If They Take Me (Chapter 4-6)

CHAPTER FOUR

“What did he say? What did he do? Was it painful?”

Skinner won’t stop badgering me.

“Don’t you think I’ve been interrogated enough?” I tell her. “They just asked me my name and that was all.” I pull my sleeve down and clench my hand over the Replacement brand. The marking burns my skin and I can’t help feeling like the entire Quarter can see it.

“Your name? That’s all?” Skinner huffs.

“And they stared a little,” I say with a shrug.

Skinner’s eyes widen as she skips forward, her short legs stomping on the weeds snaking through the sidewalk cracks. Sometimes I forget she’s only fourteen. Only two years ago, she was old enough to work in the school factories.

“I can’t believe they wanted to talk to you,” she says.

“They said I was stunning,” I say quietly. “What’s that even mean?”

“I bet Ruben knows what it means,” Skinner coos. “Isn’t she absolutely stunning, Rubie?”

Ruben casts me a shy glance then quickly turns away.

I smile. “I wouldn’t say that.” Then I think about it. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

Ruben shrugs casually as if he has no idea what we’re talking about. “She’s alright I guess,” he says. “I’m just glad they didn’t make us work today. The first day off in years.”

“And it’s all thanks to selection day!” Skinner shrieks.

I wonder if she has any idea how I feel. I scrubbed away the tears, but I can still feel them steaming on my cheeks. Any moment, they’ll come up. I know they will. The selection ended only thirty minutes ago, but I’m still in shock. The excited chatter of graduates fills the air. Some are glum, others giddy. The happy ones whoop and cheer. Several people run over to Ruben and clap him on the back. Countless girls shoot me envious glances. Tomorrow we will begin our new trades.

We walk until Skinner’s town home shanty comes around the bend. Her younger sisters play in the dirt yard, squealing and cackling. They wave as we pass drop Skinner off and part our separate ways.

As usual, Ruben walks me home. He’s been doing that ever since year twelve. He’s quiet today. But then, I suppose there’s a lot to think about. Usually, he goes on about skycrafts, about the fuel it takes to power one and the intricacies of fixing one. Today, he is silent.

I reach my shanty, the abandoned brick building Puck and I call home. I wonder if Puck’s been let off early. But even if he was, his job is far away. He works in the welding factory, pounding metal to a pulp and baking under the blistering sun. He’s not home yet, but the clocks scattered on teleboards across the city will sound when he gets out.

“So…see you tomorrow?” I say to Ruben.

He nods, his eyes cast downward. I’ve nearly made it to the porch when he calls me.

“Scar?” he says. “Can I talk to you?”

I don’t feel like talking, but I keep up the act. “Yeah? What is it?”

“I was wondering…I mean, I just think it’s weird…” He pauses and I walk up to meet him. He smells like petroleum, though he hasn’t even worked on the crafts today. I don’t think a million showers would erase that scent. Good. I like it. I wonder what else he’ll smell like when he becomes a soldier. Gun powder? But then again, I won’t be here to smell it.

“I think I know why they took you today,” he says.

“Why?”

His eyes drop once again, but I nudge his chin up with my finger.

“Just tell me.”

“It’s because…” He rubs the back of his neck and sighs, his shoes drawing patterns on the sidewalk.

“Because what?”

“You’re pretty.”

I pause and stare at him. His gaze finds me and he doesn’t look away.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know it.”

“What does that have to do with anything? Even…even if it is true,” I say. “Which I’m not saying it is.” This isn’t going well.

“Well…the girls who work in the Replacement Quarter as waitresses and stuff...they’re pretty too. Or, at least I heard.”

Waitresses and mansion maids and dancers and bartenders and servants, too. I wonder which one I’ll be or if we even get to choose. I’m not a good dancer…

“What are you trying to say?” I ask.

Ruben looks tortured. Revealing any more will kill him. He searches for prying eyes before answering. “I promised your bro I’d always look out for you. Well that’s what I’m doing. I’m looking out for you. So just be careful, okay? Maybe lock the door tonight. Or stay with Skinner.”

“With Skinner?” Skinner’s got six other brothers and sisters, all between the ages of one and nine. Not happening.

“Yeah, or you could stay at my place.” He flushes again and shakes his head. “Probably not a good idea. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

I stand there, watching him. This is the most flustered I’ve ever seen Ruben. In school, he’s usually the one who always knows what to say, the charmer and the biggest flirt to ever set foot in Zone 10.

“I wanted to give you something.” With soft fingers, he pries my clenched fist open and lays something inside, his eyes never leaving mine.

“What is it?”

“Look for yourself.”

I do. On my palm rested a plastic dollhouse. Once, it must have been hot pink, but now, it’s fading, the paint chipped. Fake windows lay crooked above the door’s open mouth. Oil stains the roof and smudges of brown spoil the edges. It’s beautiful.

“Where did you find this?” I ask him.

He doesn’t answer, only stands back and admires me as if I’m a little kid receiving a gift. A scrap craft, I think. He must have seen it there. The thing is probably filthy, but for some reason I hold it closer.

“It reminds me of this place,” he says. He isn’t looking at me now. “I was hoping it would remind you too.”

I shoot him a doubtful look and he smiles.

“Think about it.” He turns to me. “It’s fake. Not real. And if we’re not careful, we’ll be those losers inside with no way out, trapped in our plastic walls. Different dolls go in and they come out. It’s dirty too, but it was once beautiful.”

I blink at him, mouth open, hands clasping the dollhouse until my palms ache. My heart tightens in my chest.

“There’s this group. Lesion, they’re called. It’s like for the cause, y’know? And I’ve been looking into it. They‘re trying to make things better for all of us. They tell us some stuff. Like what really happens to you during the Taking.”

I tell myself he’s joking. He didn’t really mean it. But I know he isn’t. I think about what we heard before, about the head of security’s daughter disappearing. His voice had been the loudest in protest to the Regime. Words like these are suicide.

“Promise me you’ll never tell anyone else what you just told me,” I say. My voice shakes, but I keep it steady.

His brow knits into a frown. “What?”

“Promise me!” I almost shout the word, but he doesn’t flinch. For some reason, this makes me angry. I shove the dollhouse in his hands and he takes it, stunned. He looks around as if he doesn’t know what to do, then back at me.

“What’s your problem?” he says.

“What’s yours? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” I’ve heard of these rebels. They would die and kill to get their way. How could Ruben be a part of that?

“They take us, Scar. Whenever one of their own disobeys the Law, it’s one of our own that has to go and replace them. This is the reason we are kidnapped in the night. Not because we did anything wrong! We become replicas, carbon-copies of Replacement Quarter citizens who break the Law. It’s just another way that we have to serve the Regime. Just to support some lame model of the ideal family. Just because they say it’s the Way. Do you think that’s fair?”

I don’t say anything to that. This is the first time I’ve ever heard something so absurd. I almost laugh, but I hold myself back. “You don’t actually believe that do you?” I say. “That isn’t true. How can it be?”

Reuben’s face sinks. He stares at me, his eyebrows knitting into a frown. “It’s funny,” he says, dropping the doll to the ground. “I thought you were different.”

I look down at my shoes, feeling ashamed and stupid and guilty, but I don’t know why. “They chose me,” I say. My voice is ice cold.

“What?” Ruben says.

I snatch back of my sleeve and show him the marking, the jewel.

Ruben’s eyes stretch wide in horror. I don’t know why, but it’s then that I break down, then that my voice quivers and a scorching tear runs down my cheek.

The next thing I know, my face is pressed against Ruben’s chest and he’s holding me. His arms are solid, his body warm, but a chill still creeps up shoulders and crawls into my heart. He doesn’t say a word.

“What am I going to do?” I choke out.

Ruben stiffens. He steps back, gripping me by the shoulders. “What are you going to do?” he says. “Are you kidding me? You’re Scar. You’ll fight back.”

“Against the whole Regime?”

“Yes, if you have to. You’ve never backed down from a fight. Why would you now?”

“I can’t,” I say, dropping my head. “I just…can’t.”

The bell sounds then, ringing out like a wolf’s howl. It is the bell to release the workers. I scrape the tears from my face with the back of my hand. I don’t want to look weak. I don’t want him to see me cry. In a sudden effort to make things right, I pick the dollhouse up from the floor and brush it off.

“Puck will be back soon,” I say, fingering the dollhouse. “You better go.”

Reuben looks over past the teleboards, listening to the bell’s call. His frown deepens. Then he turns to me and places his hand over mine.

“Keep this,” he says, touching the dollhouse. “Look at it whenever you feel sad.”

My fingers work onto the plastic surface. “Maybe you and I…” My voice stops short. Maybe you and I could have been together, I think. But the thought suddenly seems stupid. Reuben nods as if seeing the words on my face.

“We will,” he says.

CHAPTER FIVE

I don’t wait for them to take me. Instead, I run. I run so fast and so long that my lungs shrivel up inside me, threatening to burst, to freeze in the crisp sting of the midnight air. I’ve brought nothing to slow me down. I race along the city streets, past brick buildings and over fractured sidewalks. My boots slap the concrete and my breath comes in ragged gasps. My hair smacks my back and whips at my cheeks, but I barely notice.

Only the soldiers are out tonight. They patrol the Wall that seperates the Quarters. The buildings are empty. I hear a scuffing of a rat or a human and I throw myself against the nearest wall. Bricks dig into my side, but I ignore them. When the sound has passed, I run again. It’s a mad dashed spurred on by panic and sheer will. Blood pulses in my ears.

I reach a fence, but I don’t let it stop me. Flinging my body forward, I wrench a boot into the foothold and heave myself up, the chain links clattering louder than I want them to. My legs crack as they touch down on the cement. I know exactly where I’m going. I’m not sure what I’ll do when I get there, but I know where it is. Ruben’s dollhouse presses against my thigh and the photograph of my parents sits tucked in my belt. If I die tonight, at least I’ll die kicking and screaming. Ruben will have wanted it this way.

Puck will have wanted me to stay. An ache fills me when I think of him. What will he do when he sees me gone?

Another scuffing noise snaps me from my thoughts. A second one comes from behind. Then, voices. They’re deep and low. Soldiers. I need to hide. I peer around the corner into an alleyway. Two figures stand there, out of earshot. I’m beside an apartment complex. A fire escape winds up to the roof. If I can dash by without them noticing, maybe I can make it up.

Reaching down, I feel for something hard. When I find a clump of gravel, I hurl it away from and wait for the men to hear it. The two voices stop and the men crane their necks to see, away from me. As soon as they’re distracted, I sprint forward, covering distance faster than I ever thought possible. Then, I cling on to the fire escape rails and fly up the stairs, my steps thundering and metallic. They can definitely hear me, but once I’m on top, it won’t matter. No one can touch me on a roof.

I collapse onto the apartment’s top and peer over. They’ve have heard me. The men stare at the egde of the rooftop, but my face is concealed in shadow. They aren’t soldiers. Instead, they are ordinary people. What Ruben says reminds me of them. They must be rebels who work in secret, breaking the Law as easily as they sip tea. A beam of light cuts across my face and I duck down, quick and steady. The light splits through the sky, sweeping the area, before the man cuts it off. They retreat into a side door, shutting it tight behind them.

I throw myself forward again.

The rooftop doesn’t stop me. When I reach the edge, I drop onto the fire escape and scuttle down. By now, my joints are throbbing and it feels as if I’m breathing through a straw. Wheezing. But I’ve made it.

The Wall on the east wing of the Quarter separates the city from the ocean, like a giant dam. It’s made of steel and rises so high that you’d think they built it around the entire Earth. Thick hatches line the metal, keeping the water on the other side sealed in.

The Wall blends into the sky, soaring. In darkness, I search the walls and find what I’m looking for. A ladder. I grip an icy rung with the palm of my hand and brace myself, before pulling my body up. I test my rubber soles against the rungs and find traction. There’s enough of it to keep me from plummeting to my death. One rung after the other, I climb, until it becomes a routine, just like the packaging in the assembly line. I don’t look down. Freezing air whispers on my skin, sending goose bumps rippling up my spine.

“Come on,” I tell myself. “Go!”

I grit my teeth and press on. I’ve never climbed this fast before. My arms ache and my legs shudder under me. The air slithers into my mouth and up my nose until my throat is freezing. At one point, I stop and grip the bars with my knees to keep me steady. Then, I blow hot air into my hands warm myself. It shouldn’t be this cold at night, but the beach is nearby, sending moist air into the clouds. Salt lingers on my tongue. Seawater. I can smell it now. I’m growing close.

The Wall is one foot thick. That’s one foot of standing space. One misstep and I could against a concrete floor or into the ocean on the other side. I hook my leg over and rise slowly, balancing with my arms until I’m standing tall. I peer over.

I stare down at the water, the waves crashing against the rocks, spitting rage and force, and power. And I can feel it. I feel the freedom with every sting of a droplet on my skin, seeping into my veins. Jumping is the only escape. I’m going to do it. It’s stupid, but I am. Standing on the Wall, I breathe the air into my lungs. I take in so much that my chest shudders. My fists are balled up. There’s a voice in my head, a voice telling me to jump. To trust myself. I feel like one of those kids in a teambuilding exercise. Someone’s telling me to jump, telling me they’d catch me if I fall. Only, there’s no one there but myself. The only noise is my own unsteady breathing and the crack of the water as it slams against the unrelenting steel. The air feels like silk on my skin, clothing me. My hair slaps against my bare cheeks and falls in my eyes in thin, dark strands. I can barely see but it doesn’t matter. I close my eyes tight anyway.  My chest aches as my heart beats like a drum. This is crazy. This is suicide.

Jump, my head tells me.

So I do.

CHAPTER SIX

My father smelled like dead fish and seawater.

Every day after he came home, he’d cart nets of them on his shoulders and shove them into the freezer. Other days, he’d skin and wash in the sink. Most times Mom would start up the oven to cook them, but on special days she’d fire up charcoal grill outside and we’d all gather and watch the flames lick the fish dry as they smoked to a brown crisp. Though Dad didn’t like it, Mom snuck the leftovers to the scrawny cats that Dad called “Mangy, flea-bitten bottom feeders” but always with a harmless grin.

These were the better days.

Dad would sometimes take me to the hoverdock where he fished for clams and lobsters and fish. That was where I first learned to swim. I loved the water. The salt on my skin, the waves that made a waterfall out of my hair, and the ocean that stretched for miles and miles. I longed to see what was out there, where the sun kissed the horizon and the sky melted into the sea. I’d never even thought of swimming before Dad. Usually, I’d watch on the hoverdock, dropping rocks and pebbles I’d collected on the shore and watching ripples spread.

One day, Dad told me I needed to learn to swim. He said it with a smile on his face, but his eyes were grave. Just in case, he told me. I could’ve pointed out that no one in our Quarter went to the beach and that swimming was for rich Replacement kids and anyway, no one in our entire neighborhood knew how to swim, but the way he said it silenced me.

“And when you swim,” he said, “you gotta swim fast. There isn’t any point in swimming slow. You gotta swim like there’s something chasing you.”

“But why?” I’d asked him once. It was five days into our lesson. Already, I’d cut the time it took me to lunge from the boat to the fishing net in half, but Dad didn’t think it was fast enough.

“Because Paper-cut,” he told me. He was always making up silly nicknames. “One day, I might not be here. And you never know when you might have to swim away from something.”

“Like what?” There was nothing in the Quarter but stray dogs and there wasn’t anywhere to swim from them, I pointed out.

“Something worse than mutts,” he said. Dad grinned and tousled my hair, but it felt wrong. He’d always been like that, as kind as a man could get, but with a hint of danger.

I think of him now as I prepare to jump. I wonder if this is what he’s been preparing me for, wonder if somehow he knew. But that would be crazy…wouldn’t it?

“SCAR!”

A hand latches onto my wrist and jolts me to a stop so fast and with so much force, that I shriek out in pain. I almost fall onto the wrong side where there’s concrete instead of ocean. My heart shoots out of my chest as I hug the steel and drag myself to my trembling feet again.

“Puck!” I shout at the boy beside me. How could he be so stupid? He almost killed us both! Only, it’s not Puck.

It’s Liam.

For a moment, I don’t know how to react. I’m shocked. He stands there with his hair plastered across his face and his eyes as so wide I think his eyeballs will fall out. He is petrified.

“What the heck are you doing?” I scream at him. The wind carries my voice.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he spits back. There’s no anger in his voice, only raw fear.

“You ruined my life!” I shout at him, but the ocean drowns my voice.

Liam’s eyes fill with regret. He doesn’t understand. How could he? He’s a Replacement. A selfish, arrogant, egotistic-

“I did you a favor,” Liam pleads with me. “You can forget about this old life, become someone new. Aren’t you happy?”

“No!” I hurl the word at him so fiercely that he steps back. My voice doesn’t sound like my own.

Liam reaches out for me, but I inch towards the drop of the ocean and he stops in alarm. “You don’t belong here, Scar,” he says. His voice is high and solemn. “They’re coals. Get it? And you’re a…a jewel.”

I snort.  Liam looks lost as if he’s not sure what else to say. I’m sure he’s never had to do this before, talk a crazy girl off a Wall.

“Come with me. Please,” he says. “They’re going to take you tomorrow anyway. You know that right? It’s better to just do what they say.”

“You mean do what you say?”

“I don’t have any-”

“Power?” I smirk. “A Stronghold with no power? That’s pretty ironic isn’t it?”

His eyebrows rise as if this is the first time he realizes I know who he is.

“Why didn’t you just come out and tell me? Or are you afraid I wouldn’t talk to you? Or maybe you’d think I’d bow and kiss the ground you walk on so that you forget you’re human. Is that is? Because I wouldn’t.”

Liam lowers his gaze. “That’s none of your concern.”

I shake my head at him. “You sound so much like him,” I say.

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Like who?”

“Your father.”

He cringes and I can tell it pains him to hear it, but I can’t imagine why. Why would he want to sound like the most powerful man alive? In any case, I’m glad it hurts.

“It’s done,” I tell him, holding up the marking so that he can see. The jewel stains my skin. “I guess I’m one of you now.”

“It’s not as bad as you think,” he says. “It’s actually wonderful when you get used to it. You’ll barely have to work and you can meet tons of new people. Plus, you won’t even remember your old life. Not at all.” 

Ruben’s words come to me then. They‘re trying to make things better for all of us. They tell us some stuff. Like what really happens to you during the Taking.

“Is that what happens when you take us?” I ask. “We forget?”

Liam doesn’t respond. He turns away towards the ocean where the waves pound against the steel walls. I stare down at the ocean, think of leaping off, and suddenly the thought terrifies me.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” Liam says.

“Fine. Then I’ll jump.”

Liam doesn’t say anything. His face is a blank slate, far from the terrified boy I just saw, though I still suspect he’s scared stiff. “Jump,” he says.

I gaze at the water, that churns and spits and reaches up to grip me and drag me away.

“Do it,” Liam urges.

“You don’t know me,” I tell him. “What if I did? You’d hate yourself.”

“Is my pain really worth your life?”

No. “Maybe,” I say.

“Are you sure?”

No. “Why are you here? How did you find me?”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know,” Liam says. Then he starts down the ladder, one after the other, his slick hair disappearing in darkness.

After a moment’s hesitation, I relent and start after him, one rung after the other. It’s humiliating and crushing, but I do. I’m a coward, too scared to leap. Too scared to fly when I had the chance. Liam doesn’t act triumphant. He only takes my hand at the bottom, and tries to help me down, but I shove him instead.

“When will they come for me?” I ask him.

He sighs and scratches the back of his head. “You have two hours at the most.”

“How did you find me anyway?”

“There are ways of tracking you that you don’t even know about. You’re on the grid Scar, just like me and everyone else in the Quarter.”

“How do you know all this?” I ask him.

Liam’s eyes are dark. “My girlfriend’s father is the head of security…was the head of security.”

“The girl who disappeared?” I ask.

He doesn’t respond. He looks at me, his gaze so serious that I imagine he can melt me. “They’re coming for you. Whatever you plan to do, Scar, do it quick.”