Nowhere Girl | The Darkest Minds Fanfic

Run for Your Life

I quickly got a sense of what their daily routines here were like. According to Ang, they practice their abilities daily, and go on raids for supplies during night time.

　　Both Ang and James were pretty in control of their abilities. Ang could lit up anything or put out fire on anything without touching the object, although Drew did point out that he is practically useless in the rain. James could charge any batteries without touching them, too, and could sent out electric arcs that made the air smell like ozone.

　　On the other hand, Drew's ability was kind of peculiar. He could create some sort of invisible barrier—Ang called it 'force field'—that is difficult to cross, but he couldn't handle individual objects with any kind of precision, even if his life depends on it. I didn't know if he should be counted as good or bad at his ability, but nevertheless, he was still way better than me. I couldn't even half-understand mine, and worst of all, the Monster seemed to have a better hold on my ability than I did.

　　Would they be my chance of actually learning how to control it? I hated myself for hoping, but I couldn't help it. Am I even savable? Can I save myself?

　　How did you learn to use your ability? I wrote to Ang.

　　"Well, we trained one another." Ang said. "Drew and I come up with all kinds of stuff we could do to try out our limits. James used to be...less comfortable with his, though. He didn't start his own training until recently, which is why he works harder than any of us."

　　I could tell that. That night when we were all settled down to do our own stuff—for Ang, it was reading; for Drew, it was sketching—James was studying. I tried to make out of what he was studying without making him feel like I was invading his privacy, and found that the book in front of him was titled Delmar's Standard Textbook of Electricity.

　　He snapped the book shut in front of me, and shot me a glare with a very clear message of 'mind your own business' in all caps. He might as well slap the book in my face; it would probably hurt less.

　　Eventually, I borrowed one of the books Ang had—a poem collection of Dylan Thomas—and crawled back to my bed to read it. I hadn't read—properly read—for a long time. I didn't know if I really understood the poems, but I like the way words were arranged in them.

　　It felt quite in here, safe, even. I hated myself for wanted to stay here forever. I check the tablet for news about Liam Stewart before I went to sleep, to see if I could find any leads to Stewart—I still call him that, even though I know it is likely not his first name. But nothing came up. No one found Liam Stewart, and no update on his profile about his brother, either.

　　I allowed myself to wonder for the worst when I was in a relatively stable mood—what if he is dead? I couldn't deny the possibility. If he was taken by the government, and he had been working for the League, he could very well be. But I also allowed myself to think that if he really died under custody, the new information would appear on Liam Stewart's profile.

　　No news is good news, right?

　　On the fourth night, we got a tip of a blue girl in Harrisburg. We moved out at once. It seemed that James wanted to argue against having me go with them, but I supposed he hated the idea of me staying—alone—in their house even more. He ended up sulking the whole way to Harrisburg, which put a half-amused smile on Ang's face.

　　We stopped the car one block away from the place of sighting in the tip. Ang and Drew got off the car without a word, and James moved to sit in the driver's seat. This was when I finally got a glimpse of what they did on the night they saved me.