Mutants (Under Revision)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

We drove for what seemed like days. Will and I took turns sleeping and looking out of our one window, but eventually we had given up hope and figuring out where we were. The hours had melded together in a huge lump of time. We were disoriented and on the edge of hopelessness.

I sat with my back to the humming van wall, my head in my lap. I  had tried several times to reach into the driver's mind, but something about the van made it impossible for my mind to explore anything else but the person I was with. For the first couple of hours, I had used all of my power to keep myself out of Will's head. My own mind lapped at his, wanting to know more, greedy for the sensation of releasing his sweet thoughts into my own consciousness. It was much more effort to avoid it than it was to just let it happen. I was exhausted and was losing my grip on my ability. It was a wild dog, held down only by the promise of eventually being fed. Will's privacy would be its meal. 

I closed my eyes, tired. I could feel my mind slipping away from me. Will was unguarded and unaware. I could feel his anxiety acutely, his apprehension. I saw a woman's face breaking into a smile. She had green eyes like his own, and exactly three freckles on her face. She was slim, like Will, and seemed to be saying something. Have a good day, Will. I'll see you after work, okay? 

"Hey!" Will said, breaking me out of my trance. I retreated mentally, my face heating up. Guilt was a sensation that I experienced often. 

"I think that's where we're going," Will whispered. 

At fist, it looked like a small clump of buildings on the horizon. I thought it was a small town in the middle of an empty, dusty plane. Then I saw the barbed wire fences. The search lights. The guards with guns. The gates were made of thick concrete, and they slowly opened. The van slid through. It just looked like a giant prison, grisly and imposing. This is where hope came to die in a slow, painful way. 

The van entered a grisly courtyard. Teenagers and a few adults, all in grey shapeless uniforms, wandered aimlessly around, defeat written everywhere. A young girl, frail and pale, smiled faintly as she saw the van, then was hit in the back with the but of a gun by the closest guard. I stumbled back from the window, feeling sick to my stomach. This was not a good place. The van slowed, but I willed it to keep going, to be headed somewhere else. It stopped in the courtyard. I wanted to cry, my gut in knots. I didn't belong here. Prisons were for criminals, and I hadn't done anything wrong. The van doors opened, and Will gripped my hand. I was grateful for the small comfort.

A pair of guards, outfitted in fitted grey jumpsuits, pulled us roughly out of the van. We stood facing the other prisoners. They looked tired, dejected; as though they had all grown up in the course of a few hours and was just feeling the aftermath now. Their thoughts were weak and thin. I barely noticed them at all. 

A man who wore the guard outfit of navy blue with silver badges walked toward us. He strutted as if he ruled the world. He looked as though he wanted to, and it put a bad taste in my mouth. His eyes, a stormy grey, were hard to look at. There was nothing behind them. They glinted. His skin was pale, as though he hadn't seen the sun in a matter of years. His dark hair was beginning to show signs of age, but it was stylishly pulled back in a small tight bun. 

"Ah, new freaks," he said, pleased with himself. The other guards snickered brutally. 

"Welcome to your new home. Don't worry, it's for the best," he said, "We're helping the world by ridding it of the dangers like you." I felt something flare up inside me. He was calling me a freak because of something I couldn't control. I dropped Will's hand. With my mind, I forced invisible hands around the mans throat. His eyes widened slightly, but then Will put his hand on my shoulder. Shocked, I released the stranger, afraid of how I had reacted. What was I doing?