Taken (Erin Bowman)

ELEVEN


I STOOP TO RETRIEVE THE torch before it goes out in the wet grass, and then I stand there, my mouth hanging open. Emma takes advantage of my silence and races toward me. She’s wearing pants and a well-made jacket. There’s a bag strung about her shoulders. She’s thought this through, deliberately followed me.

Her arms link behind my neck. I hug her and kiss her hair, which is wet with rain. She’s saying something, but the words are muffled, her face pressed into my chest. And then the initial shock of her arrival wears off. It sinks in, the severity of her actions. I grab her shoulders and push her away from me.

“What is this?” I demand.

“Gray,” she starts, reaching for me, but I slap her arm away.

“No, seriously, Emma. What were you thinking? Why did you follow me here?” I’m almost certain now that the movement through the brush earlier was her tailing me.

“I . . . I wanted . . . Well, fine, Gray! It’s nice to see you, too.”

“That’s exactly it, Emma,” I spit back. “It’s not nice to see you at all. How could this possibly be nice? I have a chance here, but you, you’ll be like all the others. Am I supposed to like that?”

“I’m not dead yet,” she retorts.

“Well, it hasn’t found us yet. It’s going to happen, whatever it is, and there’s nothing I’m going to be able to do to save you.” I want to tell her to leave, to climb back to where it is safe, but the Wall is too smooth to scale and the lack of nearby trees has her trapped.

“Maybe I don’t want to be saved,” Emma continues. “Maybe I’m here because I want the truth, too, no matter the cost. What you’re feeling right now, that drive for answers, I’ve had it my entire life. Why is your seeking the truth any more justifiable than my wanting to?”

“It’s justifiable because I actually have a chance.”

“That’s really two-faced,” she snaps.

“I don’t care!” I shout. “I escaped the Heist. I don’t know how or why, but maybe that same magic will spare me here. You don’t have that chance.”

Emma bites her lip and looks down at the grass. It’s quiet for far longer than is comfortable and when she finally speaks again, her voice is soft. “There’s nothing for me back there anymore, Gray. The two things I want, answers and you, are now on this side of the Wall.”

I hear Emma say this, and know that I want her, too, but in a more dangerous way, in a way I’ve always been afraid to admit, maybe even to myself.

I love her, and love is a word too heavy for couples to exchange in Claysoot. It is rarely spoken, and when it is, it is passed solely between parent and child. Feeling so strongly about someone your own age is nothing but foolish; the Heist shatters all relationships, regardless of their strength. It won’t ruin us, though, not when I’ve beaten it. But this world beyond the Wall, what happens to all the climbers . . . that could.

“Gray?” Emma is still waiting for my answer. She looks so pretty, even with her hair growing wild in the humidity. I can’t stay mad at her. Not here, not when there’s no guarantee we’ll both make it. I want to tell her the truth, to speak that word, but it feels clumsy on my tongue.

“I’m sorry,” I say, “for yelling.”

She nods. And then I’m kissing her, because it’s easier than forming words. Her lips taste like rain, and I want her closer, even though I want her far away, safe behind the Wall. When we finally break apart, the storm is faltering.

“I need you to promise me you’ll listen from here on in. Any order I give, even if it sounds weird at the time, just trust me, okay?”

Again, she nods. “I promise.”

We drink some water and then I lead the way, moving through the dense woods and away from the smoky scent that continues to ride the air. I have an uneasy feeling that should we meet its source, Emma will meet her doom.

We left Claysoot so late in the evening that it isn’t long before dawn penetrates the overhead canopy. We squint in the light, continuing until the trees open onto an empty field. It’s much larger than the clearing in Claysoot’s woods, and free of stones and dirt trails. It’s almost inviting, and because of this, I grow suspicious.

A breeze whips through the meadow and the smoke again reaches us. It smells thicker, more pungent. I thought we’d been moving away from it, but now I’m not so sure.

“What’s that?” Emma whispers, pointing ahead through the meadow.

At the far end, where another line of trees begins, is the faintest hint of a structure, a building perhaps. The hairs on my forearm rise.

Answers.

We make our way into the field carefully. I lead, pausing whenever I hear a foreign sound or get a bad feeling. Slowly, the shape reveals itself to us.

It is indeed a building, a narrow, skinny thing that has long since been deserted. Parts of the roof are failing, and the front door swings aimlessly on the breeze. There’s something odd about the place, though. Even in its state of decay, it is too perfect. You can tell its frame was once meticulously aligned, its windows uniform, its roof even. I think of our homes in Claysoot that, while built with care, are flawed and imperfect. Whatever hands made this building were extremely skilled.

Or not human.

“Maybe there’s people,” Emma says. “Come on. Let’s go see.”

I grab her wrist and pull her to my side. I can tell the place is abandoned, and has been, for sometime. “I think we should wait a minute.” There’s an odd feeling creeping over me. I suddenly feel as if we’re being watched.

“I always knew there had to be more, out here, beyond that Wall,” Emma says. “Gray, you know what this means, don’t you? Someone has been here. People! Just beyond Claysoot. Maybe this is where they came from, the originals. Or maybe the adults were here when the storm hit, and the children got stuck inside!”

I don’t know what I expected to find on this side of the Wall—a gaping black hole through which I’d drift forever, perhaps—but this place changes everything. There is life beyond Claysoot, life and earth just like there is inside the Wall.

“Come on, let’s get a better look,” Emma urges again.

I want to, so badly. I can feel the answers pulsing in the air before us. They reach for me, soaking over my skin like the warmth of a strong fire, but they cannot outshine the doubt that fills my mind. I can still feel invisible eyes on us and I look around the field, almost hoping to find an intruder to shoot.

We are alone.

When I can no longer fight the desire to know, I agree to Emma’s request and we head for the building. Once inside, I twist a rusty bolt to secure the door and we take to exploring.

The place has a finished floor, like Maude’s house in Claysoot, only it is not wood but some smooth material I have never seen before. Even under a layer of dust and grime, you can tell it once shone brightly, reflecting light and movement. We also find a sink that spits rusty water from a pipe at the turn of a handle, and there are odd branches hanging from the ceiling that flicker light about the room when Emma presses something on the wall. The place is magical. I’m now certain it was built by something other than human hands.

“Can you believe it?” Emma asks as she spins about the empty foyer. “I wish we could tell them about this. Imagine if we all climbed over the Wall together! We would have running water and magic candles and—”

There’s a deafening crash as the bolted door is kicked in.

Emma sinks into my side. Two figures stand in the entryway, dust settling about them. In their arms they hold metal instruments, long, slender, and narrow, and somehow I know that even if I fired my arrows, I would be no match against these intruders.

“Thank God it didn’t find you yet,” one of them says. He has a scar that stretches from below his left eye down into a thick beard that covers his mouth, and his head is completely free of hair. The man at his side looks younger and is clean shaven. Both men are older than me though, and since I’ve never seen a man over eighteen, they look ancient. They wear matching garb: black pants with black jackets, a red triangle emblazoned with a cursive white f upon their chests.

“Are you alone?” the bearded man asks.

Emma and I nod at the same time.

“Something patrols this area. Something dangerous. You’re lucky we found you first.”

“Something?” It’s all I can manage, and my voice is unsteady as I say it.

“It’s not safe here,” he says. “Come with us.”

He walks up to us, grabs Emma at the elbow, and tugs.

“Get your hands off her,” I snap.

He twists around, his face right before mine. The eye above his scar is disconcertingly foggy. “If you know what’s good for you and your girlfriend, you will shut up and follow us to safety. But if you want to burn, by all means, stay here.”

Burn. Are we the first climbers to encounter these black-suited saviors, the first to avoid the death every other met?

The bearded man straightens up. “Well, Romeo?” It takes me a moment to realize he’s addressing me. “What will it be?”

I look at Emma. Her face is nothing but fear and I’m certain mine is the same. She gives a curt nod, takes my palm in hers, and squeezes.

“We’ll come,” I tell the man.

“Good. Let’s move. We don’t have much time.”

Outside, waiting atop the hill before us, are two oddly shaped contraptions on wheels. They are identical in size and color, both large enough to hold several people but not grand enough to be a home, like their windows and doors suggest. The bearded man pulls a small, rectangular box from his jacket pocket. It is not much larger than his palm, but he speaks to it as though it’s a person.

“We’re good,” he says.

A split second later, the device talks back. “We’ll see you back at Union Central then, Marco.” A figure waves from one of the wheeled cages on the hillside and I get the feeling it was his voice I just heard responding to the bearded man.

The cage growls and then springs to life, hurtling toward the woods Emma and I hiked through earlier. It is faster than anything I have ever witnessed. Unnaturally fast. I blink, and it’s gone.

We follow Marco up the hill. “In the car,” he orders, pulling open a rear door.

The idea of being trapped in the thing he called a car makes me anxious, and I’m no longer sure I want to follow them. What if it’s all a trick? What if they claim to be helping, but really they plan on delivering us straight to our deaths?

Marco’s partner pushes at my back, but I resist. “Why are you helping us?”

Marco shifts his weight, the door still held open. “I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you right now. Nor do we have the time. But if you get in the car, I can take you to the man who has answers.”

Wind, followed by the scent of smoke.

“Come on, Marco,” the other man says. “We have to get out of here. I’m not risking my own life just because these two are too stupid to save their own.”

The men climb into the car. Marco lowers the window and stares at me with his one good eye. “Last chance, Romeo.”

Why does he keep calling me that? I want to correct him, but Emma touches my arm. “I think we should get in,” she says.

“I don’t trust them. We don’t know who they are or how they found us. If they can save us, why didn’t they save all the other climbers?”

Emma tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure, but you know what will happen if we stay. I can smell the smoke. We’ve both seen the bodies. And they say they can take us to the man that has answers. What other choice do we have?”

The car growls and Marco urges us again. “I’m not waiting a moment longer. It’s now or never.”

I beat the Heist, and maybe, just maybe, I can beat that smoky scent as well. But Emma can’t. This is her only shot and I know it.

“Let’s go,” I say. I slide into the car and she follows my lead.

Marco says something to his partner, but a clear panel divides the front seats from the rear and his words are muffled and flat. I can hear the car, though, rumbling beneath us. Emma leans into my shoulder, and suddenly we are flying.





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