Free Taken (Erin Bowman) by Erin Bowman Page B

though I want her far away, safe behind the Wall. When we finally break apart, the storm is faltering.
    “I need you to promise me you’ll listen from here on in. Any order I give, even if it sounds weird at the time, just trust me, okay?”
    Again, she nods. “I promise.”
    We drink some water and then I lead the way, moving through the dense woods and away from the smoky scent that continues to ride the air. I have an uneasy feeling that should we meet its source, Emma will meet her doom.
    We left Claysoot so late in the evening that it isn’t long before dawn penetrates the overhead canopy. We squint in the light, continuing until the trees open onto an empty field. It’s much larger than the clearing in Claysoot’s woods, and free of stones and dirt trails. It’s almost inviting, and because of this, I grow suspicious.
    A breeze whips through the meadow and the smoke again reaches us. It smells thicker, more pungent. I thought we’d been moving away from it, but now I’m not so sure.
    “What’s that?” Emma whispers, pointing ahead through the meadow.
    At the far end, where another line of trees begins, is the faintest hint of a structure, a building perhaps. The hairs on my forearm rise.
    Answers.
    We make our way into the field carefully. I lead, pausing whenever I hear a foreign sound or get a bad feeling. Slowly, the shape reveals itself to us.
    It is indeed a building, a narrow, skinny thing that has long since been deserted. Parts of the roof are failing, and the front door swings aimlessly on the breeze. There’s something odd about the place, though. Even in its state of decay, it is too perfect. You can tell its frame was once meticulously aligned, its windows uniform, its roof even. I think of our homes in Claysoot that, while built with care, are flawed and imperfect. Whatever hands made this building were extremely skilled.
    Or not human.
    “Maybe there’s people,” Emma says. “Come on. Let’s go see.”
    I grab her wrist and pull her to my side. I can tell the place is abandoned, and has been, for sometime. “I think we should wait a minute.” There’s an odd feeling creeping over me. I suddenly feel as if we’re being watched.
    “I always knew there had to be more, out here, beyond that Wall,” Emma says. “Gray, you know what this means, don’t you? Someone has been here. People! Just beyond Claysoot. Maybe this is where they came from, the originals. Or maybe the adults were here when the storm hit, and the children got stuck inside!”
    I don’t know what I expected to find on this side of the Wall—a gaping black hole through which I’d drift forever, perhaps—but this place changes everything. There is life beyond Claysoot, life and earth just like there is inside the Wall.
    “Come on, let’s get a better look,” Emma urges again.
    I want to, so badly. I can feel the answers pulsing in the air before us. They reach for me, soaking over my skin like the warmth of a strong fire, but they cannot outshine the doubt that fills my mind. I can still feel invisible eyes on us and I look around the field, almost hoping to find an intruder to shoot.
    We are alone.
    When I can no longer fight the desire to know, I agree to Emma’s request and we head for the building. Once inside, I twist a rusty bolt to secure the door and we take to exploring.
    The place has a finished floor, like Maude’s house in Claysoot, only it is not wood but some smooth material I have never seen before. Even under a layer of dust and grime, you can tell it once shone brightly, reflecting light and movement. We also find a sink that spits rusty water from a pipe at the turn of a handle, and there are odd branches hanging from the ceiling that flicker light about the room when Emma presses something on the wall. The place is magical. I’m now certain it was built by something other than human hands.
    “Can you believe it?” Emma asks as she spins about the empty foyer. “I wish we could tell them