Sneak (15 page)

“Wow . . . ,” Erin said, amazed and a little scared by the tech-nology of it.

“I know. Tastes good to be on the winning side, doesn’t it?”

Mr. Arbitor winked at her. Erin took another sip of nanocoffee and gagged on its bitterness. She didn’t answer her father. “Anyway, Hailey played right into our plan,” he continued. “She’s already led us to a farm where some pretty interesting things are going down.

It’s legitimate—Marked—owned by a woman named Jean Meloy.”

“You think they took it over? Or do you think Jean Meloy is a

traitor?”

“Hard to say. Regardless, it appears Hailey and Logan have, at last, led us to Peck. And his band of misers. Exactly as you predicted.”

“So what now?” Erin asked. “What’s next?”

She looked around the Umbrella as she asked it. Agents across the
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floor were suiting up in full DOME-tech armor, strapping on vests, helmets, boots . . . loading weapons and holstering ammunition . . .

“Let me do this,” Erin said suddenly. “You don’t need all these people.”

“We’re not taking any chances this time, Erin. Everyone goes.”

“But they’ll see us coming. You’ll scare them away!”

“Erin, no. We’re through sneaking around now. We move in,

and we take them. Brute force.”

“You’ll prompt a struggle. Dad, people could die.”

“Beggars could die, Erin.
Beggars
could die.”

Erin was frantic now, pleading. “Dad, listen to me. If you insist on bringing backup, fine, but send me in first. Alone. I can do this.

I can talk to Logan. I’m sure he’s scared. I’m sure he doesn’t want any of this. I can . . . I can convince him. I can get you the Dust.

Logan, Peck, and all the rest. I can get you everyone. Peacefully.

Just give me the chance to negotiate, Dad. Let me
do
this.”

“Absolutely not,” Mr. Arbitor said. “The grown-ups are handling this now.”

“But you grown-ups are making a mistake! The Dust aren’t

masterminds—they’re kids. And I can get through to them. I’m

sure I can!”

“Erin. Enough.”

“Listen to reason!”

“Listen to
me
. You’ve played your part in this mission, Erin.

You’ve played it very well. But your part is over now. And I’m not interested in your opinions on what to do next.”

“It’ll end badly,” Erin said. “What you’re about to do—it will end badly!”

“Nonsense. We’re simply bringing these kids in for question-

ing. No reason for anyone to get hurt.” Mr. Arbitor smiled. “Trust
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me. This is a simple storm-and-capture operation. We want everyone alive just as much as you do.”

But Erin couldn’t help noticing that only one man among the

crowd was equipped with magnecuffs.

And he only carried two pairs.

6

It was no more than a
pop
, the sound that broke the December night. It was distant . . . falling oddly flat against the farm’s wide-open field. Like a pebble dropped into a pond.

From where Peck sat looking out the stable door, it was nothing but a little burst of light through the farmhouse window. It was a pin-prick in the canvas of paint-black sky, easy to miss, easy to ignore . . .

It was the sound of a twig breaking, of a toe stubbed against a table leg.

But the sound was a gunshot. It was the sound of Papa Hayes’s

death.

Peck turned and looked over his huddle, all sleeping in the hay and the dirt. “Wake up,” he said. “They’re here.”

7

Erin stood in the doorway of the farmhouse, DOME soldiers flanking her and signaling commands as teams of them secured each

room, one by one.

Mr. Arbitor smiled, his hand finding Erin’s back and patting it twice.

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“You did this,” he said. “This is thanks to you. You’re a hero today, Erin.”

But Erin didn’t hear a word of that.

Instead, she was very far away, on her rollerstick with Logan.

They were riding through the Spokie streets on a warm September night, and she was laughing as he held on tight and begged her to slow down, just a little.

She was in Logan’s room, giggling in the closet while his dad

came in and tucked him into bed, asking whether or not Logan

wanted his night-light turned on before he went to sleep.

She was at an ice cream parlor, sharing a sundae with Logan

and so relieved to hear that he was planning to Pledge the next day.

“No sign yet of the targets,” one man whispered, snapping her

back to the present.

“There was a shot fired,” Erin said matter-of-factly.

“Just an old miser,” the agent said. “But we’ll keep looking.”

Two men walked down the stairs now, carrying a man who lay

limp in their arms.

And Erin closed her eyes. Tight. As tight as she could. Some how not tight enough. And she was on the sports lawn at lunch, eating sandwiches with Logan, picking at the plasti-grass, sitting warm in the sun. She was not here.

She was not here.

8

“Who is here? Peck,
who
?” Jo hissed as she gathered her things and shook the others awake.

“DOME. They’ve found us. The Hayeses can’t help.”

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“The Hayeses can’t . . . Peck . . . Peck,
why
can’t the Hayeses
help
?”

The voices came to Logan in a whisper and he rose, exhausted

but on edge at the same time.

“Take the blankets.”

So Logan rolled his tattered fleece tightly around his arm and slipped into his shoes. Immediately he was shivering.

“Leave the rest. Follow me.”

“Peck, where are we going?”

“Away.”

“But how will we know where to—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

And the Dust slipped out the open door. Blake ran first, carrying Rusty and whispering something about things being all right.

Tyler and Eddie followed, laughing and flicking each other even now. Meg ran by, looking excited enough for all of them. Jo went next, shaking her head and setting the pace for Dane and Hailey behind her. Logan left last.

Four hours. He’d been given four hours of hope before DOME

took it all away again. And he wondered, in that moment, what

Erin might have thought of all this. He wondered about the plans she’d have for his daring escape, what she would have said to let him know that everything would be okay.

If
only
she
were
here
.

And then Logan squinted through the darkness at the farm-

house across the field, and a horrible thought struck him.

What
if
she
is?

It was hard to see through his shaggy hair, and his stomach

grumbled and he worried about the noise it made, but the voices of the Dust all said, “This way” and Logan followed them blindly
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through the December-chilled woods. Tonight he would trust

those voices. They were all there was left to trust.

Peck whispered now to all of them. “A shot was just fired in

Papa’s study. Most likely he’s, well . . .” A gasp rippled through the Dust before Peck could say it.
Dead
. He was glad he wouldn’t have to. “We have to assume Mama is in custody, or worse. But I have a feeling DOME’s not here for them at all. I have a feeling they’re here for us. Which means they’ll be searching the farmhouse another few minutes before they expand to the rest of the perimeter.”

The Dust looked at Peck expectantly. “Then what now?” Blake

asked.

“There’s a raft waiting for us on the stream in the woods.

Tonight we take it as far as it’ll go.”

“Take it where?” Jo asked. “Peck, we have no plan!”

“We do have a plan,” Peck corrected. “Once we’re moving . . .

I can explain everything once we’re moving. Until then, just follow me. Stick together and everything’ll be okay. All is not lost if we can stick together.”

But just as Peck said this, Logan heard them, DOME, the offi-

cers, though they were trained for stealth. He saw in the corners of his vision the dancing laser sights and flashlights in the snow all around him. And he imagined the life ahead, locked up and forgotten . . . or tortured . . . or worse.

Immediately, the Dust scattered, running in half a dozen dif-

ferent directions.

Logan was alone again. And it was in that moment that he

heard the scariest thing of all: Erin.

Erin was yelling in the woods behind him.

When Logan did, finally, reach the stream at the edge of the

farm, he could not find the raft. He could not find the Dust. And
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behind him Erin was running, shouting, horribly, to the DOME

agents trailing half an acre behind her.

“He’s here!” she yelled. “I’ve got him right here!”

Logan was cornered.

And for some reason all of these things together simply broke

Logan’s heart. He realized, right then, that he did have something left to lose—the hope that Erin, somehow, somewhere, was still on his side.

He’d lost that now too.

“You were my best friend in the world,” Logan said once Erin

made it close.

Erin tried to speak and failed several times. What came

out were short breaths and stutters. “Yes,” she said finally. “But Logan . . . listen to me. This . . . it’s—it’s not what you think—”

“In what way, Erin? Huh? You’ve
killed
me, is what I think. You have
killed
me!”

“Logan, please—
just
hear
me
out
!”

In front of him, the broad stream was dark and freezing, with

a filmy coating of ice over the shallower areas. Even standing at its edge he could feel the rush of cold sucking his body heat into its surging water. Logan guessed he’d have maybe twenty minutes to float, tops, before hypothermia killed him. If he hadn’t drowned by then anyway.

How?

How has it come to this?

He jumped into the water.

He didn’t feel a thing.

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