Storm (Swipe Series)

know what to do with, and she listened to the radio she’d made. She listened for hours, lost in it, to the Markless broadcasts streaming in on shortwave from all over the country.
    She heard about a girl out west who’d been keeping the sick Marked in her town alive by working through her father’s stash of old, pre-Unity cans of chicken noodle soup.
    She heard about Markless in Beacon who’d put their protests on hold to care for their Marked. Kids with no medical background were taking crash courses in nursing, taught by their peers. In many cases, huddles had moved out of the streets entirely, staying, instead, directly in Marked apartments, sleeping on Marked floors and Marked couches, all in an effort to take better care of the Marked owners inside. The Dust was among these huddles. The Arbitors were among these Marked.
    Hailey even overheard her old friend Dane Harold praying for the Marked victims across the airwaves, broadcasting from his community without Marks, sheltered from the plague that was spreading all around him but not ignorant of it, wondering aloud about the state of a world in which such a crisis could come so soon on the heels of another. Was there no end to the trials this new Global Union would have to endure?

    Hailey was still listening when Logan’s grandmother came on the radio. It was a surprise to hear her voice. Grandma Sonya hadalways shared her broadcasts with Hailey’s mom, and to hear her now, alone, stumbling through the program herself . . .
    The broadcast, as Hailey heard it through her sobs, went as follows:
    “Hello, Markless. Good evening. I’m, uh . . . I’ll be doing this broadcast myself tonight.
    “Just wanted to give everyone out there the update on the scene here in Spokie.” Grandma took a deep breath, and it crackled over the airwaves. “There’s not much help here, for the Marked. I’ve been listening all night to your stories of Markless huddles helping citizens. And it warms my heart.
    “But the Markless in Spokie were kicked out months ago. Their community here, on Slog Row, was one of the first to be raided by DOME last fall. It was hit hard. There are no signs it’s coming back.
    “So the Marked here in Spokie . . . they’re just . . . dying.
    “I felt my own first wave of chills today. Haven’t taken my temperature yet. Haven’t had the courage. But I know what’s coming. I know what’s in store.
    “In the meantime, I keep an eye on my daughter and her husband. They seem healthy, for the time being, so I’m thankful for that.
    “But as for most of the Marked in Spokie . . .” Grandma sighed.
    “Anyway. It’s not clear, I’m sorry to say, how many more of these broadcasts I’ll be able to make. There might be a handful more. Or perhaps this is the end. Either way, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands before I go. I’ve decided to do something I should have done long ago.”
    Hailey could hear Grandma light a match by the microphone. And right there, live on the air, she proceeded to remove her own Mark once and for all.
    Hailey was stunned, listening with rapt admiration.
    But suddenly Grandma Langly stopped short. In the background, Hailey could hear an elevator door ding open. There was a shuffle of feet that leaked out over the airwaves.
    What are you doing? A voice said distantly.
    Nothing. Just . . .
    A rustle of hands and bodies and microphones.
    Is this—a broadcast? Are you broadcasting this from my office?
    Charlotte, please—I can explain—
    Do you have any idea what the punishment for this would be? Have you any idea what they’d do to this family?
    What could they do that they haven’t already—
    You’re going to get yourself killed , Mother! You’ll get us all killed!
    More shuffling. More crackles over the airwaves. The soft pop of wires coming loose.
    The broadcast went dead in Hailey’s lap.
    For some reason, this made her cry harder.
    And outside, the storm crescendoed. Walls of water falling straight from the sky.
    A heavy rain.
    So much water.
    6
    Logan was halfway between Lahoma and Sierra, spending the rainy night with a small huddle in the northwestern woods, when he first heard the rumors of the outbreak, whispered one night around the dark circle of a fire pit too wet to light.
    By the sounds of it, the people spreading the news hardly evenbelieved it themselves. A real, modern-day plague? A virus that attacked Marked citizens exclusively? It didn’t make sense. Nature didn’t work