Outcasts Read Free Page B

and grime and the occasional cobweb. The streets were cracked and dirty. The buildings were flaking and had patches of paint that covered graffiti. Some had graffiti still, doubtlessly put there by rebels. Mason passed by some that said, “The Black Army wants you” and “Enforcers are evil.”
    And it wasn’t only the scenery that was more rundown than the Highlands: Even the Midlands people didn’t seem as extravagant. Sure, silver was everywhere as people mimicked Finley Gray andLuella Flynn, but there was less Roller Paint here. And he couldn’t be certain, but it seemed like less cosmetic surgery as well.
    A plane flew overhead and Mason stopped to watch it. All his life he’d seen them and wondered. Now he knew the Safe Lands sent planes to Wyoming to trade and to other places to scavenge. Since there were people here in Colorado and in Wyoming as well, there were likely other civilizations in the world too. Perhaps the Safe Lands Guild knew of more.
    Mason took a deep breath and continued on, recalling Levi’s directions to the rebel meeting place. His older brother had never been great with details, but so far Mason had encountered no obstacles or confusion. He walked past the Get It Now store, past the charge station, and stopped in front of the Sim Slingers SimArt shop where Omar officially tasked, though his little brother also did various jobs for Bender that the Safe Lands Registration Department didn’t know about. Besides Mason, Mia, and Jennifer, Omar was the only other outsider who was still officially registered as a Safe Lands national.
    A steady beat throbbed from within the shop. The windows were Wyndo viewing glass, and Mason found himself watching the image of a technician altering SimArt on a computer while a SimArt flower on her client’s shoulder changed colors. Such technology seemed similar to painting. No wonder Omar liked it.
    Sim Slingers stood beside the Cinetopia Theater on Whetstone Road, separated by an alley. That was where Mason needed to go. He slipped down the alley, then poured on the speed, hoping to reach the corridor before anyone passed by on the street behind. He scanned the alley for the break in the wall that supposedly led to the back of theater nine, which was where Bender’s rebels met.
    Mason looked over his shoulder more often than he should, which caused him to almost miss the narrow opening in the cement wall of the theater. He darted into the corridor. Ahead, two men stood beside a door, looking like pillars.
    Mason walked up to them and stopped, unsure what to say.
    “Name?” Pillar One asked.
    “Eagle,” Mason said, which was short for his radio call sign, Eagle Eyes, and the code name Levi had told him to use for meetings.
    Pillar Two pulled out a SimScanner and ran it over Mason’s body, the dull buzz seeming to prolong the awkwardness of the moment. “He’s clean.”
    Pillar One stepped aside. “Go on in.”
    “Thanks.” Mason entered the building and passed down a dark hallway that let out in the left front corner of a small movie theater. The low rumble of Bender’s voice signaled that the meeting had already begun.
    The theater held maybe a hundred seats, all covered in thick red fabric. According to Levi, Jakk, the man who operated the theater, was one of Bender’s rebels. Years ago, he’d built a wall over the interior entrance to theater nine to offer a secure meeting location for Safe Lands rebels. The only entrances now were through the back alley or a chute in the floor that led to an underground storm drain. The rest of the theater was open for business and showed the latest Safe Lands feature films to the public.
    There were maybe two dozen people scattered in the seats in the front three rows of the theater, all eyes on the rebel called Bender, who stood in front of the darkened movie screen.
    Bender looked to be in his fifties — too old to exist legally in the Safe Lands. His forehead was a mass of soft wrinkles, and a short gray