Sneak (Swipe Series)

And the Dust stared at her for a few long moments. It had been years since the group had had beds to sleep on, or even anything somewhat resembling a bed. Meg and Eddie had more recently come from homes, so they at least remembered the feeling. But for the others, the idea itself was a longforgotten luxury.
    “I get top bunk!” Tyler yelled loudly.
    And Mrs. Rathbone laughed. “Oh my . . . there are no bunks here. You’ll each have your own room.”
    Tyler sat with his mouth hanging open.
    “We can’t imagine how hard you all must have had it, making it here.” Mrs. Rathbone said. “We are . . . a long ways from the nearest community.”
    “We know.” Blake nodded.
    “But I’m sure you’ve all thought enough about such unpleasantries,” Mr. Rathbone said. “Where are our manners? Please. Everyone. Let us eat.”

    The Dust felt as though they’d stumbled into a dream. They’d never tasted such good food, they hadn’t been so warm and comfortable in months, and they hadn’t felt so welcome since their short stay with Papa and Mama Hayes at the farm.
    “So how does a family like you end up in a mansion like this out in the middle of nowhere?” Tyler asked. Immediately, Joanne shot him a look, but Tyler only said, “What? It’s weird. Am I not allowed to say it’s weird?”
    Most of the Dust looked down at their plates, embarrassed. Mr. Rathbone cleared his throat. Peck looked on with great interest.
    “We’d hate to bore you with the details,” Mrs. Rathbone said finally.
    But Tyler just shrugged tactlessly. “I’m not bored; I’m curious.”
    Winston snickered over at his end of the table, though he stopped abruptly when his mother caught his eye.

    After dinner, the Dust were shown to their rooms on the second and third floors of the mansion, and sure enough, they all really did have warm beds waiting for them. Several even had their own bathrooms off to the side.
    “Food, hot showers, and beds—I can’t believe our luck,” Joanne said privately to Peck, just before the two of them retired to their own rooms.
    “Neither can I,” Peck said. And then he leaned in, looking quickly over his shoulder. “Really . . .”
    5
    Erin rested her head against the window of the train. It vibrated and shook with the motion of the wheels along the tracks. How much shaking would it take before she couldn’t think as well anymore? Before she couldn’t feel as much?
    She had earphones on, and she was listening to music too loud, not even enjoying the songs, but savoring it all the same, since the noise made it harder to think.
    What would it take to distract her from what she’d uncovered in Cheswick’s office at the Umbrella? What would it take to slow her mind down, even a little, just the tiniest bit . . . to stop the racing—constant, furious, maddening—even for a moment?
    Nothing would , Erin realized. This secret will drive me nuts until it’s uncovered, once and for all. Until the pieces fit. Until it leads me, finally, back to Logan Langly .
    She didn’t know how it would. Not yet anyway. But on that cross-country train ride back to her home in Beacon, Erin became quite sure—this secret was the answer.
    Logan would find Lily. Erin knew that now, in her heart. And Erin would be waiting for him when he did. No matter the cost.
    Beside her, Erin’s father sat reclining in his chair. Erin stole a glance his way, looking to see if his eyes were open. They weren’t. But could she risk it?
    Erin desperately wanted to open her folded tablet, to pull up the picture she’d taken of the paper she had found in Mr. Cheswick’s office. To study it. To read it again and again. She almost couldn’t believe the things it said were real. It was as if the moment she wasn’t reading them, with the proof right in front of her, they didn’t exist. Because how could they? It was simply beyond reality . . .
    But her father was right beside her. The train was a public place. Should someone catch even a glimpse of that picture . . .
    So instead, Erin bit her nails and leaned her head against the window.
    She just had to make it home. To her old room. With her old door that locked.
    It would be three days until she made it there.
    Three miserable days.
    On the way out to Spokie, DOME had splurged on a direct route magnetrain, so the ride had only taken a day.
    But DOME wasn’t feeling quite so generous this time around. This time they’d chosen, instead, a more “economic” route, outside of the