Concerning the Street Car

A flurry of cars rocked over the trestle, showering a curtain of coquelicot sparks and sibilant murmurs. Hoell stayed toward the center of the street, watchful eye on the flickering barrel fires. A bearded man coughed into gloved hands but ignored him. The one-eared dog at his feet looked at Hoell briefly, then lost interest. In a moment Hoell was mounting the saturnine stone steps up the embankment toward the parallel of Second Street, elevated train lumbering noisily past. In a brief flash of its light Hoell thought he saw something else beneath the trestle, an impression more than an image, a figure cut from the darkness of the night. The dog uttered a low growl. The man coughed again, almost apologetically. Hoell kept walking.