October 2026 - Vol. 23, Issue 5

William poured sugar into his coffee, stirred it thoughtfully.

Tom glanced at him.

"How was your weekend?"

William gave a bleak smile.

"Don't ask." Sipped his coffee. "We had a lousy time. Didn't pull into our driveway until two this morning."

"Tired, huh."

"Tom, that's the least of it." William stared out the coffee shop's picture window at afternoon traffic. "It started Friday night when we got to the campground. At the sign-in shack, they said they didn't have a record of my reservation. Or my advance payment. The man who took it over the phone? On vacation."

"Man, what'd ya do?"

"Paid again by credit card. I should get a refund. They had an open campsite, near the entrance, but a half mile from the pond. By then it was too dark to set up our tent."

"You had to sleep in your station-wagon?"

"Yeah. The kids drove me crazy. They couldn't sleep."

Tom sipped his coffee.

"We got plenty of exercise hiking to the darn water. Listened to people arriving and leaving all through the night, every night. Dust covered everything."

They both fell silent when a shapely girl in a short skirt and high heels walked past.

"Nice working in a college town…."

"Yup," Tom agreed, "sure is. And I'm inspecting the Lyceum Grill after break. Plenty of students are employed there."

William sighed.

"My last job is over on Harbor Street."

"Upper or lower?"

"Lower."

"Ouch. Garbage?"

"Fire escape."

"Be careful." Tom finished his bagel, rubbed his hands. "Take your big flashlight and a can of mace."

"Don't worry, I won't hang around. Wished I wasn't so tired, though. Almost didn't wake up in time." William smiled. "The landscapers in the neighborhood must've had the day off. It was pretty quiet this morning."

"I cut my own lawn."

William crumpled his coffee cup, pulled out his wallet.

"My turn, right?"

"Hey, sure you can afford it? Camping in Maine and all?"

"That's why I skipped my jelly donut. I'll have it next time."

"It figures." Tom left a dollar-fifty tip and winked at the pretty waitress.

~

William found a parking spot in front of the apartment building, a four-story Federal of faded red brick. The double doors were propped open with metallic milk crates. Trash consisting of discarded newspapers, McDonald's wrappers, beer and wine bottles, spilled out of the foyer and down the steps. A yellow mongrel dog sat outside wagging its tail.

"Hello, fella." He tentatively reached out a hand. The dog licked it much to his relief. "Good dog." He petted it.

The dog whined because it may have been hungry, or just needful for the least sign of affection. It wouldn't go inside.

William entered and climbed the stairs. The stairway on every floor reeked of piss, fried cooking odors, vomit, and as he lingered a moment on each landing, the smell of marijuana and the burnt whiff of cooked spoons. The top level lay in darkness, the lights broken or stolen. He pulled out his flashlight and flicked it on.

The faint howl of a child cut the quiet like a knife. He listened to a rising yip, yip, yip as if punishment had descended on, or caught, a young guilty soul. The cries abruptly ceased as his footsteps echoed down the hallway's cracked tiles. He went past that door and knocked on the next one. Some stinks wouldn’t cease. He wished for a scented handkerchief.

The apartment door opened the length of its chain. A woman's bloated face peered at him.

"What yuh want?"

William showed his badge.

"Ma'am, I'm a building inspector with the city of Dover. I need access to your apartment to check the landlord's fire escape for safety reasons. It's a routine evaluation."

He said in a softer tone, "I must see your fire escape, Ma'am. To make sure it's up to code. If not, we'll see that it's fixed. It'll only take a few minutes to see. Okay?"

Her eyes registered nothing. The badge, however, got the chain off the latch and the door opened. She sneered.

"Yah, I don't care." She stepped aside and let him enter, then glanced both ways in the hallway before slamming the door.

William saw a dimly lit hovel. A naked bulb hung from a wire in the ceiling and illuminated the first room that was the kitchen. A fresh stench revealed a darkened bathroom with no door. Someone used it noisily. Silence waited to see his reactions. He sensed this and gripped his flashlight tighter. He felt tired and blinked his eyes and sighed.

The lady wore a polka dot dress that clung to a surprisingly trim figure. Her hair was gray and ratty. A group of people sat around the kitchen table. They passed a joint to each other. They waited for her. She led him to the living room where he could see the fire escape outside a living room window. Then she returned to the table and received the joint and took a toke.

William looked around the living room. Pot smoke hovered in the air. Bits of trash littered the carpet. Mostly candy wrappers and shoes. Then his eyes discovered and became transfixed by a picture over the mantelpiece--of Jesus Christ.

He had first seen the print in Methodist Sunday school years ago. It had Jesus with long auburn hair, a tanned face, soft liquid brown eyes, an aquiline nose, thin lips, firm chin. He wore a pleated off-white shepherd's robe.

Jesus gazed upwards, apparently to His Father in Heaven. The unknown artist had given Him an expression of pensive pain in a Face of ethereal beauty.

William smiled and did a doubletake when he noticed a little boy sitting beneath.

"Well, hello, young fella."

The boy remained silent. By his size he must have been four or five. He wore only ragged grimy underpants like a loincloth. His penis hung out. On his shaved skull was a wound, the edges like swollen purple lips, stitched with coarse thread by a clumsy hand.

"What happened to you?"

The boy merely stared.  His eyes were so red they looked like bloody sockets. His expression was of pure hate.

“An accident. He fell down the stairs,” said the lady.

William cleared his throat, suppressed the urge to choke. He looked at the boy’s arms. They were cured upward. Broken? Life on the dole if he lives.

"The fire escape, Ma'am?” William croaked.

"Yah, right." The woman gave him a derisive look. "Just open the window." She broke wind. The others laughed.

He glanced at the boy again. Now the boy gave him a feral smile.

William hurried to the window, lifted the sash and climbed out. A cold breeze blew in his face. He gratefully sucked oxygen into his lungs. Altostratus clouds scudded past a setting sun in a lavender sky. The late afternoon temperature was dropping.

He knew. The fire escape was more than sufficient; a quick glance told him that. He knew why. It happened to most city workers and a few times in his line of responsibility. He knew. Someone called, worried about the boy.

"This damned job." He held the flashlight in a death grip, turned to go in. His face was etched with fury.