NINE
Eyelids growing heavy, I lay among the trash, listening to the rain. My body surrounded by stinking plastic bags, rotting half-eaten meals, and the buzz of flies. I had no idea where I was. Probably for the best. I breathed lungfuls of the reeking air and tried to calm down, my heart punching at my ribs from within.
I ignored the humidity and listened to the settling sound of the summer rain; it was soothing. In the distance I could hear the wail of the sirens drawing away. Somewhere a man screamed, elsewhere a baby cried, nearby a motor-coach rumbled. Its pistons fired like a great mechanical heart.
The continuous rush of a downspout or a broken pipe added a layer of white noise to the sounds of Level Two. I was exhausted and the constant woosh lulled me into a sense of ease, and
