The Darkest Minds (The Darkest Minds #1)(76)

Liam was shaking his head, even as Chubs said, “She has a point.”

He said nothing, but his hands trembled on the steering wheel. It was his silence that stung, and when I couldn’t take another second of it, I reached over and turned on the radio, sending up a prayer that an Allman Brothers’ song would be on. Instead, Betty picked up a news talk show.

“—children are in containment for their own good, not just the safety of the American public. My well-placed sources in the Gray administration have informed me that all instances in which a child has been removed from rehabilitation early have resulted in their untimely death. There is simply no way to reproduce the routine of medication, exercise, and stimulation these rehab centers are using to keep your children alive.”

Liam punched a knuckle against the volume button, trying to turn it off. Instead, the tuner jumped to the next available station, and this time it was a woman’s voice delivering the bad news. “Sources are reporting that two Psi fugitives were picked up on the Ohio–West Virginia border, traveling on foot—”

Betty turned so hard and fast into the empty rest stop that I swore she did it on two wheels. Liam parked diagonally across three different spaces, throwing the brake on with a fast, “Be right back.” One minute he was beside me, and the next, we were watching the back of his red flannel shirt as he jumped over a puddle of stale rainwater and headed for the Colonial-style brick building and vending machines.

“That was…dramatic.”

I turned to look at Chubs over the seat, but he was just as confused as I was.

“You should probably follow him,” Chubs said.

“What should I say?”

Chubs gave me one of his looks. “Really? You need me to spell it out for you?”

I had no idea what he meant, but I went anyway, tracing Liam’s trail of anger and frustration past the restrooms, past the abandoned sitting area, to the other side of the building, where there was wild long grass, trees, and absolutely no way we could have seen him from Betty.

He stood with his back toward me, sagging against the rest stop’s wall. Arms crossed over his chest, hair standing on end. I thought I was being quiet like a fox, but he knew the moment I stepped behind him. His grief hung around us like humidity, seeping into my skin. I felt the invisible fingers at the back of my mind awaken. Howling, like a feral cat that’d been caged too long.

I kept my distance.

“Lee?”

“I’m okay. Go back to the van.” Again, with the forced, bright voice.

He dropped to a crouch, then completely to the ground. But I didn’t move, not until he leaned forward and stuck his head between his knees, looking like he was about to throw up everything in his stomach.

I stared long and hard at the place where his light hair curled against his neck, at the exact spot an old bruise disappeared down his shirt collar. My hand lifted at my side to push the soft fabric away. I wanted to see how far the ugly mark extended. To see what other old wounds he was hiding.

You touched him before, a little voice whispered at the back of my mind, and nothing happened then.…

Instead, I took a step back and away, so I was no longer standing directly behind him, but off to the side. Distance. Distance was good.

“You’re right, you know,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to find the Slip Kid just to deliver Jack’s letter. I don’t even want to use him to help me find my family. I know where they are and how to reach them, but I can’t go home. Not yet.”

Somewhere behind us, I heard one of Betty’s doors slide open, but it didn’t break the stillness of the moment. “Why not? I’m sure your parents miss you.”

Liam rested his arms over his knees, his back still to me. “Did Chubs tell you…did he say anything to you about me and the League?”

He couldn’t see it, but I still shook my head.

“Harry—my stepdad—he knew from the start that the Children’s League was bad news. Said they would use us worse than Gray ever would, and wouldn’t shed one damn tear if we died helping them. Even after…even after Claire—Claire is, was, my little sister.” He cleared his throat. “Even after she was gone, he used to remind me that no amount of fighting was ever going to bring her back. Cole had already joined up with them, and he came back to get me to go with him. To fight.”

Was. Was my sister. Was gone. Another victim of IAAN.

“I bought into it. I was so angry, and I hated everyone and everything, but there wasn’t anyone to direct it at. I was there with them for weeks, training, letting them turn me into this weapon. Into the kind of person that would take an innocent person’s life just because it served their needs and what they wanted. My brother was like a stranger; he even kept this—this thing he called a kill chart in our room. And he’d add to it, every time he killed someone important. Every time he completed a mission. And I would come in after training all day, and I’d look at it and think, How many of those people had families? And how many of those people had people who needed them like we needed Claire? And that’s just it—they all did, Ruby, I’m sure of it. People don’t live like islands.”

“So you got out.”

He nodded. “Had to run during a training simulation outside. I was trying to get back to Harry and Mom when the PSFs picked me up.” He finally turned so he was looking at me. “I can’t go back to them yet, not until I earn it. Not until I make it right.”