CHAPTER 1

FIGHT OR FLIGHT

1

The floor shook violently under Logan'sfeet, its rug jumping and sliding in short, stiff bursts. The windowto his side rattled, and he wondered if the whole door might soonfall off.

Logan leaned forward to the driver's seat in front of him,peering over Peck's tense shoulder at the fuel gauge, which jitteredso much that the after-image of its soft green glow showedonly a blur.

But he could still see the needle, pointing with certainty.Empty.

"Can't this thing go any faster?" Hailey asked from the passengerseat.

"Not if we want it to stay in one piece," Peck said, but hepressed harder on the gas pedal even so.

Lifelessly, Erin bounced from her spot on the backseat and slidto the floor.

"She all right?" Peck asked, unable to take his eyes off the road.

Hailey turned to look over her shoulder. "Not stirring," shesaid. "Keep driving."

"Low on gas," Logan warned, hoping not to spark an explosionof new frustration from up front.

"It'll stop when it stops," Peck said. "'Til then, worry aboutwhat's behind us."

So Logan turned to peer out the back window, where behindthem a drone plane appeared low on the horizon.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Logan said.

"Nope. Very serious. As predicted."

Not far off and closing in fast, the running lights of the droneglowed bright red, green, and white against the night sky. It flewsilent and unwavering in the steady hands of its remote pilot. Andon its side, branded proudly in big white letters, was the single,horrible, menacing word:

DOME.

Most of the way to Sierra by now, Logan had hoped that thefour of them might enter the sprawling city undetected, that theprotests they'd stirred up back in Beacon might distract authoritiesenough to provide some cover. But the team had made a criticalmistake, and they knew it.

About twenty miles back, along the first patch of run-downoutskirts near Sierra's eastern city limits, along the forgottenroad that decrepit signs called "Highway 66," Daniel Peck, HaileyPhoenix, Logan Langly, and Erin Arbitor decided to make an emergencystop. Erin's fever had gotten worse, her shivering violent andher words increasingly delirious. Everyone knew she needed medicine—anything to lower her temperature, even if only for a day ortwo. Anything to buy her some time.

So the team decided to take the risk.

"They'll know she was here the second we buy this thing,"Peck warned as Hailey stepped toward the corner store counterwith a handful of nanomeds. "They'll trace her scan instantly. Youknow they've been watching for it."

Erin nodded in detached agreement. She was standing, butbarely, and only because Logan held her up. He had his arm aroundher back, bouncing it now a few times, trying for a better hold."We'll be miles away by the time they get here," he said. "Andanyway, there's no way around it." If they wanted the goods, theyneeded Erin's Mark, simple as that. So Logan snapped his fingersin front of Erin's eyes. "Look alive, Erin. This part's all you."

And the four of them walked to the counter.

"Evening," said the store clerk. "Find everything all right?"

"Just fine," Hailey said, not looking at the man. She handedhim the nanomeds and held her breath while he scanned themunder the counter's Markscan.

"Your friend's not lookin' too good." The clerk nodded at Erin.

"She'll be all right," Logan said, propping her head up with hisown. He grabbed Erin's hand and waved her Marked wrist underthat same scanner. It beeped and flashed green. "Just fighting downa fever. These cold winter months and all, you know ..."

"You making her pay for those meds herself?" the clerk asked,scolding him a bit.

"She insists," Logan said, but he quickly shoved his ownUnmarked wrist into a deep pants pocket. And Peck and Haileydid the same.

"Well ... bed rest," the clerk instructed. "Plenty of water."Then he pointed to the nanomeds. "And one of these pills twicea day. They won't cure anything, but they should keep the feverdown."

Erin nodded distantly. Logan readjusted his hold on her. Andthe group hustled out without another word to anyone.

"We've sealed our fate," Peck said. "They have us now." He putthe car in gear and peeled out before the store clerk could noticethat these three Markless teens and their dying Marked friend hadsomehow gotten their hands on the last combustion vehicle in theentire Global Union.

Logan shook his head. "We're out. We're safe. That drew lessattention than a robbery."

"A robbery's anonymous," Hailey said. "Markscans are not."

"No stealing," Logan said. He opened Erin's mouth and gaveher two nanomed pills at once. She didn't protest. "She needed this.We had no choice. We'll deal with the next crisis when it hits us."

And Logan was right, Hailey knew. The truth was, they didn'thave a choice. The truth was that they'd made their choice already,when each of them—Peck, Hailey, Logan—refused the Mark oneach of their thirteenth birthdays, refused citizenship, refused toPledge allegiance to General Lamson and Chancellor Cylis. Theyknew then what the consequences would be. They knew then thatthey'd never have rights. That they'd never in their lives be ableto buy or sell anything, hold a job, vote, own a house, sign a contract,see a doctor, finish their education, start a family.... Thosequaint hopes dried up the moment the world broke into its TotalWar; the moment it realized that Unity was necessary, that fracturedcultures and incompatible views could never keep the peace.The kids knew all of this at the time.

But each of them knew something else too. That the Pledgewas a trap. Much more than a ceremony of citizenship, it was a systemdesigned to weed out those who didn't fit in. Flunkees wererare, maybe one in ten thousand—few enough that no one raised afuss. DOME let families...