Ron nearly screamed. He did scream, in his mind. But he managed to keep it silent.

He got to the basement and found them both asleep, untouched.

“Come on, we’re going upstairs,” Ron said as he shook Sylvia awake.

“Wh . . . whassa matter?”

“Rats.”

He could feel the shudder go through her. Silently, they climbed to the top floor of the building and slept on the floor of a bare little room.

But Ron slept very little, only in snatches of a few minutes each. By the time morning started lighting the streets outside, he was wide awake and aching with cold. And he was hungry.

Davey was coughing again. And crying.

“Ron, he feels hot. Like he’s burnin’ up!” Sylvia said.

The child’s face was red. Fever.

“He needs food,” Sylvia said, her voice close to cracking.

“And medicine,” Ron added.

Davey’s eyes were still closed, but he was moaning softly, “It hurts . . . hurts . . .”

Dewey! Dewey will know what to do. He’ll have food. And medicine, too, maybe.

“I’ve got to get to the market,” Ron told her. “I can get food there, and whatever else we need.”

“Th’ market? You’ll never make it that far.”

“Yes I will. I’ve got to.”

She reached for his arm. “Ron, don’t! You’ll get caught. If th’ Chelsea gang don’t getcha some other gang will. They all know Al’s dead by now. They won’t give a damn what they do to you!”

He pulled free of her. “I can’t sit here and let us starve. Davey needs food and medicine. No way to get them except at the market.”

“Ron, wait—”

“I’ll be back,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”

He was out the door before she could say anything else.

It took three days. Ron had to travel slowly, avoiding everybody and anybody on the streets. Most of the day he inched along, a block at a time, sometimes just a building at a time. Ducking into a doorway, he’d look carefully out onto the street and wait until no one was in sight. Then he’d sprint as far as he dared and duck into another doorway, praying that nobody saw him.

Twice he was spotted. Once he simply outran a pack of little kids. He ran until his lungs were aflame and his vision blurred. He raced down one block, cut around a corner, through an alleyway, up a fire-escape ladder, and down the other side of the building. When he collapsed, chest heaving painfully, the kids were nowhere in sight.

Just as night was falling he was surprised by three warriors from a gang he didn’t know. Ron stepped into a shadowy doorway and the three of them were already in there. They were just as surprised as he was.

They were smoking something and didn’t expect to be disturbed. For a flash of a second the three of them froze, wide-eyed, scared. Before they could recover, Ron took off, running wildly again. After a few minutes he looked back over his shoulder. No one was following.