Savaged by gratuitous (?) inevitable (?)--take your choice--acts of violence and desolate beyond belief--this cruises the dark streets of an indeterminate city with Robert Southwark, a good cop and a good man handpicked for self-destruct. Thus, if only by conscience, he becomes involved in the rumored attempt of his rich brother-in-law to dispose of his wife, Southwark's sister Joan, via two ugly gunhands hired for the hit; thus he also ignores the threats against his own household--his dog's throat is cut, his only daughter will be killed. At the end he's pulled in, without a chance of defending himself, for his reprisals. . . . Violence is everywhere, as is suffering (""Huge blood-leafed trees are hemorrhaging from myriad wounds"") so that you cannot escape the ecological/allegorical implications or the surcharge of unappeasable despair.