Satan's Incubator by Randolph Craig

PONDEROUSLY noisily, the big city garbage trucks wound their way eastward, their shadows looming ahead of them. Out of Manhattan they came, tired scavengers bearing a city's refuse to its ultimate destruction. The long day was not yet over for these men; not until that burden was deposited in its peculiar inferno would they be free to go to their homes.

Slowly, each backed his load up to the furnace. Slowly, the weary bodies lined up for evening roll-call as Dugan, the foreman, raced through the list of names. It had been a wearing day, worse than wearing, for him too. But he did not race fast enough for a single man to forget the omittance of Benny Taylor's name from the roll.