A woman collapsed and fell to the pavement. Others looked up, cursing and shaking their fists at the people in the windows. A sofa came tumbling down next, and everyone on the sidewalk scattered for safety.

A police car pulled up, its red roof light pulsing like a living heart. Four hardtops jumped out of the car and raced into the hotel.

“They must be crazy in there,” Ron said.

“It’s th’ last night. They all go kinda flakey. Gonna be a tough night.”

Ron shook his head. And then they go home to be hardworking businessmen and loving fathers again. Until next summer. Suddenly he started to wonder what his own father did every night while they visited the City together, every night when he left Ron in their hotel room watching TV while he went out and didn’t return until Ron was sound asleep.

Smoke was coming from one of the hotel windows now. A woman was screaming, and Ron could hear the deeper shouts of angry men.

“They’re all sick,” Sylvia said.

They walked on. Ron forgot how tired he was, because his stomach was reminding him about how many meals he had missed. He was hungry. He’d never felt really hungry before in his life. It hurt.

Police cars cruised through the streets, but soon the crowd thinned down and Ron and Sylvia were in a part of the City that was deserted. They walked alone up the empty, filthy, littered sidewalks. He didn’t speak to her. He couldn’t. Sylvia remained silent, too, until: “You think I’m a crud, dontcha?”

“Should I be happy that you stole my money?”

“I . . .” Sylvia looked confused. “I don’t know how to say it right, Ron. Like . . . I don’t wantcha t’ think I’m a crud.”

He kept walking.

It was hard for her to keep up with him. She nearly had to run. “Okay, I clipped yer money. Right? But . . . that had nothin’ t’ do with whether I like ya or not. Catch? Th’ money’s just money. It ain’t you and me.”

“It was my money. And I trusted you.”

“Yeah, but me and Al and the kids need it more’n you. You can get more. We can’t. Not ’til next summer.”

“And you needed it so much you had to steal it.”

“I needed it fer Davey an’ me. He’s jest a little kid . . . he hasta have food all winter.”

“Couldn’t you get a job?”

She looked at Ron as if he were crazy. “A job? How’m I gonna get a job? All th’ jobs’re taken by people who live outside th’ City. They come in fer two months in th’ summer and make enough t’ live on th’ rest a th’ year.”

“Well, you could apply for a job too,” Ron insisted. “There are employment centers where they can find jobs for you.”

Sylvia stopped walking. “Ron, you jest don’t unnerstand. We got no ID’s. None of th’ kids. We don’t exist! As far as th’ hardtops an’ th’ computers an’ th’ world outside th’ Dome’s concerned, we don’t exist. They throw us in th’ Tombs an’ get rid of us whenever they catch one of us.”