Like cockroaches in the glare of a sudden kitchen light, they scattered and skittered into cracks and holes, disappearing into dark places and retreating from the stuttering roar. In their wake they left backpacks and sacks loaded with cans of food, weapons, and jugs of water.
A mother ran out, risking everything to grab a nondescript duffel and race for cover as the staccato sound of an automatic weapon followed her. Splinters of concrete stung her bare legs and feet. Then all was silent, and all waited for the watchers to grow bored and look elsewhere.
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