Taken (Erin Bowman)

with the weapon. “Right now.”
    Blaine raises his hands. “Liam, this is my brother, not the enemy.”
    “I don’t care. He shows up snooping around in the woods and he isn’t on the mission list. Move toward camp.”
    As we near the campfire, the other Order members stare.
    “Evan?” Liam calls out. The bald leader reappears from a tent, and I remember. Evan was the man Frank talked to that day outside the dining hall, the person tasked with readying a team to retrieve Harvey. “Found this kid spying on us in the woods,” Liam continues. “Blaine says his name is Gray. They’re brothers.”
    Blaine tries to say something, mumbling in my defense, but Evan raises a hand and silences him. Someone brings Evan a handheld device that looks a lot like the one Marco had used in the Outer Ring.
    “I’ve got a Gray Weathersby here,” he says into it. “I don’t know how he arrived, but he is wearing an Order uniform and has a supply pack. We found him on the outskirts of our camp. Orders?”
    The unit breathes static, overriding a voice, muffled and choppy.
    “Say again?” Evan shakes the device, but the vocals don’t clear. He curses, tries to make contact again, and eventually gives up. “Those things never have the range we need. Bring him here.”
    Liam pushes me forward and doesn’t let up until I am standing so close to Evan that I can see the firelight glistening off his smooth scalp.
    “What are you doing out here alone?” he asks.
    “Individual mission,” I say hurriedly.
    “That so? Funny, I wasn’t aware of anything else happening this week, not with the mission my team is about to conduct. You got papers?”
    “Yes.” This is not going to end well.
    “Let’s see them.” Evan snaps and points at my pack, which Liam starts rifling through. He doesn’t even bother to take it off my back and I am jostled left and right as he digs.
    “Sir,” he says. “There are no papers. And this pack . . . it’s not a standard mission pack. It’s for deliveries. Enough supplies for two days, tops.”
    Evan pulls at my bag, takes one look at its contents, and then shoves me. “On your knees.”
    “Wait. What are you doing?” Blaine asks, his voice uneven.
    “His bag belongs to the supply team that is supposed to be here in the morning to restock us. He’s lying.”
    Evan draws a gun from his hip and Blaine flinches. “Put it away,” he says. “If he’s lying, I’m sure there’s a reason.”
    “And whatever it is, it won’t be good enough.”
    Liam forces me to my knees.
    All that running for nothing. I should have ignored the voices and made camp back in the trees. Blaine is saying something to Evan, frantically pleading, but the man has made up his mind. I catch Craw on the other side of the flames. He grimaces.
    I hear Evan move behind me, feel the weapon press against the back of my shaved head. It is cold. I’m thinking of Emma and Claysoot and unanswered questions and if it will hurt when I realize it has grown quiet; too quiet. The rustling of animals in the woods is gone. Not even the wind makes a noise.
    And then I hear it, the gentle whiz of a projectile through air. It is followed by a soft thud. Evan coughs and falls onto me. I shove him off and find an arrow in his chest, red blossoming over his shirt.
    “Rebels!” Liam yells. “We’re being attacked!”
    The arrows come in a steady stream, piercing their way through the darkness. Some are on fire and send tents ablaze when they connect with canvas. I cover my head with my hands and scramble to my feet.
    Blaine grabs my arm and tugs. He’s pulling me from the madness when an arrow grazes his arm. He stumbles. I turn in time to see a second arrow burrow into his leg. He falls instantly.
    “Blaine!”
    I bend to examine him on the ground, barely dodging another arrow that whizzes overhead. Blaine is clutching his thigh. Already there is a lot of blood and I can’t see the wound.
    “Is it bad?” he asks, coughing.
    “You’re fine,” I say, even though I’m certain he’s not. “Come on, we have to move.” I sling Blaine’s arm behind my neck. He is heavy, but in the moment, my legs don’t seem to care. I run away from the fire pit, supporting Blaine’s weight as best I can. Gunfire breaks out behind us, our attackers now shooting both arrows and bullets.
    The camp is in absolute chaos. Order members drop sporadically while the attackers stay hidden in the evening shadows.
    “Fire at will!” someone