Ron nodded dumbly.
He turned and headed for the stairs. His girl. Sylvia’s his girl? Then why did she . . . All at once it hit him. She’s agreed to be his girl to save me!
Ron didn’t sleep that night. Not at all.
He saw daylight come, slowly brightening the window of the room he had picked. With the Dome over Manhattan, you never got any direct sunlight, just a gradual brightness that had to fight its way through the dirt-streaked windows.
Ron had picked out a room on the floor above Sylvia’s. It was blazing hot, but he knew he could get the air-conditioner working soon enough.
Now he lay sprawled on a mattress, hands under his head, watching the daylight come to the city. And wondering about Sylvia. Wondering and worrying.
He heard the door to the hallway creak open.
“Ron?” It was Davey’s high thin voice.
Sitting up, Ron answered, “Right here, Davey.”
The boy ran in and knelt beside him. “Hi, Ron. Al says we’re gonna go out on a raid t’day! An’ you’re comin’!”
“A raid?”
Davey nodded. He was almost trembling, he was so excited. “Th’ warriors’re meetin’ up on th’ roof. Al says fer you t’ come up right away.”
Puzzled, frowning, Ron followed Davey up flights of creaking steps to the roof. More than two dozen guys were already there, clustered around Al.
The roof was the highest of all the buildings in the block. Ron could look out over the rooftops of the nearby buildings and see the gray ribwork of the Dome, dim and misty in the distance. The roof was covered with black gravel-like stuff that crunched and stung under Ron’s bare feet. There was something wrong about the place, though. It took Ron a few moments to realize what it was: no wind. If he had been this high back home at the Tracts, on a building roof or a hill, there would have been a breeze. But here under the Dome there wasn’t any. At least, not at that particular moment.
“Here he is now,” Al said as Ron stood uncertainly near the door at the top of the stairs.
All the guys turned to look at him.
“Come over here,” Al said, waving to Ron. “This’s Ron,” he told the others as Ron walked gingerly over the rough gravel to him. “He’s from Outside an’ he knows howta fix machines. We’re goin’ over t’ Chelsea turf t’ get some parts he needs t’ fix th’ generator downstairs.”
“It ain’t broke.” Ron saw that it was Dino who spoke.
Dino grinned at Ron. He was wearing Ron’s boots. And he’s got my ID card, too, Ron said to himself. He took a step toward Dino.
But Al grabbed his arm. “Now lissen!” he snapped. “I’m tellin’ both of ya. There ain’t no room for bad blood in this gang. You guys got a beef—bury it! Unnerstand? No fightin’ between gang members. We got a raid t’ pull off. You wanna fight, then fight the Chelsea warriors. They ain’t gonna let us come in and take what we want, just for the askin’.”
So Ron stood there glaring while Dino grinned back at him. Al started to tell of his plan for the raid, pointing toward some distant rooftops to show what he meant to do.
“They won’t be expectin’ a raid so soon after the gates closed down,” one of the guys said.
“Right,” Al answered. “Now, Dino’ll lead th’ main force right down th’ middle o’ their turf”—he pointed toward a group of high, blocky looking buildings—“an’ make ’em think we’re goin’ for their headquarters.”
“They’ll think we’re tryin’ t’ grab their broads!”
“Them pigs. Erg!”
Everybody laughed.
“Okay, okay,” Al said, quieting them down. “Now, while Dino an’ th’ main force’re makin’ a big fight in th’ center of their turf, me an’ Ron and a few other guys swing ’round to the warehouses”—Al pointed to another row of gray, worn-looking buildings—“an’ grab th’ stuff Ron needs. We gotta do it quick, before th’ Chelsea guys find out what we’re up to.”
As Al went on talking, Ron began to realize what was going to happen. This was going to be a raid. A real fight. Like Indians raiding a town in the old West. Like knights storming a castle. The gang was a little army. They were going to fight another gang, another army. They would kill people.
He saw that most of the guys had weapons on them. Dino had a pistol stuck in his belt. Others had pistols, rifles, knives, chains, clubs, and strange-looking things that Ron couldn’t figure out.
And out of the corner of his eye, Ron noticed Davey and three other little boys. They were crouched near the door to the stairs, listening to every word, big-eyed with excitement. They watched the older guys, stared at their weapons. They can’t wait until they’re old enough to be warriors, Ron realized. Old enough to get killed.
“Okay, let’s go,” Al said.
Everybody started to move toward the door and down the stairs. Ron stood still and let the other guys flow past him.
Dino came up to him, still grinning. “Whatsamatter, dude? You look scared.”
Al stepped between them. “Knock it off, Dino. Get movin’. You’re supposed t’ be leadin’ th’ main force, not makin’ chatter.”
“Go hump yourself,” Dino muttered. But he turned away and headed for the stairs.
Al shook his head. “He’s gettin’ too lousy for his own good. Gonna hafta stop him one of these days.”
Ron said nothing.
“Okay, kid,” Al said. “You come with me.”
Ron hesitated for just a bare second. Then he followed Al to the stairs. No use arguing, he told himself. You either go with them or they throw you to the wolves. You’re either part of the gang or you’re dead.
Still, Ron knew that there was going to be fighting—killing—because of him.
