The Taking

by Becky Johnson

  Why him? Because God chose him to lead. It was the worst kind of double logic. The Mayor was God’s chosen because he had power and the people needed to continue to give him power because he was God’s chosen. Looking out at the citizens of Heritage that gazed back at him with distrust but treated the Mayor as if he brought every good thing, Paul knew why. He understood. He had been there himself. Fear. The fear of being wrong. The fear of being different. The fear of change. All of that kept the people of Heritage from seeing the truth, from seeing beyond the way they were told to live to the possibilities of life if they would just open their eyes.

  But as the Mayor circulated Town Hall, Paul’s hope in his neighbors died with every handshake, backslap, and head nod.

  9:55 p.m.

  The kitchen was silent while they all absorbed Ruth’s words. It was Henry who finally broke the silence.

  “If the Takers are taking specific people. How do they decide who to take?”

  “Good question.”

  Sarah sat quietly, but thoughts spun through her mind. Everything Ruth had said. Everything about which they had talked. Now with Henry’s question, pieces started to click together. The others continued their discussion, but Sarah’s mind was too preoccupied.

  “Not how, who?”

  Sarah’s interjection stopped their conversation.

  “What do you mean?” Matt asked.

  “Everything about this night has been different from every Taking we’ve ever experienced. We’ve seen the Takers, and it seems like they have a hive mind, travel with light, have trouble with fire, and are from another dimension/world/whatever. Right?”

  Three heads nodded, so Sarah continued.

  “The Takers didn’t take Ruth, so it’s clear there must be some decision making on who to take. If they have a hive mind, that isn’t done on the individual level. Which means, the Taker in front of Ruth was just following orders. It didn’t decide to take her. Which means someone or something else did decide that. Who?”

  Matt leaned back. “Shit,” He looked over at Ruth and Henry and winced. “Sorry.”

  Ruth gave a wry chuckle. “I think shit just about says it all.”

  Henry chimed in, “Shit.” His voice and facial expression gave away his discomfort and delight in cursing.

  Matt sighed. “Your uncle is never going to forgive me for getting you cursing.” He rubbed his eyes. “Okay. Someone is controlling the Takers. Is there a lead Taker? Like a queen bee?”

  They absorbed that in silence before Henry ventured. “Maybe there is something that calls them or lets them know who to take.”

  Sara looked from face to face around the table as Henry’s words sunk in. Ruth sat staring down at her hands, Henry’s eyes were huge in his thin face, and Matt tapped his fingers restlessly on the table while he leaned back. They were all thinking. All working on the problem of the Takers, but were they ready to hear what she suspected?

  9:57 p.m.

  Ruth stared down at her hands folded on the table in front of her. They were not the hands of a young person. Her skin was lined and creased, the bulge of her knuckles and bends in her fingers showed the passing of time.

  She couldn’t quite believe where the night had taken her. From a readiness or even more a desire to face death to, now, a need to protect others. She looked at the faces around her. All young. So very young. And yet all of them had seen more in the last few hours than most people in this town had in their entire life. Ruth debated with herself. She didn’t want to encourage them to do anything rash, but she wasn’t sure she could stop that at this point, or even that there was any safety to be found in acting blind to the dangers outside, to pretending they were safe. After an internal back and forth she decided there was no harm in sharing her information.

  “When I ran into the Taker on the street the other Takers had already surrounded Town Hall. There was no outward sign anyone was hiding inside, but the Takers were there anyway, waiting for people to come out.”

  “What are you saying? They knew someone would be sacrificed?” Matt asked the question like someone who already knew the answer.

  Ruth’s gaze stayed down on her hands folded on the surface of the table. The words hovered on her tongue. Words of condemnation. In all her years with Sam, she had kept her unease about Heritage buried. She couldn’t any longer. She adjusted her hands and settled them more comfortably before looking up and locking eyes with Matt.

  “Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying.”

  10:03 p.m.

  Henry heard the worried conversation at the table, and he knew it was important, but it wasn’t as important as what he thought he glimpsed outside. Henry got up from the table and crossed the kitchen to peer through the window in the back door. What was that? His insides quivered.

  “Guys.”

  They didn’t respond.

  “Guys.” It was said a little louder this time, gaining Sarah’s attention.

  “What’s up?” She got up from the table, joining Henry by the back door.

  He pointed through the glass and in between two houses to the street opposite.

  “What is that?”

  Sarah crouched down, so she was on Henry’s level and looked where he was pointing. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Right there, by the bench.”

  Sarah looked again, scanning the area next to the bench. Wait. Was that? “Is that floating?”

  Henry nodded as he whispered. “They’re coming.”

  10:03 p.m.

  Matt noticed Sarah and Henry by the small kitchen window, but he was too busy digesting the idea someone at Town Hall controlled the Takers.

  “If someone in Heritage has power over the Takers,” he couldn’t finish the thought. Ever since he was a small child, his mother taught him to respect his elders. Particularly those in authority. And the epitome of authority in Heritage was the Mayor.

  “When I first moved here I was a newlywed,” Ruth explained, “I loved my Sam so much that I listened to everything he said. After thirty years of marriage, I wasn’t quite so willing to listen to everything he said. I’m sorry to say that when he first started telling me about Heritage when he spoke so glowingly of the Mayor, our current Mayor’s father, I believed everything he told me.”

  Ruth continued. “Sam spoke of the Mayor as if he could do no wrong. He spoke of the Mayor like one would speak of a god. I towed the line and raised my son as a Heritage citizen. I went to the community meetings and hosted the Mayer when he did his community rounds. Despite all that, I never really felt like I belonged here. In part because I never really believed the Mayor was as amazing as everyone else seemed to believe. Most days, when I heard him give a speech or even just chat, I was amazed that people listened to him. This younger Mayor is the same. He has this town so convinced that he is the only one with the truth, the only one with any answers. People believe him, even when what he says is so obviously manipulative or just false.”

  Matt heard the truth of the words. He even believed them deep down inside, but believing it and vocalizing it were very different. Matt wasn’t sure that he was ready to say what he was thinking.

  10:13 p.m.

  Paul’s head pounded in time with his heartbeat. The clock on the wall ticked, the only noise. Unfortunately, it was behind him where he couldn’t see the time, but he was acutely aware that time was passing. He was now in a back room of Town Hall but still tied to a chair. Apparently, his neighbors were getting uncomfortable seeing him restrained. The Mayor’s response was to put him in a back room while they planned whatever it was they were going to do to him.

  Paul wasn’t foolish enough to think someone was going to come free him or send him home with a clap on the back for speaking his mind.

  Generally by this time of night, the Taking was done, and everyone was back home. Paul didn’t think he was going home anytime soon. He had committed a cardinal sin; he’d dared to speak against the Mayor.

  Paul tried to twist to see th
e clock, but his head gave a throb at the movement, and he faced forward again and debated his options. He could try to reason with the Mayor, pretend he didn’t mean his earlier remarks. Maybe he was confused or overwhelmed by the Taking. He ran through a few excuses before slumping forward. He’d waited for this night, for his chance to tell everyone what he really thought. How crazy he thought this was. After waiting for months, after watching his wife step out the Town Hall doors and face the Takers, he couldn’t take it back. He wouldn’t.

  His mind turned to the one person he’d been trying to avoid all night. Claire. What he really wanted was Claire back. Blue eyes laughing up at him. Lips curving in a smile, just for him. Paul clenched his eyes shut. He could imagine her soft voice and loud laugh. He was pretty sure she would scold him about everything he’d done since she was gone.

  For a moment, Paul’s thoughts went to Henry, his brother-in-law ’s son. He married Claire when Henry was young but hadn’t spent much time with him until five months ago when Henry’s parents were killed in a car accident in Pittsburg. Then he came to Heritage to live with Paul. Claire had been gone a little over a year, but Paul was the only family Henry had. He felt a familiar pang of guilt. His interactions with Henry were mostly limited to awkward conversations over dinner. Those few times they actually spoke the discussion was almost entirely about homework.

  Paul wasn’t much of a father figure. He’d loved his wife, but he and Claire never planned to have children. He wished, not for the first time that he had been Taken instead of Claire.

  Paul’s thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the door opening.

  10:13 p.m.

  “Guys,” Sarah’s voice went unheard by the two at the table behind them. “Guys.” Matt glanced over but didn’t get up from the table.

  “Guys!” This time they both looked over. “Come here.”

  Matt was at her side in a second.

  Sarah pointed between the two houses behind Henry’s and to the right of her smoldering home at the large rock suspended in midair by the sidewalk. “I think it’s happening again.”

  They all stared. Tension and dread building in bodies that had already been through more than they could tolerate in one night.

  No one spoke or moved. They just stared out at the street. Sarah felt her throat tighten. She just wanted to sit down. She just wanted to rest. Hadn’t they endured enough already? Her heart raced while Henry’s fingers tightened on hers. She looked at Matt, hoping he knew what to do. She couldn’t speak, but in her mind, she begged him to come up with a solution, some way to stop the terror and craziness of the night.

  “We need to move.” The words didn’t come from Matt. They came from Ruth. Everyone turned to look at her. Ruth’s face was calm. Despite the severity of the situation, she chuckled at their tense expressions. “Children,” she muttered under her breath. “We stay here, and they will come. Whoever is controlling the Takers is either losing control, or they want something new. Either way, I doubt people like us who are questioning what is happening are safe. Inevitably, people who question those with power or those that want power, inevitably, those people will become the target.”

  Ruth’s words sunk in, diving deep into Sarah’s brain. The fear didn’t leave, but it faded, and resolve took over.

  “What do we do?” Henry’s voice was soft in the silence.

  Matt’s voice was tight but determined when he responded. “We fight.”

  “Smartly.” This was from Ruth. Everyone nodded to agree.

  “Okay.” Sarah took charge, organizing their efforts. “Henry grab some bottles of water for each of us and some a couple of apples. We don’t know how long we’ll be out there. Ruth look for batteries, flashlights, matches, anything like that. Henry, you can help her. Matt, look for things to use as weapons: guns, knives, baseball bats, anything like that. I’ll look for anything else we can use.” They didn’t move for a second, and then. “Let’s go.” Sarah clapped her hands. The group scattered.

  Sarah headed down the hall away from the kitchen and looked from side to side. Linen closet. Nothing. Bathroom. She checked under the sink. Jackpot. She pulled out a red first aid kit and popped it open. It didn’t look like the kit had been opened since 1982, but Sarah pulled out a handful of gauze, tape, and alcohol wipes. You could never have too many band-aids. Most of them looked too old to even stick to anything anymore, but at least they had extra gauze.

  Sarah was putting the first aid kit back when she saw it. Ooh. That might work.

  They met back in the kitchen. Matt looked out the window. It’d been about three minutes since they first noticed the rock and now it was back on the ground. For some reason, Matt didn’t find that comforting.

  10:16 p.m.

  The Mayor stepped into the holding room and closed the door at his back before grabbing a chair and bringing it over to sit in front of Paul. He did all this without saying a word. The Mayor leaned back in his chair in a relaxed pose with his hands crossed over his stomach and his left ankle resting on his right knee. His light-colored hair was combed across his forehead, and his watery blue eyes zeroed in on his captive and stayed there for several minutes, while Paul struggled not to squirm under the scrutiny.

  The Mayor shifted, placing each foot on the floor and leaning forward with his hands steepled before him. “Paul, Paul, Paul. What am I going to do with you?”

  Paul had a few suggestions, but the tape over his mouth prevented him from making any of the comments that swirled through his mind. Since the majority of them consisted of four-letter words, Paul doubted the Mayor would have appreciated his opinion.

  The Mayor sighed. “I must say, I’ve been worried about you for a long time. I could see the darkness in your soul, your sorrow eating away at you. Perhaps this outburst today is in part my fault. I should have reached out to you sooner.”

  The fake sympathy and pretend concern for Paul’s well-being made him furious. But he schooled his expression and didn’t make a sound.

  “Now we are here, tonight, and you are a source of disruption, a stumbling block to the pious people of Heritage. I can’t allow anyone to lead my loyal sheep astray.”

  Paul’s stomach rolled with a combination of dread and anger. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

  The Mayor shook his head in distress. “Paul, I don’t want to do this. I want to bring you back home. Back into the fold, but I can’t risk the rest of my town.”

  Heritage didn’t belong to him. Paul’s arms strained against the rope across his chest. If his arm was free, he would have just swung. Instead, his body futilely pushed against the restraints.

  The Mayor watched his struggle with interest. He reached forward, and his short fat fingers grabbed Paul’s chin and forced his face up, so they were eye to eye. “I don’t want to do this. I planned for tonight to end differently. People were starting to question; the youth had doubts. My father taught me that one day I had to teach the next generation. Teach them to fear. You see, it is the fear that keeps them obedient.”

  Paul’s heart clenched as the weight of what he was hearing sunk in.

  “Ahhh.” The Mayor’s voice was a long sibilant hiss. “You are starting to get it aren’t you. Heritage belongs to me, to my family. It always has.”

  Paul’s blood froze in his veins. He had suspected, but never really believed, or maybe he just didn’t want to believe it, how far the deception went. Perhaps he hoped Heritage was the wholesome, Godly town he had always thought it was, albeit with a terrible secret. But now in front of him, the person he’d suspected of taking advantage of the town was confessing to something much darker.

  “Paul, Paul, Paul. Heritage would be nothing without my family and the deal we made.” The Mayor smiled. “The Takers keep us prosperous and safe from the outside world and ask very little in return.”

  He released Paul’s chin and sat back with a shake of his head at the foolishness he evidently saw in Paul. “You fool. This town. All fools. You all be
lieve that God sent the Takers.” He laughed, and it sent a shiver up Paul’s spine. “I guess people are right. God is protecting this town. I’m protecting this town. I am your god, the savior of Heritage.”

  The Mayor spread his arms wide and grinned. Or his mouth did. His pale blue eyes stayed still and flat as a shark’s. Paul knew this wasn’t going to end well. The Mayor wouldn’t let him walk away, not after this confession. This proved the Mayor would do anything, absolutely everything to keep power.

  He tried to yell, to reason, but the tape muffled his voice.

  The Mayor chuckled before speaking. “I can tell by the look on your face that you have figured out what is happening here. The doubt and rebelliousness were supposed to be over tonight, a sign to the people of this town that following the rules keeps us safe, and that breaking the rules means that more die. This is an opportunity I can’t pass up. Tonight, the rules all change. By morning every person in this town will see me as their only source of protection. They will see me as the best, the strongest, and the absolute leader. They will realize I am the only person they can trust to lead them.”

  Paul couldn’t believe his ego, his evil plan. Others died so he could have power.

  “Really, I should thank you. Without your interference, I might never have had this opportunity.” His grin was quick and lethal, evidence of the sheer delight he felt with this interaction. He wasn’t just enjoying the power. He enjoyed toying with Paul, witnessing his distress. The Mayor loved knowing that he held all the cards.

  “There is one thing I’m a little jealous of. You see, I’ve always wondered what happens when the Takers take someone. Where do they go? Do they live or die? But don’t worry. You will soon know to answer that question.”

  The Mayor stood and slid the chair against the wall. Before opening the door, he looked back at Paul. “It’s just a shame that you won’t be able to tell me anything after the Takers, well, take you.” He chuckled.