III'D SEEN WHERE THE girl had been taken, down an alleyway where no one else would go.
Except me. Harmless old me.
Because that was my calling. To make the poor rich, to enable the blind to see.
First I had to save that life.
Using the echoes of the high walls, I started making sounds that sounded like a wild cat - or several - were loose in the alleys behind them. The dead-end alley would echo worse than a simple street. Or so I hoped.
Mixing wild screams with over-tipped trash cans and taking two lids to bang like cymbals against each other and the antique fire escapes, the result was like a pack of coyotes - rabid zombie dogs - were coming toward them.
I heard their own noises and chanting quiet. And they were scurrying for the openings that weren't there. Because the one thing th
