“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.