He can feel his heart beginning to race.

He wonders what they want and why they keep looking at him.

He walks away, feeling uneasy.

This isn't right, he thinks.

He quickens his pace a little. Slight panic starting to set in.

He's breathing heavier now.

The street lights will keep him safe.

Or maybe he's just being silly.

He's not being followed.

That guy was just a weirdo, he says to himself.

He just wanted to talk, ask for directions, and grab a paper.

That's all, he guesses.

And his friends are there.

They're working too. They can see him.

He's safe.

But he didn't see the man walking between the houses onto the sidewalk.

He probably couldn't hear the echo of the footsteps on the pavement over the sound of the wagon he was pulling. His friends can't see him as well anymore.

No one can.

And just like that,

he's gone.

He's taken.

And all we have are questions.

...