Night was falling, the mosquitoes singing and buzzing. The neat little laneways and homey, patchwork buildings lay in ruins around them. The shantytowners clustered in little groups or picked through the ruins. Drivers of passing cars slowed down to rubberneck, and a few shouted filthy, vengeful things at them. Suzanne took pictures of their license plates. She'd publish them when she got home. A light drizzle fell. Children cried. The swampy sounds of cicadas and frogs and mosquitoes filled the growing dark and then the streetlights flicked on all down the river of highway, painting everything in blue-white mercury glow. "We've got to get tents up," Francis said. He grabbed a couple of young men and gave them orders, things to look for -- fresh water, plastic sheeting, anything with which to erect shelters. Lester started to help them, and Perry stood with his hands on his hips, next to Suzanne. "Jesus Christ," he said. "This is a fucking disaster. I mean, these people are used to living rough, but this --" he broke off, waving his hands helplessly. He wiped his palms off on his butt, then grabbed Francis. "Get them going," he said. "Get them to gather up their stuff and walk them down to our place. We've got space for everyone for now at least." Francis looked like he was going to say something, then he stopped. He climbed precariously up on the hood of Lester's car and shouted for people to gather round. The boys he bossed around took up the call and it wasn't long before nearly everyone was gathered around them. "Can everyone hear? This is as loud as I go." There were murmurs of assent. Suzanne had seen him meet with his people before in the daylight and the good times, seen the respect they afforded to him. He wasn't the leader, per se, but when he spoke, people listened. It was a characteristic she'd encountered in the auto-trade and in technology, in the ones the others all gravitated to. Charismatics. "We've got a place to stay a bit up the road for tonight. It's about a half hour walk. It's indoors and there's toilets, but maybe not much to make beds out of. Take what you can carry for about a mile, you can come back tomorrow for the rest. You don't have to come, but this isn't going to be any fun tonight." A woman came forward. She was young, but not young enough to be a homegirl. She had long dark hair and she twisted her hands as she spoke in a soft voice to Francis. "What about our stuff? We can't leave it here tonight. It's all we've got."