Read Sneak (Swipe Series) for Free Online Page B

stash of books.”
    Logan flipped through some of the yellowing pages in front of him. “Any recommendations?” he asked.
    “Oh, lots,” Bridget said. She passed a thick one his way. “This one here’ll keep you busy for a while.”
    “Wait a second,” Logan said. “Is this—”
    “A Bible. Yeah,” Bridget said.
    Logan stared at it.
    “We have all kinds of religious texts here, if you’re interested. Not to mention philosophy, politics . . . any of that sort o’ stuff. It’s all banned, so naturally it’s pretty popular among the Markless.” Bridget winked. “If it’ll get you arrested, we probably have a copy somewhere.”
    Logan looked through the book, scanning the columns of tiny type on each page. The pages were so thin they were almost translucent, and they made a soft crinkling sound as he flipped through them.
    “Just don’t get caught with that,” Bridget warned.
    Logan looked up at her. “Thanks.”
    And Bridget walked on. “Over here’s our clothing station. You ever need dry socks, a new sweater . . . this is where you’ll come.”
    “You mean I can just take anything?”
    “Well, we certainly don’t expect you to be able to pay for it.” Bridget laughed.
    As they walked, Logan began to appreciate what the huddle had done. The surrounding streets were crumbling. The buildings were falling down, and the sidewalks were charred and split from long-ago gunfire and explosions. But the underpass was different. The underpass was bright and warm, like a home. All around it, there was art . . . finished paintings just lying on the concrete, sculptures scattered about, a shortwave radio chattering in the corner, tapestries hanging by string, poems graffitied onto each rusting pillar . . . all of it as if out of another era entirely.
    “We still have time on our hands,” Bridget said. “In fact, it’s pretty much all we have. So we draw, or we write . . . we do whatever we can to contribute to the huddle.”
    Logan stopped for a moment and listened to an older woman strumming a battered guitar and singing a song to a small circle of Markless surrounding her.
    “Michael, row the boat ashore,” she sang. “Hallelujah . . .”
    “We sing a lot around here too,” Bridget said. “It keeps our spirits up.”
    Logan looked at her, silent for some time. “Where’d you go last night?” he asked finally.
    “Nowhere.” Bridget frowned. She wouldn’t look at him as she said it.
    “I know you snuck off. I watched you come back.”
    “I didn’t sneak off. Maybe you dreamed it—”
    “I didn’t dream it,” Logan interrupted. “You’re hiding something from me.”
    “ I’m hiding something? From you ? You won’t even tell me your name!”
    Logan clenched his teeth and swallowed hard. In the background, the woman sang her gentle refrain, but it did nothing to cut the tension between the two of them.
    Bridget sighed. She looked away, disappointed. “You’re really gonna make me say it, aren’t you? You’re really gonna ruin the surprise.”
    Logan narrowed his eyes, and he waited for Bridget to explain herself.
    “Okay, okay.” She laughed, easing up a little. “Tomorrow morning. There’s a landfill half a mile north of here. If you still wanna know, meet me there when the sun comes up.”
    Another night in the underpass. A secluded meeting place. Just thinking about it, Logan’s palms began to sweat. “How do I know I can trust you?” he asked.
    “You can’t,” Bridget said with a wry smile. “But if you really wanna know so bad what it is I’m hiding from you . . . well, then I guess you’re just gonna have to risk it.” She shrugged. Then she turned to sing with the other Markless, leaving Logan in the dark.
    3
    In the morning, the sun shone brightly through the windows and cracks of the barn, but none of the Dust were awake. Meg and Dane slept soundly in two of the three empty stalls not occupied by horses. Blake slept sitting up, his back against a wall, next to