Shade of Human

Nine - SoH

Nine:

We stayed out at the center of the woods for hours. Clarke attempted not to think much, but I soon discovered my bestie had more scandalous thoughts than an entire rugby team combined!

Clarke just narrowed his gaze to me and stated, “Sorry, I am definitely not sorry. Not my fault you can read minds. Maybe try to figure out how to tune me out. You know, like in the comics and stuff.”

I huffed in frustration and said, “I am not a DC or Marvel superhero!”

Clarke gave me a knowing look and flatly stated, “Yet.”

I shook my head vehemently and flailed my arms in exasperation.

“What-ev. I will do some record hunting. Do you think you could hack into my hospital records and tell me which crazy farm I was born inside? I need to do some mild breaking and entering.”

I wrung my hands as my mind compiled a plan that did not sound idiotic. Common sense told me that none of these hospitals were about to hand over confidential information to a juvenile delinquent. I could exclaim that she is my dead mom all day. They would still ignore my pleas for help.

“How are you going to find the damn records room?”

I shrugged and pointed at his temple with my right index finger.

“Same way I know you have a massive fetish for girls in nighties.”

Clarke slapped my finger away. He made a masculine sound of exasperation.

“Would you stay the hell outta my mind! Not like I control how many times a day I think about naked or skimpily clad women!”

Clarke squeaked in a broken tone. I sniggered in amusement.

“No, I get it, say no more. You really need not justify that to me. I mean, I dream about the Stealer’s cheerleaders almost daily. That, and Taylor Swift, but I have a major blonde fetish, so sue me!”

I rambled. Clarke nodded solemnly. His agreement to this truth was soul-deep.

“I knew there was some reason you and I got along so well.”

He said, I rolled my eyes and popped him in the chest playfully.

“Come on, let’s go gas up that WRX of yours, so we can get on the road.”

Clarke sighed and said, “Fine, just let me get my good hacking tablet first, so we know which way to go.”

I smiled at him as we walked back to his house. I noticed that even though I ran miles today, my body was charged as if by raw lightning. I felt my muscles coil tightly, and they seemed to be in peak shape and condition. I felt prepared for back-to-back triathlons. This was just another strange physical sensation atop the mountain of discoveries today.

***

After Clarke hacked into the lackluster security system of the hospital we had discovered in the references from my medical records, we had a location. Philadelphia Mental Care Institute. A very polite title for a funny farm, or crazy as sin bin—take your pick.

“You know, all of this started the night Arial died, but why did it seem to stop while I was locked up?”

I asked Clarke, who was driving us in his aging, beautiful WRX sedan. People a generation prior would have paid a serious mint for this monster of a four-door sports sedan. Clarke had gotten his license while I was locked up. Jerry used to have to drive us all everywhere. Clarke’s mom took him the day he was eligible. He then pissed everyone off by driving his Subaru up to pay me a visit and boast about his beautiful road-lady finally being under his command. Clarke had saved up money for years to afford the car. He had bought it wrecked and fixed it up with his mechanically inclined uncle.

Clarke hummed and broke the tense air between us. His thoughts seemed to darken noticeably to me. It was surprising that I could in fact see darkness cloud his headspace. I had no plans on describing this to Clarke. He was already far too freaked about all my other odd and not-so-human observations. Hell, I was lucky that he was still my friend, that he had not bailed and ran screaming.

“That is a good question, and all I could offer, is that maybe the juvie blocks out powers? It is possible, considering it would be illogical and unwise to assume you are the only person with superpowers in the US.”

Clarke’s new theory was plausible. I considered for a long moment.

“If that’s the case, I need to know what blocked out my powers and stop calling them superpowers!”

I sassed at him. Clarke cut me a lazy smirk that bespoke how pleased he was with himself.

“Dude, you just called them powers yourself!”

I growled at him and scowled like my eyes could shoot lasers and murder the smartass dead!

I then turned and looked away, terrified I might accidentally discover that I could kill with a look. Being a person with special abilities burgeoning is an exceptionally terrifying experience. I didn’t know how or what I did that might cause harm to others around me. So far, I had killed no one—besides Ariel—and I wanted to keep it that way!

“I’m about to smack a dude, if you don’t shut it!”

I warned him, sounding slightly sullen and cross. Clarke smiled at me cheeky. He knew me not to be an overly violent person, not unless the occasion called for it. Even before I literally could feel people’s emotions, I could empathize deeply with them. I hated inflicting pain because it was almost like I experienced the pain with them. In retrospect, that could be how empathy forms in an adolescent mind? I had so many things I would consider for years to come, considering my recent discoveries.

Clarke gave me a reassuring look as we slowed down and made a hard turn. We narrowly missed a crazy drunk who swerved past us with screeching tires. Clarke swore in tangent.

“Man, they will lock me up next if someone hits the ride!”

Clarke declared. I huffed and rolled my eyes.

“At least it will be in service of a worthy cause, eh?”

I asked him. Clarke nodded vigorously.

“Hannah, this is not just any car, it is a turbocharged piece of street art!”

I sniggered at his odd description of his ride. I loved his car, so I mainly gave him grief for the laughs. Clarke being able to drive also made my life easier, assuming he did not in fact drop me off at this nut house and go screeching off into the night. I was not sure if that were even possible, but I could hardly blame Clarke if he did. Hell, it was possible that my mom had been abandoned for similar reasons.

“You know, I think city living is interesting, more so if you stick to public transportation.”

I said, Clarke chuckled at me.

“Certainly, cheaper to take the trains or buses in any large city I have been to. However, it’s way more fun to feel your ride roaring beneath you.”

Clarke said, and it almost sounded like his fascination with his car bordered on a fetish.

“I think we’re getting close.”

I said, peering down at his tablet in my lap. I could track our progress on the screen, and it showed a few more right turns, then one last left. We were about five minutes out. My heart was in my throat. I sat the tablet back into its car sheath above Clarke’s custom tricked out sound system controls.

“Hey, you keep those paws to yourself, kitty cat!”

Clarke said to say he was temperamental about people touching the sound equipment would be like saying Brett Favre played a little football. Both are practically illicit filthy lies they understate the truth so monumentally! I narrowed my eyes in challenge to his unwarranted reprimand.

“Do that again, and so help me god, I will hog tie you and force you to watch every season of Queer Eye!”

I growled at him in a tone that bespoke the lethality of my promise to Clarke. He loathed such style shows, and despite how forward he was with his gay bestie, he still had his boundaries as a heterosexual man.

“Hey, hey, no need to go nuclear postal gone girl on me!”

Clarke said. I didn’t get to retort again because the left turn told me we were now approaching. Even without the tablet, I knew we were here. The entire block was a black iron fenced gothic style building. It looked like something one would imagine seeing in any of the Batman shows or movies or in London for that matter. However, it was creepy and out of place in downtown Philly.

“Sweet Jesus, cue the lightning and roaring thunder noises and we have a cinematic cliché complete with the crazy-farm!”

I spared Clarke a single raised eyebrow. He was incredibly pleased with himself. I couldn’t say he was not funny. It was one thing that I loved most about him—when I am not moody and grumpy.

“I’m sure there was at least one Jason movie that started like this. Damn my mother for giving birth here!”

I murmured in an aggravated, hushed tone.

“Yeah, well, I just don’t get what lady is crazy enough to check herself into this place!?”

Clarke said. I nodded in agreement, unable to take offense because I was thinking basically the same thing myself. Clarke seemed to murmur the lord’s prayer as we parked the WRX. I tied my hair up into a high ponytail. I put on a midnight-colored ski cap. We were both dressed in the cliché black-on-black since neither of us knew more than what we saw on TV about cat burglars.

“You know that hot redhead on that new show you like? If you looked just a bit whiter, you could almost pass for her right now!”

Clarke stated. I sputtered and coughed out in laughter.

“You mean Nancy Drew?! As if you can pretend you haven’t read several of the books with me!”

I smirked in a self-satisfied manner. Clarke could pretend all he wanted to. He loved him some female detective stories.

“Yeah, whatever, let’s just get in and then get the hell back out before one or both of us ends up in a cell drooling with the rest of the crazy peeps!”

Clarke sounded as spooked as I felt now. We saw idling men in white uniforms. They were either very scary spirits, or they were living human orderlies. Right here and now, I could have believed either, considering the Dracula worthy backdrop in front of us!

“Did you just put on a freakin cross?!”

I inquired. Clarke smiled sheepishly at me.

“Hey, works in like half the vampire and werewolf lore I have read. You want one too? Oh, can you touch them?”

Clarke asked. I rolled my eyes again and made an impatient noise.

“Yes, I can, but no I don’t, because I am allergic to bad accessories!”

(A girl can have her limits on how awkwardly she can dress. My threshold was at cheesy jewelry and any other accessory.)

We waited in the parking lot behind Clarke’s car, which was midnight-blue, so we felt rather stealthy.

“They probably didn’t notice me pull in. I had the lights off once we turned onto the street.”

Clarke said. I nodded my understanding as we waited for the men to move again.