Sneak (Swipe Series)

Huddle! Listen to reason! We have immunity! DOME granted us immunity! For actions I took! Don’t you get it? We don’t need to fight!”
    But all around him, the huddle continued scurrying back and forth, gathering supplies, preparing to climb, preparing to march along that old abandoned overpass, all the way to New Chicago. Where they would be seen. Where they could not be missed. Not a single member stopped to listen to Andrew’s speech.
    “Andrew.” Bridget walked up to him, shaking her head. She spoke quietly, only to him. “You’ve never understood and you never will. This isn’t about immunity. If we’d wanted comfort, we would have Pledged a long time ago.”
    Andrew jumped down beside her. “You did this, didn’t you?” he said. “You mobilized this while I was asleep.”
    “In your little brownstone? That’s right,” Bridget said. “And you know what I didn’t tell everyone? That Logan was here. And that you were the one who ratted him out in the first place. You know why? Because I believe in turning the other cheek, and I believe in forgiveness and grace. So you’re welcome. For saving your sorry skin from this mob.”
    Andrew stood, silent as he watched his former huddle pack up and leave.
    5
    Michael Cheswick had not had a good month.
    He was sitting at his office in the tip of the Umbrella when the call came in.
    The desk rang six times before Cheswick finally answered it.
    Cheswick tapped an icon on his desk, and the connection went live, a holographic face appearing in front of him.
    “Sir,” Cheswick said nervously. “Thank you for returning my call.”
    The head in the hologram nodded slowly.
    “As I am . . . sure you are, by now, aware . . . the protests have been . . . growing. They are . . . coordinated, it seems. Across the country. Not just the cities, but everywhere.
    “As for New Chicago . . . Markless here have made it . . . too difficult, I’m afraid, for my agents alone. We have only a hundred agents here. The numbers we’re looking at on these streets . . .” Cheswick sighed, calculating a quick estimation in his head. “By now? I’d guess we’re looking at . . . thousands .” He paused, and then he said it again. “Many thousands, sir.”
    The hologram before him nodded.
    “Therefore . . . General . . .” Michael Cheswick could not believe he was asking for this. He knew how weak it made him look. “I am requesting the assistance of the International Moderators of Peace.”
    The head nodded again, more slowly this time.
    “I do realize, sir, that we’ve yet to use Cylis’s army in such a . . . high-profile capacity. Nevertheless . . .” Cheswick cleared his throat. “Things are escalating quickly, sir. The sooner our response . . . the more forceful our response . . . the better.”
    General Lamson was still for a full minute. His gaze, even across the hologram connection, was penetrating and laser focused.
    “Is that . . . may I take this as confirmation, sir?”
    The gaze continued, unrelenting.
    And Michael Cheswick cleared his throat. “. . . Sir?”
    6
    The scene in City Center was pure chaos. The Markless—Dust, as they all now called themselves—were out on the streets, shouting slogans, blocking traffic, engaging the Marked Beaconers around them in friendly debate.
    DOME’s forces were not enough. Agents set up barricades that were easily trampled by the mob of the Dust. Police stood with shields that did nothing to stop the protesters.
    The Dust marched on. Toward the Capitol Building. Where they would camp on the steps. Where they would dare DOME to retaliate, for all the Marked world to see.
    7
    There was only a handful of Dust left down in the control room deep under Beacon; Peck, Blake, Tyler, Meg, Rusty, Hailey, Shawn, and Erin stood huddled around the old security feed of the fission reactor, monitoring any sign of movement from below. Erin and Shawn had hacked it together, turning it on for the first time in years.
    “So far, so good,” Blake said.
    “Yeah,” Erin agreed.
    “And you really think this’ll do the trick?” Peck asked. “You really think they’ll release the IMPS?”
    “Your guess is as good as mine,” Erin said. “But we’re certainly asking for it.”
    “I still don’t understand,” Shawn said. “How did you know that this might even be possible? What was it you saw on that page you found? What did it take to bring the IMPS out of their shell the first time around?”
    Erin looked uncomfortable.