Sneak (Swipe Series)

coming’?”
    Logan pushed off, paddling hard into the current, sad, frustrated, but resolved.
    “I’ll explain on the way. Come on,” he said. “Lily’s waiting.”
    12
    Eddie saw the cellar door just outside, locked shut. There was banging from inside.
    It took the biggest rock he could find to smash the lock, but the moment he did, the Dust came pouring out.
    “Eddie!” Tyler yelled. “It’s not safe here!”
    “Yeah—I gathered that!” Eddie said, and he led them over to the Rathbones’ car.
    “Okay,” Eddie said as the rest of them piled into the back and into the passenger seat. “Everyone just stay calm. I know all about how to use these things.”
    “Is that right?” Peck said.
    “Well. Yeah, for the most part,” Eddie said nervously. In the rearview mirror, he could see Mr. and Mrs. Rathbone pushing through the front door past their son.
    Eddie turned the key in the ignition, and he checked the gas gauge, just like Winston had taught him to do.
    Eddie smiled. It was nearly full.
    13
    Two nights and two days on the Potomac was a quiet ride without Dane. But they had made it. The Potomac let out straight into the Atlantic (Chesapeake Bay had long since been lost to the rising tide), and Logan and Erin sat now, bobbing on the ocean’s waves, staring into the distance at Beacon City.
    They could not arrive by boat. They knew that much. They could not risk such a high-profile entrance.
    So instead they sat, and they braced themselves.
    “You ready?” Logan asked.
    “I’m ready.”
    And the two of them stood up, leaning hard to the left. The canoe tilted dangerously beneath them, the lip of it just kissing the ocean’s surface. And then that surface broke. Water rushed into the boat, flowing over the edge, filling the bottom and submerging Logan’s and Hailey’s feet. They leaned harder now, until one whole side of the boat was hidden under the cover of ocean. And soon the front tip disappeared. And then the back.
    The canoe sank beneath them. One last pocket of air bubbled to the surface, and it was gone.
    “Well,” Logan said, treading water and already shivering. “No time to lose.”
    And he and Hailey swam toward the horizon.
    Toward Beacon. The capital. The city on the hill.

EIGHT

CITY ON THE HILL
    1
    T HE FIRST THING ERIN NOTICED WHEN SHE arrived at her old Beacon apartment was the smell of home.
    The pictures were all the same. The furniture hadn’t moved. The white rug felt just as it always had against her feet.
    But her father stepped in behind her and there was no “Honey, I’m home!”
    Her mom appeared on the threshold of the kitchen and there was no “Oh, how I’ve missed you!”
    Instead, there was the thud of suitcases hitting the floor and the gurgle of water boiling in the kitchen. That was all. And in that way, Erin’s old apartment was very different from how she remembered it.
    “You’re late. Dinner’s ready,” Erin’s mom said, sounding almost bored by their return, as if this were any other day. But she did come forward to hug and kiss her daughter, and then she turned and looked at her husband, nodding once. He nodded back. And Dr. Arbitor returned to the kitchen.

    For months, Erin had imagined this moment—her first meal at home among a family reunited. She’d imagined the laughter, the storytelling, the warmth and smiles.
    She’d imagined her father saying, “I’m sorry, so sorry, for taking that awful job in Spokie; I’m sorry for pulling our family apart; a mistake, entirely; a lapse in judgment; thank Cylis we’re back together and it’ll never happen again.”
    She’d imagined her mother saying, “It’s my fault, dear; it’s my fault too. Too many late nights, too many trips overseas, too many hours spent away from what’s really important: from my wonderful family.”
    She’d imagined both of them turning to Erin and saying, “Thank you, Erin. Thank you for bringing us back together.”
    Instead, the food on the table was lukewarm and undercooked. The macaroni was crunchy. The cheese sauce was cold, chunky, pulled from the refrigerator and not reheated. The drink was tomato juice, watered down.
    “I haven’t been eating at home,” Dr. Arbitor said, explaining such a plain dinner but hardly apologizing for it. “We’re really not set up here for the three of us right now. You can go shopping tomorrow, can’t you, Charles?”
    Mr. Arbitor laid his fork down and smiled an empty smile. “Of course,” he said. “I