Free Outcasts by Alan Janney Page A

marveled. “It’s as big as a tablet.”
    Colonel Jordan barked, “Speaking of dinner. You’ll be eating in your room. I don’t need my mess hall turned into a damn zoo.”
    “Understood.”
    “And speaking of your room, now that your secret is out, I’ve taken the liberty of moving you to nicer quarters.”
    We squealed to a stop in front of what looked like a cinderblock cabin. Katie said, “Thank you, Colonel. We’re very grateful.”
    “Just about every man on base volunteered to stand guard. So both entrances will have three guards at all time,” he said with a trace of pride. I didn’t bother to tell him those guards would be worthless if the Chemist attacked. But I doubted that would happen in the near future. We were expecting him. “I support you, Outlaw. We fight with you.”
    Katie and I walked into our new quarters. Two bedrooms. Much nicer.
    Katie checked her phone and said, “Oh look. We’re trending on Twitter.”

Chapter Seven
    Saturday, January 6th. 2019
     
    I quickly grew sick of my own face. On every television. On every news website. On every social media app. Katie’s pictures were great. I looked goofy.
    The Outlaw’s secret identity finally revealed!
    Blah.
    Cellphone footage of our interactions with soldiers at Los Alamitos quickly went viral. Video of me playing quarterback for Hidden Spring High was spliced alongside the game of catch with marines yesterday. My yearbook pictures were dug up and shown in sequence on CNN, illustrating the remarkable change my body had undergone during the previous twelve months. Wow. I had gotten bigger. The story of my mother’s death got a lot of airtime. Katie and I watched a few minutes last night. She stroked my fingers and said, “You look so good on television. Great cheekbones.”
    “I need a haircut.”
    “No, it’s perfectly unkempt.”
    “Next to you I look like Tarzan.”
    She smiled. “Me Jane.”
    Carter was furious with Samantha Gear and me. We were exposed and vulnerable. He wanted clearance to send a plane for us but I refused.
    “Tell him that I’m his ally now. Not his employee,” I directed Samantha. We were all sitting on the girls’ bed Saturday morning, watching television. I’d slept in the other room.
    Samantha frowned. “Tell him yourself, punk.”
    “No. Tell him, Puck.”
    The speaker on my phone rattled, “Tell him what?”
    “Tell Carter we don’t need his plane. He’ll use it as an excuse to control us.”
    Puck’s irritation came through. “That’ll be a fun message to deliver.”
    Katie asked, “Where are you, PuckDaddy?”
    “Dunno. Haven’t looked out a window in a few days. California somewhere. PuckDaddy should probably track his own location like he does yours.”
    Samantha scowled at her phone. “The Priest is in the news again. That little whelp grows irksome.”
    “What now?”
    “He’s calling for Chase Jackson to repent and surrender himself to their guidance.”
    “Yeah, well, I’m not gonna.”
    “Grass Valley, California,” Puck mused. “Huh. Wonder what we’re doing here. My drivers are curious animals.”
    Cory texted me when he heard the news about my secret identity.
    >> I knew it. You a boss.
    Cory knew it?! No way. His reaction was much more subdued than Lee’s, who quickly touted himself as my best friend and assistant, and had been answering questions on his Outlaw blog and enjoying the notoriety for fifteen hours straight.
    Puck reported, “Carter requests you keep him apprised of your plans. And he’ll do the same.”
    I asked, “What are his plans?”
    Puck said, “Don’t think he has one. He’s in Norway. Went to monitor an 18 year old Infected kid, but she died before he got there.”
    Katie said, “That’s awful.”
    I asked, “What happened?”
    Samantha didn’t look up from her phone. “Relax kids. Happens several times a year. This disease kills pretty much everyone who has it. Remember? We’re only able to save one Infected every couple