Sneak (Swipe Series)

away, Mr. Langly.”
    “He’s been . . . troubled lately,” Logan’s dad apologized. “We don’t quite know what got into him.”
    “Let’s just hope this all ends soon,” the man said. “For everyone’s sake.”
    Then the DOME agent left.
    And Mr. Langly stood at the open door for some time, just staring at nothing, letting all the cold air come in.

    When he’d finally found his wife, she wasn’t in Logan’s room. She wasn’t in the living room or Lily’s room or the master bedroom. She was in her own study. She had dusted and rearranged all of her old equipment, and she was sitting among it at her old desk chair, reading over satellite feeds for the first time in years.
    “Honey?” Mr. Langly said warily.
    “Yes, dear?”
    “Do you want to talk about it?”
    She looked up from her work. “Talk about what?”
    Then she turned back to the monitor.
    And she’d worked nearly every waking hour since.
    2
    “The results of my research are . . . odd,” Mrs. Langly replied to her husband at the breakfast table. “Did you know we’ve lost a third of all ocean life since the time of the States War?”
    “I didn’t,” Mr. Langly said.
    “We have.”
    “That sounds . . . very tragic,” Mr. Langly said.
    “It is.”
    Behind them, the elevator buzzed. Mrs. Langly’s mother stepped out into the kitchen. “What’s tragic?” she asked.
    “The oceans,” Mr. Langly said. “Charlotte was just telling me about how they’ve been dying out.”
    “Of course they’re dying out,” Grandma said. “What’d you expect them to do? We destroyed everything else on this lousy planet. You think the oceans’d just tip their hat and walk away?” She laughed callously.
    “Yes, well, I’ve never read anything about the oceans being in trouble,” Mr. Langly said.
    “Everything’s in trouble as long as that mogul Cylis is in charge. You hear the rumors that they’re moving up the vote on the G.U. treaty?”
    “I didn’t,” Mr. Langly said awkwardly. “That’s great.”
    “ Great? It’s not great, it’s terrible! At least Lamson’s finally owning up to the fact that this was his plan all along . . .”
    “Sonya . . .” Mr. Langly cleared his throat.
    Conversations like this were common these days in the Langly household. During Lily’s and Logan’s years growing up, Grandma had stuck close to her retirement home in New Chicago, where nearly everyone liked to complain about Cylis as much as she did. But when the news hit that Logan was missing, Mr. Langly decided that drastic measures were needed in order to keep his family together. So he invited Grandma to move in.
    She and he both thought it might do Mrs. Langly some good. But so far all it had done was set the stage for bitter, daily arguments.
    “You know, Sonya . . . maybe we’ve had enough trouble with DOME for one lifetime, don’t you think? Maybe we oughta just focus on Charlotte, and each other, and—”
    “Oh, give me a break,” Grandma said. “Hey, Charlotte—you listening? DOME took your children away. You still glad you got that Mark when Lamson told you to? I know I am!”
    “Sonya, please!”
    But Mrs. Langly didn’t flinch. “I noticed something else recently,” she said.
    “Oh yeah, what’s that?” her husband asked gently.
    “Plague. I’ve been reading disease reports—”
    “Oh, have you?” Grandma said. “That’s good, dear. That’s real healthy. Just read about all the death you can—I’m sure that’s helping to ease your pain.”
    “Sonya.” Mr. Langly kept a lid on his frustration, but it was beginning to boil over.
    “In any case,” Mrs. Langly said flatly. “We seem to be facing the start of a plague in this country.”
    Mr. Langly stared at his wife, not quite understanding. “Honey . . . don’t you think the news would have said something about that?”
    “No.” Mrs. Langly shrugged.
    And Grandma nodded. “What have I been saying? How many times have I told you, Dave? It’s the end of the world. You’ve got to expect plagues when it’s the end of the world. Just like you’ve got to expect freak weather and war and famine and all the other stuff I’ve been telling you about for years! What did you think? It’s Revelation! You want me to read it to you again?—I’ve got my Bible just upstai—”
    “All right, that’s enough!” Mr. Langly exploded. “I will not have this nonsense exclusionist talk in my house! We’re in enough trouble with DOME as it is. Charlotte,