Peter looked south. "He’s got reason to be." Across the river stood the
ruined skyscrapers of Chicago’s old Loop, once the city’s downtown. Now it was
known as the Noose, home only to squatters, criminals, and—living among the
massive rubble of the fallen IBM Tower—ghouls. He spotted some bright orange
flames burning through the windows of buildings; warmth for squatters. Aside
from those burning dots of light, the Noose was a sea of impenetrable blackness.