Among the many aromas that greet the residents inside the overheated shelter on the west side of New York City is the unmistakable scent of chlorine bleach. It has permeated the hot air and settled around the several hundred people that have recently wakened. Windows with waves in the glass direct midmorning light onto many of the beds in the dormitory-style room. Frank, a thirty-four-year-old former warehouseman with an 'anxiety and nervousness problem, ' is fearful of being attacked during the night. He sleeps on his side because otherwise, he says, 'I'd be a flat target.'