The Taking Page 8

  Paul focused on the Mayer again. He couldn’t just yell and scream. He needed to make people see another, better way before he convinced them that the current approach was foolish.

  The Mayor continued, “I’m proud of us as a community. Many have been taken from us. The world has lied and tried to break us apart, but we stand strong. We believe, and I believe in you.”

  The room went dark.

  The darkness comes

  9:07 p.m.

  Sarah blinked and then blinked again. The darkness remained. For a confused minute, she thought she must have fallen asleep, but blinking didn’t relieve the absolute dark. It was like every ounce of light had been sucked out of the world. Tucked against her side, Henry was a line of anxiety. Faint tremors moved through his body and rocked Sarah.

  “Hold on. Let’s see what’s happening.” Sarah’s whisper seemed loud in the silence of the room.

  The darkness started to form shapes as her eyes adjusted. Sarah eased herself up from the sofa and crept towards the window with the blackout curtains. Henry’s hand stayed grasped tight in hers.

  Sarah dropped low, crouching in front of the window and pulled Henry down next to her. In the dim, she could just make out the reflection of Henry’s eyes looking back at her.

  Her fingers trembled as she reached toward the curtain and flipped the lower corner back just a bit to see outside.

  Everything was dark. All the street lights were out, and there wasn’t even a glow of light or sliver of color anywhere.

  Sarah scanned the street from one end to the other. She couldn’t see anything in the complete black. Sarah’s fingers gripped the window sill. Her stomach churned. And although she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, she knew something was wrong.

  Something in the dark stirred and moved. An even darker shadow that Sarah couldn’t make out. She pressed her face closer to the glass and squinted, trying to make form of the formless.

  The darkness dipped deeper for one long second, dimming like a cloak was pulled across the town.

  When it lifted the shadows took shape, a line of Takers glided down the street in pairs of two as if they were powered by something external, not within their own body. As they passed each set of houses along the street, two Takers peeled off the column. One Taker in front of each house on both sides of the street. The column moved closer until they moved in front of the house where Sarah and Henry crouched. Sarah could hear the panting of her breath. She clutched Henry’s hand so hard her own fingers hurt.

  A Taker in the front of the column turned in a smooth pivot. It moved forward to the sidewalk and then stopped.

  Henry pressed in close to her side. His whisper was so quiet she could barely hear it even pressed as tight together as they were.

  “What are they doing?”

  “I don’t know, but it isn't good.”

  “Good?” Henry’s voice rose to where Sarah thought she might have to cover his mouth. “How on earth is any of this good?”

  He was right. Terror had become so familiar it seemed normal. What happened tonight was far from ordinary, but so was what happened every month. There was nothing normal about this life they lived.

  “What do we do now?” His voice hissed, a barely heard whisper.

  Sarah struggled with indecision. She didn’t know. Her home was supposed to be safe, but nothing about this situation seemed safe. Before Sarah could think of an answer or a next step, the creatures moved. Every Taker on the street moved in unison, each toward the house in front of them.

  9:10 p.m.

  The cold of the pavement seeped through Ruth's jeans and leached into her bones. She couldn't move.

  The night around her was quiet and still, but the ring of a scream still echoed in her head, and the image of the Takers still burned in her brain.

  Ahead of her, Town Hall stood still and silent. The bell that rang signaling safety seemed muffled and distant while the scream from one of her neighbors, her friends, was overwhelming. How was any of this real? It felt like a crazy dream, except this had been her life since she was nineteen and a newlywed.

  Ruth slowly pulled her legs beneath her and pushed up onto her knees, which protested at their contact with the cold, hard street before she made her way up to stand.

  She looked around. She didn’t know what to do. Her plan never saw her living through the night.

  Ruth looked back at Town Hall. She didn't want to see any of her neighbors. She didn't want to see the people she considered friends and wonder who had pushed three innocent people outside to die.

  She turned back toward her home and started the walk back when the street light above her head went out, and the squeal of brakes sounded behind her.

  9:10 p.m.

  Two blocks away from Town Hall, Matt stopped his truck and let the engine idle. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Town Hall was a gray square in front of him. There were no lights. No movement. Nothing to show what had happened in Heritage this night.

  Matt leaned forward and rested his chin on the steering wheel. His finger tapped out a random pattern while his mind raced. What did he know about the Takers?

  Very little. Only what the elders told them. The Takers came once a month. They took one person. In exchange, Heritage’s citizens enjoyed good health, beautiful weather, abundant crops. The town gave – no sacrificed – to the Takers, and in return, the Takers kept Heritage safe.

  That was the story, the tale told to the citizens of Heritage for as long as he knew. That was what they all believed, that the Takers were their only hope.

  There was never anything left of the sacrifices. Never any bodies or signs of a struggle. The Takers came, and the next morning someone was just gone. This was the world Matt had always known. Sitting in the dark cab of his truck and looking out over Town Hall, he had expected something different. Something to show that everything was not okay. Instead, he saw a quiet street and a quiet night. The world seemed peaceful and still. Safe. Matt knew Heritage was anything but safe, but right now all he had was a dark street and quiet building.

  Sighing, Matt sat back and eased the truck forward. He would loop the outer edge before heading back to be with Sarah and Henry. It looked like the danger was past. The night was done, at least the terrifying part.

  He pressed the gas and drove toward the west side of town.

  There was a flash, and the streetlights went bright. He slammed on the brakes. The sudden squeal of the brakes accompanied by the lurch of the truck shook the cab from side to side. Matt fought the wheel that jumped in his hands as his truck bucked like he was off-roading, not on a suburban street, in a response far more dramatic than slamming on the brakes should cause.

  “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” Matt cursed as he fought the wheel.

  Light returned to normal, and the truck’s headlights illuminated a figure right in the truck’s path.

  9:10 p.m.

  Sarah and Henry crouched together under the window, peeking through the curtain with their hands clasped tightly together. Above the window ledge, Sarah’s eyes tracked the Taker moving bit by bit toward the front door. Next to her, Henry vibrated with barely restrained anxiety.

  She heard him draw a breath as if he was about to speak, but he remained silent. She squeezed his hand. He pressed against her, a reminder of what she needed to do. A reminder of who she needed to protect.

  The Taker in front of Sarah’s house reached the bottom step to the porch as all of the other Takers lining the street reached the front porch of the house they before which they stood.

  Sarah turned around and pulled Henry to sit flat on the floor beside her. In her chest, her heart thumped a rapid tattoo that spoke of more than danger. More than fear. It was a bone-deep terror. At her side, Henry trembled and his fingers wrapped tight around her arm, his nails digging in. Sarah peeked through the curtain again. The Taker was moving up the steps. He was right there. Right outside. Still sitting with his back against the wall, Henry was
panting with fear, his breath sawing in and out. His whooshing breath became the backdrop to her thoughts, a swirl of panic and anxiety. A swirl of everything she could do, should do, would do. It was more than she could take. This was it. She had to do something. They were right outside. The creatures that took her mother and terrorized her town were here for everyone she loved.

  There was a creak from the front porch. A heavy footstep hit the same board that had squeaked under Sarah’s foot for years. She knew that board. It was two steps from the front door.

  Henry drew a sharp breath, starting to speak. Sarah clamped her hand over his mouth preventing the words tripping over his tongue from escaping.

  They sat side by side under the window trying to be as silent as possible. The doorknob rattled.

  Sarah’s eyes darted from the sofa, to her backpack on the floor, to the shadow of the kitchen entryway. The doorknob was silent for a moment before rattling again. They needed to move. Now. And there was only one way to go.

  Sarah’s hand grabbed Henry’s shoulder and pushed him forward.

  “Hurry. In there. Quietly.” Her harsh order broke the dead silence of the house. “Move now.”

  Henry started crawling, a scramble forward using his hands and feet to propel him. Sarah was right on his heels. She grabbed her backpack as they scurried through the living room and the door into the kitchen. Sarah slid around the corner into the dark of the next room as the deadbolt on the front door snapped open.

  9:10 p.m.

  The darkness was not absolute. This wasn’t like the eerie lifeless blackout earlier that had sucked every bit of light from the world. This was more like a normal power outage. Paul could see the faint light from outside seeping around windows and under the door.

  At first, he couldn’t make anything out, and the darkness seemed complete, but now his eyes adjusted to make out shapes and the exit. After the first rush of black the room had gone utterly silent, but now whispers could be heard from around the room as people began to speak among themselves, asking if it was over.

  Over? No. it wasn’t over. It would never be over. Paul didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until the room went silent and even in the dark he could see everyone turn to look at him.

  This wasn’t what he’d planned, but he did have everyone’s attention. Paul cleared his throat.

  “This isn’t over. Not now, and not ever. Every month they will come, and every month someone will be Taken. This is the way Heritage works. This is the way it will always work unless we do something different.”

  Paul could feel the tension in the air.

  “We’ve all heard this same story since we were children. A story that makes us believe we need to be saved, that inspires fear, that promises retribution. Then if we question or doubt, we are scolded for showing our lack of faith.”

  No one said anything. No one spoke out in protest or support. Paul searched the dim room for signs people understood before continuing. His anger and frustration a fist tightening around his throat.

  “Open your eyes! Can’t you see what is happening?” His voice rose in response to the blank faces before him. “You’re being lied to!” His voice faded, and the room remained silent when suddenly a heavy object crashed into his head. Paul’s world went from dark to silent and black.

  9:15 p.m.

  Once safely hidden in the dark kitchen, Sarah pushed up to her feet and pulled Henry up with her. Behind her, she heard the front door swing open. They slid around the island and rushed toward the back door.

  They were feet away when the air in the room changed. It grew heavy, motionless, and humid. Sarah’s body froze, leaving her thoughts racing. Go forward or hide. Her gaze flew from corner to corner of the kitchen. No place left to hide. Her gaze shot to the back door. No time to run. They were trapped.

  With her grip tight on Henry’s arm, Sarah dropped to the floor dragging him down with her.

  “Shouldn’t we…” Henry’s whisper was a sharp rush of air. His fear a tangible thing in the room. Sarah locked eyes with him and gave a quick shake of her head, telling him, begging him to be silent.

  Sarah shot a look around the kitchen looking for something, anything to get them out. The open space between the island they crouched behind, and the back door seemed insurmountable.

  If they made it out the back door, who knew what was waiting for them on the other side? Added to that, even now Sarah knew one of the Takers was inside, making its way through the house. She hadn’t seen it, but she knew it was there, all the same. She could feel it, like a bug crawling on her skin. What she didn’t know was how they were going to get away.

  Crouched behind the island they were not immediately visible, but they would be found eventually. Waiting here would only delay the inevitable. But running outside hardly seemed like an option either. The Takers would find them. What they needed was a diversion to draw the Takers away, something giving them an opening to escape. Her eyes darted from item to item, but nothing caught her attention. Nothing showed it’s worth as a possible escape.

  Henry tugged on Sarah’s sweatshirt. The look on his face showed he didn’t understand why they were just sitting there. Sarah squeezed his arm but didn’t respond to him. Henry tugged again.

  This time she responded. He pointed to the door and shrugged asking why they weren’t moving. She leaned close to whisper. “We don’t know what is out there.”

  “So, what do we do?” Henry hissed.

  “We need a distraction. Something to draw them away.” Sarah’s gaze continued to flit around the room when a noise from the living room, coming nearer, sent a shiver up her spine. They had no more time. The Taker was seconds away. They had to move before they were discovered. This was it. Run, or they were done.

  The panic built, a terror beyond any she’d felt that night. This time her decision was going to impact Henry directly. She had to save him. She just didn’t know how.

  9:19 p.m.

  Henry’s mind raced. They needed to distract the Takers. Move them away. When Batman fought the mutant leader, he won after he moved the fight to a mud pit. He figured out the mutant leader’s weakness, and then he used that to win. What was the Taker’s weakness? He hadn’t seen anything to indicate a weakness. The only thing he could say for sure was that they used light. Bright light and total darkness. Light.

  Right now, the light was normal. But if he could make it brighter, would that do anything? Henry turned and started pulling on the backpack on Sarah’s back. There had to be a light in there. Maybe a flash of light would distract the Takers long enough for him and Sarah to get away.

  As Henry started to pull on Sarah’s bag, she jerked and tried to yank away. Henry tugged at the bag. They didn’t have time for this. Sarah tried to grab his hand and stop him.

  “We need light.” Henry’s frantic whisper in the dark was a slip of sound so quiet it barely reached Sarah’s ears.

  “Light?”

  As Henry rooted through Sarah’s bag, his fingers touched and disregarded cloth and bandages before his hand closed on a cylindrical object and drew it out. A flare. Perfect. Sarah shook her head no. Bad idea. Henry nodded. Good idea. Sarah reached to grab the flare, but Henry scooted away and flipped the top, igniting it. The orange glow blazed bright, sizzling as Henry threw it into the living room. It landed on the carpet igniting the old fibers.

  Henry and Sarah peered around the kitchen island into the living room where flames started to flicker across the carpet. At the end of the hall beyond the fire, a figure appeared. A Taker was there.

  For a long terrible second, Henry thought his idea failed. Then the Taker flickered, and a high-pitched wail pierced the night. The Taker moved forward and then back again, but never passed the flames.

  The creature’s yowl increased in intensity until Sarah and Henry had to clap their hands over their ears in a vain attempt to block the sound. Just when it seemed the wail would tear their heads apart, the Taker flickered one last time and disappeared
.

  9:15 p.m.

  Matt yanked the steering wheel as hard as possible to the right. The truck bucked and shook but squealed to a stop inches from the person cowering on the sidewalk. Matt sucked air in and let it out in a shaky exhalation before he turned to see what he’d almost hit. He looked and then looked again. Was that?

  “Ruth!” Matt jumped out of the truck as he called her name.

  She looked up, her hands lifting off her face where she’d cowered, expecting his truck to plow her down. “Matt?”

  They stared at each other, both wondering what the other was doing outside on tonight, of all nights. Then Matt wrapped his arms around a woman he’d known all his life, but never really felt connected to until this moment. Heritage may be small, but that didn’t mean Matt felt connected to people here. How do you relate to anyone when everyone is busy living a lie? But anyone who lived through this night, who faced the Takers, was an ally and friend.

  “Come on. We have to get out of here.” Matt guided Ruth to the passenger side of his truck and helped her inside. Then he ran around the front, climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled the truck away.

  “What were you doing out there?”

  There was a moment of silence before Ruth sighed. “I’ve lived the majority of my life in this town. I buried my husband and my son. I wasn’t born here. I don’t belong here, but I don’t have anywhere else to go. I figured I didn’t have anything left to lose. I was going to give myself to them. To the Takers.”