Taken (Erin Bowman)

face before repeating it to me. “I am very proud.”
    He gives me this smile that is full of both relief and joy, and I know that while love was rarely spoken of in Claysoot, it certainly existed. In glances like this. In small moments exchanged. Raid pours a new round of drinks, and my father moves to join the captains.
    “Hey, Pa?” He starts at the fatherly endearment. “It’s really good to see you again.”
    His smile is too wide, like it might split the corners of his mouth. I’m wondering if this is the result of his drinking or my words, when he nods and says, “Likewise.”
    And then he’s back with the others, laughing, cheering, shouting. They raise their mugs and bring them together in a clatter of glass. I frown. I can admit this moment truly is a cause for celebration, but even still it feels wrong. Like we are callous to be happy in the wake of Harvey’s death.
    Bree points at Fallyn—who has discovered she is capable of smiling—and asks, “Should they really be drinking when they’re about to get a vaccination?”
    “Probably not,” Emma says.
    “Definitely not.” Clipper glances at Emma’s medical bag and adds, “But I’ll still put in a good word for you at the hospital. Won’t tell them you were probably okay with treating intoxicated patients.”
    Bree is so busy looking smug at this comment that she fails to notice Clipper’s wink.
    “You ready?” he asks me.
    The syringe he holds looks terrifying, but I nod anyway. He pulls me aside, cleans an area of my upper arm, and then pushes the needle in without warning. “Owen was a mess while you were gone,” he says. “I doubt he slept more than five minutes until Bree radioed and said you were safe.”
    Drinks clink behind us, and Clipper finishes administering the shot without another word. When he’s done, I can’t help but notice that he looks older than I remember, and taller.
    “I’m sorry about Harvey,” I say. “I know he was sort of a father to you.”
    “He was, wasn’t he?” The boy forces a smile, and moves on to Bree.
    I visit Blaine that afternoon. He has moved from the hospital to his own room and while he is much healthier, he is still not fully recovered.
    “I can’t run for more than a few minutes,” he admits. “Too much weight on my leg and the pain is worse than that time you hooked my lip when we went fishing. Remember that?”
    I do and the image makes me smile. My first one since returning.
    “I feel really guilty,” I say. I shouldn’t be smiling.
    “About my lip? Forget it. We were kids.”
    “No, about Harvey. We left him there. Bo said there wasn’t time, that we needed to keep moving, but I still can’t get over the fact that we didn’t even look for him. After everything he sacrificed, we just ran the other way.”
    Blaine drags a hand through his hair which, like mine, has grown back out.
    “Look, it was horrible when you were gone,” he says. “I hated it. I was positive you weren’t going to make it back. Pa was, too. And this sounds so terrible, like I don’t care at all about Harvey, but I’m glad it was him and not you. If someone had sat me down and made me pick, this is what I’d have chosen.”
    I frown. “No one should have to pick, Blaine. Not over stuff like this.”
    “I know. But still.”
    He leaves to attend a physical therapy session, and I wander off to find some food. It’s a bit early for dinner, but my stomach is unsettled. I’m not sure if it’s from nerves or guilt or actual hunger, but I make my way to the Eatery and collect a small meal from the kitchen. I end up sitting with Bree, who looks like she visited the hospital to get her wound cleaned up. She’s wearing a blood-free shirt and is filling Polly and Hal in on our mission.
    “So we can’t be certain, but including Christie, it seems like the Rebels lost another hundred or so after we left.”
    “What?”
    Bree looks at me like I’m an idiot and then says, “Oh, I forgot. You went to see Blaine during the debriefing meeting.” I stare at her until she realizes I want the details. “Right, so a bunch of Rebels fell in the public square—there just weren’t enough of them once the Order sent reinforcements—and that woman Christie? I guess they had footage of her helping you into the labs. One of our spies said she was executed the following morning. Publicly, just like Harvey.”
    My stomach seizes. Christie must have known the consequences if Frank’s cameras caught her