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sprinted towards the alley across the street.
    I hit the alley without breaking stride. Behind me I could hear the angry cries and running feet of the mob. I sprinted into the darkness praying there were none of them coming in the other direction. I didn’t see the chain link fence until it was too late and I ran at full speed into it.
    I found myself knocked backward as the air was expelled forcibly from my lungs. I landed flat on my back and felt the back of my head smash into the concrete floor of the alley.
    Winded and dazed I heard them closing in. To my right I noticed the hulking shapes of a couple of dumpsters and started to crawl in that direction. I reached the dumpsters and managed to wedge myself behind one , as my pursuers blundered past in the darkness.
    I heard them rattling the fence, heard angry, guttural words exchanged, then heard them slowly disperse. There were easier meals to be had. 
    I lay in the space behind the dumpster for what seemed like hours, until eventually the cramp in my muscles became almost unbearable. Then I crawled out and , still lying on my belly, looked around the dumpster towards the mouth of the alley. Nothing was moving in the street beyond and I was just about to get up when one of the creatures stumbled past the entrance to the street. He stopped and sniffed the air then moved on .
    I decided it was probably safer to wait out the couple of hours until daybreak . I wanted to get back to Ruby, but I wasn’t going to be much good to her dead. And if she’d been alone this long another hour or two wasn’t going to make much difference.
    I pulled myself into one of the dumpster s and closed the lid . It stunk to high heaven but whatever was in there was soft and I fell asleep instantly .
    I woke to the smell of burning flesh. S hafts of light filtering through what looked like bullet holes in the side of the dumpster. I peered through one of the holes and could see someone crouching in the alley.
    The man wore a brand new pair of jeans and a plaid shirt, with the price tickets still attached to the sleeve. On his feet he wore a , similarly new , pair of Nike hiking boots , with the laces removed. The new clothes were offset by his appearance, the brick-red complexion of a long time wino, filthy graying hair and matching beard.
    The wino squatted next to a smoky fire into which had been thrown a side of bloody meat that looked like a pale thigh. The smell of the seared meat coupled with the putrid stench of the dumpster made me gag and I had to fight back the urge to hurl . 
    At the fire, the man was rubbing his hands in anticipation of his meal. He picked up a bottle of Chivas Regal and took a long pull. He looked like he was going to be there a while.
    Which left me with two choices, either I could hunker down in the dumpster and wait for him to finish whatever it was he was cooking, or I could catch him by surprise and make a run for it.
    The worse of it is that , despite my initial revulsion, the smell of whatever the wino was broiling in the fire was making m e salivate. I hadn’t eaten in the last 24 hours and I’d burned off a lot of energy in that time.  My body was telling me I needed sustenance and despite myself… No. I had to move, and it I had to be now.
    I felt round in the dumpster for a weapon, a plank of wood, a bottle, anything. But there was only rotting vegetation, mainly cabbage leaves which explained the softness of my bed.
    Weapon or no weapon, I needed to move. I peered through one of the bullet holes and saw the wino still at the fire.
    About ten feet behind him I could see the rusted chain link fence , still bearing the imprint of where I’d crashed into it during the night. It effectively cut off the alley, and I was glad I hadn’t tried to climb it in the darkness – it was topped with some lethal looking razor- wire .
    I decided I had to regard the wino as d angerous until proven otherwi s e . In these crazy times, who knew how someone was going