Outcast: A Corporation Novel (The Corporation) Read Online Free Page A

felt my stomach boil and toss a little, but I closed my eyes, took a few breaths and the feeling passed. As disgusting and disturbing as this gift was, it was a gift. I couldn't throw it away, it could prove useful. And I refused to think long enough about it to realize what kind of person it made me. 
    I find myself in the same place I did three months ago—standing in front of a Gate, testing my Mark, hoping it works.
    This isn’t to say I’ve left the Mark untested. One of the first things I did was trying it at the Factory; after all, I needed to get into my locker and into the building.
    Testing it there proved to be easy, with all the bodies and the rush of getting to stations on time, no one was overly interested in what I was doing. Not even Journey. Of course, I never accessed my locker in front of her. To my amazement and relief, it worked. Every time.
    So here I am, at a Gate I've never been able to access, to test two Marks. The light at the top of the arc throbs a pale blue. I lock my elbows down by my side and stride to the reader. Without thinking about it any longer, I jam my arm into the cubby and wait for the red laser to read my Mark. As dangerous as this is, if it works, the benefits will far outweigh the risks.
    Nothing happens.
    I take my arm out, brush off my Mark, wipe the inside of the scanner with my sleeve, and try again. Nothing. My heart and breathing pick up. I lick my lips.
    Does this mean what I think it does? Is my Mark broken completely, or is it just the Gate? There's only one way to find out for sure.
    I step back and look up at the shadowed structure. It might as well be the mouth of a monster, waiting to swallow me. I rub at my arm with the opposite hand out of habit, taking a step towards the Gate. Then another. And another. Deliberately, I move my feet until I'm standing in a section of the city I shouldn’t be in.
    I turn around and look at the Gate. It's still pulsing that waiting, patient, dull blue. My stomach starts to bubble with my nerves and a little bit of excitement. I still don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. But it definitely is a thing. I'd have to test the other Gates, of course, but I think this means that I’m not restricted by anything anymore. This information would be priceless to anyone who finds out. Especially the Corporation.
    I reach into my pocket and pull out the wrapped Mark. I'm going to have to touch it, and I'm not looking forward to that. I take a deep breath and grab it with my thumb and forefinger, telling myself that it's something else I'm lifting, and not the skin of another person who had probably died so I could have this. I lay it in the palm of my other hand and stiffen my fingers, trying to create some sort of barrier between me and the dead flesh, like if I'm still enough, it won't count as me touching it.
    I slip it into the cubby. There's a second delay before a red laser sweeps the Mark, once, twice, three times before it lets out a satisfied chirp and the Gate hums with acceptance.
    I stand there, stupefied. I look down at the Mark. I'm about to scan it again, to make sure it wasn't some sort of fluke—even though I know it wasn't—when I hear gravely voices floating to me on the cold breeze. I scurry to the other side of the Gate, back where I started. I see a pair of men walking towards me. As the dawn's light grays up the sky, I can make out the uniforms of Military Guards.
    Great, just what I need.
    I wrap the Mark back up in the paper with stuttering fingers and jam it back into my pocket. I pull the hood of my duster down over my face as much as possible, thrust my hands in my pockets, and walk, head down, to my meeting spot with Journey—a good ten minutes away. I try to walk as quickly as possible without looking suspicious, when I make my way past them. One is young, barely into his post; the other is older—around Papa’s age. The Gate is shutting down and the blue is fading as they walk up.
    I almost make