Sneak (Swipe Series)

automatically released. He walked freely to the elevator, where another team of Moderators packed him in so tight with the rest of the flunkees, he could have lifted his feet from the ground and not fallen over.
    12
    Luckily for Logan, his elevator ride was short. One floor down, and he was off. He was inside. Level one.
    He’d made it into Acheron.
    Except it was nothing like he’d imagined.
    He’d heard of the fire. And ice. And snakes. He’d heard of the blindness. And tar. And desperation. He’d heard of no escape.
    Instead . . . what Logan saw before him . . . was nice .

TEN

ACHERON
    1
    T HE ACHERON LOGAN STEPPED INTO WAS LIKE a vast, interior courtyard, miles across and intimidating in its scope, but otherwise peaceful and calm. Scattered between the stone walkways were large patches of grass—real grass, none of that fake plasti-grass stuff—and flowers that perfumed the air. The space was covered by a high, vaulted ceiling, and even that seemed warm and inviting. The whole thing was a screen that projected a bright sky with puffy, white clouds slowly sweeping across the blue background and shifting into countless different shapes.
    The sun peeked out from behind them, warm and yellow and shining with long rays that stretched out in all directions, kissing every surface with its golden glow.
    Everywhere there was the silvery sheen of nanodust from fresh Marks, the long trails of which wisped about in a gentle, artificial breeze.
    Water flowed from a large fountain in the middle of the courtyard, bubbling smoothly in troughs between the many rambling paths and garden patches.
    Scattered about the space, people relaxed. All except the newest arrivals were wearing a uniform, military in look, consistent with Erin’s warnings and the guards in the waiting room. But there was nothing militant about the way these people behaved.
    People walked freely about, and from this distance, Logan could just barely hear the many snippets of casual conversation about this thing or that. Could it be? Could every last story Logan had heard of Acheron be wrong?
    2
    The water trough Logan walked along eventually brought him to the large, spraying fountain in the courtyard’s center. Around it were benches, tiled walkways, arches curtained with thick ivy, and small trees of all kinds. Like the Moderators in the vestibule, these people were Marked on their faces, but that seemed to be normal here, maybe something people didn’t even really notice after a while.
    It took some time for Logan to muster the courage to speak to anyone. He spent several minutes just watching, pacing around the fountain, listening and waiting for the right moment to make a move. What kind of prison was this? There weren’t even cells or locks.
    Finally, Logan approached a teenage boy on a bench.
    “You’re new here,” the boy said. “Must have just arrived today.” The boy pointed to Logan’s forehead.
    “Yeah,” Logan said. “Just got in.”
    “I’m fairly new here myself. But they did make me a Counselor today. That’s my rank,” the boy explained kindly.
    “You a flunkee?” Logan asked.
    “I was,” the Counselor said. “Everyone here was.”
    Logan nodded. “So why’d you flunk?”
    But the Counselor looked at him, confused. “What do you mean?” he asked.
    Logan frowned. “Well . . . they must have told you why you flunked . . . right? I mean—did you steal something? Talk back to your Marker? Stir up trouble as a kid? What’d you actually do?”
    The Counselor nodded. “There are two kinds of people here in Acheron. Flunkees—and criminals. You can’t be both.”
    “But . . . what if you, I dunno . . . let’s just say you attacked your nurse and threatened your Marker during your Pledge, and then you flunked? Wouldn’t you sort of be both, then—a criminal and a flunkee?”
    “No. Not technically. Not once you got here. You’d be a criminal. Criminals are divvied up among the lower levels, each punishment fit to the crime.” The Counselor looked around. “This here’s the flunkee level.” He smiled. “It’s much nicer.” He patted Logan on the back. “But stop worrying about it. Since you’re here, you’re obviously not a criminal.”
    Logan sat down on the bench, and he had to laugh. “So they really do get ya,” he said. “One way or another. Everyone’s Marked in the end.”
    “Oh yes,” said the Counselor. “That’s extremely important. For the safety of all of us, you