Sneak (36 page)

Eleven

Foxhole

1

Dane Harold watched the setting sun,

and he smiled sadly.

For dinner that night, he’d caught a fish from the Potomac,

and he had cooked it himself to share with Hans and Tabby. It was the first fish he’d ever caught. It was the first fish he’d ever cooked.

And neither Hailey nor Logan was there to taste it.

He wondered about them as he walked along the valley ridge,

preparing for his radio show, shivering just a little in the cool winter evening. They must have made it to Beacon by now. He wondered if they’d come any closer to finding Acheron. He wondered if they’d stayed out of DOME’s grasp. He wondered if he’d ever see either of them again.

Things in the valley had been fine. Dane was the youngest resident by a large margin, but he’d been taken in kindly, he got along well with Hans and Tabby and the neighbors, and most important, he had his broadcast. Every night, he’d make the trek up to that little hut by the tower, carrying Tabby’s guitar in one hand and his own griptone in the other. He’d sit at that hut’s rickety wooden desk. And he would chat with Mrs. Phoenix and Sonya. Right there
246

Sneak.indd 246

6/22/12 4:09 PM

Sneak

on the airwaves, though without names or specifics. He’d listen to their news, he’d give them his own, he’d answer their questions and they’d answer his . . .

And every night, once that was over and Mrs. Phoenix had

officially signed off, Dane would play. He’d play everything he’d ever written for the Boxing Gloves, everything he’d ever learned or meant to learn growing up . . . he’d figure out tunes live on the air, make up chords, improvise melodies, try out lyrics . . .

Every night, he’d do this until the early morning hours, when

Hailey and Logan were most likely to be listening, and then he’d repeat Mrs. Phoenix’s news from the day. He’d add details of his own. He’d wish his friends good luck.

And in this way, Dane did bridge the gap between Hailey and

her mom, between Logan and his grandmother, just as he’d prom-

ised he would do, despite the thousand miles in between.

Then, tonight, just minutes before he went on the air, some-

thing happened that was so unexpected, Dane knew right away

that this new life of his was over for good.

“
Dane
,” his griptone suddenly said in an electronic, auto-tuned middle C. “Dane. It’s me—Erin. I’ve hacked your griptone. Hailey told me you said it would be possible. And you were right. Pretty cool, huh?”

Dane stared in disbelief at the instrument in his hand.

“Dane, listen. Lily betrayed us. Logan is captured. We need

your help.”

Dane couldn’t answer—there was nothing he could do to reply

through the griptone—but he leaned forward, holding the instrument reverently, listening carefully to its faint, auto- tuned words.

“If you’re listening, Dane . . . here’s the plan . . . and here’s what you can do . . .”

247

Sneak.indd 247

6/22/12 4:09 PM

Evan Angler

2

Dane ran the rest of the way up the ridge. He sat in the plain wooden chair at the plain wooden table, and he spoke quickly into the transmitter.

“Markless. It’s me. Dane-o-rino. No music tonight, though. Just listen. It’s story time. And I know some of you might already know this one. But bear with me all the same.” Dane took a deep breath.

“Just say what’s on your mind
,” Erin had told him.
“And make your
words count
.”

“Two months ago a thirteen-year-old boy named Logan Langly

discovered that his sister had been swiped by DOME. Swiped at

her Pledge, five years ago, because in the eyes of her Marker, some part of her showed doubt.

“Doubt about Cylis, doubt about the Union, doubt about the

Inclusion . . . who knows? All that matters is that, for one reason or another, Lily Langly vanished. Just as many of you have watched your own loved ones vanish.

“Now, I know that for some of you the name Logan Langly

has come to mean something. Perhaps you blame him for the most recent raid on your home. Maybe you think he’s brave. Or rash.

Or heroic. Or crazy.

“Whatever you think—whatever you’ve heard—know this:

“On the evening of November 8, Logan Langly did something

most of us have never dreamed possible.

“He stood up to DOME. He stood up to Cylis. Because he

saw injustice. And because he decided that it could not stand, no matter the cost.”

Dane took another deep breath. He leaned closer to the micro-

phone.

248

Sneak.indd 248

6/22/12 4:09 PM

Sneak

“Perhaps you have also heard of a rebel group led by a teenager named Peck. Perhaps you have heard that they recruit kids. That they call themselves by that old slur against us: ‘Dust.’

“Maybe you think they’re misguided. Or stupid. Or selfish.

Maybe you think they draw unwanted attention to us Markless.

“But here is the truth: the fight
is
happening. Whether we want it to or not. Whether we resist it or not. It’s happening even as I speak to you now.

“They take away our rights, and we let them. They round us

up, and we let them. They imprison us. We let them.

“We are the ones who slipped through the cracks,” Dane said.

“We are the ones who have been brushed aside. We are the ones

they said could be forgotten.

“But Markless, hear this: if you allow it . . . Dust collects.

“Like it or not, Chancellor Cylis is forcing the G.U. treaty

through Parliament. There won’t be a public vote this spring—it’s happening now.

“These raids, they’re happening now.

“These loved ones. They are disappearing
now
.

“And so the time has come—now—to collect. To push back.

To demand a
less
unified world. To demand freedom, whatever the cost.

“Because we are all Dust. Because we are not afraid.”

3

The broadcast spread like wildfire, through radio waves and

razor blades, as far as Dane could send it, until his signal died out and others took over, each with its own brave broadcaster taking
249

Sneak.indd 249

6/22/12 4:09 PM

Evan Angler

the message, running with it, making it her own, everyone’s

words and ideas and inspirations hopping from one huddle to the next, up, down, and sideways across the Dust of the American

Union.

Back at the underpass in New Chicago, Logan’s old friend

Bridget was reading by candlelight when the message came on the radio beside her. She lowered her book, she looked straight ahead, and she listened.

“Markless everywhere,” Mrs. Phoenix began. “Dust. The

news has come. It is time.”

4

When Andrew emerged from his comfortable brownstone, he

stepped into an energized huddle and a mobilized underpass.

“What is this?” Andrew asked of a Markless running by.

“A protest,” the kid said. “We’re fighting back!”

“Who’s fighting back? Fighting back against what?”

The kid looked confused. “Against DOME, of course.” He

swept his arms in a grand gesture. “The Markless, all of us—

we’re fighting back!”

“Why now?” Andrew demanded. “What started it?”

“Some escaped flunkee. DOME went nuts trying to find him,

and last night they finally did. So we’re fighting for freedom.”

“
Langly
?”

“That’s the one.”

“
His
freedom?”

The kid shook his head. “Our freedom.”

“Listen to me,” Andrew said. “You’re not seeing this clearly.

250

Sneak.indd 250

6/22/12 4:09 PM

Sneak

If DOME really has gone nuts over this kid, what makes you think they won’t just arrest all of us, the whole lot of us, all across the country, the second we make our stand?”

The kid smiled. “Then the Marked will finally be forced to see how DOME treats us. Then it’ll finally all be out in the open. Out for everyone to judge.” The boy shrugged. “That’d be okay.”

Andrew didn’t wait to hear any more. Immediately, he

darted over to a pillar and climbed up onto its base, holding on to the side with one arm, and waving the other for the huddle’s attention.

“Markless! Huddle! Listen to reason! We have immunity!

DOME granted us immunity! For actions I took! Don’t you get it?

We don’t need to fight!”

But all around him, the huddle continued scurrying back and

forth, gathering supplies, preparing to climb, preparing to march along that old abandoned overpass, all the way to New Chicago.

Where they would be seen. Where they could not be missed. Not

a single member stopped to listen to Andrew’s speech.

“Andrew.” Bridget walked up to him, shaking her head. She

spoke quietly, only to him. “You’ve never understood and you

never will. This isn’t about immunity. If we’d wanted comfort, we would have Pledged a long time ago.”

Andrew jumped down beside her. “You did this, didn’t you?”

he said. “You mobilized this while I was asleep.”

“In your little brownstone? That’s right,” Bridget said. “And you know what I
didn’t
tell everyone? That Logan was here. And that you were the one who ratted him out in the first place. You know why?

Because I believe in turning the other cheek, and I believe in forgive-ness and grace. So you’re welcome. For saving your sorry skin from this mob.”

251

Sneak.indd 251

6/22/12 4:09 PM

Evan Angler

Andrew stood, silent as he watched his former huddle pack up

and leave.

5

Michael Cheswick had not had a good month.

He was sitting at his office in the tip of the Umbrella when the call came in.

The desk rang six times before Cheswick finally answered it.