It was not the morning light that was reflected in the bay! The city sat in a puddle of blood and more ran along the streets. Before my eyes the dead awoke. There was hardly an inch in the city that had not at one time been used for executions, as a plague pit, or for the wide ditches where mauled soldiers were disposed of in the aftermath of battle. The hands of the dead, some clean and bone white, others worm-eaten or waterlogged as after a drowning, reached up between the cobblestones like weeds. They groped blindly after the feet of the living.
