Storm (Swipe Series)

it . . .” Hailey frowned. “She needs me there, I think. She’d never say so, but . . . being as close as we are now, I just can’t in good conscience . . .”
    Logan put his hand up, gently, and Hailey stopped. “You know,you’re welcome to come back with—” Hailey started to say. But she stopped herself. “Sorry. That’s a stupid idea.”
    “Not stupid,” Logan protested. “Just . . . impossible, right now, I think.”
    “Sure,” Hailey said. “Sure, yeah, of course, I understand . . .”
    An awkward pause filled the space between them, and Logan and Hailey both pretended they didn’t know why.
    “So, then, uh . . . what about you?” Hailey asked. “Where’re you off to?” She laughed. “Any chance you’ll retire?”
    Logan smiled. “Probably head west, I suppose. Back to Sierra.”
    “Right,” Hailey said. “That makes sense, given Erin’s there and all.”
    Logan felt his cheeks go hot. He looked down at the table for a bit, twiddling his thumbs.
    And that’s when the farmer came in from outside, carrying fresh wood for the fire . . . and something else balanced under her arm.
    “What’s that you’ve got there?” Logan asked, and the farmer came over and joined them at the table.
    “Actually, I was wondering if, uh . . . well, I was wondering if you kids might be willing to sign something for me.”
    Logan shot a quick glance at Hailey. She was smirking hard, and trying her best not to show it.
    “Of course,” Logan said. “We’d be happy to.”
    The farmer smiled. She held out her copy of Swipe .

    The next evening, Hailey made it home to her mother.
    And Logan rode his horse into the sunset.
    3
    Soon enough, the rumors of a showdown at Lahoma’s weather mill reached Beacon. But it wouldn’t have taken rumors for everyone to know that something had changed. After not one drop of rain in months, Beacon City found itself in a downpour that had lasted for six straight days.
    In City Center, the storm had brought with it excitement, relief, and a certain a sense of solidarity. Markless protesters dropped their signs and lifted up their spirits, celebrating in the streets, cheering, dancing, singing . . . Even the IMP guards let up a little, making fewer arrests and doling out less abuse, on account of the great renewed hope. IMPS, Markless, Marked . . . in a way that was real and tangible and significant, these groups had something significant in common—they were all people . They all needed rain because they all needed food. Within the larger picture, they were on the same side. And perhaps they were starting to see it.
    But for the Dust, the last few days had been decidedly less hopeful. Ever since Dr. Rhyne’s discovery that Project Trumpet’s Marked malfunctions had been no mistake, the Dust had taken her warnings of an imminent activation very seriously. They spent less and less time at the Arbitors’ now, and more and more time out in the protests, or with the large Markless huddle underground, trying their best to spread the news of Trumpet far and wide, trying to warn everyone that their excitement over the weather might soon be overshadowed by an even greater concern; that Beacon needed to prepare for the worst.
    So far, the warnings had fallen on deaf ears.
    “We’re never gonna get through to them in this rain,” Blaketold Tyler, walking along the flooded road now and observing the deep wrinkles in the pads of his fingers. “Everyone’s too relieved to be worried.”
    “Yeah, well, we’re never gonna find Eddie either,” Tyler lamented. “These IMPS are getting lazy on account of all their stupid sudden optimism. Meg and I played monkey in the middle with one today after Meg swiped the dumb Moderator’s flash pellets—actual, playground-style keep-away with tactical equipment—and the wimpy mogul didn’t even call for backup. Just gave me and Meg a warning and told us to get lost. A warning ! Can you believe it? I can’t work like this!” He kicked at a puddle, splashing a few protesters that were sitting nearby and shrugging when they called him out on it.
    Together, Tyler and Blake descended into Beacon’s Unmarked “capital,” ducking out of the rain and walking down the metal catwalk into the abandoned fission reactor where the Markless lived under the city. Jo found them immediately when they arrived. “Hate to interrupt, guys. And I’m sure whatever game you’re in the middle of is very important, Tyler. But, Blake—you’re gonna