Taken (Erin Bowman)

hands it to me.
    It is small in my palm. So small I wonder how it killed the thief. But it had also traveled unbelievably fast, erupting from the gun and hitting its mark so swiftly I couldn’t even see it happen. Small and powerful. Quick and deadly. It makes my bow and arrows look laughable.
    I let the bullet roll from my palm and onto the desk. “He didn’t deserve to die,” I say.
    Frank smiles, a kind one, the way my mother used to when Blaine or I was acting up and she had to scold us but didn’t really want to. “Sometimes we have to do things that are not completely agreeable.”
    “No,” I say firmly. “It didn’t have to be that way. His family was sick. He just needed a little extra water.”
    “They all want more water, Gray. Each and every one of them. And what I wouldn’t give to provide it. But we only have so much. He took what was not his, and, sick or not, he is not privileged to receive any more water than his neighbor. Surely you understand.”
    “But he never even got to defend himself.”
    “He was guilty,” Frank says.
    “But what if he wasn’t? What if it isn’t that black-and-white?”
    “It is. He was fleeing with the water. He knew what he did was wrong.” Frank leans forward on the desk and lowers his face to meet mine. “You did the right thing by stopping him, Gray. Taem is a more just place today because of your actions.”
    I nod, but the thief’s final words echo in my mind. His begging, pleading. I feel like I’m missing a critical piece of the puzzle, like I’m staring at the situation from an incorrect angle and if I could only get a better view, it would all make sense. The only thing I know for certain is that I don’t agree with Frank. No matter how obvious something may seem, there are two sides to every story, and the thief never had a chance to tell his.
    I want to tell Frank this, and yet he’s been so good to me. He’s clothed me and fed me and he’s trying to free the rest of Claysoot, all while juggling his own country’s problems. Maybe he’s justified in having the Order act so swiftly. What do I know? Claysoot is so small, and things here are far more complex.
    “What you saw is not typical, Gray,” Frank assures me. “We reserve such treatment for thieves and criminals only. The corrupt.”
    I nod, but something has sprouted in my gut, a tiny seed of doubt, a seed that feeds off an idea the thief had planted. What would you know . . . following the orders of a corrupt man?
    I excuse myself and head for the door. Before I step into the hallway, Frank calls after me. “And, Gray? I don’t know how it happened, but we must have mixed up your access codes during your Cleansing. The front doors should not have opened for you. Taem is often in an unsettled state, the world beyond the dome even more so. I can only ensure your safety if you stay here, in Union Central. I’m sure you’ll understand when I ask you not to wander until further notice.”
    Just yesterday I might have thought his words endearing. Today they sound like an order, a demand.
    “Absolutely,” I say.
    But when the office doors click shut behind me, I head straight for Emma. There is a seed in my gut and only she will know if I should stamp it out before it has a chance to secure its roots.

SEVENTEEN
    BY THE TIME I GET to Emma’s room, I’ve made up my mind. The doubts I have are too real. The thief must know things I do not, to think Frank corrupt. And then there was the conversation I overheard earlier, Frank’s sounding upset at my beating the Heist, when the idea should make him hopeful. Something doesn’t add up.
    Emma pulls her door open within seconds of my knocking. Her room has windows on the far side, and they illuminate her from behind. Her hair, damp from a shower, hangs on her shoulders. She’s stopped shaking.
    “Remember when I said walls could talk?”
    She nods.
    “There’s a hallway marked Authorized Personnel Only down by the infirmary. I saw it when Marco took me to get Cleansed. I figure those types of walls know more than others.”
    She looks at me cautiously. “Those walls sound like the type that you shouldn’t mess with unless you are Authorized Personnel. Maybe you should talk to Frank. He seems to like you.”
    “I already did. And he does. But he likes me because I escaped the Heist and nothing more.”
    “All right,” Emma says, stepping into the hallway. “What exactly are we looking for this time?”
    “A