One of the Zulus kicked the door open and leapt into the alley, whirling 
his blade in a vast, fatal arc like the blade of a helicopter, slicing through 
a garbage can but not hitting any people. When Carl came piling through the 
door a few seconds later, he saw several young toughs scattering down the 
alley, dodging among several dozen refugees, loiterers, and street people who 
pointed helpfully at their receding backsides, making sure it was understood 
that their only reason for being in this alley at this time was to act as a 
sort of block watch on behalf of the gwailo visitors.