Taken

Damien sat at the table, occasionally looking up at the clock in between shoveling pasta into his mouth. There was no point in trying to act like everything was fine. Something wasn’t. Our parents never would have been this late, and if they were going to be, they would have told me beforehand.

“Do you think that they will come back?” Damien asks me quietly. His voice cracks halfway.

I sigh and sit across from him. The dining room seems empty without our parents at both ends of the table. Father would probably be complaining about how somebody at work was irritating him badly before getting sucked into a business call, and Mother fussing about how unkempt we look.

“I’m positive,” I tell him. I reach over and grab his empty hand. “Don’t worry about them. I’m sure that they will be back before you open your eyes in the morning. Just eat your food and worry about kid things for now.”

Damien nods and fills his mouth with another spoonful of pasta. His head jerks up when the doorbell rings. We both look at each other curiously. From the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting anybody at this time, and neither was I. His spoon hovers above his bowl while he wonders whether or not to go and open the door.

“Stay here,” I tell him sternly. I don’t need him getting abducted by strangers before Mother and Father get back home.

A woman is standing at the door. Her longer, fiery hair goes past her shoulder. She’s wearing a formal black dress and flat shoes. She looks at me impassively as I crack the door slightly open. I can feel Damien watching me from inside the house, and as much as I want to tell him to not watch, I don’t want this lady to know he’s here.

“Can I help you?”

The woman smiles, but it looks more painful than kind. “You can. Is this the Greene residence?”

“Yes. Why?” I squeeze between the door and close it behind me. “My parents aren’t here right now, and they never told me that they were expecting visitors tonight.”

The woman smooths down the front of her dress. “I’m Cynthia Crawford, by the way. And your parents shouldn’t have been expecting anybody. I didn’t come here for a chat with them. Have you noticed the thousands of people who’ve been gaining this sudden sickness and then dying?”

I watch her carefully. Everybody has heard of the disease that’s been spreading like wildfire. If they haven’t yet, then they must have been living under a rock for the past year. Out of the blue, people started gaining a dangerous variation of the common cold, except that with this virus, it’s deadly 90% of the time.

“Obviously,” I snap. “Everybody has heard of it by now. What does that have to do with me?”

“Well, you and your brother don’t show any symptoms,” she says matter-of-factly. “In fact, you two are extremely healthy, which is quite good. Strong immune systems, the both of you.”

My hand searches for the doorknob behind me. “I never told you that I had a brother.” Something doesn’t make sense here.

Cynthia sighs and shakes her head with a strange look of disappointment. “I know everything about the Greene siblings. You and your brother are going to come with me to a facility just so then we can run a few tests on the both of you.”

My somewhat calm demeanor slips away. “No. I would appreciate it if you would get off our property before I end up calling the police on you.”

Cynthia chuckles. “I’d like to see you try. I was told to try to extract both of you peacefully at first, but if you made my work harder then I was allowed to use force. Get your brother. Now.”

“No.”

Cynthia shoves me to the side and opens the door forcibly. I rush in after her, trying to plaster on a smile so Damien isn’t that stressed.

“Damien,” I say carefully, “This is Cynthia Crawford. We’ve been chosen to go to a special organization by the people she works for. Are you done with your dinner?”

Cynthia smiles at me. I turn away from her and help Damien gather up his dishes from the table.

“Are we going to be bringing our clothing?” he asks me quietly by the sink. I look back at Cynthia. She’s still standing at the dining table, examining what she can see of our house.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “Damien, I want you to listen to me.” Damien nods and looks at me, his amber eyes narrowed. “I don’t entirely know what’s happening. Just know that I would give my life to make sure that these people don’t harm you in any way. Try to be careful.”

Damien nods his head. “I know you’re scared. Nothing bad will happen. I know it.”

I tilt my head slightly. “And how do you know that?”

Damien smiles before wrapping his arms around me tightly. “Because I know you won’t let anything bad happen to us. I trust you.”

I sigh but don’t say anything. I don’t trust that my voice won’t crack or that a tear will come if I try to speak. Cynthia clears her throat loudly and we pull away from each other. I take one last look at my brother in our home before I allow Cynthia to walk us out. There are two cars in our driveway, not one.

“Damien Greene is going into that one, Natasha Greene is entering this one.”

Damien nods and starts to walk towards the car that he's supposed to go to, but I hold my arm out to stop him.

“What do you think you're doing?”

I glare at Cynthia. She might think the coldness if her tone would stop anybody in their tracks, but if she thinks that will work on me, she's sorely mistaken. She's clearly not that aware of Natasha Greene.

“We're not going to separate,” I tell her. Damien just looks nervously between the two of us.

Cynthia takes a slow step toward us. Thanks to my height, she doesn't tower over me, but there is definitely a couple of inches between us. She looks down at me with a dark glare.

“When did you get the impression that you were in control of anything that was happening?” She snorts, amused with me. “I hope we have no misunderstanding. I am control of anything and everything that happens to you and your brother.”

“Fine.” I place my hands on Damien's shoulder and nudge him toward the other car. “I love you.”

I watch him for a moment before there's a stinging sensation and a prick in my neck. My eyes feel heavier.