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God, I missed the bastard. “So when do we get together?”
His smirk turns into a smile that I love. “Missed me?”
“Maybe not you, but certain aspects of you.” I throw an intentional glance down his body.
“We can make up for it right now.” He tilts his head to one side.
Yeah, that’s our language—sex.
My phone beeps.
Marlow: They arrived. East docks.
“Shit,” I murmur. “They are here.”
Archer’s cheerfulness is wiped off his face.
I get it. He and the Outcasts are like a couple who is going through a nasty divorce. But the only thing that’s on the table here is pride.
And that’s the one thing no one is ever willing to give up.
45
KAT
Surrendering is never easy.Especially when you have to bow to the person you loathe.
Most Outcasts hate Archer Crone. Who wouldn’t have a grudge against the person who has power over the entire island and exiled you to live in the wild for two years?
But Archer is trying to make it as easy as possible. He is humbling himself, which is a big step.
I watch at a distance as the Outcasts, eighteen of them, plus Maddy and Bo, plus a kid—where the hell did the kid come from?—get off the boats and congregate by the docks, nervously clutching their backpacks and talking to Marlow.
The Outcasts have humbled themselves too, but theirs is the submission of the defeated.
I finally come over and hug Callie, then talk to Maddy.
“So it’s happened,” I say as I walk behind the group led by Marlow to the East Cabanas where they all will be staying for a short while.
“This is a big step,” Maddy says. “Thanks to Archer and, well, Kai.”
“What’s the story with the kid?”
“Kai and Callie picked him up from Port Mrei. He was homeless.”
“So, he’s living with them now?”
“I guess. They can tell you all about it. They have your backpack that you left on the Eastside.”
I chat with Owen, Kristen, and Ya-Ya as they get situated at their bungalows. There’s agitation among them because they were promised to get access to the Center.
And that’s where the whole gang heads in less than half an hour.
The Center is a stark contrast between the slick technology and the shabby getups of the Outcasts—tanned, beachwear, no makeup. They look like hippies at tech headquarters. The employees of the Center study them with curiosity. The Outcasts stare back with hostility. They’ve been told the world is in shambles. And here they are—in tropical Silicone Valley.
A big room is cleared for the Outcasts who wait their turn at the computers to connect to the mainland. In two years, they forgot the feel of a keyboard. They forgot the sound of the dial tone. And they forgot the faces of their loved ones—if any survived.
There’s too much to do. Talk to their surviving relatives. Get legal stuff sorted on the mainland. Find out if there is anything left for them there.
