I can hear it. But I dare not look. Raising my head to window could well invite a bullet. Since the takeover, snipers have been stationed throughout our neighborhood with orders to kill anyone that has not turned themselves in. That being me, my wife and our dog. We don't know who else. It felt to us that turning yourself in was a death sentence. So we hid in a gap in the walls between the chimney and the exterior. I never would have known this space existed if a squirrel hadn't found it's way into it and died a few years ago. When the banana bread could no longer hide the stench, I worked my way down here from the attic to retrieve it's rotting corpse. It's enough room for us to sleep foot to head, but he dog doesn't fit. The dog is becoming a real problem, but I couldn't do what was necessary. I still can't.
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