The Darkest Minds: Chapters 12-15

The rest of us just sat back and tuned out his impassioned speech on the importance of good hygiene.

But, clearly, she had wanted me to have it—and wearing it, loath as I was to admit it, was smarter than running around in my camp uniform.

There was a knock on the door. Faint, almost tentative at first, but more insistent when I didn’t answer right away.

“Seriously. Please. Just take them. Chubs says your extremities or whatever are the first things to get cold, so you need them, and—”

I didn’t see one PSF or camp controller—not until we were at the base of the stairwell, stepping over, but mostly on, the three prone black figures on the ground.

Through the topsy-turvy vertigo that slammed into me, I turned toward Zu, my eyes adjusting just enough to make out her silhouette.

It must have been the hotel stationery.

The woman read the stock report like a eulogy.

A few drops of pungent liquid began to drip from the free end of the hose.

Siphoning gas, I realized. I’d heard about people doing this during the last gas shortage, but I’d never actually seen it done before.

Liam jerked the hose back and forth as the stream of gas slowed to a measly drip.

His voice trailed off, but the anger coating them had given the air a palpable charge.

“It was after most people our age had already been taken or were in hiding. The government issued a notice that any parents who didn’t feel safe or capable of taking care of their kiddos could send them to school on a specific morning, and the Psi Special Forces would be there to collect them for rehabilitation. Kept it all very hush-hush to avoid upsetting the children or inciting them to misbehave.”

It was the most frustrating feeling in the world, second only to the inherent helplessness that came with being trapped in a camp, all of your decisions made for you.

His voice trailed off, but I picked up the frayed ends of his thought all the same—how could I not?

With the sheet blocking the back window, Liam had to rely on using the side mirror to navigate us down the road and up into the small back alley that divided the Waffle House from an abandoned jewelry consignment store.

The others dug in with gusto, inhaling the meal in five bites.

After some semblance of calm had settled back over us, he pulled his map up and spread it out over the wheel.

“And I think it’s a code,” Chubs said. “A cipher of some kind.”

It didn’t hit me until that moment, until the first glimpse of the gauzy blue mist surrounding the mountains, that we really were in western Virginia.

We passed a few older adults pedaling away on their bikes, balancing precariously on two wheels with their briefcases or bags, their heads bent toward the sidewalk.

We passed what I thought must have been a black wrought iron fence, but it was almost impossible to see, trapped as it was beneath what looked to be raggedy, patchwork blanket.

The wall of faded paper took a beating as the wind blew through the fences, ripping some of the more decrepit sheets free and making others flutter like hummingbird wings.

Next to me, Liam’s foot slipped against the sallow dust collected on the floor.

And when the deer, a gorgeous, sweet thing with a silky caramel coat and big black eyes, came prancing out from behind the overturned magazine racks, Liam and I looked at each other, dissolving into shaky laughter.

Riotous laughter followed us down the aisles, seeming to come from below us, above us, on either side.

Liam and I turned to see Zu, her bare right hand splayed out against a checkout lane.

The leader bristled.

He’d been strangely quiet the entire time, his lips pressed tight together, but his face otherwise perfectly devoid of emotion.

All of this tribe stuff was new to me. Kids banding together and roving the countryside, trying to avoid getting caught, taking care of one another?

He reached across my lap and began to peel Greg’s fingers off, one by one, with a look of pure disdain.

My dad’s favorite story to tell strangers and indulgent relatives was the day he and Mom tried to button me up into a blue one for his birthday party when I was three.

I don’t know if her desire finally won out, or if I’d managed to exhaust even her wariness, but by the time she appeared, peeking out from around her dressing room’s door, I was so relieved I almost cried.

When I finally coaxed her to look, I felt her shoulders jerk under my hands—saw her eyes go huge and bright, only to droop again a moment later.

“The names of a few of the friendlier tribes, a few cities under lockdown for insurrection—stuff like that. I just wanted to get a sense of what was happening in Virginia.”