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Authors: Evan Angler

Tags: #Religious, #juvenile fiction, #Christian, #Speculative Fiction, #Action & Adventure

BOOK: Sneak
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The minutes passed, and new prisoners came and went. Each

time it was the same for them: arrive through the sliding metal door, line up at the sign-in desk, cross to the elevator, and disappear into Acheron. How many had it been now? Peck had lost

count long ago, and yet another batch arrived now, all shaking and crying and wide-eyed.

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In each group, there were one or two stragglers. One or two

that would thrash and scream and refuse to board the elevator.

Invariably, these new prisoners were allowed to throw their fit.

Never once did the Moderators intervene. The vestibule they’d

been brought to was so depressing on its own—so filthy and stuffy and swarming with flies—that it never took long for the prisoners to break down, to convince themselves that anything beyond that elevator couldn’t be much worse than where they were now. It

happened every time.

Every time, that is, except with Eddie and Jo. The two of them managed to raise a stink with each successive group ever since Logan crossed the sign-in desk. Because it was the deal they had made: to stay right there, ready to spring to action at a moment’s notice, the instant Logan and Lily reappeared, to clear the way among the dozens of guards, to create the diversion necessary for Lily to make her escape through the air duct.

Nothing about the plan was foolproof. But this was the end-

game, after all. There was no going back.

Lily was the symbol. Free her, and make a statement. Free her, and pave the way for the rest.

The Markless were taking their stand.

It was hard for Peck to watch Joanne and Eddie suffer in the waiting room as long as they did. It was hard to watch them endure so much for a cause, Peck knew, they only believed in for him.

But in the end, it was worth it. Logan emerged. With Lily.

Through the Moderator’s entrance next to the elevator, just beyond the desk.

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Eddie and Jo moved in to surround them, to clear a path

through the crowd of guards.

It was happening. They were
right
there
. Logan and Lily both.

They stood at the far end of the room and waited eagerly for Eddie and Jo to bring them back to the ducts. To Peck. To freedom.

Peck unscrewed the grate in front of him, heart racing, blood

pounding in his ears.

They were here.

They were really going to do it!

4

Lily’s plan was simple. “There’s only one way out of here,” she said.

“And that’s the Moderators’ exit, connected to the pathways we IMPS use to travel throughout the building. I’ll just sneak you into it, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Wait a minute,” Logan said. “You’re telling me everyone here

has
access
to a pathway leading out to the prison’s main exit?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, why in the world doesn’t everyone just
leave
?”

Lily looked at him as though she hadn’t understood the ques tion.

So instead of answering, she slipped silently into the Moderators’

exit, and Logan followed nervously behind. Some thing about

this—just to walk out through the holding room like that, right there, out in the open, nothing sneaky about it . . . somehow that plan felt awfully risky, even to Logan. Something about it was hard for him to trust.

And yet here they were in the middle of the room, just shy of

the sign-in desk, everything going according to plan.

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And that’s when Lily stopped. She stopped right there at the

desk. Right as Eddie and Jo were about to reach them.

Logan’s body went rigid, stone-limbed with fear. He braced

himself. For something . . . something coming . . .

What
are
you
doing?
Peck thought.
Come
on—we’re so close!

Lily stepped swiftly to the Markscan at a podium by the sign-

in desk. She looked into it as it scanned her face. Then she leaned down, even closer. She touched something on the screen. And she spoke.

Her voice rang out, amplified by some speaker system across

the vestibule and, Peck could only assume, throughout all of

Acheron.

“This is Advocate Langly,” she said. “Reporting intruders,

and attempted prison break, and treason. Repeat. Treason. I have apprehended the perpetrators. Requesting immediate backup for

transport to level nine.”

Peck shook his head in horror. The unthinkable had happened.

The Lily he knew was gone. Replaced by . . . something else. An Advocate. An IMP. A puppet of Cylis. The struggle was quick. The guards descended on Logan and Eddie and Joanne as Lily watched.

Logan swung a few times, ran a few feet, and was swiftly overpowered. Trapped alone out in the open, with the element of surprise taken away from them, Eddie and Jo never stood a chance.

Peck saw no emotion flash across Lily’s face. No remorse. No

fear. Nothing but the flat, black mark on her forehead as she stood by and betrayed her own brother.

Peck’s heart sank. All the adrenaline left him, sucked right out
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of his belly into the cold metal duct. He had no energy left. But what could he do? What could he possibly do?

And so Peck fled, through the vent, hardly believing this turn of events. Back to tell the others. Back the way he came.

5

When Peck made it into to the control room alone, everything was chaos and confusion.

“What happened?”

“Was it really there?”

“Did you make it?”

“Did you find her?”

“Where’s Lily?”

“Where’s Eddie?”

“Where’s Jo?”

“Where’s Logan?”

“Logan—he found her—they were coming—captured—”

Peck spoke in short bursts, still barely believing it himself. He slowed himself down, taking deep breaths so he could explain

what had happened.

“Logan did find Lily. She’s an IMP. She didn’t want saving. She played along until the end. And then she turned us in. She turned her own brother in.”

The news was met with blank, disbelieving stares across the

control room. Distantly, the whirring of turbines from the fusion reactor droned a low, unnerving hum. No one spoke.

Finally, Peck turned, walking swiftly away from the Dust.

“Where are you going?” Blake called.

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And Peck yelled back, stone-faced, still walking, not even

turning to look. “To get someone,” he said. “We’re gonna need

the help.”

6

The first thing Erin did was spit at him. “Well,
of
course
she did, you idiot! What did you
expect
would happen?” Erin was lying, hands still tied behind her back, beneath a tangle of pipes in the corner. Tyler stood over her, keeping watch for any sudden movements.

“How many ways do I have to tell you misers—Lily was

labeled disloyal during her Pledge. So they’ve made her into a soldier. Just like they’ve done every other flunkee. Just like every other Markless they could get their hands on, through whatever excuse of ‘law enforcement’ they could come up with. Lily is an IMP! Highly trained and brainwashed. Why
wouldn’t
she have turned Logan in?”

“Erin. Please.” Peck approached her now. “We were wrong.

And I know you have no reason to help us after what we’ve put you through. But if you care about Logan . . . tell us what you know.

Do you have any ideas . . . any at all . . . that might give us a chance at rescuing Logan and Eddie and Joanne? Because however hard it was for us to get to Lily . . . this will be harder. They’ll be labeled traitors, Erin. She sent them to level nine. And if the rest of what Eddie heard about Acheron is half as accurate as what we’ve confirmed so far, that means they’ll be tortured, Erin. Tortured.

Please help us. Before it’s too late . . .”

Erin was silent for a long time. She breathed slowly and

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deliberately, just staring into the distance, but inside she was frantic, desperate to come up with any sort of reasonable plan.

“I think . . . ,” she said finally, “I think there might be a way.”

7

Back in the control room, Erin stood on top of the old panel,

speaking quickly to an energized group, and it wasn’t just the Dust surrounding her. There were a couple hundred Markless now

crammed between the rows of rolling chairs and tablescreens and switchboards.

“Here it is,” Erin said. “I’m layin’ it all out, not pulling any punches: You can make your way across the holding room. You

can make your way to Logan’s level. You can make your way down past the winds, or the darkness, or the reptiles, or the tar pits, or the fires, or whatever it is that’s actually down there . . . you can even make it all the way back. But as long as Acheron is filled with prisoners willing to fight for the idea of Acheron, that place really is guarded with an infinite security.

“This isn’t some case of knocking out a few hourly-rate security guards, or hacking into some lame security feed, or sneaking our friends past some silly trap.
Everyone
in
there
is an obstacle in our way.

“Logan’s fellow inmates
are
his prison guards. IMPS. Every last one of them.
Not
a
one
is on your side. So how in the world do you break anyone out of a prison like that?”

“You don’t,” Blake said. “We can’t.”

“That’s right.
But
.” Erin smiled. “There might be a catch.

Because this network of prison guards? This endless chain of security? It’s
also
Cylis’s army.”

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“Right,” Tyler said impatiently. “We get that part.”

“Well, what if I told you,” Erin said, “that Cylis is willing to use it?

This
document—” She borrowed from Shawn the tablet she’d given him earlier, and she held it up to the group, displaying her picture of Michael Cheswick’s top secret page. “This document proves it.”

“Wait a second,” Jo said. “You mean to say that Cylis has used IMPS on A.U. citizens . . . already?”

“That’s right,” Erin said. “A test run. One early sunny morning in August. This page here confirms it.”

Erin frowned. “Now, I know it sounds crazy. But if we can

force Cylis’s hand—if we can coax him into using this IMP army of his in a big way—well, it would clean Acheron out. It would pull all those IMPS right out of their cage.”

“And since the IMPS
are
Acheron’s guards—” said Peck.

“No IMPS means—” continued Tyler.

“No security.” Jo nodded.

“That’s right,” Erin said. “Leaving Acheron vulnerable . . . and giving us the opportunity we need to break our friends out.”

“But what could we possibly do that would prompt Cylis to use

that kind of force?” Jo asked. “Even if every last Markless in this community agreed to it . . . there’s just no way to mobilize a movement of that size and importance . . .”

And now Hailey smiled, two rows over in the control room,

swiveling smugly in an old rolling chair. “I think I have it,” she said.

“I think I know what we can do.”

The group laughed when Hailey suggested it. But it was a nervous laughter. The kind that showed they knew she was right.

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Blake sighed sharply when the room’s jitters died down.

“There’s no coming back from this, you know. We’re stirring up a hornet’s nest here. This is a masterstroke, and we can’t undo it once it’s done.”

“If it really is a masterstroke,” Hailey replied, “then we won’t ever need to.”

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