Taken (Erin Bowman)

anything, that I was smarter than every other grown man he had working in those labs. Guess I really did it, huh?”
    I don’t say anything, but I understand. I felt that same way with Frank, if only for a few days.
    “And the limitless part,” I prompt. “If you were able to make one successful Forgery, why can’t you make a second or third off that same person? I don’t get what’s stopping you.”
    “It is a very complicated process,” Harvey says. “If I tried to make too many replicas off you, Gray, it would kill you. I’m not just duplicating your physical attributes, but your mind as well. Your personality, your memories. The human brain can only be stretched so far before it breaks. So I shifted efforts to creating a Forgery of a Forgery, but that is an even messier process. Each generation is less like the first. Certain portions of the software don’t mesh right, and the duplicate Forgeries end up disobedient. They malfunction. I probably could have solved it in time.” He puts his glasses back on and winks at me. “Luckily, I’ve outgrown wanting to please Frank.”
    On select days, when scouting reports are positive and the Order nowhere nearby, I am allowed outside. One day a crisp gust of autumn air ruffles my hair. It has grown back, surpassing the stage of stiff stubble and reaching a point where it is soft again, falling into my eyes and curling behind my ears.
    When I walk through the woods, it feels as if I am back in Claysoot. There are days that I wish I were truly there, that life was simple again. But Claysoot can never again be a comforting home to me, because even with its structure and rules and security, it is a fraud. Things in Crevice Valley are complicated; but here, what happens is by design of its people. Nothing greater has locked or imprisoned them.
    Sometimes, when Bree is sent out on a scouting mission or water run, I venture to the grassy graveyard set in the hillsides beyond Mount Martyr’s rear entrance. It seems every time I am there a new mound of fresh dirt has sprung up from the grass, like a daisy searching for sunlight. My father says this is just the beginning, that the real battle has not even started. I keep company with the deceased when Bree is away, taking refuge among the nameless bodies that lie beneath the ground; but even then I feel oddly alone, like a ghost among a sea of people.
    I don’t know what caused me to latch on to Bree the way I have, but whenever she leaves, I am slightly lost. I miss her fire, her scowling face and wild nature, her snide remarks. Each time she returns, I think of telling her this, but I never do. I sometimes even think of asking her if she still wants that kiss. But then Emma will creep into my mind—Emma who has been a pain in my chest for months, an ache I pray to extinguish in reunion every single day. And so I always let the feelings for Bree—the ones that creep up on me when she flashes me a smile or playfully punches my arm—fade away.
    In the thick of autumn, when the days have grown much shorter and the evenings cool, I reach a point in my training where I am deemed fit for combat. My father puts me on an active list, and the excitement in me builds. Blaine frets in his big brother way, but since he is still recovering, he can’t offer to take my place. He may be walking without his crutches now, but he has a solid two months of training before him. He has to put in his time, just like everyone else.
    My first mission is a basic one, a scouting operation that will be led by Raid. The Order has reattempted Operation Ferret several times over since my arrival in Crevice Valley; and our mission is to cover ground west of Mount Martyr, deem it clear or, if the Order is spotted, report back with coordinates so a counterstrike team can be sent to disband them.
    I never get to go on the mission.
    On its eve, a sweaty Xavier bursts into a status meeting. The meeting is about the scouting mission itself, and for this reason I am among the shocked faces. The captains are there, along with Ryder, sitting around a circular table, while Bree and I stand with our backs to the wall. Even Harvey is in the room, but only because improved night-vision goggles are to be used on the excursion and he wants to be sure we understand the upgrades.
    “Not now, Xavier,” Ryder says as the doors are thrown open.
    “But it’s important, sir.” Xavier gasps, nearly choking on his words. “I ran here straight from the