"You ought to," Danniels said. "You're from there." She was tired. It was a moment before she could continue fighting. "That's foolish--" He hadn't been sure. If she hadn't hesitated he might have given up the notion. "That getup was what was foolish," Danniels snorted. "Anybody would know you were trying to hide something as soon as they found out the masquerade." "You wouldn't have found it out," she said, "if one of that Pack hadn't torn my jacket off." "I really don't know. It might be animal magnetism, if there is such a thing. But I can't be around a woman for long without knowing it. I repeat: why?" "I--I didn't know what they would do to a girl outside." "For Peace sake, why did you have to come out at all?" The girl was silent for a mile. "Most Chicagoans think the rest of the world has reverted to barbarism," she told him. "A common complaint of city dwellers," he observed. "Don't joke!" she demanded. "Our food is running out. We have enough to last five more years if the present birth-death cycle maintains itself." * * * * * Danniels whistled mournfully. "And you have--let's see--about seven more years to go." She nodded. "I came out to see what chance there was of ending this senseless blockade." "None at all," he snapped. "No one is going to risk breaking the rules of the War Games just to save a few million lives." "But they will have to! The Broadcasters will make them." "You would be surprised at how much doublethink people can practice about not killing," he assured her from bitter, personal experience. "They don't _know_ for certain that you will be starving in there, so they will be free to keep you inside." The girl straightened her shoulders, emphasizing the femininity of her slender form. "We'll tell them," she said. "_I'll_ tell them." Danniels almost smiled, but not quite. His hands tightened on the steering wheel and he kept his eyes to the moving circle of light against the night. "You open your mouth about Chicago to the authorities or anyone else and they will slap you under sedation and keep you there until you die of old age. They used to drop escapees back into the cities by parachute. But too many of them were inadvertently killed; they are more subtle these days. By the way," he said very casually, "how _did_ you escape?" She told him where to go in a primitive, timeless fashion. "No," Danniels said. "I'm going to Chicago." "Not with me," the girl assured him quietly. "We have enough to feed without bringing in another Jonah. Besides you might be an F.B.I. man or something trying to find our escape route."