table. He looks at me like I'm a stubborn Candidate who's disobeying him for the hundredth time. “Tell me what it is that I should be doin’ or could be doin’ better than what I'm doin’ now. Tell me what
you
would do if you were in my shoes and one child had been Sponsored and your other one is takin’ actions to bein’ taken from you, too. After your wife had been taken, as well.”

His words hit me where I know he wants them to, but I am just as stubborn as he is. “Oh, I dunno, how about actually doing something to get Ajna back?” I’m clutching my spoon in my hand, my grip so tight that the rough edges are digging into the pads of my fingers. “Is this what you did when they came and took Mama from us? Just sat around
doin’ somethin’?
” My heart pinches painfully. I shouldn’t have said that. I stare hard at the worn table top, too prideful and angry to apologize.

“You think I'm not doin’ anythin’?” He’s ignoring my words, for now. But I can hear the pain in his voice. “You think I've just forgotten about your brother?” Papa’s gripping his spoon tight too, his knuckles are turning white. “About your mama?”

“You act like you did before, like everything's normal. Eat breakfast, watch the Bulletins, go to work, come home. I hardly ever see you at the meetings.” I look up at him. “You aren't acting like you want to get him back.” My heart pounds through my veins. I can feel it beating in my wrists and ears.

“We can't go in there, weapons drawn, like you want to do. We have to be careful. We have to have a plan because you know good and well that Akin has his. And it will be a damn good one. Ethan’s right, we have only one chance. “

“That is so ridiculous! Everyone says that, but it's just an excuse to do
nothing
. To let the Corporation take everything we have!” Our voices are rising over one another.

“But they already have done that, Karis!” Papa shouts. And then he quiets. “Don't you see?” There’s a new look in his eyes. He's given up. Not on the situation, but on me. “The Corporation took your mother. Akin took your brother. And you made a deal to be with him. I have nothin’ anymore. After you leave, that's it. I'm alone. So you see, I have nothin’ to lose. There's nothin’ they can threaten me with to get me to stop fightin’.”

“Then do that! Fight! Let's get Ajna back.”