As he walked among the strolling visitors, they stared at his filthy clothes and ragged looks and skirted clear of him. Ron laughed and clutched the credit card in his pocket. He went to the first hotel he could find. Using his credit card on the automated registration desk, he obtained a room and ordered new clothes. He bathed for an hour, feeling the beautiful hot water and clean-smelling soap take away his dirt and pain. And his fear.

For the first time in nearly a year, Ron wasn’t afraid.

But as he dressed, he began to worry about Sylvia. And Dewey. Maybe she was right, and there was no place Outside for her. But what about the old man? I can’t leave him here to go blind, all by himself. Yet, if he tried to take Dewey through a gate with him, Ron knew that the guards would send the ID-less old man to the Tombs.

He dressed slowly, lost in his thoughts, pulling on a disposable green zipsuit almost exactly like the one he had worn when he’d first come to the City. He was pushing his feet into the new boots when his hotel room door swung open and Timmy Jim walked in.

The fear flashed through Ron again. He stood there on the soft carpeting, fresh and clean, dressed in a crisp new suit. But he felt the way he had felt all year long, as if anything could happen to him any minute. He was alone. Unprotected.

Two black warriors stood out in the hall, grim-faced. Timmy Jim shut the door quietly.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” he asked.

“Outside. I’m getting out.”

“You think so.”

“Now look,” Ron said, “you can’t start trouble in here. The police . . .”

Timmy Jim smiled, but there was no humor in it. “The hardtops been paid off. I can take this hotel apart, brick by brick, if I want to. I can take this whole friggin’ City apart, any time I want to!”

Ron sank down on the bed. “Okay, so you’re top man. But there’s one thing you can’t do.”

“Name it.”

“You can’t make me go back with you. I’m finished. I’m going Outside . . . or you’ll have to kill me. One or the other.”

Timmy Jim blinked at him. “You’re bluffin’.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You think you’re gonna go Outside and warn ’em that we’re comin’ out . . . that we’re gonna take over?”

Ron shrugged.

Laughing, Timmy Jim said, “Man, they won’t believe word number one! They’ll think you’re spaced out!”

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I saved your ass, man,” Timmy Jim snapped. “You owe me your life. You ain’t gonna get outta that.”