Taken (Erin Bowman)

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.

TWELVE
    WE RATTLE AHEAD, THE CAR lurching over