Sneak (9 page)

Logan narrowed his eyes, and he waited for Bridget to explain

herself.

“Okay, okay.” She laughed, easing up a little. “Tomorrow

morning. There’s a landfill half a mile north of here. If you still wanna know, meet me there when the sun comes up.”

Another night in the underpass. A secluded meeting place. Just thinking about it, Logan’s palms began to sweat. “How do I know I can trust you?” he asked.

“You can’t,” Bridget said with a wry smile. “But if you really
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wanna know so bad what it is I’m hiding from you . . . well, then I guess you’re just gonna have to risk it.” She shrugged. Then she turned to sing with the other Markless, leaving Logan in the dark.

3

In the morning, the sun shone brightly through the windows and cracks of the barn, but none of the Dust were awake. Meg and

Dane slept soundly in two of the three empty stalls not occupied by horses. Blake slept sitting up, his back against a wall, next to a pile of hay where Rusty was sleeping soundly and sucking his thumb.

Eddie dozed on a stool beside the stallion’s stall at the far end of the stable, swatting idly as the stallion leaned over to chew on his thick blond hair. Jo slept beside the barn door, intending to keep watch.

And Tyler lay smack in the middle of the barn, laughing in his sleep.

Mama Hayes stood in the entryway, taking inventory and

shaking her head. “All right, kids. If you’re gonna stay, you’re gonna work.” She spoke over a chorus of groans and mumbling.

Tyler rolled over and said something about rest for the wicked, which Mama Hayes ignored on her walk past. “Come on,” she said.

“Everybody up.”

Mama Hayes was not a farmer herself. Until recently, she spent her days maintaining an abandoned convenience store out on Slog Row, where for years she and her husband, Papa, stocked black

market food and supplies for the Markless living in Spokie. It was only after the Slog Row raid in September that the Hayeses fled to
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the farm, and only last week that the Dust finally heard about it, after nearly a month of following the vague leads and best guesses from stray Markless in the area.

The field between the stable and the farmhouse was wide and

patchy with hard, gray ground and untouched snow. Withered corn-stalks from the summer still stood against the monochrome backdrop, and Tyler and Eddie made a point of kicking each one they passed.

Inside, the farmhouse smelled like oatmeal and cinnamon. The

Dust filed in through the front door, kicking off the dirt and snow from the tatters that remained of their shoes. Blake leaned in and whispered to Tyler and Eddie, “Behave, or you’re sleeping outside tonight.”

But Tyler was too focused on the kitchen to respond. His

mouth hung slightly open, and his eyes were wide, as if the smell of the food were good enough to see.

“Good morning,” Peck said, waiting patiently at the dining

room table to everyone’s left. “Please, join me. Breakfast is served.”

Not many words were exchanged among the Dust over the course

of their meal. It was all Blake, Joanne, Tyler, Eddie, Meg, Rusty, and Dane could do to sit, chew, and listen while Mama and Papa Hayes discussed the latest news with Peck.

“You’re in quite a pickle,” Mama said. “I don’t envy it.”

“It’s true things are . . . a little out of hand at present. I’ll admit to that,” Peck said.

“Peck mentioned that you kids spent these last few weeks in the woods. Couldn’t have been easy with this weather.”

“It wasn’t,” Blake said.

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Jo frowned. “The weather wasn’t the problem. The problem

was DOME. They have scouts everywhere now.”

“Well, you’re safe here,” Mama said. “And we want you to

stay. At least until you’re able to find that Langly boy.”

Eddie snorted. “Can we all just admit right now that wait-

ing around for Logan is a terrible idea? Please? This is getting ridiculous.”

“We’ll find him,” Peck said. “I know Hailey can do it.”

“Hailey. I remember her. The girl who’d visit the Fulmart,

evenings and weekends,” Mama said.

Peck nodded. “That’s right. She was with her mother when

DOME ambushed the warehouse, so she’s still in Spokie. Goes to school, walks around town . . . they haven’t arrested her yet.”

“Yeah, because DOME’s hoping she’ll lead them straight to

us!” Blake said.

Peck shrugged and spoke again to Mama and Papa Hayes.

“Never underestimate DOME. That said, I believe we’ve covered

our tracks well enough. There’s nothing Hailey’s doing that would bring DOME to the farm. I actually think there’s a good chance DOME will lead
us
to Logan.”

“Peck,
snap
out
of
it
!” Jo said.

Peck smiled at the Hayeses. “My friends here aren’t too excited about my plan—”

“Because it’s suicide,” Blake interrupted.

“—but I’ve requested that Hailey befriend Erin Arbitor, the

daughter of the man who was brought here to capture me.”

Mama Hayes nodded, considering this.

“With their resources, DOME
will
find Logan,” Peck continued. “And I have a feeling Erin will be the first to know about it when they do. If we can get Hailey close enough to her, we might
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just be able to latch onto DOME’s investigation—and beat them

to the punch.”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Papa Hayes

said.

“And hope in the meantime that Logan isn’t too far behind.”

“Okay, and
then
what?” Eddie demanded. “The kid’s a walking DOME magnet.”

“He’s in danger. We are helping him.”

“Yeah, and we
tried
that already. It nearly got us all killed.”

Blake put his spoon down. “Eddie has a point, Peck. Sticking

our necks out for Logan after what he’s put us through . . . I just don’t see what good it does us.”

“Lily,” Jo said, bitterly. “How many times do I have to say it?

This whole thing’s about Lily. Peck, why won’t you just admit

that?”

“It’s bigger than Lily,” Peck said.

“No, it isn’t! So just say so! You and Logan are exactly alike—

you’d both happily trade every last one of us to have her back!”

“I would not!” Peck said.

“Admit it!”

“That’s enough!” Papa hit the table with the palm of his hand.

“This is
exactly
what DOME wants you to be doing. Chancellor Cylis has taken our rights, our freedom, and our dignity. He has divided us against our own families and friends with nothing

more than a Mark. If we turn on each other now, what do we

have left?”

The room was still for some time.

Finally, Mama Hayes pushed her chair out from the table, col-

lected the breakfast plates from everyone around her, and said,

“The day is wasting. There’re chores to be done.”

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4

Logan’s head swam with exhaustion. He’d spent the night out on his own, sleeping in a gutter several blocks from the huddle, just to be safe. He didn’t know if he could trust Bridget. But he had to know what she was up to. He had to know what he was up against.

Only then, he told himself, could he properly decide what his

next steps should be. Off to the bakery? Back to the woods?

The landfill was below him. Logan was lying flat against

hard rubble, peering just slightly over the edge of an old building, through a gap in a crumbling wall on its third floor. It was a good vantage point, and well hidden. If this really was a trap, he’d at least be one step ahead of it.

Bridget arrived just after daybreak, just as she’d said she

would. She was alone. Logan watched for some time, waiting for even the smallest suspicious movement or sound. But there were none. There was only Bridget, sitting at the top of a garbage heap, playing with a broken yo-yo, and growing increasingly impatient.

“I’d just about given up,” she said as Logan stumbled toward her through the trash. “Thought you bailed last night.”

“I did,” Logan said.

“But you’re back.”

Logan shrugged. “Chalk it up to bad judgment.”

Bridget turned her mouth down and nodded.

“So what’s the big secret?”

Bridget laughed. “I never said it was a big secret.
You
said it was a big secret.”

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Logan glanced nervously around the landfill. “Look. You have

about thirty seconds to tell me what’s going on here, or I’ll leave, and you’ll never find me again.”

“You’re not gonna wanna do that,” Bridget said.

“Oh yeah?”

She shrugged and took Logan by the hand as she led him down

to the bottom of the trash hill and along a narrow path between the mountains of garbage, where she sighed and pointed to it—

her big secret. “It’s a bike,” she said. “I found it here a while back.

Never thought I’d have a use for it. But after talking to you two nights ago . . . well . . . I figured you might want it.”

“I don’t understand.” Logan ran his hand over the seat.

“You’re Markless now. Markless look out for one another.”

Bridget frowned. “Your aunt and uncle can’t get you to Beacon.

You’ll never make it on foot. But with a bike . . . with a bike, you might stand a chance.” She was staring at the handlebars now,

too shy to look at Logan any longer. “I know it doesn’t look like much. I wanted to fix it up first, but . . . well, here we are. It rides well enough.”

At first Logan didn’t know what to say. “I’ve never seen a bike in real life,” he admitted, finally. “Growing up, everyone I saw on the streets just used rollersticks.”

“Then everyone you saw on the streets was Marked.” Bridget

smiled. “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to lower your standards.”

Logan wiped a nervous hand against his forehead, trying to

imagine how this bike changed things. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I’m grateful. I just . . . how will I even ride it?”

Bridget laughed. “You’ll manage. It’s not hard.”

Logan pumped the brakes a little, testing them.

“My mom was a big cyclist,” Bridget said. “Rode everywhere

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with a bike she found just like this, since it was the only free way to get around the city. Things were easier then, of course. Wasn’t a crime, yet, to be Markless. Just inconvenient. But Mom would always brag about biking forty, fifty miles a day, so I gotta figure you’ll be able to handle that, easy, once you get the hang of it.

You’ll be sore at first, of course, but I bet that’s a reasonable pace.”

“Okay . . . ,” Logan said.

“Well, that means you’re only looking at twenty days’ travel if you can stick mostly to the old pre-Unity highway system. It’s all torn up, but bikeable, I’d imagine, and a whole lot easier than dirt or grass or ruins.”

“Twenty days . . . ,” Logan repeated. “I never dreamed I’d

make it there that fast . . .”

“I know,” Bridget said. “It’s doable.”

For a while, the two of them didn’t speak. And then, in his

excitement, Logan swung right onto the bike, smiling and determined, pushing hard off the ground with one foot, and balancing the other on its pedal. He laughed and whooped as he wobbled

down the winding path, past hills of garbage, the sickly sweet landfill air blowing back his hair and rushing in his ears.

“That’s it! You’re a natural! Just keep it straight, Logan—

you’ve got it!”

But immediately Logan froze, jamming the breaks, screech-

ing to a halt. He fell forward, stumbling as the bike slid out from under him.

Bridget’s eyes went wide as she slapped her hands to her

mouth. She knew the mistake she had made.

He’d never told her his name.

“What do you know about me?” Logan said, his heart now

thumping so hard it made his arms shake.

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“Nothing,” Bridget said. “I . . . well . . . I know you’re the kid who escaped DOME. I know they want you pretty bad.”

Logan took two angry steps toward her. “How?
Who
told
you?
”

Bridget frowned. “No one told me, Logan. It was an easy guess!”

“So what? You went to DOME? Is that it? Is that why you’re

being so nice to me? Trying to keep me around just long enough for you to collect a fat reward for your huddle?”

“No!” Bridget said. “I’m trying to help. That’s all . . .”

“
Help?
Why would you help me? I know as well as anyone the trouble I’ve caused—you’ve every reason to turn me in!”

“It’s true.” Bridget nodded, quickly, nervously. “Lots of

Markless are angry with you. You’re right to be suspicious. But, Logan—I’m not one of them. I . . . I want you to make it to Beacon.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re fighting back. Because you’re the only one

who is.” She stepped forward. Slowly. Cautiously. “Please. You’re making history, Logan—whether you realize it yet or not. Just . . .

just let me be able to say that I helped.”

Logan picked up the bike and gripped the handlebars tight,

preparing to take off at any second. But he knew he wouldn’t get far without practicing first. And something about the look on

Bridget’s face made him want to believe her.

“No more secrets!” Logan said.