The lights of Navy Pier shine against the darkening sky when my pocket buzzes. I practically shove a paper into the hands of an older woman and look for Atlas as I pull out my phone.

SOMETHING BIG IS HAPPENING. DAD HAS GONE INTO THE MAYOR’S OFFICE. I’M ALONE AND LOOKING NOW.

Rose’s message means we might have mere minutes before Marshals arrive. But if she’s just starting her search, we can’t clear out. We have to reach more people and keep her dad busy long enough for her to have a chance of finding the location of the Unity Centers.

I send the prearranged alert to the team and look around. Large clusters of people are on the other side of the street, moving toward Navy Pier. So I yell to Atlas to head for the crosswalk.

Sirens blare in the distance.

The glow of the top half of the slowly moving Navy Pier Ferris wheel shines in the sky.

The light changes before Atlas can cross. Cars zoom by, and I hurry from person to person, handing out the sheets Dewey designed with the word “VERIFY” at the top.

“Isn’t using paper like this against the law?” someone yells.

“Go find a recycling center.”

“Whatever that is, I don’t want it.”

“Please, take a look,” I urge. “It’s important.”

More sirens. Closer than before. And I haven’t handed out enough papers yet. I have to work faster.

I approach a group of people dressed in long satin dresses with rhinestones and suits and ties and fumble as I try to give them each a page as quickly as possible before moving on to the next group. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a guy standing under the Navy Pier archway just behind me—glaring at the paper in my hand.

Someone bumps me as I hurry to a group of college-age guys who push my papers aside with sneers and laughs, and I turn to look for someone else to hand them to. The sound of an electric bass coming from the pier pulses like a strobe light in my chest.

Fountains gurgle and spray.

Another siren screams in the air, and a police car comes into view.

I spot Atlas far to my left. He waves both arms over his head. He shouts something I can’t hear over the cars and the band and the people laughing and the sound of the water as it swooshes up and crashes to the pavement behind me. I take two steps toward him when he shakes his head, points to a woman twenty feet away, and mouths the word “Run!”

I don’t need to look at the shoes. The way the eyes of the woman in the jean jacket and button-down shirt narrow and how she begins to move when she sees the paper in my hands tell me all I need to know. I start to my right, then see a man in a dark jacket stepping out from behind a post. With my heart pounding hard in my ears, I turn toward the lights and music and run.