112
“WHAT?” CASSIE CRIED.
“The rich. The powerful. Those at the top of the United,” said Ms. Strepp.
“I don’t understand,” I said again. I felt so confused, and wished she would make me do push-ups or something I could wrap my head around.
“The people who run everything and control every facet of our existence,” Ms. Strepp said. “They tell farms when to produce more corn or fewer tomatoes. They tell manufacturers to make more cars or different cars or trucks. They tell bakers to make white bread or rye bread or rolls.”
“Why?” I asked.
“For their enjoyment,” Ms. Strepp said. “The few in charge of the United keep the rest of us in slavery, so that they can enjoy life.”
I glanced at Cassie. Her brow was furrowed and I could almost see her trying to decipher those words.
“They don’t live in cells?” Cassie said.
“No. They live in Forbidden Zones,” Ms. Strepp answered. “But they’re allowed to go to any Forbidden Zone they want, anytime they want, without permission. Some of them have houses in three or four or more different places.”
“What do they make?” Cassie asked. “What do they produce?”
“Nothing.” Ms. Strepp’s face looked hard and condemning. “They produce nothing. Even their music and art are made by people they control.”
“Well, what do they do?” I still felt lost.
“They relax,” said Ms. Strepp, and the way she said it made relaxing sound like it was about as worthwhile as incubating the plague.
“Why are you telling us this?” I asked.
“Because we—the Outsiders—are tired of being slaves. We’re tired of being controlled. We want to play the game by our rules.”
Wait—back up. Was Strepp saying she was an Outsider?
113
CASSIE
BECCA AND I BOTH SAT there looking like largemouth bass as Ms. Strepp went on with her mind-blowing revelations.
“Once I was a girl in a cell, just like you,” she said. “And just like you, one day I was kidnapped and taken to prison and put on death row.”
What?
“That prison was where my life really began.”
My eyes were bugging out of my head, and I didn’t dare look at Becca.
“In prison, I learned right from wrong. You know what death row is like. Facing death forces you to leave extraneous emotions behind. It focuses your thoughts, your energies, unlike any other situation.”
No shit, I thought.
“In prison I learned to survive, much as you have done. I learned how to live free, as much as anyone can. Not free outside. Free inside, inside of myself. They had caged my body, but they couldn’t cage my mind, or my soul.”
Was this the same Strepp who had made me do push-ups until I fell on a bed of nails? I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. The images from the TV were ricocheting around in my mind—the white sand, the huge houses, the fancy drink.
“You are two of the Outsiders. Pleased to meet you. I’m Helen Strepp, one of the heads of the Outsiders.” She gave a smile that was so unexpected that it was almost scary.
“We—the Outsiders—are like a hydra,” she said. “We have many heads. If one of us is cut off, others are ready to step into our place. Our mission is too important to risk a break in the chain of command. You see, we—the Outsiders—are preparing for the future. Life as we know it is about to change radically, and not for the better. We as a people will face great hardships, and almost certainly a terrible war.” She let out another breath, as if even knowing this was a heavy burden.