Taken (11 page)

A knot has formed in my throat, so coarse and stubborn I can barely swallow. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that Claysoot . . .”

I think I know. But it can’t be true.

“It’s not what you think it is.”

No.

“Everything you know—your world, your people . . .”

This can’t be happening.

“It’s Harvey’s experiment. Claysoot was, and is, an experiment.”

No. No. “No.” The last one escapes me. “So it’s all . . . Someone made it like that? Someone built the Wall? And put us in there?” My hands are shaking.

Frank grimaces, his eyes downturned. He takes a piece of paper from his desk and writes six letters on it.
LAICOS.
“Claysoot is nothing but an experiment, Gray. Harvey called it the Laicos Project in the little documentation we’ve managed to confiscate. We don’t know much else. I’m so sorry.”

My hands are in fists, my knuckles whitening. “I’ll kill him,” I say, without realizing the thought had even entered my mind.

If Frank is surprised by my reaction, he doesn’t show it. “I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same, son. Taem has suffered much at Harvey’s hands. When we tried to arrest him, he killed our men rather than come quietly. After he ran, he stole resources from his own people and slit throats for good measure. Things are bad enough here, far from perfect. We don’t need Harvey making them worse. Perhaps it will help you to understand a bit of our history, here, and how Harvey fits into it.”

He takes another sip of water and then continues. “Before the earthquakes and the flooding and the Second Civil War, this country was a large, sprawling, united thing. We are now two rifts, two pieces: AmEast and AmWest. Here in AmEast, and especially in Taem, I’ve tried to restore order, and I’ve done a decent job. It’s taken me most of my life to bring Taem to its current state. This country lost so many lives in the war that the precious resource we once fought over, freshwater, is now plentiful enough if carefully rationed. I give my people water. I give them safety by way of the Franconian Order.” He places a palm against the red triangle on his uniform.

“We keep the traitors of AmWest at bay, Gray. They started the war years ago. They attacked us first; and even with the worst of the fighting behind us, they still attack us today. And Harvey, as if the injustices he’s done are not great enough, helps them. He sells them trade secrets and weapons and information in exchange for safety. He thinks I will forget his crimes if he can scare me enough. He uses fear as a weapon, but I will not bend. He will be punished for all he’s done, to our people as well as Claysoot’s.”

Frank pinches the bridge of his nose and I realize that my mouth has gone dry. Too much is happening too quickly and I can’t comprehend it all. I try to picture the divided country that Frank mentioned. Taem seemed large in comparison to Claysoot, and the thought that something even larger exists—land that is exponentially greater than them both—is impossible to fathom. The massive war he speaks of is foreign, too, a concept so different from the carefree game I played as a child: Blaine and me against Septum and Craw, shooting imaginary arrows until someone scolded us to stop. Frank’s story is not a game.

And then there’s Claysoot, an experiment. The original children that Emma and I had debated over were never stranded in the ruins of a town. They didn’t lose their mothers to a terrible storm. It was just Harvey, picking up people as though they were playing pieces in a game and placing them where he wished. Suddenly, anything I’ve ever done, anyone I’ve ever known, everything I’ve ever said seems like a lie.

“So the Wall? The burned bodies? The Heist?” I blurt out. “That was
all
Harvey? It’s all just part of this Laicos Project?” The name feels dirty on my tongue.

Frank nods.

“And even though he’s in hiding, you can’t stop it? You can’t just climb over the Wall and free Claysoot?”

“We’ve tried. But we’ve lost so many men to the thing that patrols the Outer Ring.” I want to ask him what that
thing
is, but Frank continues before I have the chance. “We have no means of fighting what Harvey set in motion beyond your Wall, so we focus instead on saving the climbers. We spot them from observation towers, but we’ve never reached them in time. You and Emma are the first.” He leans back in his chair and smiles kindly. “But there may be hope, Gray. Marco was an idiot, putting you in a cell, but he did so because you said something very, very interesting. Something he thought too valuable to treat lightly.”

I’m almost afraid to repeat the statement since it landed me in a cell the first time, but Frank’s voice is so reassuring. He almost reminds me of my mother, calm and concerned.

“I’m a twin,” I say. “I’m eighteen and I wasn’t Heisted.”

Frank leans forward and points at me. “Exactly.”

“What does it mean?”

“You tell me,” he says. “I find it incredibly fascinating. Not lock-you-in-the-prison fascinating, but this means something. If we can figure out how or why you escaped the Heist, we may have the slightest chance of saving the rest of your people.”

I could easily tell him what I read in Carter’s notebook, but I’m caught wondering how Marco and Frank already know so much about the Heist.

“And if you don’t know what it means, that’s fine, too,” Frank says in my silence. “We can figure it out together. I’m extremely busy, but I promise you that Claysoot remains one of my top priorities. You are important, Gray—to unraveling this mystery. I can feel it. You can stay in Taem, right here in Union Central, even. You and Emma. It’s really the very least I can do if you are going to help me crack this. What do you say?”

What
can
I say? There is nowhere else for Emma and me to go. I picture Carter behind the Wall, longing to be reunited with her daughter. This is a chance to make that possible. Maybe I am the key to figuring everything out and ending Harvey’s project. I’d be both selfish and dense to not see this through.

“We’ll stay,” I say. “And thank you.”

Frank smiles, lines again racing over his cheeks. “The unHeisted boy, staying right here in Union Central. I feel honored to be in the presence of such mystery and hope.”

When he mentions the Heist, I get that feeling again, the sense that he knows more than I ever shared.

“About the Heist . . . If Emma and I are the first climbers to be saved, how do you know so much about the Heist?”

“I told you much of the Laicos Project still continues, running as though on autopilot. We know boys are Heisted at eighteen because they end up on our training field in the dead of night, claiming as much.
Poof
, and there they are, as though they’ve sprouted from the grass like dandelions.”

My face must look shocked because Frank chuckles.

“I don’t understand it, either,” he says. “It’s as much a mystery to you as it is to us. Maybe your unique situation will shed some light on things.”

I nod, baffled, and then freeze. The thought hits me like a punch in the stomach.

“Wait? Here? The Heisted boys appear
here
?”

“Weathersby you said, right?” Frank flips through some papers he’s pulled from his desk. He finds what he is looking for and winks at me. “Blaine. He’ll be in the cafeteria this time of day. Breakfast.”

I almost forget to breathe. Frank motions for me to stand and places a hand on my shoulder. His palm is warm, reassuring. He is shorter than me and raises his eyes to meet mine before saying, “Come. Let’s go find your brother.”

FOURTEEN

FRANK LEADS. WE PASS THROUGH
a series of corridors and he has to unlock several of the doors as we progress, but does so by swiping his wrist before a plain, silver box. The hallways are impressive, adorned with radiant lights and a plush floor comprised of the Franconian Order’s triangular emblem. It repeats itself in several shades of red, edges lining up to form an intricate pattern.

When we arrive at a towering set of double doors that I suspect to be concealing the dining hall from view, there is a subtle beep and Frank puts one hand to his ear. His fingers pinch a small device that rests wrapped about his earlobe. He raises one finger toward me, motioning for me to wait, and paces the hall. He
hmmms
and
ahhhs
a few times, nodding curtly. I realize he must be talking to someone, and through that tiny object. He speaks just once, at the tail end of the conversation.

“Get a team together immediately. If this is true, we may get fantastically lucky. I want them sent out first thing tomorrow, at the latest. And, Evan, round up the necessities for a meeting. I’ll join shortly.”

The device beeps a second time and Frank lowers his hand. “My apologies,” he says.

I point at his ear. “What is it?”

“Just a way for us to talk—the Order—even when we are far apart. You’ll see all sorts of new technologies in your time here. Harvey didn’t exactly have you living in the modern era.”

I’m not fully following, but I nod. Frank rests a hand on my shoulder. “I’m very sorry to do this, but I have to attend to some pressing business. Find your brother, get some food in your system. I’ll make sure someone retrieves you in a bit to show you to your room.”

I nod. As soon as Frank removes his hand from my shoulder, I wish he’d put it back. He makes me feel anchored in this strange world.

“My scouts think they spotted Harvey outside Taem,” Frank says, walking backward down the hallway so that he still faces me as he speaks. “We just might be able to intersect his travels if we act quickly enough. But,
shhh
, you didn’t hear that from me.”

He winks, rounds a corner, and is gone.

I put a palm to the double doors, and push my way inside.

The dining hall is extremely large and filled with numerous tables and even more chairs. Each item is identical, crafted with such precision I long to meet its maker. The place is packed with Order members. Some chatter while they eat. Others stand in line, gathering their meals from a long table at the rear of the room. It almost reminds me of the feast during our Heist ceremonies.

My stomach growls at the smell of hot food, but not even hunger is enough to distract me. Blaine is here. I stand near the entrance and scan the crowd. It is a sea of black suits, each Order member blending into the next. And then, I spot him. His hair is gone, shaved close to his head, but it is him. Like everyone else, he wears the dark uniform of the Franconian Order. He’s laughing at something, and I feel whole. I dart across the room. I’m still several tables away when he sees me.

“Gray!” he exclaims. And then he is jumping from the table, spilling water on his lap. The people around him duck as his tray is knocked askew. The next thing I know Blaine is clasping his arms around me, and I’m almost crying because I thought we’d never see each other again.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, shaking me.

“It’s a long story.”

“I can’t believe—I mean, I’m glad to see you—but how did . . . This isn’t happening.”

My cheeks hurt from grinning, but I can’t stop. To see him so utterly confused is beyond amusing.

“Did you . . . Did you
climb
?” he asks quietly.

I nod, still smiling. Although I would have thought it impossible, his face grows even more startled. I have a million questions for him—about what’s happened since he’s been here, about the letter he kept from me—but in this moment, all I can do is enjoy his reaction.

“Hey, Blaine,” a voice calls out behind him. “Where are your manners? Aren’t you going to introduce us to your kid brother?”

Kid brother. No one else knows we’re twins.

Blaine snaps back to reality. “Septum, it’s not like you actually need to be introduced.”

I crane my neck around Blaine, and there’s Septum Tate, exactly how he looked a few months ago when he was Heisted, with the exception of his now short hair.

“Hey, Gray.” Septum grins at me through a mouthful of bread. Behind him, Craw Phoenix motions his fork at me in a friendly gesture. My mouth falls open.

“You guys are here, too?” I gasp. Frank had told me as much, but it’s still hard to believe.

“Everyone’s here,” Craw says. Dimples appear in his cheeks as he smiles. “Except the ones that have died in service.” Behind him, I see a few other faces I recognize, and beyond those, a dozen more.

“Service?”

“Frank’s got a lot on his plate,” Blaine says. “We’ve been helping the Order with smaller tasks as he fights the larger ones.”

“Such as?”

Septum takes a huge bite of his bread and then talks, mouth full and words garbled. “Like water distribution or scouting missions.”

“And people die from that?”

“Not water distribution,” Blaine clarifies. “But the scouting missions have gotten a little risky lately. There’s talk that Harvey’s gaining followers. Rebels. Here, in AmEast.”

So they know. They know everything.

“Vermin,” Craw mutters, and spits on his empty plate. “That man is no good.”

“You mean varmint,” Septum says. “Wild and sly and sneaky.”

“No, I mean vermin. Like the pest, the worm, the rodent.”

Septum screws up his face. “Wait, maybe those words mean the same thing.”

“Of course they don’t mean the same thing,” Craw says, rolling his eyes. “Being sly is actually a little bit of a compliment. I’m talking about pure filth. Harvey. Vermin.”

As they continue to argue, Blaine grabs my arm and says, “Come on. We need to talk.”

He ushers me from the table and we leave the dining hall through a side door that opens into a small, circular courtyard surrounded by the tall walls of Union Central. The morning air is still cool and damp and the place is deserted. I’m finally starting to feel the side effects of fatigue. It was late when I left Claysoot—nearly dawn—and I still have not slept.

“That was really stupid, Gray.”

I’m surprised to hear anger in his voice. “Stupid?”

“Climbing.” He folds his hands across his chest and gives me a disappointed big brother look. “Do you know how lucky you are that the Order managed to find you? Save you? Why’d you do it?”