Kim stopped another. "Do you speak English?" he asked.
"A little," the man said.
"What's happening?" Kim asked.
"Lunch break," the man said, before hurrying after the first.
Kim watched as the hundred or so workers streamed from the catwalks and lined up to pass through the fire door. They were en route to the lunchroom and the locker area. An equal number of employees came from the main boning room via the head-boning room. Despite the pall of death and the stench, the camaraderie was evident. There was much laughter and friendly jostling.
"How anyone could eat is beyond me," Kim said into his microphone.
Kim saw the man who'd attacked him, along with his partner. They walked by without a glance to join the ever-lengthening queue. Kim felt even more confident about his disguise.
Kim stopped one of the eviscerators whose damp white coat had become variegated with shades of pink and red. He asked the man how to get to the basement. In return, Kim got a look that suggested he was crazy.
"Do you speak English?" Kim inquired.
"Sure, man, I speak English," the eviscerator said.
"I want to go below," Kim said. "How do I get there?"
"You don't want to go downstairs," the man said. "But if you did, you'd go through that door." He pointed to an unmarked door with an automatic closer mounted on its upper edge.
Kim continued sweeping until the last worker had passed through the fire door. After all the noise and chaotic activity when the line was in operation, it was strange for Kim to be alone with forty or fifty suspended, steaming carcasses. For the first time since Kim had arrived, the floor around the evisceration area was free of gore.
Putting his broom aside, Kim walked over to the unmarked door the man had pointed out. After a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being observed, he pulled the door open and stepped inside. The door closed quickly behind him.
The first thing that Kim was aware of was the smell. It was ten times worse than the kill floor, which had sickened him so quickly earlier. What made it so awful was the added stench of putrefaction. Although he retched a few times, he didn't vomit. He assumed it was because his stomach was empty.
Kim was standing on a landing above a flight of cement stairs that descended into utter blackness. Over his head was a single, bare lightbulb. On the wall behind him was a fire extinguisher and an industrial-sized, emergency flashlight.
Kim yanked the flashlight from its brackets and turned it on. He aimed the concentrated beam down the stairs, revealing a long flight descending to a deep cellar. The walls were stained with large, Rorschach-like blotches in brown. The distant floor looked smooth and black like a pool of crude oil.
Kim got one hand free from his rubber glove and located his earphone. After removing his earplug, he slipped it into his ear.
"Can you hear me, Trace?" Kim said. "If you can, say something. I just put in my earphone."
"It's about time!" Tracy said irritably. Her voice was loud and clear despite Kim's being surrounded by reinforced concrete walls. "I want you to come out here immediately."
"Whoa," Kim said. "What are you all wound up about?"
"You're in this slaughterhouse with someone who has tried to kill you twice," Tracy said. "This is ridiculous. I want you to give up this madness."
"I've got a little more investigating to do," Kim said. "Besides, the knife guy hasn't recognized me, so calm down!"
"Where are you?" Tracy asked. "Why haven't you put your earphone in until now? It's been driving me crazy not to be able to talk to you."
Kim started down the stairs. "I can't risk the earphones except when I'm alone," he said. "As to where I am at the moment, I'm heading down into the basement, which I have to admit is no picnic. It's like descending into the lower circles of hell. There's no way I could describe the smell."
"I don't think you should go into the basement," Tracy said. "I like being able to talk with you, but it's safer if you stay in a group. Besides, you're probably not supposed to be in there, and if someone catches you, there'll surely be trouble."
"Everybody's at lunch," Kim said. "Being caught down here is not my worry."
Breathing through his mouth to help avoid the stench, Kim reached the bottom of the stairs. He shined the flashlight beam around the vast, pitch-black space. It was a warren of vats and Dumpster-like containers. Each was connected with a duct that led upward through the ceiling to catch the blood, unwanted guts, and discarded bones and skulls.
"This is where they store everything until it gets trucked to the rendering plant," Kim said. "Obviously from the odor it's all in various stages of decay. There's no refrigeration down here. Although it's hard to imagine as bad as it smells now, it must be worse in the summertime."
"It sounds disgusting," Tracy said. "It's hard to believe that waste like that would have any use."
"The renderer turns it into fertilizer," Kim said. "And, disgustingly enough, cattle feed. The industry has forced our unwitting cattle into becoming cannibals."
"Uh-oh!" Kim mumbled as he felt a shiver descend his spine.
"What's the matter?" Tracy demanded anxiously.
"I just heard a noise," Kim said.
"Then get yourself out of there," Tracy said anxiously.
Kim shined his light in the direction of the noise. In a fashion strikingly similar to the episode in his own basement the night before, a number of pairs of diabolically ruby eyes stared back at him. A second later the eyes disappeared, and Kim caught sight of a group of animals the size of house cats scampering off. Unlike the night before, they weren't mice.
"It's okay," Kim said. "It's just some monster rats."
"Oh, that's all," Tracy said sarcastically. "Just a group of friendly monster rats."
Kim stepped out onto the cellar floor and discovered that not only did the floor surface look like crude oil, it had approximately the same consistency. His boots made a rude sucking sound each time he picked up his feet.
"This is certainly a nightmare image of post-industrialization," Kim commented.
"Cut the philosophizing," Tracy snapped. "Come on, Kim! Get out of there! What on earth are you doing down there anyway?"
"I want to find the chute for the heads," Kim said.
He slogged forward among the tanks and vats, trying to estimate where the head-boning room lay above. He came to a concrete block wall which he assumed was contiguous with the wall above. That meant the chute he was looking for would be on the other side.
Kim shined his light along the wall until he located an opening. Walking down to it, he ducked through. He shined his light around this second space. It was smaller than the first and cleaner. It also had what he'd guessed. To his immediate right was a chute connected to a particularly large Dumpster.
"This looks promising," Kim said. "I think I found it. It's about the size of a construction Dumpster." With the flashlight beam, he followed the chute up to where it penetrated the ceiling. He estimated the diameter of the chute to be about the same as the aperture he'd remembered above.
"Okay, wonderful!" Tracy said. "Now come out of there."
"In a second," Kim said. "I'm going to see if I can look inside."
Kim stepped over to the rusted, filthy Dumpster-like container. In this area of the basement there was no sucking sound as he walked. Around the side of the container near where the chute was attached was a small metal platform accessible by four steps. Kim climbed up. He could now see the top of the Dumpster. Right in front of him was a hatch secured with a metal latch. He moved the latch to the side but then couldn't open the hatch. At least not with one hand.
Putting the flashlight between his knees, he got both hands under the edge of the hatch. With a squeak, it lifted. Holding it with his left hand, he raised the flashlight with his right and shined it inside. It was not a pretty image.