Death and Debris
Leslie jotted down notes at his makeshift warden’s post, a stack of sandbags piled one upon the other at the end of a neighborhood street. Earlier he’d stopped to help an ambulance crew pull the injured, dead, and near-dead from the remains of a four-story building of flats. Many of the inhabitants had ignored the sirens and hadn’t bothered to run to the shelters. Standing there watching the ambulance team make their way through the mess, Leslie felt as though someone was watching him, that he wasn’t completely alone. Is someone behind the scenes pulling strings like a puppeteer, watching out for my welfare? He knew it was fancy, his imagination playing tricks. Of course, that had to be the explanation. Worn out, nerves shattered, he was running on fumes and knew it.
He
