A group of warriors was slowly coming down the street, rifles in their hands. Ron recognized one of them as a member of the Chelsea gang, a kid who had stayed with him whenever he went through the Chelsea warehouses. Striding down the street beside him, grinning happily, was Dino.

Ron’s insides suddenly felt as if someone had lit a fire in him. He gripped the edge of the basement window ledge so hard that his fingernails bit into the dust-caked cement.

If only I had a gun . . . Then Ron thought of Sylvia and Davey, still huddled behind the furnace. There was nothing he could do. Nothing but watch.

The Chelsea warriors stopped at one of the bodies. It was lying face-down on the sidewalk. Dino nudged the body with the toe of his boot. My boot! Ron thought furiously.

Dino pushed the body over onto its back. It was Al. Ron sagged against the gritty basement wall.

“That’s him,” he heard Dino say. “Good.”

Sick with anger and sadness, Ron made his way back to the furnace. Sylvia was sitting against its sooty black metal side, half-asleep. Davey was still in her arms, his eyes still squeezed shut, still whimpering.

Sylvia opened her eyes as Ron sat on the floor beside her. She looked completely exhausted.

“It was the Chelsea gang,” Ron said quietly. “Dino’s with them.”

She didn’t move, didn’t say anything.

“They got Al. He’s dead.”

Sylvia looked at him. “Yer sure?”

“I saw his body.”

She nodded. Nothing else. No tears, no words. Only a nod.

They sat there for a long, long time. Ron didn’t know what to do. The only sound was Davey’s muffled crying.

Slowly Ron realized that the boy was saying a word, one single word over and over again:

“Mommy . . . Mommy . . . Mommy.”

Ron stared at the boy, then at Sylvia. She was rocking Davey now, bending her head low over his and whispering into his ear: “It’s all right, Davey . . . it’s all right . . . I’m here, honey . . . Mommy’s here . . .”

“You’re . . . you’re his mother?” Ron’s voice went high with shock.

She looked up at him. “Didn’t you know? Al was his father.”

And now there were tears in her eyes.

Chapter 13

The day was cold. Hiding down in the unheated basement, huddling in the dust and dirt, Ron could feel the cold seeping into his bones. Sylvia was dozing. Davey was asleep at last, still in her lap, clinging to her.

Ron went to the window a dozen times an hour. The bodies were still there. The day looked gray and felt damp, as if snow were coming. Of course, inside the Dome no snow ever fell. But it felt like a snowy winter day.

Davey woke up late in the afternoon.

“I’m hungry,” he whined.

“Shh,” Sylvia said. “We gotta wait a while before we can eat.”