Kale Stone: An Outliers Tale: An Outliers Tale

By Kayla Hicks

"A must-read! An absolutely fantastic adventure through the pages!" - Steph O'Connell

"Recommended if you want to explore the nuances of a dystopian world where in/out and have/have not dynamics dominate life"- T. Dar

What if someone gave you a code and told you to use it to save the world?

 

For seventeen-year-old Jeremy, the world has been an unforgiving place. His father was killed by bounty hunters, his mother is dying of a deadly virus sweeping the Outskirts, and he is surrounded by people who have been abandoned by a broken system from the six cities that decide everyone's fate.

After his home is burnt down, his mother is kidnapped leaving Jeremy alone with a code and no way of knowing how this code will save the world.

 

Kale Stone is a tale of action, adventure, power, and corruption, with just a dash of romance. All the twists and turns Kayla Hicks throws at you will keep you on the edge of your seat until the very last page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kayla Hicks
• Release date: Jul 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9781539067580

Book preview

Kayla Hicks

Kale Stone: An Outliers Tale

Copyright © 2021 by Kayla Hicks

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

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Dedications

My husband who always listens to me bounce the same ideas off of him and pushed me to publish.

To my family and friends for reading this even in its awful stages.

Contents

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2

3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter 4

5. Chapter 5

6. Chapter 6

7. Chapter 7

8. Chapter 8

9. Chapter 9

10. Chapter 10

11. Chapter 11

12. Chapter 12

13. Chapter 13

14. Chapter 14

15. Chapter 15

16. Chapter 16

17. Chapter 17

18. Chapter 18

19. Chapter 19

20. Chapter 20

21. Reviews

22. Outliers Map

23. Sneak Peek

Other Works by Kayla Hicks

About the Author

1

Chapter 1

The cool stream slowly drifted around my hand, sending chills up my fingers. It was a welcoming feeling with the muggy air around me.

Bits of grass lazily floated past me. My gaze followed the path of a floating blade of grass, watching as it rested on a plump toad. There he sat on a rock with his eyes closed, unmoving. He looked as if he didn’t care about anything else, neither the increasing wind nor the rolling stream around him. He was just there.

I quietly propped myself up and inched toward him. He still sat unmoving, slowly breathing in and out. When I got closer, his eyes cracked open only slightly. Trying not to be seen, I instantly froze, and his eyes closed once again.

Reaching my hand out, I lowered it into the water, trying not to make a sound.

Ahhh! someone screamed.

I jumped, my hand smacking the water. Suddenly the toad was gone, just like that.

I stood and looked around for the source. I then saw our house to my far right. There were five figures standing near it. I couldn’t make them out from this far away.

Something’s wrong, I thought. We never have visitors.

I started running as panic rose in the back of my throat like acid. I could hear my feet thudding against the dirt-packed ground. The wind whistled past my ears as the coming storm got stronger. My breathing was starting to come out as a jagged sound.

As I got closer, I could now see three men and my parents. The men were dressed in black, and they regarded their captives with a stone-cold gaze. My father was on his knees, looking up at them. As for my mother, she stood broken, her hair a mess, her eyes red with tears, and her arms hanging at her sides in defeat. She looked frozen, like the toad in the stream.

All heads turned in my direction when they heard my thudding footsteps. I slowed my stride and tried to slow my rapid breaths.

Oh, what a shame. You have a son? the man in front of my father said.

My father kept his eyes on me, but his eyes were unreadable. If he was trying to tell me something, I wasn’t understanding.

This doesn’t change a thing, Terrance, the man snapped. The point is you are a highly valuable asset, and Kale Stone wants you back. You can either willingly come with us, or I can think of other means to make it work.

My father tore his gaze away from me and looked at the man. Okay, I’ll go. Let me say goodbye to my wife and son first, he said.

The man clicked his tongue and held up his finger. I have a better idea. We’ll just take all of you. This way you don’t miss your family…and then you’ll have a little more incentive to keep working.

I looked at my mother, seeing the fresh tears rolling down her face.

No, my father said. Just me.

The man looked at my father. The intent in his eyes was clear.

We have valuables; you can take those instead, my mother quietly said.

The man’s head snapped up in my mother’s direction. He tilted his head in thought. Interesting.

My chest felt tight. I wanted to do something, anything. Why do they want my father?

Okay, go inside and find anything of value, he said to the man to his left.

The man stalked off and returned with jewelry, metals, and trinkets. He took them over, and the group’s leader seemed pleased with the haul.

I wonder what we will say. Was it that we couldn’t find you or that you died on the way there? he pondered.

My mother stepped over and grabbed my arm. She quickly shoved me inside the house and shut the door. She had a look of terror in her eyes.

I tried to look under the door to no avail, so I pushed my ear against the door. I could feel the unevenness of the wood but couldn’t hear anything. It was too quiet.

Suddenly there was a loud bang, so loud that I fell backward. I quickly scrambled to my feet and wrenched open the door. I was greeted by the sight of my mother kneeling next to my father, who lay on the ground. The blood that poured out of him turned the ground an odd color. She was gently patting his face as if she were trying to wake him up.

I bolted into a sitting position on my cot. I was drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. This happened every time I had this dream.

* * *

Mom, you need to wake up, I whispered.

She didn’t move. I watched to see if she was breathing. I was relieved to see her eyes open slightly. She had dark circles under her eyes, which deepened when she narrowed her gaze at me. I was having the best dream. Why did you wake me? she joked.

You need to eat or drink something, Mom. You haven’t had anything in two days, I begged.

Fine, but I’ll just have some water. That will fill me up just fine, she said.

I sighed, shaking my head.

Oh please, you need to stop worrying so much. For all you know, when you are out and about, I was eating all of our food. I left all the dishes for you to clean, she joked again.

This is serious, Mom. You’re getting worse. I wish I had medication from Kale Stone; then you would get better, I said.

I walked over to the pitcher on the table and poured her some water. As I brought it back, I saw she was trying to sit up. I helped her the rest of the way and gave her the water.

If you keep making that face, you’re going to get worry lines all over your face like an old man. How will you ever meet a girl then? she asked.

Mother, I’m seventeen. I don’t think that is going to happen for a long time.

Well then, don’t you dare smile or even I won’t recognize you. I’ll yell, ‘Where is my grumpy son? There’s a smiling intruder in my home!’ she said.

I had to laugh at that. This was the most I had gotten out of her in two weeks. How are you feeling today? I asked.

Better. Maybe this is starting to turn around, she said and smiled.

I nodded as she drank her water.

She had been sick for months. She was in her forties now, which made her fall into the older population. People out here only lived to be sixty-five, maybe seventy. Once you turned forty in the Outskirts, you were at risk for the virus. She couldn’t eat, and she hardly drank or slept. It caused her to run high fevers and have terrible nightmares as well. The truth of the matter was she wasn’t fine, and we both knew it.

She handed me her cup and rested her head back against the wall.

You want me to make a stew or broth? I asked.

She weakly shook her head. I think I should sleep a little more. The more I rest, the better I’ll get. I’ll eat when I get up later.

We both knew she wouldn’t.

I helped her lie back down and shut the door on my way out. I needed to do something with myself. I wanted to feel like I was helping in some way. I went around the kitchen and gathered all the medicinal herb bottles. I also grabbed the wooden dolls I carved. I would take them to the market and get some more medication.

When I was done, I latched the door and locked it so Mom would be safe. The Outskirts were dangerous, and you could never be too careful. Even though we lived in a quieter area, I still always felt on edge.

I turned away from our home and scanned the area. Not a soul in sight. I could see desert to my right and dirt to my left. There was also Kale Stone looming in the distance. Even though we were miles away, it still looked huge. It was as if they needed to remind everyone in the Outskirts that we weren’t inside, that we weren’t one of them.

I started on my way toward the market. The market was small but valuable out here. There were seven stalls to go to with food, materials, and medicine. The vendors lived in their stalls, out of fear that someone would come and take everything. It was too risky to live separate from your belongings. That was a luxury for the people of Kale Stone.

* * *

After I had walked for about an hour, a group of people came into view. They were kind people my mother used to talk with. My mother was a sort of doctor out here, and she helped them to deliver their baby a year ago. Their camp had two houses similar to ours, a mixture of wood and metals. They marked off their small settlement with stakes in the ground.

As I walked by a man named Jason, he waved to me. He was roasting something over an open flame.

After another hour of walking, the market came into view. No one was outside; it was rare that anyone was. It was mostly stragglers and the people who lived close by who came.

I could feel the dolls and bottles gently swaying in my bag as I walked. I would need to make more items soon. Out here you need things like these. In Kale Stone, people used money, but in the Outskirts, we traded. We had no use for money out here. And besides, people of the Outskirts despised Kale Stone people, so they saw no need to try to be like them.

I walked past three shops and spotted Hemway’s stall at the end. His door was closed, but I knew if I knocked, he would open the door.

I could feel the wind picking up. Strands of my shaggy hair whipped past my face in the breeze. I looked to my right and saw that the desert sand was starting to move and dance in the wind. No wonder his door was closed, I thought. Thanks to that storm, I would need to be back soon as well.

I rapped sharply on the wood to make sure he would hear me. I stepped back and waited. A slot in the door cracked open and then quickly closed. The door then swung upward to reveal a dimly lit stall and an elderly man with a scraggly beard. He smiled at me, and his face filled with wrinkles. Good to see you, my friend. How is your mother doing? he asked.

Not so good, I said. I came to see if you have any more medicinal herbs. The only good news I have is that her fever is gone and she drank some water.

He nodded and retreated into the stall. I could hear glass clinking and boxes opening, and a few moments later, he was back. He placed the small glass bottles on the counter. I reached in my bag and unloaded my items onto the counter. He smiled in return, and we both took our parts of the bargain. You can put this in her water. It’s tasteless and will dissolve, he said. His gaze shifted to behind me, no doubt to the now-swirling sand. You should get going so you don’t get stuck in the storm, he said.

Thank you, I replied.

He pulled up his counter and pulled down the door. I could hear the latch turn as well. I turned and started at a trot toward home. By the speed of the wind, I knew that I probably didn’t have long until the storm started.

I made it home in an hour by running. When I reached our door, the sand was all over the place. It had embedded itself in the creases of my clothing. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, surrounded by sand.

When the door closed, I shook myself off. I heard scratching at the door just then and knew immediately who it was. I went to the door and cracked it open. A skinny orange tabby cat slinked inside and sat to clean himself off. I never did understand why this cat was all the way out here. There weren’t many plants or animals for him to eat. He probably went from person to person begging for food. He won my mother over every time, and she ended up giving him her scraps.

The cat walked down the hallway and stood outside my mother’s door. I walked down as well and opened the door for him. He went inside and hopped up on the bed, settling in beside her. She was still asleep.

I quietly closed the door and decided I would make her keep her word to eat. I went back to the kitchen and lit the fire. I put some ingredients in a pot with water and set it over the fire to cook. It would be about an hour or so until it was done, I thought. That should be enough time for Mom to sleep.

There was nothing else worthwhile to do with the storm outside so I picked out a book. My father had taught me how to read when I was young. He said because not many people in the Outskirts cared to read, I may not find many books. But he had found some I could read. After he died, my mother packed up everything and moved us here. She said that she needed a change of scenery, but my theory was that she didn’t want them to find us again.

I plopped on the cot and sat back against the wall. I chose to read a book of my mother’s. The cover was so torn and worn that the title was no longer visible. I opened it to feel the limp pages in my hand.

I had only reading for ten minutes when I felt my eyes begin to droop. Before I knew it, I dozed off.

* * *

I woke up drenched in sweat. It felt as if the room had jumped to 120 degrees. I opened my eyes trying to adjust, but I was still sleepy. As I became more awake, I started coughing. I could smell smoke. It felt as if it had coated my nose and throat.

Now that my eyes were adjusted, I looked around the room to see smoke billowing down the hallway, causing my eyes to water. The source was the fire pit where I had been making stew. The fire licked and spit as it climbed up the wall and throughout the room. The metal it touched glowed red hot, and the wood was singed and starting to turn ashy black. My gaze drew back to the smoke as my mind planned my next move.

Mom!

I stood quickly, almost falling over from the lack of air. Once I regained my balance, I had to squint through the smoke. It was thicker the higher I stood. I pulled the blanket off my cot and held it over my mouth and nose for a filter. I walked at a crouch down the hall. It was dark down the hallway and hard to see because of the smoke. I bumped into the wall several times, nearly knocking myself to the ground.

Relief washed over me when I reached my mother’s door. I reached my hand out trying to feel for the rough wood texture. Once I was sure I found the handle, I tried opening the door, but it wouldn’t budge. I tried again, to no avail.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the fire spit a large pile of flames to a table at the end of the hall. I need to get to her now.

I turned to my left and rammed my right shoulder into the door as hard as I could. My shoulder screamed in pain, but the door remained closed. The fire, grabbing for oxygen, suctioned the door closed. I rammed the door again with my shoulder, and the door caved. I pushed it the rest of the way open.

Smoke instantly filled the room, stinging my eyes more. I had to keep wiping in order to see anything. Once my eyes were clear, I scanned the bed. I did not see the cat, but Mom was as still as a wooden board. I would get her out and then check on what was wrong.

I took the cloth I had been using and placed it over her face. I lifted her as carefully as I could and headed for the door. I was unable to crouch while holding her so I bounced from wall to wall down the hallway. Near the end, it was easier to see, but the pathway was littered with fire.

I rubbed my eyes on my upper arms and shoulders to clear the tears that were streaming. I looked at the walls, debating on how hard I would have to ram them to come down. Most of them were glowing red by now. No chance of that. I would just have to run through.

I hugged my mother tighter to my chest and ran for the door.

The fire didn’t bother me at first, but when it caught my pants and started to melt my shoes, I turned and rammed the door with my shoulder. It didn’t budge. I tried again. I began to panic from lack of oxygen and an abundance of pain. I then tried turning so I was facing away from the door and fell back first against it. The door burst open, and I fell to the ground with a swift thud.

The fall knocked the wind out of my chest. I dropped Mom and rolled around gasping for air and coughing simultaneously as my coated throat rejected the fresh air. After what felt like forever, I gained back my lungs and was able to breathe shallow breaths without coughing. I rolled on my side, looking for Mom.

Thankfully the sandstorm has stopped, I thought bitterly, or we would have had another problem.

I spotted Mom a foot away. She was on her stomach, facing away from me. I pulled myself over to her and reached out to grab her. She has to be okay, I hoped fervently, she has to!

Suddenly a searing pain behind my ear forced me to scream out. I rolled around, patting my head trying to find the source. My shallow breathing was making me dizzy, and I felt as if I was going to pass out.

Then a shadow loomed over me. I looked at it, trying to focus. I couldn’t make out the person’s face or physical features. I could only see that he or she wore black. I could feel myself fading. I fought to keep my eyes open, but I was fading fast.

* * *

I felt something rough scraping my cheek. I fidgeted at first until my eyes opened.

Meow.

I opened my eyes and found myself staring at an orange tabby cat. Of course, this cat would be here expecting a handout. He sat on my chest, purring, his eyes slightly closed.

My head pounded. I needed water. I looked up at the sky above me, trying to figure out where I was. A small trail of smoke billowed to my left, slowly swirling into the sky. Is someone cooking something? All that smoke was going to attract people.

I tilted my head up to find the source, and the world spun. It felt as if I were on a large wheel, and my stomach warned me I was going to puke any minute. Not a good sign. I tried to breathe to fight the nausea, but that only made me cough terribly. My throat ached as if I had swallowed sand. I needed water. The cat’s eyes opened in alarm. He was scared about what I was going to do next, and so was I.

I then felt a weight on my legs. Looking up, I could see that orange tabby cat had gotten comfortable on me further down my body. Well, I mused, It’s good that one of us is feeling fine. I need to just lie here for a little bit and let the nausea pass. Hopefully, it will be over soon.

I tilted my head to the right to look around and gasped as a sharp pain zapped through my brain. I reached my hand up to feel an object behind my ear. Something came back in a brief flash. There was a fire, I got Mom out—and then there was a man.

Wait, where’s Mom?

I tried to tilt my head again, only to feel more pain. It felt like something was lodged in my head. I needed to get that thing out of me. I reached up and gently touched around the area. I could feel my soaked hair. When I touched it again, I winced at the pain it brought. It was small, but there was enough of a piece at the end for me to grab on to it. I grabbed it and pulled.

As I pulled, I could feel the pain subside slightly. There was a wet feeling as if blood was coming from the exit point. I put the object in my left hand and used my right hand to cover the wound. I could still feel the blood flowing over my fingers. It was