The Outliers

by Kimberly McCreight

  “It wasn’t until he—”

  “Wait, he who?”

  Because it’s obvious that this is the essential fact.

  Cassie opens her eyes and looks up at me. “Quentin,” she whispers, the tears finally sliding down her face. “I met Quentin.”

  No, I think. But I can’t manage to make a sound. No.

  I want to cover my ears. I want to run.

  “Awesome, right?” Jasper says, eyes still on the window. But this time it’s his voice, not Cassie’s, that catches.

  “First, he pretended that it was all a coincidence that we met. And then later he admitted that he came to find me. Quentin said your dad fired him because they disagreed about keeping my test results from me. Quentin said he wanted your dad to tell me,” she says, and she sounds so broken. “I guess—I don’t know why I believed him. But it did seem like he knew your dad really well. And he said all these things that I wanted to hear, that I was being underestimated and everything. That I had this gift.”

  “A gift,” Jasper huffs in disgust, his eyes still on the window.

  “You can be mad,” Cassie says. “You both can hate me. You should hate me. Because I am selfish and stupid and I made a terrible mistake. But I swear the whole time he had me texting you—”

  “Wait, what?” I ask, my heart picking up speed. No, Cassie. No. “You were helping him? He told you to text us?”

  She nods.

  How could she? Risk that—risk us, for some guy she didn’t even know?

  “Wait, even the ‘these people will kill me’?”

  Cassie nods some more.

  “My God, Cassie,” I go on, and I am so angry my throat burns. And maybe she’s right, maybe I do even hate her a little bit. “How could you? Some random guy tells you all this insane stuff and you just believe him?”

  “Didn’t you?” She stares at me hard for a second. She takes a breath and lowers her head again. “I mean, Quentin is convincing, isn’t he? And he didn’t even start talking about needing your dad until we got here. And he didn’t mention you as a way to get your dad until way after that—and Quentin made it sound the whole time like he was trying to protect your dad.” She’s quiet for a second, like she’s replaying it all in her own head. “He did some little test on me in the car. That’s probably when he figured out that your dad had switched our results. He tried to hide it, but the way he was looking at me after that … Like I disgusted him a little bit.”

  “Wait, so you helped him get us here? On purpose?” I say, because I still can’t really believe it. “You texted us that you were scared and needed help because he told you to do that?”

  “Yes,” she says, the tears making the horror in her eyes glow. She motions to Jasper, the cabin. “This is all my fault. But I swear, Wylie, I didn’t know that you were the person he really wanted until it was too late. At first, he said you were just a way to get your dad here. But then once you and Jasper were here in the cabin, everything changed. He told me that you were the Outlier. And he said that he would kill you—both you and Jasper—if you wouldn’t help him. He said that I had to convince you.”

  “Help him what?” I ask.

  “Help him do what you do,” she says.

  “But I don’t know how to do anything!”

  “I know, I know,” Cassie says, and she looks so worried. “But he thinks he’s an Outlier, too. He’s convinced that he just needs you to ‘unlock his potential.’ I know because he said that to me when he thought I was the Outlier. And not just an Outlier, but I was like the Outlier. Totally off the charts. And the most messed-up part is how flattered I was.” All I feel is heartbreak when she looks at me. “He promised that if you helped him, he would let you go. That he would let us all go. And I thought that was true, or at least I hoped it was. I thought maybe you could do some of his ‘training exercises,’ the ones he tried with me, which were kind of like your dad’s test, and that would be that. But then when I went to borrow some of Fiona’s clothes, I was alone in the other cabin. Instead, I decided to look through Quentin’s stuff and see if I could figure out what he was really up to. And I saw this set of, like, instruments in this bag under his bed. I don’t know for sure what they were for, but as soon as I saw them, I got really scared he wasn’t ever going to let you go. Even if you did everything he wanted. But then I was also scared that if I told you and Quentin found out somehow, he might have Stuart shoot all of us or something.”

  “What do you mean instruments?” Jasper asks.

  “Like for a surgeon or something,” Cassie says quietly. “Whatever Quentin has in mind, Wylie, it’s not just some kind of question or answer. Or if that’s how it starts, it’s not the way it’s going to end.”

  “But how can I teach him how to do something I don’t know how to do?”

  “You can’t,” Jasper says. “That’s why we have to get out of here.”

  “What about my dad? What’s going to happen when he gets here?” I ask Cassie. “And is North Point even real? Somebody shot Fiona.”

  “I don’t know,” Cassie says, hugging herself harder. “Quentin stopped telling me anything as soon as we got here. Maybe he had Stuart shoot Fiona, I don’t know. But he seemed worried about someone finding us here. Maybe that was an act, or it could be someone really coming.”

  “It was so stupid to trust him, Cassie,” Jasper says, his voice cold and sharp. He won’t even look at her. “Totally fucking stupid.”

  Cassie looks over at him, her eyes desperate. “You’re right, totally right,” she says. Then I watch her face change, set with determination. “But I am going to fix this. I promise.”

  “Awesome,” Jasper says. “And I’ll be sitting here, holding my breath.”

  I remember the plywood in the corner then. Did Jasper forget how close we already are? Soon, who was wrong, who lied about what and to who—none of it will matter. Because we will be free.

  “Wait, what about …” I head to the back of the cabin, heart racing, to the spot where we spent so long turning those screws earlier. But Jasper is already shaking his bruised face. He looks like he feels sorry for me. “What do you mean, no?”

  He makes his way over in silence, finally pulling out all the screws and lifting the plywood away.

  And all I can do is stare. There is a hole in the cabin wall. The one I put my hand through. It’s even as tall as the plywood. But it’s much, much narrower. Large enough to have felt like a way out, but not to be anything of the kind.

  I look up at Jasper, my eyes wide. “I know,” he says. “Messed up, huh?”

  “They’ll have to come back eventually,” I say. “If Quentin thinks he needs me so bad, he’s not going to just leave me out here.”

  “Yeah, and?” Cassie asks. “How are we going to get out with him in here?”

  “We’ll just have to figure out a way.”

  Because I don’t have to be an Outlier to know that much for sure. That our lives depend on us getting out that door.

  In the long hours that follow, we discuss plan after plan, none of which have any hope of succeeding. At least we think it’s hours. All of our phones have been taken now, so we have no idea what time it is. And the day is gray, so it’s not easy to track the sun. But it seems like a long time. And by the end, we are just throwing ideas out so we can watch them drift away into the useless ether. We do search the cabin again for another way out. But Jasper and I have already done that. There is nothing left to find. Jasper hands out the granola bars that Quentin left there when we first arrived and some water. The last thing I want is to eat or drink. But Jasper is right. We should if we have the chance. Just in case we do find a way to run.

  And a while after that comes the quiet and then the dread.

  Eventually, we all drift off to sleep. Or Jasper and I must have, because we both startle awake when there’s a sound at the door. When I look over at Cassie, I can tell from the raw look in her eyes that she hasn’t slept a wink.

  When the door final
ly opens, it’s Lexi who steps inside, looking sheepish and sad. She has some more water bottles in her hands.

  “Hi,” she says quietly, hopefully almost. I don’t know how long we were asleep, but it’s much darker now. Not pitch black yet, but getting there. I reach over and turn on the kerosene lamp, and Jasper does the same for the one near him. “Sorry to wake you. I thought you should at least have some extra water just in case.”

  But that’s not why she’s there. She came with questions. She’s worried about herself, her baby. Doesn’t trust that Doug has any of this under control.

  “Quentin is lying to you,” I say. There’s such a churning mix of feeling coming from Lexi. I try to focus on it, make sense of it. Isn’t that what an Outlier should be able to do? “He is going to kill us.”

  “That’s not true,” she says, though she doesn’t seem sure.

  “Yes, it is. That’s his actual plan. To get what he wants and then kill us. And do you think he’s just going to trust you enough to let you go after that?” I ask. “What happens to your baby if you don’t make it home? I know what it’s like to grow up without a mother. And my mom had an acc— You have a choice.”

  Lexi shakes her head, looks warily over her shoulder toward the door. And then I feel a flicker of anguish—hers, not mine. I have to try to use it any way I can.

  “You can’t just help Quentin because Doug is telling you to. Listening to him got you into this mess in the first place,” I say, hoping it will be enough to make her come to her senses. Lexi is a troubled person, but Doug is a bad one. “Are you really willing to risk not getting back to your daughter for him?”

  “Oh my—” Lexi puts a hand over her mouth as the color washes from her face. She looks like she’s just been startled awake. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Right now.” She’s already backing toward the door. “I have to get home to my daughter.”

  “But first you have to help us,” I say. “All you have to do is distract Stuart for a minute, make sure the door stays unbolted.”

  “No, no, I don’t think I can—”

  “You have to,” I say. “Or you’ll be responsible for whatever happens to us. And you won’t be able to blame that on Doug. If we are killed, it’ll be on you. How will you be able to live with yourself, be a mother to your daughter? We are someone’s children, too.”

  “This is never going to work,” Cassie says once Lexi has left, giving us her wobbly assurances that she’ll do as we asked, that she’ll try to get Stuart off the door. “Did you see how nervous she was? She’s going to crack. She’ll probably tell her husband.”

  “That’s helpful, Cassie,” Jasper barks. “And do you have a better idea? Considering that you are the entire reason we are in this fucked-up situation.”

  Cassie closes her eyes and shakes her head. “No,” she says quietly, dropping herself down onto the couch. “I don’t have any more ideas.”

  “Awesome,” Jasper goes on, gritting his teeth. “On the upside, at least you feel special.”

  It’s fair that he’s angry. I’m angry at Cassie, too. But there’s a part of me that feels bad for her. Cassie is who she is. She can’t change that any more than I can. Whoever it is I end up being.

  There’s another sound at the door then. The bolt sliding back open again. Too quick to be Lexi, though.

  When the door finally opens, Quentin pokes his head in. He takes a deep breath and blows it out puffed-up cheeks as he walks inside. He is different yet again. Not quite the nervous boy-man we first met, but much closer. He’s even put the glasses back on.

  Cassie was right, we are significantly more screwed with him in the cabin with us. And there’s no way to tell Lexi to wait until he is gone. We are going to have to go anyway, which means we need Quentin far away from the door.

  “I’m glad somebody brought you some water.” He steps forward and picks up one of the bottles Lexi left, stares down at it in silence. I worry for a minute he’s going to tell us that he knows about Lexi agreeing to help. That Doug has already headed her off at the pass.

  “Did you leave those dolls on our porch?” I ask, walking toward the back, hoping Quentin will follow, distracted by the conversation. One way or another, we have to get him off that door. And I’m assuming it was him. It started right after he got fired.

  “Dolls?” Quentin asks, confused, and it seems genuine. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about any dolls. But I wouldn’t be surprised if someone left something unpleasant at your house, Wylie. This situation is so much larger and more complex than two scientists with opposing philosophical perspectives. There are so many forces at play.”

  “Is my dad even coming here?” I ask, going to lean against the wall like I was just randomly headed to the back. “And those North Point people aren’t real, are they?”

  “Yes, of course, on both fronts,” Quentin says, but not even like he really cares about convincing me. Instead, he walks right past me, even deeper into the cabin. Farther than I could have hoped. “Now, was your dad always coming? No. Were we always working together? No, obviously not. Otherwise I would have known from the beginning that he’d switched your and Cassie’s results.” He pauses like he’s waiting for me to say something. “Did I have to employ some misdirection to get him here? Yes, I did. But he will be here soon, Wylie. And make no mistake, North Point is very real. And just like The Collective, they are only the beginning. We stand in the eye of a hurricane.”

  Quentin heads over to the wall, to where we removed the plywood. With his back turned to us, he stares down at the long, thin hole in the wall. I step then between Quentin and the door. Between him and my friends. Because it’s me that he wants. And maybe this is how all of this is—how I am—supposed to end. I have to believe I will find a way to escape somehow. And if I cannot, that feels like it might be okay. Because I may not know who I am anymore. But I do know one thing: I am done being afraid.

  “Let Cassie and Jasper go and I’ll do whatever you want,” I say.

  “Wylie.” Cassie’s voice wavers. She can see what I’m doing now. Can tell that I am planning to sacrifice myself so that they can run.

  “I’ll teach you whatever you want,” I go on, moving closer to Quentin.

  I’m amazed at how convincing I sound, like I really might know how to teach anyone anything. But it’s harder to keep my composure once Quentin turns around and locks eyes with me. It isn’t until then that I feel the full weight of his emptiness. His insides are a hole. His heart a cliff. And I’m about to slip into the abyss.

  “I can’t let them go, Wylie,” he says calmly, like it’s just the unfortunate truth. One that he and I must face together. “Not now.” He lifts his head, looks vaguely toward the road, the woods. “It wouldn’t be safe anyway—not with North Point.”

  “Oh, come on,” Jasper shouts. “There’s nobody coming!”

  “I wish they weren’t, believe me,” Quentin says with a calm shake of his head. “Some of them are here already. Fiona has a bullet wound to prove it.” But the way he says it makes me feel like Cassie was probably right: Quentin was responsible for that too. He turns then and crouches down in front of that thin hole in the cabin wall. “I’ve always thought that the only thing worse than having no way out is falsely believing that you do.”

  I hear a faint sound then near the door, Stuart’s voice maybe, talking to Lexi? Jasper coughs to cover the sound. Lexi doing as she promised, getting Stuart off the door. This is it. We can’t wait any longer. This is our chance. Quentin is still crouched down, looking at the carefully cut rectangle in the wall. He is distracted enough to buy a moment. I turn to Jasper and Cassie.

  “Go,” I mouth at them. “Now.”

  Maybe I will even be fast enough to follow before Quentin grabs me. Do I believe that? No, not really. But somebody has to get away. And part of me died the day my mom did. Maybe this is a sign that it’s finally time for the rest of me to go.

  What happens next happens so fast. And none of it is wha
t I intended. None of it is what I wanted.

  The cabin door does not fly open. I do not watch Cassie and Jasper disappear out into the night. It’s Cassie who moves first, and so fast. But not toward the door like she’s supposed to. Instead, she lunges to the side and grabs up one of the lanterns. A second later she swings it high overhead, then smashes it to the ground between Quentin and me.

  And I think: What? Why?

  Quentin seems to think the same as he stands and we all stare down at the small pile of broken glass, and the silly little blue flame sputtering in its midst. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks Cassie, amused almost.

  Jasper speaks next. Because he doesn’t understand either. “Cassie, what are you—”

  But then she spins to face me, puts a hand in the center of my chest, and shoves. Hard. As I stumble back, I catch a whiff of the smell. The jeans and coat she never changed out of are still tinged with gasoline.

  Suddenly, I understand everything. “Cassie, no!”

  But it’s too late. The rest is slow and terrible. Impossible to believe even though I am staring right at it. And her.

  “Go!” Cassie screams again, as she steps forward into the flame and the edge of her coat catches fire.

  “No!” I rush toward her. But her body is already engulfed in flame. And it’s—she’s so hot, even from a couple of feet away. I can feel my eyelashes being singed as I move closer. I hold my hands up in front of my face. But it’s no use. My palms have already started to burn.

  The worst part is the silence. Her silence. The only sound the crackle of things bursting into flame. And Cassie doesn’t cry out. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t move. It’s almost as if she’s escaped somehow, slipped out into the cloud of smoke above. But then suddenly, she collapses to her knees.