Sneak (5 page)

Sneak

“Excuse me?” Logan said.

But Bridget only winked, and she walked off toward the hud-

dle in the distance, laughing to herself all the way.

3

“The underpass is ours,” Andrew said as Logan wrapped a blanket around himself. “It’s decent shelter from the worst of the weather, and if you can manage to climb up to the highway, the road makes for a good lookout.
Hey, Ron, you up there?
” Andrew called abruptly.

“All clear!” a voice floated down.

“Why not keep to the buildings?” Logan asked. “Doesn’t look

like anyone’s claimed them.”

“Can’t risk it,” Andrew said. “Not since DOME started clamp-

ing down. They’ve already chased us out of New Chicago’s main

streets, and you’d better believe they’re looking for an excuse to follow us out here and arrest us once and for all. Couple of squatting charges would give it to ’em—it’s illegal to stay in a building that ain’t yours, even if it’s empty.”

“But how would DOME know?”

Andrew laughed. “This huddle around you? We’re the ones still

out here, the ones who got away. Now, why do you think that is?”

Logan shrugged.

“It’s ’cause we’re the careful ones. DOME’s thinking two steps ahead these days, so it’s our job to think three. Now, the way I see it, we can’t be sure those buildings aren’t smoky with that electronic chalk dust DOME’s always using to spy on us. Whaddaya call it? Surveillance powder. All it takes is one building filled with the stuff for DOME to hear us walkin’ around inside, and then it’s just a
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matter of time before they’re banging down the doors and dragging us away. But the underpass”—Andrew swept his arms out around

him and smiled at Logan—“the underpass is safe. It’s open. It’s ours.” Andrew dropped his arms and shrugged. “For now, that is.

Whether or not they’re admitting it, DOME’s rules have changed.

Join Cylis and get Marked or die, am I right? One by one, if they have to—they’re cleaning us out.”

Logan’s mouth went dry. “You, uh . . . you have any idea why

that is?”

“Sure,” Andrew said. “Simple. Little band of skinflints poked

the sleeping giant.”

“A little band of . . .”

Andrew laughed. “Look, Mr. Slog Row, do yourself a favor

and try not to lie to me. There’s no way you don’t know this story.”

Logan sat with his knees tucked up against his chest. He

buried his chin into the edge of the blanket wrapped up around his shoulders and stared intently into its worn fabric. Thirty feet away, Bridget leaned against the next row of overpass pillars, arms crossed, one leg tucked up, totally still, just watching.

Andrew glanced at her and laughed. “I know Bridget says

you’re new at this, kid, but you can’t honestly think I’d believe that you’ve never heard of the Dust.”

Logan sat still.

“The Dust? You know,
Peck’s
group? Come on; you
must
have heard of Peck.”

“Rings a bell . . . ,” Logan said, swallowing hard.

“He’s been famous for years! The guy’s, like, our biggest

recruiter— our
only
recruiter, probably. Like a, uh—whaddaya call it?—a Robin Hood–type.” Andrew laughed. “You know, stealing

kids from the rich and giving them to the poor.”

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Bridget walked over to Andrew, joining in on the conversation

by hitting him squarely on the back of his head. “Don’t say it like that! Makes it sound like he’s kidnapping ’em. That’s exactly what DOME wants people to think.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Andrew said. “I just like the thought of it, you know? Sure, the kids wanna go. I know that. Sheesh.” Andrew rolled his eyes.

“You ever met him?” Logan asked.

“Me? Nah. Guy’s a ghost. Doesn’t poke his head out for hardly

anyone.”

“So, uh . . .” Logan bit his lip. “Where do you think he is now?”

Andrew shrugged. “Probably dead.”

“Dead? Why dead?” Logan asked a little too quickly.

“Boy, you really have been underground these last few weeks.”

Logan nodded.

“Well, listen, who knows what’s really going on, right?”

Logan shrugged, leading him on.

“But from what I heard, Peck bit off a little more than he could chew. First he botched some kidnapping at a battle of the bands in September, which got DOME mad enough to justify all the street cleanings. Then—get this—the poor miser doubled down. Tried

to recruit a kid
so
nuts-o that the flunkee actually went straight to some DOME agent’s daughter, ratted Peck out, sabotaged his own Pledge, attacked his Marker’s nurse, and then
escaped
.”

All the cold of a mid-December night, and Logan began to

sweat. “What, um . . .” He cleared his throat. “What makes you think all that?”

“You kidding? It’s all any of us are talking about. Kid’s, like, a legend.” Andrew elbowed Logan’s blanketed arm playfully. “He’s a dead man walking! If DOME doesn’t get him, the Dust will soon

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enough. But what are ya gonna do?” Andrew shrugged. “Rumors

and hearsay, that’s all it is. Just a little bit of laughs for the dark days.”

Logan wiped a few beads of sweat from his hairline and smiled

nervously at Bridget, who continued to stare at him silently.

Through Andrew’s whole story, she hadn’t looked away once.

That night, Logan slept lightly, waking what must have been every twenty minutes. On one side of him, buildings crumbled and

waited for renovations that would never come. On the other, the lake lay still with a quiet dawn glow. And in between, all across the underpass, a couple hundred Markless boys and girls and men and women curled themselves up on the hard ground and shivered so hard that their teeth chattered, even in their sleep. How many were dreaming of food they couldn’t eat or comforts they couldn’t have, of rights they weren’t given or futures they wouldn’t get?

How many dreamed of friends and family taken from them these

last few weeks . . . of homes they had lost . . . of loved ones they would never see again?

And how many dreamed of Logan, the cause of all that? How

many right now dreamed of the mystery kid fleeing DOME’s

grasp, carelessly sealing the fate of countless Unmarked, throwing all of them under the bus for his own selfish plans?

Half of them?

All of them?

Finally Logan gave up on any real rest and allowed himself to

sit up. He rubbed his eyes and leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. Andrew was there next to him, snoring just a little.

And Bridget . . .

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Bridget was . . .

“Where is she?” Logan whispered frantically, shaking Andrew

awake.

“Whadder you talkinbout?” Andrew slurred, rolling halfway

over and squinting at Logan with dry eyes.

“I watched Bridget fall asleep
right
there
, Andrew. Now you tell me—where did she go?”

“Wheredas she evergo?” Andrew said, and he waved his hand

dismissively before pulling a blanket over his face. “She’ll be back inna morning.” Another breath and he was snoring again.

Immediately Logan stood, heart pumping and mind racing.

It was probably nothing, right? Probably nothing at all.

Certainly nothing to be suspicious of . . . right?

But the sky was blue at its horizon, and in the presunrise light Logan could see the whole huddle.

There was no question about it.

Bridget was gone.

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Two

Where Erin

Comes In

1

The sun wasn’t even up, and already Erin

was ready for school. She’d fed her iguana, she’d showered and dressed, she’d made herself breakfast . . . by the time her alarm went off, Erin had been sitting on the edge of her bed for thirty-five minutes. She’d watched the minutes turn thirty-five times.

“Sleep well?” Mr. Arbitor asked when Erin emerged from her

room.

“Like a log,” Erin said.

But this was a lie.

Erin hadn’t slept well in a month.

Life at Spokie Middle was quiet these days, dull and colorless. It didn’t help that the school had been built underground to save space among the too-cramped streets of the small, New Chicago suburb.

But at least in the past, the school’s virtual “windows” had brought
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