Curfew

The city is dark. A wind twists up litter and leaves. It is late. The streets are dry and dusty. The city is dark and quiet. It is the first hour after curfew.

All the windows are dark. It is quiet and late. Every one is quiet and still. Every one peers into the dark and waits. It is as always. A few blocks away a truck moves along the street. A strong searchlight scans from the roof of the cab and another scans from the rear. The beams move low to the ground and fill alleys and lanes. They slowly climb the walls of buildings reflecting sharply as they pass over the black windows. It is as always. A few blocks away a truck moves.

During the night dogs move through the city. They come through the dry streets. They come from the dark edges of the city and move inwards. They look for food.

Inside it is quiet and still. There are no voices. Occasionally gunfire is audible. It comes from various pockets of the city. Occasionally a strong light passes across the window. Everyone is quiet and still. It is impossible to sleep.

They come in packs. They move through the late streets. They sniff and look for food. They move through alleys and lanes. They move across parks and squares. They scrape at rubble and look for food. They retreat sharply from any sound.

It is as always. There are pockets of gunfire. Everyone waits for daybreak.

A truck moves slowly along a narrow street. Tê moves ahead and behind. For a moment the light captures a dark figure. The truck moves ahead. Again the light captures the figure. Both lights aim at it. It remains still. Where they overlap the area is as bright as daylight.
It is as always. It is dark.

They move slowly and quietly. Their skin stretches tightly across their ribs. Their skin is covered with sores and clotted wounds. Their eyes recognize nothing. They stay in the dark and sniff. They come through the streets and retreat. They sniff at the dead and on occasion certain dogs eat the bullet torn flesh.

The night comes. The windows are sealed. Everyone sits in the dark.

It is late. The city is black. Everyone waits for daybreak.

Dogs move along a narrow street. On either side are empty buildings. It is dark. They stop and sniff toward a dark doorway. They turn slowly and approach the building. They stop again. In the dark doorway is a motionless figure.
In the distance the low sound of a truck can be heard. The night is black. There are pockets of gunfire. Everyone sits in the dark. Sometimes a strong light moves across the window. It fills the room. Everyone is still and quiet. It is as always.

Dogs stand over the still figure and gaze into its open eyes. The wind moves. It is late. A dog in one motion rips away some blood-soaked material. Another dog moves and quickly tears open the flesh.