In the Belly of the Beast

37

It was a life changing moment, a brief explosion of understanding.

 Sam was at the end of the hallway in the neighbor's old home and underwent a transforming experience. They had him in their control, the man and the beautiful woman. He was theirs, as totally and completely as if they'd given birth to him.

More so, really for natural parents can only lay claim to their offspring's body. A child, as they say, has a mind of his own.

Not Sam. 

He was theirs, not in body, but mind and soul.

They had sent him home after letting him see the awesome manifestation of miracles. Without coat, gloves, or flashlight, he had crossed the way that joined the two houses.

He heard the scream, but paid no heed. He turned the knob of the unlocked back door and let himself into the F.M.'s kitchen.

Neither Lenny nor the foster mother was anywhere to be seen. 

The door to the basement was ajar, but before he could investigate, he heard a knock on the front door.

Mecham had rounded the corner and came to the back of the house seconds after Sam had reentered. It was difficult making one's way through the clutter and debris that lay in the yard.

A flare of light caught his attention, and he knelt and peered through the basement window.

Fire.

The basement was on fire.

He stumbled over a lone cinderblock. His head hit the frozen earth. He was dazed but found the flashlight a few feet from where he'd dropped it.

As he careened around the side of the house, he saw Fontaine on the porch talking to a little boy.

"Fontaine! Get on the horn. Get the fire department. This place is on fire!"

She made her way down the steps. Mecham bolted up the steps and into the front door.

"How many people live here, son?"

"Three."

"You and two others?"

"Yes."

"Are they here now?"

"Yes. Me. The foster momand Lenny. Lenny's a retard."

"O.K."

"Go out to the patrol car and stay there. You understand? Get into the car and don't go anywhere."

"I understand."

"Good boy. Now hurry!"

Sam walked out the front door. Mecham lost sight of the little boy as he raced through the house. The place was lit like Halloween. He'd never seen so many candles. He bolted upstairs, calling, and searched downstairs but found no one.

He hit the kitchen running and stopped dead when he saw the basement door ajar. The smoke billowed from below, and the floor felt hot under his shoe soles.

He edged toward the door and looked down the stairwell.

If the first and second floors were any indication, the basement must be vomiting junk. With a sickening sense of dread, he realized he probably stood atop a tinderbox, fueled and ready to be engulfed.

"Help me!" the female voice cried. "For god sakes, help!"

He could not hear the roar of sirens, the welcomed sounds of rescue. They had not arrived.

Where's a fuckin' fireman when you need him? 

He threw his arm in front of his face and tried the stairs.

"Can you hear me!" he yelled into the thickening air.

"Help me!" she wailed.

"Where are you? I can't see you," he said and coughed to dispel the smoke from his lungs.

"I'm at the foot of the stairs. I've fallen! Please! Come to the foot of the stairs!" she begged.

He stepped down, down, into the dark unknown. His eyes poured water, and his lungs burned. He reached the last step and his foot felt the hardness of the concrete floor.

The whole place glowed with an orange radiance. Stacks of rubbish were piled ten feet high. He'd thought the upper floors were cluttered, but they didn't come anywhere close to the mess that was below. He hadn't begun to imagine the amount of stuff stored here.

The place wasn't fit for pigs. And where were the pigs who lived here? He didn't see anyone anywhere.

"Lady! Where are you! Lady!" he yelled.

"I'm right here officer," the calm, feminine voice said.

He turned around to see the hulking form of a man. His lips were full, the bottom one hung limply from the guy's jaw. A thick stream of drool ran from the corner of his mouth and disappeared under his chin.

"Son! Son, where's your mother?"

"Mother's in the back," he said in the feminine voice.

The tone was that of an older woman, middle-aged, and Mecham opened his mouth to scream.

"We're playing a little game just now. I'm sure you'd love to join us."

It threw it's head back, laughing delightedly.

The sound of Mecham's scream followed, echoing to the inner reaches of the blazing room.