The Outliers

by Kimberly McCreight

  Cassie and I need to leave, I type. U said yourself they’re coming. It’s not safe for her here. We can head out on foot. We will be fine.

  No, comes my dad’s immediate reply. Is he still stopped? He said he had to pull over earlier, but I feel nervous suddenly, imagining him typing and driving. I’m angry at him, but I don’t want his texting with me to be the reason he gets killed in a car crash, too. You are safe there. You’ll be risking Cassie’s life if you leave Camp Colestah. We have a plan in place. Please listen to me this time. Do what Dr. Simons says.

  I stare down at my dad’s reply for a long time. The last time I ignored him, Doug did try to kill Jasper.

  “Wylie?” Dr. Simons asks gently after I’ve been quiet for too long. “What did he say?”

  Already, he knows the answer.

  “He said it’s safer for us to stay here.” I try my best to sound convinced.

  Quentin steps forward and puts my dad’s jacket on the table, then comes to stand next to me. Like he wants me to know that he’s still squarely on my side. Dr. Simons’s face has tightened, but he’s trying not to look annoyed.

  “If you still want to go, I’ll go with you,” Quentin says. And I am so grateful.

  “How about calling the police?” I offer. And I don’t know why this didn’t occur to me before. I don’t even care if that ends up with me being committed anymore.

  But again Dr. Simons is shaking his head. “As you’ve seen for yourself, Officer Kendall is the only reliable local officer. If we alert the others in that department, we could get removed from the property. We are technically trespassing.”

  “Then call the FBI or something?” I say.

  “Yes, federal agents,” Dr. Simons says, but regretfully. “The federal authorities are hardly disinterested either.” So, despite what my dad had said to me at the time, maybe the visit from that NIH guy hadn’t been so routine after all. “Obviously, the entire government isn’t involved, but we don’t know which agencies have been compromised. Letting anyone know where we are at this point is just too big of a risk. Not to mention that North Point has exceptional resources. Why do you think no one came to the diner to investigate the stabbing? A company like North Point can buy its own version of the truth.”

  My heart beats harder. My face feels hot. “You know about the stabbing?”

  And I don’t know why I am surprised. If my dad knows, then of course Dr. Simons would, too. But still I feel so exposed. And so ashamed. I look around the cabin again to see if anyone is staring at me. I meet only Miriam’s eyes, and as usual, she just smiles warmly.

  “Of course we know, Wylie. In this world, there are no secrets.”

  It’s a little past eight a.m. by the time we are all outside. I’m standing on the front porch of the main cabin. The sun has fully risen. But it’s gray, the clouds low. It’s damp and much warmer, too. As it turns out, there was a detailed emergency action plan, and my dad’s “they’re on the way” was enough to set it in motion, even if Jasper’s jacket was not.

  Without being directed on specifics, everyone has dispersed to their preassigned duties. I consider querying some of the others about the details. But so far I haven’t actually exchanged more than hellos with any of them. It seems best to keep it that way, to draw as little attention to myself as possible. Especially now, when all I’m doing is biding my time until we can run.

  Because I’ve decided that these people can do whatever they want; Cassie and I are getting the hell out of there.

  I watch Adam and Fiona carry shovels down the driveway. Gladys and Beatrice, Robert and Hillary are walking to and from the woods in the opposite direction behind the cabins, collecting sticks and piling them in the center of the lawn. They are all so calm and purposeful, so ready and accepting. Trusting. They certainly do not seem panicked or afraid, not like they are looking for a way out. It’s as though they knew the risks when they came up here to help my dad and are willing to pay the cost, no matter how steep it ends up being.

  “What’s with all the sticks?” I ask, motioning to Gladys and Beatrice when Dr. Simons comes to stand next to me on the porch.

  “Nothing too sophisticated, I’m afraid. Some controlled fires that will give us a chance to leave out the back,” he says. “If anyone does end up locating us, which—to be clear—is still not a foregone conclusion.”

  Dr. Simons’s face changes as he peers in the direction of the cabin Jasper and I started out in. When I turn, Cassie is headed toward us, across the open grass. She’s changed her clothes, jeans now, a sweater, and a longish wool coat. None of it exactly goes together, but on Cassie looks casually chic. All except the weird, bright-orange knit hat on her head. It’s like something a hunter might wear, and it looks odd and out of place. There’s no way it belongs to her.

  “I thought Stuart told you she went to lie down,” I say. And it was Dr. Simons who convinced me not to go after her once everyone had headed off to their jobs.

  “Yes, well, that is what he told me.” Dr. Simons looks confused himself.

  As Cassie gets closer, I can see she has an odd look on her face. Then I notice the cigarette in her hand. For once, I’m not judging. If somebody told me I was an Outlier, I might start smoking, too. But the way Cassie drops it is so strange. It’s like she wasn’t even aware she was holding it in the first place. And past her, I see Stuart. He’s out in front of the cabin we started out in. He takes a long drag of his own cigarette and exhales over his head. He’s far away, but I feel like it was for our benefit, like he wants us to know they were talking.

  Cassie being upset and confused is understandable. Upset enough that she’s willing to chat Stuart up just to get a cigarette? That is not good at all.

  “Are you okay?” I ask when she finally reaches us. And I wish it didn’t sound so much like I was accusing her of something. “Where were you?”

  “Taking a walk,” Cassie says, crossing her arms and looking away.

  She seems much worse. Before, she was upset about being an Outlier and everything with Jasper, but now she seems jittery and angry, too.

  “You must be careful, Cassie,” Dr. Simons says, and I’m glad it’s him instead of me. “It’s not safe for you to be off on your own.”

  Cassie glares up at him, and for a second I think she’s going to tell him off. I kind of want her to. But she just bites her lip and looks away.

  “Wylie, why don’t you help Cassie carry those sticks down the driveway. You should see Fiona down there in the woods. We’re using the sticks as the base for the firewall. Obviously, there are some sticks down there, but not enough. So we need to get more from the woods behind the cabins,” Dr. Simons says. “It would be helpful if you could both lend a hand. Besides, I think it would be good for everyone to keep busy.”

  He nods at me: take care of her, the look says. Then he pats me on the shoulder in a grandfatherly way before heading back inside. I will, I think. I’m going to take care of her by getting her the hell away from you.

  “Awesome,” Cassie mutters, marching off toward the pile of sticks in the center of the lawn without even looking at me.

  “This is going to be okay, you know,” I say, when I’ve made my way over to join her. Do I sound like I believe that? I hope so. I glance back to make sure that Dr. Simons has gone, then lean in and lower my voice. “But we need to go, Cassie, now. Take off through the woods. It’s not safe to wait.”

  I consider adding: It’s not safe for you. But I don’t want to scare her that much.

  “Grab some sticks, Wylie,” Cassie says. “You heard him. We should all stay busy.”

  “And did you hear me?” I ask. She’s upset. I get that. But she is going to have to pull it together. “We need to sneak out of here. If we’re careful, I’m pretty sure we can get away without them stopping us.”

  Cassie pauses and turns to look right at me. In her eyes, there’s a crazy toxic mix of fear and anger and sadness.

  “No,” she says through gritted te
eth. And then she turns with her sticks and marches away.

  “Cassie!” I shout after her, feeling angry, but really more hurt.

  I stand there, watching her go. Does she not trust me enough to come?

  Finally, I step forward and collect my own armful of sticks. When I finally have them gripped against me, I’m reminded of the way I held so tight to all those pointless camping supplies in the garage back at my house. Which makes me think again of Jasper. If only Cassie had never said anything to him. Because he’d be able to convince her to go. I know he would.

  As I start down the driveway with my armful of sticks, I feel someone watching me. I turn, bracing to see Dr. Simons, or worse yet, Stuart’s prying eyes on me. But it’s Quentin at the far end of the long porch, some kind of tool gripped at his side. My stomach tightens as our eyes meet and he raises a hand in a wave—and then suddenly there’s a loud voice from the other side of the yard.

  “I know that!” It’s Stuart shouting at Dr. Simons, who is shaking his head and staring at the ground. “You think I’m fucking stupid!”

  Is Dr. Simons telling Stuart off for giving Cassie that cigarette? Maybe, but it looks like something more. And it definitely feels like Cassie is still hiding something from me.

  When I glance back at Quentin, he’s still watching me. I turn away. Uncomfortable because there’s something between us or because I’m just uncomfortable in general. I’m not sure I’d even know the difference.

  By the time I’m finally halfway down the driveway, I’ve completely lost sight of Cassie. I have to scan the woods a couple of times before I spot a glowing orange dot to the right. That weird hat Cassie had on.

  “Oh, there you are.”

  When I turn, Miriam is next to me. And she seems surprised to see me. But also, weirdly, like I am exactly who she was looking for. Where did she even come from? A second ago she was at the top of the hill organizing food. Wasn’t she?

  “Were you looking for me?” I ask.

  She smiles at me with a twinkle in her eye that’s part sweet, part totally checked out. “Oh, no, dear,” she says, then puts a papery hand on my elbow and squeezes. “But are you feeling okay?”

  “Yeah, I mean, why?” Does she know something I do not? Can she see through to my insides and their slow, toxic unfurling? She was once a nurse.

  “You just look tired, dear.” She smiles. “And you’re important. We need you to keep up your strength.”

  “Important?” I ask. “Why?”

  Because we need you to take care of Cassie, I think.

  “Everything is about to change and we’ll need so much help with the transition.”

  She’s talking about the Outliers. At least I think she is. And I should probably just nod and smile and leave her be with her maybe-fuzzy brain and all that joy pouring out of her in a beam. But I don’t like the way she’s talking about this situation like it’s the Rapture. Because I’m pretty sure the Rapture starts with everybody being dead.

  “The transition?” I ask, because I can’t help myself.

  “Oh, yes,” Miriam says, as if she is surprised that no one has told me. “After Cassie shares her gifts with all of us, and we share them with the others. It’ll be a rebirth for all of us. And we have your father to thank.”

  And who knows? Maybe Cassie is the Second Coming, my dad a king. That would make me a princess, I guess. If only that were a thing I had ever wanted to be. If only that changed the fact that we need to get the hell out.

  “Right, yeah,” I say, because she is definitely waiting for me to agree.

  And with that, Miriam smiles some more and walks away. When I look down, the sticks in my arms are trembling. Because none of that has made me feel better. It’s just made me more convinced we have to go. Now. I’ll just have to make Cassie see that.

  I follow the little orange dot of Cassie’s hat through the woods until I finally reach her and Fiona. A red gas can is on the ground between them, and Cassie is brushing at her legs and coat. They look wet, and I can smell the gas from steps away.

  “I’m so sorry,” Fiona says to her, and obviously not for the first time. Fiona grips her fuzzy purple beret to the top of her head like she’s a teakettle about to blow.

  Up close, she’s much prettier than I realized, with bright hazel eyes and freckles across her nose. Actually, this is the closest I’ve been to any of the others aside from Miriam and Quentin. All the little twosomes have mostly kept to themselves like islands in an archipelago.

  Fiona steps forward, pulling her beret off her head like she’s going to try to dry Cassie’s jeans and coat with it. “I don’t know how I did that, Cassie. I’m such an idiot.”

  “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Cassie waves Fiona away. But she sounds like she might cry.

  “What happened?” I ask, still clutching my sticks.

  “I tripped on that rock, and the gas can just went flying,” Fiona says. “Of all the stupid things.”

  “I’m just going to go … dry off,” Cassie says.

  “Cassie, you can borrow some of my clothes,” Fiona offers. “I even have an extra coat. They’re in the red duffel bag in the cabin we’re staying in.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Cassie says as she starts for the driveway.

  “I’ll come with you.” I smile back at Fiona as I drop my sticks. “Don’t worry. It was an accident.”

  “But she seemed so upset already.” Fiona looks pained. “She must be overwhelmed. Excited, but overwhelmed.”

  “I think more overwhelmed than excited.”

  Fiona nods, then smiles. It’s a beautiful, serene smile. Maybe a tad too serene under the circumstances. “But once we’re out of here, done with all this, she’ll see how incredible it is. It’s going to be a fresh start for everyone.”

  “Cassie, wait,” I call as we reach the top of the driveway, but she doesn’t turn, doesn’t slow down. Actually, it seems like she might even be speeding up. “Cassie, come on. Wait!”

  Finally, she stops, her back to me, shoulders hunched in the pale-gray, misty morning. I have to jog to catch up before she takes off again, putting a hand on her arm when I finally reach her so she can’t take off again.

  “We have to go, Cassie. Right now,” I whisper to the side of her face, when she still won’t look at me. “I think those people, North Point, might already have Jasper. Quentin found his jacket in the woods.” I’m worried what adding that kind of guilt could do to the whirlpool already churning inside her—after all, she’s the reason he left. But I’m more worried about what will happen if Cassie doesn’t wake up and realize the danger she’s in. “They could be coming for you.”

  She turns to look at me, not shocked by this news about Jasper. More defeated. Like she’s already given up.

  “We’ll have to go through the woods, but it’ll be better than just waiting here,” I go on, when she still does not speak. At least she’s listening. This is my chance to convince her. “I know the woods. My mom took me all the time, remember? I’m actually pretty good in an emergency, too. Much better even than I usually am.”

  “It’s not you,” Cassie says, and with that same dead look in her eyes. “I don’t want to—I won’t go, Wylie. They’re right. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Cassie, I don’t think we should be listening to—”

  “Wylie, did you hear me?” She steps closer, her eyes bright and angry. “Because you need to hear me. We are not going anywhere.” And then she turns. “Don’t bring it up again. Just get your dad here, okay? I have to go change. I’ll be back.”

  Cassie walks away, headed toward one of the other cabins, where Fiona’s clothes would probably be. As I watch her go, my panic blooms, blotting out my hurt feelings. Now what?

  When I look over, Quentin is still working on something in front of the main cabin. I cross the grass toward him.

  “Everything okay?” he asks when I’ve made my way over. “That looked tense.”

  “Cassie is freaked out. It’s hard
to blame her.”

  “Ah, well, this thing sucks for her, that’s for sure,” Quentin says, inspecting a wire inside the black plastic box he’s working on. “Being an Outlier could be a cool thing if the world wasn’t such a screwed-up place.”

  A place that needs a restart, it’s true. It reminds me of Fiona and Miriam and all their waxing philosophical about some kind of rapture.

  “Is Fiona a professor?” I ask, because the way she was talking for sure didn’t seem very scientific.

  “I think so. Ouch.” Quentin snatches his finger back and sucks on it like he just pricked it. “I think she teaches art or something like that, figurative drawing, maybe. Why?”

  He looks at me quizzically, pushes his glasses back up his nose. He is definitely nerdy, but not in a bad way.

  I shrug. “No reason.” It seems stupid now to care about Fiona or Miriam and however they want to talk about this. “I really can’t believe that my dad would do all of this without even warning us.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t see it playing out this way.” Now it’s Quentin who shrugs. “How could he? It’s like he’s discovered this tiny little tear in the fabric of the world, which maybe isn’t even really a tear if you look at it up close,” he says. “I probably wouldn’t go around advertising it either until I knew for sure what it meant. Look at these lunatics from this company, already trying to get their hands on it. And no one even knows exactly what ‘it’ is yet, or what it means.”

  “At least he should have told Cassie about her test,” I say. “She would have had time to adjust to the whole idea that she can do this thing before, you know, she had to run for her life.”

  “Fair enough.” Quentin holds up his hands. “To be clear, I’m on your side, not your dad’s. And if I was Cassie, I definitely wouldn’t sit here and wait. No matter what anyone said.”

  I’m relieved that he’s brought up us leaving again.

  “I just told Cassie that.” I glance over at him. “But don’t tell Dr. Simons, okay?”