Sneak (34 page)

stone walkways were large patches of grass—real grass, none of that fake plasti-grass stuff—and flowers that perfumed the air.

The space was covered by a high, vaulted ceiling, and even
that
seemed warm and inviting. The whole thing was a screen that projected a bright sky with puffy, white clouds slowly sweeping across the blue background and shifting into countless different shapes.

The sun peeked out from behind them, warm and yellow and

shining with long rays that stretched out in all directions, kissing every surface with its golden glow.

Everywhere there was the silvery sheen of nanodust from

fresh Marks, the long trails of which wisped about in a gentle, artificial breeze.

Water flowed from a large fountain in the middle of the court-

yard, bubbling smoothly in troughs between the many rambling

paths and garden patches.

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Scattered about the space, people relaxed. All except the new-

est arrivals were wearing a uniform, military in look, consistent with Erin’s warnings and the guards in the waiting room. But

there was nothing militant about the way these people behaved.

People walked freely about, and from this distance, Logan

could just barely hear the many snippets of casual conversation about this thing or that.

Could it be? Could every last story Logan had heard of Acheron be wrong?

2

The water trough Logan walked along eventually brought him to the large, spraying fountain in the courtyard’s center. Around it were benches, tiled walkways, arches curtained with thick ivy, and small trees of all kinds. Like the Moderators in the vestibule, these people were Marked on their faces, but that seemed to be normal here, maybe something people didn’t even really notice after a while.

It took some time for Logan to muster the courage to speak

to anyone. He spent several minutes just watching, pacing around the fountain, listening and waiting for the right moment to make a move. What kind of prison was this? There weren’t even cells or locks.

Finally, Logan approached a teenage boy on a bench.

“You’re new here,” the boy said. “Must have just arrived today.”

The boy pointed to Logan’s forehead.

“Yeah,” Logan said. “Just got in.”

“I’m fairly new here myself. But they did make me a Counselor

today. That’s my rank,” the boy explained kindly.

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“You a flunkee?” Logan asked.

“I was,” the Counselor said. “Everyone here was.”

Logan nodded. “So why’d you flunk?”

But the Counselor looked at him, confused. “What do you

mean?” he asked.

Logan frowned. “Well . . . they must have told you
why
you flunked . . . right? I mean—did you steal something? Talk back to your Marker? Stir up trouble as a kid? What’d you actually do?”

The Counselor nodded. “There are two kinds of people here in

Acheron. Flunkees—and criminals. You can’t be both.”

“But . . . what if you, I dunno . . . let’s just say you attacked your nurse and threatened your Marker during your Pledge, and

then
you flunked? Wouldn’t you sort of be both, then—a criminal
and
a flunkee?”

“No. Not technically. Not once you got here. You’d be a crim inal.

Criminals are divvied up among the lower levels, each punishment fit to the crime.” The Counselor looked around. “This here’s the flunkee level.” He smiled. “It’s much nicer.” He patted Logan on the back. “But stop worrying about it. Since you’re here, you’re obviously not a criminal.”

Logan sat down on the bench, and he had to laugh. “So they

really do get ya,” he said. “One way or another. Everyone’s Marked in the end.”

“Oh yes,” said the Counselor. “That’s extremely important. For the safety of all of us, you understand.”

Logan blinked. “How long have you been here?” he asked.

“Two years.”

“And how long did it take you to believe that?”

The Counselor looked at him appraisingly. “Me? I was a Moderator within a couple of hours,” he said proudly. “But some minds take
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much longer to see the truth. Days, sometimes. Weeks. Even years, in the most stubborn cases. You’ll understand it soon enough.”

“I’ve heard rumors,” Logan said, “that this is actually an army.”

The boy nodded. “With these Marks, we become the Inter-

national Moderators of Peace. Every level funnels into the IMPS

eventually. Though lower levels serve their time first.”

“What is it you do?” Logan asked. “As an IMP, I mean?”

But the Counselor shook his head. “We do what we’re asked.

We don’t ask what we do.” He shifted his weight. “Anyway, things are expected to pick up with the signing of the G.U. treaty. That’ll be any day now.”

“So I’ve heard,” Logan muttered. He noticed a few IMPS sit-

ting on a nearby bench staring at him. Logan found himself looking down, rubbing his forehead self-consciously.

“Doesn’t seem like they train you very hard here,” Logan con-

tinued. “Do you usually just sit around in the grass all day?”

The Counselor looked at Logan as though he’d just said the

dumbest thing possible. He didn’t respond. And Logan felt his face go beet red. But after a moment, the Counselor patted him on the knee and laughed. “I like you,” he said. “Stick with me. You’re gonna do all right here.”

“Um, thanks,” Logan replied. And then he culled every ounce

of courage he had.

It’s now or never
, he thought.
No
turning
back
.

“You know, actually . . . I’m sorta . . . wondering if someone might be here . . .”

The Counselor narrowed his eyes, not quite understanding.

Logan could guess how weird that question must have sounded—

to be looking for someone in a place you weren’t supposed to know existed.

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“Do you go by names here, ever?” Logan asked the Counselor.

“Anything other than your rank?”

“It’s not how we address one another,” the Counselor said.

“But we learn each other’s names. Sure.”

Logan cleared his throat.
Here
goes
.

“I’m wondering if you know a girl by the name of Lily Langly.

She would have come here about five years ago.”

The Counselor’s eyes lit up. “Lily! Of course! Everyone knows

Lily Langly!” The Counselor stood up from the bench. “Advocate!”

he called. “Advocate Langly!”

And as if on cue, Logan’s sister emerged from behind a gauzy

curtain hanging across an archway into the courtyard. She was

older, hardened somewhat, with a wide Mark spanning her fore-

head. But in every way she was still his sister, right down to the chin-length brown hair, the blue tint of her eyes, the lightness of her step, and the way she seemed to float as she walked . . . it was all somehow exactly as Logan had remembered.

Logan had pictured this moment countless times, had re-

hearsed what he would say, had imagined how his sister would

respond . . . for years, he’d had it all planned out. But as it happened, he forgot all that. Instead he sat, speechless.

So Lily spoke first.

“Get up,” she said, a few feet from the bench. She didn’t smile.

She didn’t reach out for him. “Now.”

Logan looked up at her, instantly confused. All across the courtyard, IMPS were staring, whispering, pointing . . .

He did as he was told, though he found himself wiping his face quickly and clumsily with his hand as he did. He sniffled twice, took a deep breath, exhaled sharply.
Be
strong
, Logan thought.
You’ve
made it this far
.

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Seeing all this, Lily turned and walked swiftly back toward the arch through which she’d entered. Logan took a few quick steps to follow, and soon he was walking beside her, stepping in double time to keep up with her long, cool strides.

When they’d reached one of the larger patches of grass and

had some privacy from curious onlookers, Lily spun around and

looked at Logan sternly.

“What are you doing here? And what are you thinking, asking

for me by name?”

It was not exactly the reunion Logan had pictured. For months

now, he’d pictured Lily waiting helplessly for him in some cell, hoping against hope that someday, freedom might come . . . knowing that it was impossible, that none would ever find her . . . that none could be so cunning, or selfless, or brave. He imagined the look of gratitude and relief on her face upon seeing him—her

younger brother, the hero, coming to free her, to wake her from her nightmare.

Instead, Logan stood slouching, overwhelmed, embarrassed,

feeling younger than he had in years, while his sister looked on, rolling her eyes.

“You flunked, didn’t you? You flunked your Pledge. Logan,

how could you be so stupid?”

For a moment, Logan stood with his mouth open, as if words

were intended to come out. But none did.

Lily shook her head and began leading her brother in a wide

lap around the courtyard.

“I would have,” Logan finally said. “I would have flunked. But I escaped, Lily. So that I could rescue you. Lily—DOME didn’t bring me here. DOME doesn’t know I’m here at all. I’ve come to break you out.”

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“That was a mistake,” Lily said simply.

“No. Lily—no, it’s not! I know what you’re thinking—but

it’s
not
impossible. The whole Markless community is on our side.

Everyone in Beacon—we’re all working together on this. To get

you out of here!”

“You’ve brought
Markless
into this?”

Logan stuttered for a moment, trying to regain his thoughts.

“I—of—Lily—of course I did. They want to help. Lily—they want

to help you!”

Lily looked very frustrated now, not at all touched or relieved or anything else Logan could have predicted. Just
frustrated
. That was it.

“Did you ever
think
, Logan? Did you ever stop to
think
about the consequences of your actions here?”

“I—
what
?—of course I thought—”

“You come here, halfway across the country . . . you leave

Mom and Dad, you drag innocent people into it . . .”

“Lily, listen to me, please. You have to trust me. This isn’t

some half-baked plan.”

“Oh, it isn’t?
Really?
Because you have
no
idea
what you’re up against, Logan! No idea what’s really going on. Don’t you have any sense of how fragile this situation is? You’re a
traitor
now, Logan. Do you know what that means? It means you’re headed
straight
down to level nine.”

Logan was growing frightened now, very frightened, by his

sister’s anger. He racked his brain desperately for something—anything—that might knock some sense into her. That might get her to cooperate.

“Peck,” he said, finally. “Your friend, Daniel Peck. He’s here. He came with me. He and I—we’re . . . we’re in this together! For you!”

“Daniel’s here? You brought
Daniel
too?”

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“Yes. Yes! Let us help you, Lily. Please. Let us help you get out of here. We’ll run away. We’ll all run away together. Just come with me now, Lily. Come with me, and we’ll never look back.

Will you do that for me, Lily? Please?”

“It changes things, having Daniel here.”

Lily stopped now, by a trough. She leaned down and let the

water run over her hand, and for a full two minutes, she didn’t say anything. She didn’t look at Logan. Instead, she looked out toward the stone archway through which the stream flowed. Finally, she nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Here’s the plan.”

3

For Peck, it had been an excruciating couple of hours. He was

lying on his stomach in the air duct, face pressed against the grate for any sign of Logan or Lily, and by this point, even just keeping his head up was a chore. His neck was cramped and sore, sending sharp pains down past his shoulder blades and all the way up into his skull. His head ached, his arms were numb, and his legs throbbed terribly.

Three
hours
, Peck told himself
. You promised yourself that. To succeed or fail, Logan needs time. You can’t jump the gun on this. You’re the
last chance for the plan to succeed. There won’t be another
.