One Thousand Shades of Red

The stolen rover jolts and bounces over rocky terrain, its tyres kicking up clouds of crimson dust. I cling to my seat, heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement.

"North, slow down!" I shout, laughing despite myself. "You're going to get us both killed!"

North grins back at me. "I got this! Besides, isn't this the most fun you've had in ages?"

"Your parents are going to kill you when they find out you took the rover," I say, though my tone is more teasing than scolding.

I look up at the unusual sky; red stretching from horizon to horizon. This is our home now. The planet Sangrasol. Unfamiliar trees fly past, the leafless branches reaching low, seeking something other than the planet's limited sunlight. Animals are rare, with the small few already lying dead in the bushes, or scouting about, with bodies impaled by holes.

The rover slows, "Vivian," North points out the window to a red dot emerging from the trees. "It's a Taker."

The laughter dies instantly. North steers the rover away, but it's too late. My breath catches with the pain shooting through my palm. A small, clean hole penetrates my skin, tunnelling through to the other side. "North!"

The Taker strikes again. North has one hand over his ear, blood spilling through his fingertips, the other still gripping the wheel. He floors the accelerator, leaving the Taker behind.

We drive in shocked silence, till the Taker is not even a speck in the distance, no longer laughing or joking around.

"You ok?" North asks.

"Yeah, I think so." Though my hand throbs. "You?"

"I'm fine. It's not the hole I'm worried about." he replies.

The warm blood doesn't pool in my palm, it drips through the tunnel that marks my encounter with a Taker. I press my shirt to my hand in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

I know plenty of people who have encountered Takers and come back with something missing, but it's never happened to me before. They take things like sight, the ability to read, or speak. They can take any intangible thing at will, from anyone they choose, leaving behind nothing but a hole.

"Maybe it didn't take anything." Though I know he doesn't mean it.

"Don't be stupid, North," I say, but there's nothing we can do about it anyway.

They aren't dangerous, not really. But they can do things that shouldn't be possible. First picture a horse, and imagine the legs bending unnaturally to join at the knee. Take off the hooves, and sharpen the ankles like a pencil. Same with the face, a sharp, featureless thing, with no clear use other than to ram you with its teeny horn. And don't forget the skin, invisible beneath a thick layer of dust that matches the red clouds overhead, and a body with as many holes as Swiss cheese. That's what we call a Taker. They were here before we came.