“his mother called to Alfie. “The one about international cartoons.” It was Alfie’s favorite program, but his mother’s voice had a flat, hopeless sound, as if she knew he would not come down. He did not answer. He had not moved for hours. His face had a hard set look, like clay. The only change at all in Alfie had come with his mother’s threat of the firemen. The more he thought of that, the more trapped he felt. The security of being in his own attic, locked away from the world, had been broken.... Firemen could stream in from all directions, he had thought as the minutes ticked slowly past. They could chop their way through the roof, the eaves, ax down the door. He imagined them swarming into the attic, hale and hearty as hornets in their yellow slickers. This would be the kind of assignment they would really enjoy, he thought. They could practice their techniques without any risk. It was Alma who had saved him. “Mom, you are not going to call the fire department,” she had said as they came into the living room after supper.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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