Chapter 3. Down the length of the alley, hurried footsteps echoed. The orange light that glowed through

a spider's web of cracks in a basement window brought a shadow into view. Long, bent and twisted

against the dark brick walls the shadow seemed to shrink as the sound of footfalls grew louder. Smaller now,

less grotesque, the shadow resolved itself into human form, shrank still and almost seemed to

disappear as the figure that had cast it appeared. It was a square-built man, blockish and breathing

heavily. He cast a hasty glance back over his shoulder. Had he lost

them? Dan Tyler was on his way home, his workday finally completed. It was payday, and Tyler

had been working a lot of overtime. It wasn't much money, but when it was everything a man

had in the world, it was enough to make him paranoid, enough to make him feel like a target,

to walk like a victim. Maybe that's what had attracted them. Maybe they just knew the plant

employees had been paid and pegged Dan for an easy target. Many of the others had left in packs,

headed for the taverns up the street. Not Dan Tyler. He had four children at home, and with the

baby not well, they needed every dime he could

earn. He was still breathing hard now, trying to be quiet to listen for any sound that might betray

his pursuers. He could hear his own heart pounding, echoing in his ears. Maybe he had lost them.

Maybe he'd imagined the whole thing. He'd felt their presence almost at once upon leaving the factory gates.

"'There were two of them, one on each side of the street.

"'They had turned when he turned, sped up when he sped up.

"'Finally he had bolted left and sprinted for this alley,

"'made his way down the length of the narrow canyon between buildings

"'as quickly and quietly as he could,

"'hoping against hope that he'd been wrong, that it had all been in his head.

...