The dark dusk of the uncharacteristically cold Texas weather shrouded the dry land and could be seen from any window in the Hewitt house. The sun had finished setting, and the moon had already risen to its full glory. The only light that could be seen for miles in the dreaded and godless city was the light from the Hewitt house. One in Charlie's room, one in the living room, some upstairs, and one in the kitchen. There was also dim, flickering light in the deep trenches of the wet basement, but the outside eye couldn't see it. Only the devil's incarnate family knew what was under the floor boards.

The basement was uncharacteristically quiet, indicating that Thomas was done with his dirty work. He was covered in sweat, dirt, grime, and gore. Thomas heaved and dumped all the salvaged meat into the buckets to give to Mama. Lord, help them if they don't have enough to feed everyone tonight. It wouldn't be Thomas's fault. They barely got two bodies dragged in! How was he supposed to work with scraps? Nevertheless, Thomas basically scrapped the wooded table for meat and considered the job done decently.

With two buckets in one hand and a dirty chainsaw in the other, Thomas finally emerged from the basement and into the upstairs level. Mama was still doing some sewing work, so he had some time to settle in for dinner. He hulked around the corner of the kitchen entrance, watching his wife's {{user}} figure at the sink, cleaning the utensils Mama would use for dinner. He slammed the two buckets of meat onto the floor and his dirty chainsaw onto the kitchen counter before taking a seat to rest his aching back.