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Logan shook his head.

“Then I will tell you. Because it is important that you know what we are dealing with, here. It is important that you know the stakes.”

Logan nodded.

“You see, Logan, ‘Markless' is . . . a newer term. More . . . politically correct. In the early days, the Markless were known, simply, as
Dust
.”

“Why ‘Dust'?”

“The discarded people, Logan. Invisible. The ones who'd slipped through the cracks . . . and gathered . . . forgotten.”

“Why would Peck take on a name that insults him?”

“Because Peck is a
symbol
, Logan Langly. Of a movement that exists in this country. And I believe he and his friends have taken that name,
Dust
, along with all the others we've given them—
miser
,
piker
,
skinflint
,
tightwad
. . . to remind us that they are
not
forgotten. To tell us they are not afraid.

“They are a counterculture, Logan. One that believes in the eradication of the Mark Program started by General Lamson and Chancellor Cylis after the Unity. One that stands against
everything
we've been working toward.”

“Why?” Logan asked.

“I'll ask the questions from here on out.”

Mr. Arbitor paced now, like a predator eyeing his prey.

“Tell me, Logan. When did you first meet my daughter, Erin Arbitor?”

“Almost a month ago,” Logan said. “The first day of school at Spokie.”

“Go on.”

“I met her at lunch. She wasn't much interested in me. But then we shared a class at the end of the day. I walked her home.”

“Why? You barely knew her.”

Logan blushed. “I thought she was pretty, sir.”

“She is pretty.” Mr. Arbitor nodded. “Glad to know you intend on telling me the truth.”

“I do, sir.” Logan shifted uncomfortably, embarrassed.

“And at what point did you convince my daughter to commit the treasonous act of searching through my private home files?”

Logan cleared his throat. “I didn't, sir. I didn't convince her to do anything.”

Mr. Arbitor raised an eyebrow, suggesting that this had not been the right answer.

“What I did, sir, was tell your daughter about my sister.”

“And what about your sister did you tell her?”

“I'd noticed Erin's Mark. I'd noticed it was new. I told her I was Pledging myself in November.” Upon seeing the look on Mr. Arbitor's face, Logan added, “Or . . . at least I plan to. Anyway, I told Erin I was nervous about the whole thing. Because my sister . . . she was what I guess you call . . . a flunkee.”

Mr. Arbitor was still. Logan wondered how much Erin had already told him. He wondered how much Mr. Arbitor had already figured out on his own. Logan hoped he was saying the right things.

“It killed her. I never saw her again. An accident, DOME told us. I guess it happens sometimes.”

“Rarely,” Mr. Arbitor said. “Very rarely.”

“So when I told Erin I'd been a little paranoid ever since, that I heard footsteps at night, that I felt followed and watched . . . she was curious.” It was clear to Logan that Mr. Arbitor was curious as well. “Erin said it sounded like . . . she said it sounded like the work of a Markless named Peck.”

Logan continued the story of the burning note that night, how everything had suddenly seemed so real and urgent, how Erin was afraid of involving DOME since their suspicions alone betrayed her first treasonous act with her father's files.

Logan described what had happened at the playground, how it was his suspicion that he would have been abducted that night, had it not been for Erin's help. He described their visit to Slog Row, how they'd encountered the Dust without even knowing it, how the Dust responded by retreating to the stadium, how they only knew that much because of Erin's ingenuity with the security cameras and the tracker. In all of it, Logan admitted, he had never once seen Peck. Had never once known where the boy had been. Everything was smoke and mirrors, and no matter what he or Erin or the Dust did, Peck was always one step ahead.

He explained Erin's trips to the stadium without him, that she had learned of another member of the Dust working silently at Spokie Middle, and how that member remained unidentified. He told how Erin had learned of the Dust's plan to take Dane, and how that had convinced Logan to call DOME.

“Did it not occur to you that Dane's abduction might have been a trap?” Mr. Arbitor said. “A setup? For you?”

“It did,” Logan admitted. “But if so, then it was
also
a trap. I don't think it was
just
a trap. I think Peck wanted Dane for Peck's own reasons.”

“And what might those reasons be?”

“I'm still trying to figure that out,” Logan said. “Your guess is as good as mine. Anyway, that's why I called you, for reinforcements. I knew I might be a target too. I figured I needed your help.” Then Logan grew angry. “It hadn't occurred to me that you might actually get in the way.”

Mr. Arbitor frowned. “That was our error,” he admitted. “We underestimated Peck. We knew very little about the Dust.”

“I would have stopped them,” Logan said, trying to contain his frustration. “Dane would have been saved.”

“I have two hospitalized men who would beg to differ.”

“Are they okay?”

“Concussions. One with a cracked skull. It sounds worse than it is. They'll be all right.”

“I'm sorry,” Logan said.

“If we'd have let you through those doors, it would have been you in the hospital.”

Logan frowned. “I don't think so.”

“Oh yeah? You think you're more equipped for hand-to-hand combat than my own men?”

“No,” Logan said. “I think the Dust wouldn't have hurt me like that.”

Mr. Arbitor laughed. “The Dust has killed. The Dust has kidnapped. Under Peck's orders, the Dust is planting the seeds of a rebellion. And you think they'd show mercy . . . to you?”

Logan shrugged. The truth was that he did.

“I don't like you,” Mr. Arbitor said. “If I had my way, I'd lock you up the rest of your life for what you put my daughter through this month.” He paused. “But somehow, Logan Langly, . . . I'm afraid you've emerged as my top agent in this case.”

Logan held his breath. This was going better than he had expected.

“And right now, I need your help more than I need my revenge. So I'm going to make a deal with you.”

Logan listened carefully.

“If you help me apprehend Peck and the remaining members of the Dust, I will personally clear you of all wrongdoings and current charges against you.”

“Can I have that in writing?” Logan asked.

“No. But I am a man of my word.”

“And what if I refuse?”

“Then I will lock you up in this center, tonight. I will delay your trial indefinitely. With a couple of phone calls, I could make sure you never got one at all.”

“In that case, I accept,” Logan said. “What do you want me to do?”

“Get a good night's sleep,” Mr. Arbitor said. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”

2

“Here, batter, batter, batter,
swing
, batter, batter, batter—” Eddie chased Tyler to the pitcher's mound while Tyler threw one of a few baseballs he was holding toward Meg at first base.

“Okay, but if you can't hit me with the bat before Meg and I tag each base with these balls, then I get to have it, and it's your turn to see if you can outrun me all the way to the outfield.” Tyler had never seen a game of baseball before. He assumed it went something like how he was describing it. Meg ran from first to second base and actually appeared to laugh.

Jo hopped onto the field from the lower stands and walked toward Blake, who was watching the game from behind home plate.

“She's coming out of her shell,” Blake said.

“A little bit,” Jo agreed, distractedly.

“Peck was right about her. She just . . . needed awhile. She's a good kid, Jo. Look at her. She'll be fine.”

“She's autistic, Blake. And it's severe. You can't fix that with patience.”

Blake shrugged. “No. But you can have patience with it.”

Jo handed him a bag of chips for lunch.

“We can't stay here, can we?” Blake asked.

“I'm amazed you risked coming back at all.”

“I bought us some time, left the tracker I'd found on Tyler back in the woods.” He frowned. “The kids were going crazy in the cornfields, Jo. None of them slept last night. They needed to play. To be somewhere they know, even for a little while. Who knows what's next for us.” He shrugged. “I figured an hour here couldn't hurt.”

But Jo's thoughts were somewhere else.

“How's Dane?” Blake asked.

“With Peck. And our contact. He's fine.”

Blake nodded.

“I assume you haven't heard.” Her voice was shaky, but Blake ignored that.

“Heard what?” He pointed to Tyler and Eddie. “Boys' new game . . . this one's a doozy.” In the outfield, Eddie smacked Tyler repeatedly in the legs with his bat. Meg laughed and jumped at their side.

“Blake, I was just at the Row for supplies—”

“Thank you, Jo. I really don't know what we'd do without—”

But immediately Jo began sobbing into her hands, and Blake realized their conversation had nothing to do with the supplies, or Dane, or anything else Blake could have predicted.

“What's going on?”

Between breaths Jo said, “DOME. The Row. Blake—they're cleaning up!”

“Cleaning up? What do you mean, cleaning up?”

She wiped her nose on her sleeve and coughed into her hands. “I heard it from Mama Hayes. After last night, DOME says there's probable cause to sweep out the whole block. They insist they're just looking for us, but it's obvious—everyone's gotta go.”

“Because of Dane. Because of the scene at Fulmart.”

“Dane . . . Peck . . . Meg and the frying pan . . . all of it. They're fed up. We all knew DOME's been looking for this excuse a long time. Now they have it.”

“But this is
our
fight. No one on the Row had anything to do with it!”

“I know.” Then Jo cried too hard to keep talking.

“Maybe if we got Dane from the warehouse, twisted his arm into making a statement—”

“No.” Jo sniffled. “It's too late.”

“They can't do this. We can stop them—”

“We can't, Blake. It's done.”

“How? How is it done?”

“DOME's there
now
, Blake. Some of the girls from the Row were arrested this morning just for walking down the street. Mama Hayes said DOME agents were laughing, harassing them, bragging about what they were about to do all along the Row. How this was just a preview. And they were rough. People are going to die.”

“Are the rest of them fleeing? Are they getting out of there?”

“Most haven't heard. Mama Hayes just happened to be there as it was going on . . . I ran into her right after.”

“Then we have to tell the rest! Sneak them out before DOME can make the full sweep!”

“Where would we bring them if they knew?”

“We'll bring them here!”

“Oh, come on, Blake! We can't hide everyone in here—we'd all be sitting ducks!”

“I'm going.”

“You can't, Blake. DOME wants us more than anything. We're the pretense for the whole thing! If they bagged you they could justify everything they're doing!”

Blake cursed under his breath. “I have to help them.”

“You can't. Please, think of the Dust. Tyler, Eddie, Peck. Think of me—”

“I have to help. I have to try.”

“You're gonna choose them over us?”

“I'm not
choosing
anyone.”

“Then why risk it?”

“Because they're
people
, Joanne!”

“It's suicide. Blake, they have Logan and Erin
with them
to point any of us out. It'll take them two seconds to recognize you. If they see you, you're dead. They're not playing games with us.”

“And what do you think they'll do with all the rest of the Markless? Huh? Give them homes? Give them work? Somehow I'm not seeing it.”

Jo threw her arms around Blake. “Please don't go,” she whispered, begging now. “Please don't. I can't do this without you.” She dropped her face into her hands.

“I'll come back. I promise I will.”

When Jo looked up, Blake was already running fast across the field, out of the stadium.

3

On Slog Row, the sun was bright and the air was warm. “I don't like this,” Logan whispered to Erin. “This doesn't feel . . .
right
. . . to me.”

“These people made their choice, Logan. They made their lives what they are. They had plenty of time to turn themselves around.”

Ahead of them, DOME agents were storming into house after house, dragging people out in electro-magnecuffs. Some were screaming, thrashing, cursing. Others just kept their heads down.

“Maybe they didn't see it that way,” Logan said. “Maybe they were happy here.”

“Stop kidding yourself. Everyone on this block had to have seen this coming. In Beacon, it would have happened a long, long time ago. They should have gotten the Mark. It isn't any more complicated than that. I can assure you, Logan—life, with it, is good. These people must be pretty dim not to have seen the obvious solution here.”

“Maybe they're standing up for something,” Logan said. “Maybe they think we shouldn't have to Pledge in order to be contributing members of society. There was a time when we didn't, you know.”

“Yeah, before the
States War
. When everyone aligned themselves
randomly
, to whatever idols they wanted,
killing
each other over the differences between them. That sound like a better system to you, Logan?”