Read Sneak Online

Authors: Evan Angler

Tags: #Religious, #juvenile fiction, #Christian, #Speculative Fiction, #Action & Adventure

Sneak (13 page)

Four

Shot in the Dark

1

The ride to the farm was quiet. The

fields were dark and still. But when Logan stepped into the stable, everything inside was noise and confusion. Tyler had made his way onto a horse that he’d let out of its stall, and he was trying to ride the old mare bareback, but she wasn’t cooperating. Instead, she stood perfectly still, munching on hay while Tyler swung his arm above his head and shouted “Yee haw!” over and over. Meg and Rusty sat on the ground, watching, rolling around, laughing, and clutching their sides. Eddie threw straws of hay at everyone, trying to distract Tyler and throw him off balance. Blake and Dane stood on the sidelines, arguing about chores. And above all this was Joanne, pleading with the rest to quiet down and appreciate the danger they were in, but only really adding to the noise herself.

All of this stopped when the Dust saw Logan. Tyler fell to the ground. Eddie and Meg went rigid. Blake and Dane went slack.

Joanne put her hand to her mouth. Logan cleared his throat, and it practically echoed in the silence.

“Hi, guys . . . good to see you.”

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2

There was one held breath of waiting before the shouting started again.

“Well, look who it is!”

“The beggar’s back!”

“We thought you were dead!”

“We
hoped
you were dead!”

Meg growled. Rusty hid in a horse’s stall. The rest circled

around, shouting in Logan’s face, closing in.

“—can’t
believe
you went to Erin—”

“—almost got us all killed—”

“—after everything we did for you—”

“Blake, Jo . . . guys . . . come on,” Hailey said, but no one heard.

Dane just shrugged as if the whole thing was out of his hands.

“—Mr. Opened a Can of Worms—”

“—burned down the warehouse—”

“—your
fault
—”

“Enough!” Peck said, entering and standing above the fray.

Immediately the group stopped, breathing hard. “Time is short, Logan. If you would?” Peck extended his hand.

The barn door closed behind them. The two had left without

another word from anyone.

3

“She’s in Beacon,” Logan said. “No doubt about it.”

“You heard this from your Marker? Directly? You’re sure

about this?”

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“Absolutely.”

Peck nodded. “Then we go to Beacon.”

The two of them sat for a moment around the remains of

Tyler’s fire. The sky sparkled with stars above them.

“You realize, Logan, no Markless has ever seen farther into

the Pledge process than you. You’re the expert now. No one has gone deeper into the rabbit hole and come out intact. Anything you learned—anything at all—is of great value to us.”

“I guess you’re right,” Logan said. “I guess I never thought

of it like that.” He frowned, thinking back on it. “Everything happens fast; I can tell you that much. They give you the nanosleep first thing. There’s no choice about it.” Logan laughed.

“Believe me.”

“And then?”

“And then they give you this shot straightaway—”

“A
shot
? A shot of what?”

“I’m not sure,” Logan answered. “They put it right in your

wrist. Erin told me beforehand it was to numb the area, but . . .

the area never went numb.”

“You let them give it to you, then.”

“I was out of it from the nanosleep. It was all I could do to

stay awake. Anyway, they’ve got you hooked up to the computer

by this point, with little suction cups all over your head. A brain-computer interface, I think. But if it was, it’s the only one I’ve ever seen; I couldn’t really say for sure.”

“So they read your mind.”

“Pretty much,” Logan said. “Or close enough to it. And

while they do, they’re asking all sorts of innocent-sounding questions—what do you want to be when you grow up, what do you

like to do for fun . . . you know, that kind of thing.”

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“Probing for signs of trouble. Of individuality. Of dis -

satisfaction . . .”

“I think so. It lit up pretty good anytime I told a lie.”

“Then I was right,” Peck said. “About all of it!” He slapped his knee, showing some excitement for the first time that night.

And Logan nodded. “It seems that way. More or less. But that’s as far as I got before the whole thing went into a frenzy.” Logan frowned. “It was awful, Peck, getting out of there. Injecting myself with some kind of waking agent, attacking my nurse . . .”

“You had to.”

“She was innocent. That’s not the right way to fight back.” Logan sighed. “It’s not. But it got the Marker’s attention. With the answers I’d been giving, I’m not sure I even would’ve seen him otherwise.”

Logan chuckled, remembering. “I flunked it real bad, Peck.”

“Told you so.” Peck smiled.

And the two of them laughed a little more.

“So what’d he say? Your Marker, when he arrived?”

“He said he couldn’t tell me everything. Said even he didn’t

have all the answers. But you were right, Peck. Lily’s a flunkee.

And she is alive.”

Peck patted Logan on the back. “You did well. None of us

would’ve had the guts to do what you did.”

“He told me flunkees are sent to a place with no hope. Said

there’re a few of these places in the Union, different locations . . .”

Logan shook his head. “I’d’ve let them take me if there’d only been one. Just let them take me right to her, magnecuffs and all.

But there was no way to be sure where I’d end up. And I couldn’t let Lily down.” He looked at Peck sadly. “I never wanted DOME

to crack down on everyone like this. I never could’ve imagined they’d—”

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“No apologies. You did the right thing, fighting back. Never

take the easy road just because it isn’t hard.”

Logan nodded, smiling at his next thought. “My sister must’ve

been a special case, Peck. Sounds like Beacon’s place is for the big leagues.”

And Peck smiled too.

“You know, I’ve actually . . . I’ve actually been thinking a lot about Lily’s Pledge,” Logan said. “About where she could have

gone wrong. And I’ve started to think . . . I think maybe it was Grandma. That morning, on Lily’s birthday . . . Grandma said a lot of things. Against the government, against the Mark Program . . .”

“I remember that,” Peck said.

“She’d done it all our lives,” Logan said. “Since as far back as I can remember. She never trusted Chancellor Cylis. Never trusted General Lamson either. I could never understand why Grandma

always talked like that. Why she’d say those things. And especially that morning . . .

“‘Why’s Grandma like that?’ I’d always ask, and Mom would

always say some weird thing about conviction, and she’d just leave it at that. It frustrated me. How it just never fit.”

Peck nodded knowingly.

“And then this exchange with the Marker last month . . . for

the life of me I couldn’t understand that either. Why would he help me? Why tell me anything at all? It was insane to think he would.”

“And yet,” Peck said.

“And yet.” Logan nodded.

“He’s an excluder,” Peck said. “Like your grandmother. Like

the Hayeses. Like me.”

“A what?”

Peck smiled. “Cylis has done quite a bit in the name of peace

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and unity. Most would say he’s achieved those things.” Peck sighed.

“But there’s a freedom that was lost too, Logan. A freedom to . . .

to choose and to come to our own conclusions. About patriotism, about family, about religion. About everything.

“You know, of course, about the Religious Inclusion? You

grew up celebrating Inclusion Day, right? Honoring the day we all were freed from the boundaries of religion, from the differences of our beliefs?”

“Of course,” Logan said. “Who doesn’t?”

“Well.” Peck smiled. “Excluders don’t. I don’t.”

Logan didn’t quite understand. “Peck—refusing the Inclusion

is illegal.”

And now Peck was laughing. “Logan! Name one thing you or I

have done in the last few months that
wasn’t
illegal!”

Logan laughed too. Peck had a point.

“You see, Logan, Cylis gave the world the easy path, and the

world took it. Can’t blame anyone for that, really—we’d had it pretty hard up until then. War, famine, plague, a devastated econ-omy, environmental destruction . . .” Peck was quiet for a mo ment.

“The things we fight for . . . have fought for, throughout history . . .

they’re the liberties. The right to speak your mind, the right to be happy, the right to worship the way you want, to be treated equally . . .

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