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I can’t find a heartbeat. I look over at Albert, and my hopes shatter at the expression on his face.
    Albert catches my glance, wipes the moisture from his face with his white sleeve, and shakes his head.
    “No.” Frantically, I resume pushing on the boy’s chest. “No, no, no.”
    Albert kneels next to me, pushes me away, and checks his vitals.
    “I’m sorry,” he says, lifting his head. The look on his face echoes the horror gnawing at my chest. “We did our best.”
    Ignoring him, I jump up and rush over to Grace, where she’s lying still and lifeless.
    Frantically, I check for her heartbeat.
    There isn’t one.
    Stubbornly, I begin CPR. Her lips are blue and cold as I breathe air into her, and her chest feels inanimate, like that of a doll’s. I perform round after round of CPR, losing track of time as I toil over Grace’s body.
    Someone grasps my arm and pulls me away.
    “That’s enough, Theo,” Liam says when I look up, ready to fight. His voice cracks as he says hoarsely, “We have to face it. Grace is dead.”

6
    I stare at my friend , uncomprehending. The pain in his eyes echoes the agonizing throb in my chest. My grief, or whatever this is, is so overwhelming that I think I zone out for a moment. Over Liam’s shoulder, I see the red sky, and I stare blankly at it. Eventually, I notice white text scrolling across the Dome. Maybe it’s been there all along, but I haven’t noticed it until now. I squint at it and make out part of the messages scrolling past. Most of them are warnings. I spot the same warning about the nitrogen and oxygen being out of whack. I pushed the initial warning out of my mind, but now that I think about it, the implications are dire. It means we’re—
    Sharp pain brings me out of my daze.
    Blinking, I gape at Liam—who just smacked me across the cheek, like an ancient wife with a philandering husband.
    “Dude, what the hell?” I rub my stinging cheek.
    “You weren’t responding,” Liam says defensively. “I wanted you to snap out of it. We have to do something .”
    I notice he’s doing his best not to look at Grace’s body or the dead boy—or Owen, for that matter.
    I look around for the Guard. “Where’s Albert?”
    “Who?” Liam follows my gaze in confusion.
    “The Guard who came out of the building with me. Where is he? He’s not insane enough to go back in there, is he?”
    “Oh, the Guard,” Liam says. “No, he doesn’t need to go back into the building. He said it’s clear.”
    “So where is he then?”
    “He headed that way.” Liam points toward the forest. “He didn’t say why.”
    I scan the golf course in the distance. The short grass has an odd reddish-black tint thanks to the redness of the Dome, and Albert’s white spacesuit is easy to spot.
    “We should follow him,” I say, a vague plan forming in my mind.
    “Why?” Liam asks.
    “You wanted to do something, ” I say. “This is as good as anything, under the circumstances.”
    “I guess, but I don’t see how leaving the group will help.”
    “I’ll explain as we go,” I say and begin to make my way through the crowd of Youths. To myself, I mumble, “Assuming I figure out what the hell to do.”
    Liam looks like a duckling following its mama as he trails after me. I can tell he’s not sure about leaving the Youths, but his trust in me—or maybe his general confusion—wins over, and he keeps following me.
    When we leave the crowd behind, Liam recovers enough to take the lead, his eyes glued to Albert’s figure in the distance.
    “Habitat’s oxygen levels critically low,” Phoe’s sky voice announces. “Nitrogen levels critically high. Carbon monoxide levels rising. Thermostatic modules malfunctioning.”
    “What does that mean?” Liam says, stopping so suddenly that I almost walk into him.
    “I think it means that what happened inside the buildings is happening outside,” I say, trying to ignore the expanding knot of fear in my throat. “It means Oasis’s