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“In Beacon they sleep on street corners,” Erin said. “Filthy, begging, crazy, dangerous. They're a menace. They're useless. They're picked up by the street cleaners with the trash and the spit.”

“—but in Spokie the Markless mostly stay in an area called Slog Row. They stay away from us, and we let them be.”

“That's very civilized of you.”

“Well, it's that or—forget it, I don't need to defend Spokie to you. That's not the point.”

Erin squinted at him in the sun. “What is your point, Logan?”

“My point is that whether or not you've given up on this thing already, it seems to me that we . . . or
I
, if that's how it's gonna be . . . that we might be able to find some dirt on Peck if we . . .” He sighed, his heart pounding just at the thought of it. “If we took a little detour through Slog Row one of these days.”

Erin shook her head. “If you were right about that, DOME would have been all over it already.”

“I'm sure they have tried. I'm sure they'd love to be. But the Markless won't
talk
to DOME,” Logan reasoned. “DOME's the enemy.”

“They have ways,” Erin said.

“Oh yeah? And what would those ways be? DOME can't send a mole in 'cause all their men are Marked. Anyone on Slog Row would spot it a mile away. I suppose they could bug the place with some of that nano-equipment you stole . . .”

Erin picked at the plasti-grass. “Unlikely, actually, without a warrant. Laws still protect the Markless unless you can catch them for a crime. And DOME's a huge bureaucracy. Unless they have proof Peck's staying there—and I'm sure he's not—they wouldn't risk botching his trial.”

“So there you have it. Slog's not an avenue for DOME. The two groups cannot work together. People on that street have nothing to lose. They'd sooner die than help an agent. I'm sure some have.” Logan shook his head. “It's a closed door to DOME.” He looked at his empty wrist. “But it's not to me.”

Erin considered this. “Let me get this straight. You wanna visit Slog Row . . . ourselves?”

“Yeah.”

“To find a trail that leads to Peck.”

“It's not as elegant as your bug tape, I admit.”

“Forget elegant—it sounds deadly. That whole street must be seething with degenerates and crackpots.”

“The people there are desperate, yes. You'd have to be crazy to visit.”

But at the sound of the unfolding plan, Erin got a look in her eyes that was precisely that.

“What are you doing after school today?” Logan asked.

“I dunno.” Erin shrugged, but she couldn't help smiling just a little, playfully. “I could be free.”

3

At the Fulmart, Blake sat with Tyler and Eddie while they opened condensed soup from the store shelves and drank straight from the cans.

“Good thing this stuff doesn't go bad,” Tyler said. It looked about ten years out of date, which is precisely what it was.

The three of them couldn't talk about the night before. Only the Dust actually slept in Fulmart, but at mealtimes, Markless from all over Slog Row came to scrounge for food.

The store was maintained by an elderly couple known as Mama and Papa Hayes, who took it upon themselves to watch over the place when it went belly up, seeing it for the lifeline to the Row that it really was.

It was all sorts of illegal, of course, for a Markless couple to appoint themselves “managers” of a bankrupt store and continue running it as a black market for other Markless. But it wasn't
more
illegal, necessarily, than many of the other things happening on Slog Row, and, as with the rest of it, the Spokie authorities recognized the value of an insular system that kept the bums away from the rest of town.

So this afternoon, as with every afternoon, families rummaged the shelves, taking what they needed under the watchful eyes of the Hayeses, but never taking more than enough. Mama and Papa made sure everyone knew the limits of the supply, and the punishment for greed was banishment, with the help of a seriously illegal shotgun.

Today, a small boy covered in dirt and tattered clothes sat silently next to Blake and Tyler and Eddie as they ate their lunch. He might have been five or six years old, and he visited them often during mealtimes, eating some small portion of something and listening to the boys' banter. He seemed to enjoy their company, though he'd never once uttered a sound. Blake had long since given up on learning the boy's name, so he and the others just called the kid Rusty. Under the filth, Rusty had bright, messy red hair. Blake guessed that if he hadn't been so dirty, he might have had freckles too.

Today the boy ate a bag of chips. He licked his fingers for the salt.

“Any good?” Eddie asked.

Rusty nodded. Tyler and Eddie stayed on better behavior when he was around. Maybe they liked the company too.

“I like that flavor,” Tyler joked. “Don't eat all of it, okay?”

Rusty smiled and guarded the bag closely.

“Do you have a mom or a dad?” Eddie asked for what was probably the fifteenth time since they'd met the boy. “Anyone who takes care of you?”

Rusty didn't nod or shake his head. Blake wasn't sure the kid fully understood the question. “Let it go,” Blake said. “It doesn't matter.”

Around them, couples strolled the aisles, pretending for a few minutes out of the day to live normal lives. They read the labels on packages, compared ingredient lists and nutritional information. Blake knew it was a pretense. The only food left in the store was junk. And everyone holding the boxes was frail and starving.

“Afternoon, Mama Hayes,” Blake said. “Papa Hayes.” A little less than a year ago, Mama and Papa Hayes started finding the kids of the Dust hiding out in their store during the Hayeses' nightly sweep of the place. The first dozen times, of course, they kicked the group out without discussion. But somewhere along the line, the old couple realized these kids weren't looking to take anything or cause any trouble. They were just looking for a place to sleep that wasn't quite as cold as the hard winter ground. So the Hayeses made them a deal—if the Dust would watch the store at night and make sure no one came around after hours looking for more than their share, then Blake and his friends could stay.

“How are you boys this afternoon?” Mama Hayes asked.

“Just fine, ma'am,” Eddie said. “A little tired, is all.”

Mama Hayes nodded. “Us too, boys. Us too.”

After lunch, Blake and the others headed to the “outdoor adventure” section of the store. Between tents set up for display and various skiing and hiking equipment, there was some space for games. Eddie had a soccer ball from the sports section, and the three of them kicked it around while they talked more privately. Meg sat in the corner, tied to a pipe, not moving or blinking. It wasn't long before Joanne joined them.

“Hey, Jo,” Blake said, kicking the ball to her. “What's the good word?”

“Today we regroup,” Joanne said. “When you're ready, Peck wants to speak to you.”

Blake suddenly became very nervous. “He here now?”

“No. Can't risk it after last night. You hear he went back after we'd all come home?”

“Why'd he do that?”

“Wanted to scope it out. See what Logan and that chick left behind.”

“Sounds risky,” Blake said. “He shouldn't be out on his own right now with things as they are.”

“He knows that, but he had to see what we were up against. ‘Laying a trap' wasn't specific enough for him, I guess. Anyway, I gather you haven't heard what he found when he went back.”

“You're the only one who could have told me.”

“Surveillance powder.”

Blake frowned. “Never heard of it.”

“He says DOME's been using it to follow him for a few months now. It's this new stuff—nanotech—like microphone dust, apparently. DOME fills a place with it and then they can listen to you as long as they want. You can't stumble across it, you can't find it.”

“How'd he figure that out?”

“Peck's an observant guy. Anyway, water cleans it right up if you know where to look for it. He thinks he got it all, but he's not sure. So stay away from the playground from now on.”

“Well, that sucks,” Tyler said.

“Deal with it.”

“Wait a second.” Blake was beginning to understand the breadth of their new problem. “What you're saying is that Logan's new girlfriend has access to DOME-grade equipment.”

“Not just DOME-
grade
. It's the real stuff. Straight from DOME.”

“She's a kid. That's not possible. They have kid agents now?”

“Who knows how she got it. Or who she is.” Jo clucked her tongue. “But we got a new player in town.”

“Well, what do we do now? Give up?”

“We can't. Before yesterday, Logan was a problem. But we had the advantage. Last night the tables turned.”

Eddie chimed in. “So I say we forget about the little miser. Let him go—he won. He's not worth getting caught over. Let's just move on to another kid already.”

“That's not the point, Eddie.” Jo kicked the soccer ball to him. “The point is, Logan's gone from being a problem to being a threat. He's tipped off to us now, and instead of falling into our little setup, he went straight to DOME.”

“How'd he know to do that?
How'd
he do that?”

“Doesn't matter. What matters is that we stop him before he stops us. The stakes just changed. The game just changed.”

“So what's the plan?” Blake asked.

“We redouble our efforts.”

“But, Jo, he saw me. He saw my face. I need to lie low.”

“I know that.”

“Then what now? What do we do?”

“Peck's at the warehouse until tomorrow, collecting his thoughts. He's asked you to visit him tonight.” She sighed. “And that's precisely what he wants to talk about.”

4

“Hey, Dane!” Logan called out in the Arctic Wing at the end of the day.

Dane looked at him. He didn't say anything back to Logan.

“I still wanna see you ride that rollerstick! Think your dad'll start it up for us?”

“Not for you,” Dane said. He shook his head, as if Logan had said the least considerate thing in the world.

Logan frowned. What was this about? Was Dane mad at him? “Hey, man, everything okay?”

“Whatever.” Dane shrugged.

“Wait, what'd I do?”

Dane stared at Logan a moment before letting out two years' worth of pent-up jealousy all at once. “It's not enough to have all the attention of the new girl, huh? You gotta claim Hailey too?”

“What?” Logan asked, genuinely confused.

“I saw you set up your little date with her today,” Dane said. “Real smooth.”

Logan couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Dane, look, first of all, whatever that thing is with Hailey, it's not a date. And second of all, Erin's only even interested in me because . . . well, listen, it has nothing to do with her liking me, all right? Also, why do you even care?”

Dane shook his head. “You honestly never figured it out, did you?”

“Whoa, dude, back up.” But upon hearing this, Logan immediately realized how much sense it made. Dane liked Hailey. How had Logan never realized it before?

“Just stay away from her, okay?” Dane said. “I'm serious.”

“All right,” Logan said. “Fine.”

Dane nodded. “Fine.”

But before Logan could say anything else, Dane turned, abruptly changing character. “Hey, Hailey—where're you going? Stop being so weird!” and he ran down the snowy tundra hall.

Logan still felt rotten when he made it up to street level, and when he approached Erin on the sports lawn, she only made matters worse. “Hey!” Logan called, but when she saw him, Erin swerved quickly to walk down the street without him.

“Erin, wait up!” Logan yelled, and to his frustration she walked even faster.
Great
, Logan thought,
so
everyone's
mad at me
. It was a full block before she made eye contact with him, and then when Erin did, she crossed the street away from Logan, to walk on the other side.