The city hadn't slept in three nights.
Ash drifted along the avenues like snow, carried from the burning warehouses by the Hudson.
The skyline flickered between shadow and flame. Gunfire came and went in the distance, a thunder that never faded.
Captain James Mallory adjusted his helmet strap.
Broadway was barricaded with overturned cars and sandbags.
The posters on the walls still screamed Buy War Bonds. Keep America Free. Someone had painted over the last word in black: Obedient.
"Second platoon, move up," he ordered. "Safeties on until contact."
The men advanced in silence.
Their boots left no sound on the wet pavement. Even the city seemed to hold its breath.
A radio hissed on Mallory's shoulder.
