Taken (Erin Bowman)

Gray. Someone has to make sure you come home in one piece.” She stares at me for a moment, like she’s expecting me to claim I don’t need her help. “I’ll see you in the morning, then,” she says, and is gone as abruptly as she arrived.
    I finish packing and sit at the end of my cot. I try to think about something, anything. Perhaps there is too much looming in the near future, so much that I am incapable of thinking of anything concrete. In need of a distraction, I head to the hospital to see Blaine.
    He is hard at work in a physical therapy session with a nurse, and hops down from the steps she has him climbing when I arrive.
    “Look at you, running stairs,” I say.
    He grins. “Getting stronger by the day. I just might have my full strength back when you return.”
    “You’re dreaming.”
    He winds up for what I expect to be a playful punch, but ends up grabbing me instead.
    “Be careful,” he says. “Twin or not, you’re still my kid brother and you don’t know what it would do to me if something bad happened to you.”
    “Actually, I do know because I already went through it with you. When you were Heisted. When you were shot. When you slept in this hospital for days on end.”
    We break from our hug and he laughs. “Okay, okay. You win. I’ve put you through hell. Please don’t try to make things even.”
    I leave Blaine to his therapy and head back to my room. I want to go to bed early so that I am well rested in the morning, but my father is waiting for me. He leans against my dresser, arms crossed.
    “I want you to know I am proud of you,” he says simply. “And I’m sorry I haven’t been very supportive these last few days. I just don’t want to lose you again.”
    I nod. I never thought his avoiding me was a malicious act. It was his way of dealing, of coming to terms with the uncertain future that steadily approaches.
    “Trust your gut out there,” he says. “It’s kept you alive so far.”
    “I will.” I almost call him Pa, but he says good night and leaves the room before I can work up the courage.
    That night I sleep poorly. In my dreams, I am trying to get Harvey to Taem, but he keeps morphing into a black crow and flying in the opposite direction. Eventually I shoot him from the sky. When he hits the ground, he is no longer a crow but Bree, naked, her newly dark hair matted and bloody behind her head. I carry her in my arms, wandering aimlessly until she bleeds dry.
    When I wake, it is still early, but my body is too anxious. I climb from the cot, pull on my Order uniform, and wait for it to begin.

THIRTY-TWO
    IT TAKES US FOUR DAYS to get to the city’s outer limits. It is odd to be in open space again. I’ve seen nothing but the small radius surrounding Mount Martyr since my arrival, and to move through the land, to cover mountains and hillsides and valleys, is liberating. Harvey slows us a bit, his body not conditioned for the trek, but he doesn’t complain once.
    I hunt, setting traps during the night so we can fill our bellies each morning. Harvey keeps the Rebels informed every step of the way. He has a small earpiece and miniature microphone and whispers into it constantly. Bree gives him a hard time.
    “They don’t need to know that we rested for three minutes or that Gray went to take a piss or that I commented on the color of the sky.”
    “Of course they don’t,” Harvey says. “But small details are nice when dark clouds are on the horizon.”
    The morning that Taem’s protective dome appears before us, we stop and rest for the final time. We pass a canteen of water around in silence, staring ahead at the looming city. No one mentions how getting in will be easy. It’s leaving, vaccine in hand, that will be the real struggle.
    “We should rough Harvey up before we head in,” Bree says. “He needs to look convincing. If he was really your hostage, he’d show up with more than a sweaty shirt and dirty cheeks.”
    I look to Harvey. He is so frail and harmless. I don’t think I can bring myself to even strike him across the cheek.
    “If you must,” Harvey says. He actually smiles at the idea.
    I shake my head. “I’m not doing it.”
    Bree lets out a heavy sigh and then marches over to Harvey and punches him without warning. She shakes her fist out while Harvey tends to his now bloody nose.
    “More,” he insists.
    Bree dislocates his shoulder and says, “You’re no good to us if you’re a completely broken mess. At least a dislocated