He was drenched with sweat. The room was like an oven; no air moving at all.

Somebody came to the door that the boy had left open. Sylvia.

“You . . .” Ron began. Then he realized that he didn’t know what he wanted to say.

She came over and knelt beside his mattress. “I was so scared you was gonna die.”

“What happened? Where are we?”

She touched the bruise on his cheek, very lightly, just a fingertip. “Poor Ron . . . It was Dino. Him and some of his goons was waitin’ fer you outside th’ hotel.”

It was almost funny. “And I was worried about you.”

“About me?” She looked surprised.

“I was afraid he’d try to hurt you.”

“Oh, Ron!” She put her arms around his shoulders. It hurt, he was still aching. But he held her there for a long moment.

Sylvia said into his ear, “I came back t’ th’ hotel to see if you was okay. I found you in th’ lobby. I got you out just a coupla minutes before th’ hardtops got there.”

“Hardtops?”

“Helmet-heads. Cops.” She pulled away from him. “Some tourist musta called ’em. If th’ hardtops get you, they toss you in th’ Tombs.”

“But I’m a visitor. They can’t do that.”

“You got no money, no ID, nothin’, right?”

“Oh . . . but still . . .”

“They woulda thought you were a gang kid. Or some weirdo got himself freaked out and beat up.”

“Then—how do I get out? What day is it, anyway?”

“It’s Monday, Labor Day. Th’ gates close t’night at midnight and they won’t open again ’till next summer. For tourists.”

“I’ve got to get out!” Ron started to get up.

Sylvia put a hand on his shoulder. “Hold on, hold on. We’ll getcha out. Al’s gonna be here soon. Right? He’ll figger out what t’do. You jest rest. Dino went over you pretty good.”

Ron frowned. “How many of them were there?”

“I dunno,” she said. “Four or five. Maybe six.”

The little boy came back in. His eyes were wide with excitement. “Al’s comin’! He’s comin’ up here right now!”

Then he raced out of the room again.

“Al knows what t’do,” Sylvia said again.

For some reason that he didn’t fully understand himself, Ron wanted to be on his feet when Al came in. He started to struggle up. Sylvia helped him.

The boy popped in again, his face red and sweaty. “He’s here! Al’s right here!”

Ron expected to see a tall, broad-shouldered, steel-eyed leader of men. Instead, the guy who stepped into the room was about his own age, short and wiry. He was much smaller and skinnier than Dino. There was a scar running across his chin and odd-looking wrinkles around his eyes.

“This is th’ dude, huh?” Al’s voice was soft, quiet.

Sylvia answered, “He’s gotta be out before midnight or—”

“I know,” Al said. “You an’ th’ kid split.”

“But—”

“Split.”

Sylvia gave Ron a worried glance. Then she tried to smile and said, “Good-bye, Ron.”