Taken (Erin Bowman)

rechristened the place, slapping two words together that all too accurately described the makeup of most of the town’s earth. Clay-rusted roads, and a film of soot-like dirt so persistent it could only be avoided by escaping into the woods.
    When the Wall was discovered, Bo volunteered to go over first and scout things out, but he was unable to see what lay on the other side. The view from a large oak tree in the northern portion of the woods yielded nothing but pitch blackness beyond the Wall, and he deemed it unsafe. He tried to talk others out of climbing, claiming the Wall was likely built to keep something at bay, but a few tried. Their bodies came back a charcoaled mess, burned and lifeless, and Bo’s assumptions were proven right.
    Bo was the reason that the original children, wild and panic-stricken, were transformed into a united team capable of rebuilding their community. But there was still no explanation for his disappearance. A few months later, another boy went missing, and a week after that another. Eventually Maude noticed that the disappearances seemed to be happening to boys of a certain age. It was always the oldest one, and then, finally, she realized it was always the boy turning eighteen.
    They ran the first experiment on Ryder Phoenix. He sat in the center of town on the eve of his eighteenth birthday, everyone else around him, and they waited. That was the first night they all witnessed it, felt the ground shake and saw the sky light up. That was the night they had proof.
    Maude convinced the group to repeat the experiment. For the next several birthdays, the same thing happened. Boys disappeared, swiped from the town in a matter of seconds, and always on the morn of their eighteenth year. Each one was taken, stolen, lost to a consistent and time-specific Heist.
    Once they understood this, some boys began to panic. A few tried to escape before their eighteenth birthday. They climbed the tree in the northern portion of the woods that grew close enough to the Wall to aid in their crossing, but they always reappeared. Dead. Most of the boys came to accept that the Heist was unavoidable. Maude took over for her brother as Head of the Council, and arranged the first-ever ceremony. While the Heist was inescapable, a preparation for it was not. With a ceremony everyone could at least say good-bye, something Maude was never able to do with her brother. With a ceremony, people could make peace.
    I haven’t quite made peace with Blaine’s Heist, though. I’m not sure I ever will. I know it’s just the way life is, that part of living is dealing with the consequences of the Heist, but Blaine’s loss has made it personal. He’s gone and he’s never coming back. It feels wrong in a way I can’t quite pinpoint. Above all, it’s simply unfair.
    There is a knock on my door and I’m pulled from my thoughts. It’s bright out, late morning. I should be hunting already, but I had dreams littered with Heists and my internal clock has been off since Blaine disappeared. I climb from bed, pull on a pair of pants, and answer the door.
    “Well, good morning, you lazy moper,” Chalice greets me, her face abnormally chipper. She looks whole again, any damage I inflicted long gone.
    “What do you want?”
    “Maude wants to see you.”
    “Is that all?”
    “Yes.”
    “Great.” I slam the door in her face and a picture hanging on the wall crashes to the floor. I probably shouldn’t be so rude, but I’ve never liked Chalice. Unlike Blaine, I refuse to make excuses for her.
    I stoop to collect the fallen frame, which houses a charcoal drawing of the Council building done by Blaine as a child. The frame has broken on impact, and as I collect the pieces, I notice something behind Blaine’s childhood sketch: a second piece of parchment that is coarse, but not as faded as the original artwork. I lift it from the debris and unfold it carefully.
    It is a letter, written in script I would recognize anywhere.
    To my eldest son, it begins. This is Ma’s handwriting, careful and clean. I take a deep breath and keep reading.
    It is imperative that you read this, know this, and then hide it immediately. Gray cannot know. I have thought many times of how to share this with you—both of you—but have come to terms with this secret being one that you alone must bear after my passing. Know that I write this to you in my final hours, that I wish so much to be able to explain it in person, but I am a prisoner of my