Sneak by Evan Angler Read Free Book Online Page A

gentle refrain, but it did nothing to cut the tension between the two of them.
    Bridget sighed. She looked away, disappointed. “You’re really
    gonna make me say it, aren’t you? You’re really gonna ruin the surprise.”
    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 40
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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 41
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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.