Chester Arrington arrived just after noon. A hotdog lunch was catered compliments of Happy Pets, LLC. Best Taste Meats, a smaller company under the same umbrella, provided the hotdogs. To Chester’s delight, the local media was covering the event.
The activist was not interested in the puppies. He was especially not interested in hotdogs. Chester Arrington was there as a citizen of humanity. The young man distributed colorful fliers on eighty-percent recycled paper and shouted his mind to the patrons of the event.
The fliers recounted the number of animals that were killed by the Planet Global Corporation and it many numerous subsidiaries each year. It also recounted their terrible history or never meeting any level of emissions quality on their factories. The flyer wrapped up with a strong recount of the rumored dumping of radioactive waste near and in natural water supplies all over Canada.
The company spokesperson for Planet Global was there to deny everything.
Reilly Winters was also at this gathering. Reilly was still just a young hatchet man for PGC. He worked his way up in the corporate ladder at a fairly young age.
By twenty, it was Reilly who oversaw collection efforts of stray animals. Animals later returned to laboratories for rigorous testing of “product safety.” It was Reilly who carried the briefcase of unmarked bills directly to the head of the Canadian Environmental Assessment Agency. It was Reilly who found the land, routes, and trucks to remove the excess waste from some of the more questionable facilities under the PGC conglomerate.
Reilly hated protesters.
The corporate goon patiently encouraged Chester to leave the event. Chester would not hear of it. Reilly couldn’t risk making a scene. The day pressed on. Reilly hadn’t seen the scrawny man eat anything so Reilly got the idea to play on Chester’s hunger. His offering was one of the delicious Best Taste Meat hotdogs.
Reilly did his math carefully. The roughly one hundred and forty pound Chester Arrington was just the right size for that hotdog, and preciously right for the four and one quarter ounces of poison that Reilly injected into the hot dog.
Within twenty minutes Chester would be sick and leave. The stomach ache would not return for one to sixteen days, at which point Chester’s heart would accelerate rapidly until it seized. Chester would be laid to rest. His mother would cry. His father would be waiting for him in heaven. His little sister would sue to get his house.
As smart of a plan as it was, Reilly had overlooked the obvious ingredients to his recipe. If he placed this laced hotdog in another of the attendee’s hands he would have produced a smile.
Chester, a staunch vegan, threw it into the sky in disgust. The four and one-quarter ounces of poison, lost. No big deal. Reilly could find another way to remove this antagonist, as soon as he cleaned up the evidence. The evidence…now where did that go?
~~~~~~
“Those poor puppies,” Reilly wiped his nose both from the cold and his tears.
“Now, now we mustn’t dwell on the past,” the dark man pulled the spent cigarette from his lips and grinded it into the ashtray. He extended his hand over warm fire in the fireplace, closing his eyes as the heat soaked into his palm.
“Yes sir.” Reilly shook away his congestion and wiped his teary eyes.
“This is a very delicate opportunity, my friend. We must keep our heads together and use every avenue we can to avoid this secret being exposed,” the man seized a tall champagne flute, sipping generously. “So you understand, Reilly, what would happen if more people found out about this?”
“Yes.”
“Valerie will be on her way in the morning. Wait for her arrival before doing anything else.”
“Yes, sir,” Reilly pulled the phone away from his ear. Valerie made him retch. He had a nagging concern that his employer was losing faith in him.
“And Reilly?”
“Yes, sir?”
“No mistakes.”
Reilly hung up the payphone. He cupped his hands over his mouth and blew a strong breath into them. Standing on the sinister corner his position was at once illuminated by the streetlamp overhead. A wicked little smile flew across his cheeks.
He jumped into his rented tan Peugeot and started her up.
Chapter 6
Sam hunted high and low for Darren. The boy was not in the barn or by the fence line. Sam braved checking the house. The old man was sleeping, but it was always a risk. Darren wasn't there, either. Sparky Jr. was known to run off like this and she hadn’t seen him today. Sam weighed the possibility that the young goats were causing mischief together, yet her stomach turned with discomfort.
Asking around was little help.
“He went to the store with the bear. They are getting some more candy,” Billy was Darren’s younger brother, but spent little time keeping tabs on him.
The way Darren had talked about the man at the fence the night before began to haunt her more and more. What if he had been really scared? Sam feared she may have discounted his story too quickly.
She checked by the water trough again, no Darren or Junior anywhere in sight. The kids nestled up by the big tree hadn’t seen them either. Sam took her concern to her father.
Sparky didn’t have a lot of support. The spry adult goat was busy playing ball with Mythias and Montana.
“You know that young punk, this is just another prank.”
“But Dad, I,” she hadn’t told her dad the story about the previous night.
“Honey, just relax. The boy will pop up in due time, with a wild story to go along with it,” he stood and kicked the ball straight past his children. The two scrambled to chase it down.
“I…”
“Is there something you want to say?” His eyes went from the ball to his daughter.
Sam looked to her siblings who were wrestling over the ball. She turned back to her dad. His golden eyes were always so warm.
“No.”
She walked back up the hill. Behind her she heard Sparky jumping in with the two kids and engaging in the struggle. A mix of laughter arose from the three of them. Billy was now lying quietly on the hill. The young goat’s eyes then drifted to the sky, where the morning sun was soon to be shrouded in clouds.
Darren couldn’t stay out long.
~~~~~~
The rain started sometime in the middle of the day. Everyone crowded into the barn. Sparky began telling stories to the youngest kids, illustrating with his arms. Princess was in the loft with the other ladies.
Sam sat by the door, staring into the downpour. The door burst open and Sparky junior hurried inside. The child was soaked horn to hoof.
“Have you seen Darren?” Sam asked.
“No, hi bro? No, can I get you a place to lie down and get warm?”
“I’m serious! He’s been gone since this morning,” she tugged at his coat with her teeth.
Junior butted her stomach.
“Hey!” she head-butted his side in return.
“He’s not coming back.”
“What? How do you know?”
“Well,” he looked to see if anyone was listening. “I saw the man who got him.”
“What? He was kidnapped?”
“Shhh, you don’t want to cause a panic do you?” Sparky Junior looked around again confirming his sister’s outburst had not been overheard. “He was out by the front fence, it was late. I don’t know what he was doing. Next thing I know, he’s flat on the ground. I saw a man jump the fence, scoop him up and carry him off.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“It’s no big deal. He’s been goat-knapped. Before long, we’ll get a ransom note, we pay out the demands and things will be normal by the weekend.”
“Where would you get that kind of idea?”
“Sam, I am probably the most well read of the pack if I say so myself. I know human customs. This is what they do.”
“Sparky,” she gave her stomach a moment to settle. “I’m going to tell dad.”
&nbs
p; “Sam, I wouldn’t do that. Without a ransom note, no one will believe you.” Junior put his hoof on her shoulder.
The young lady weighed her options. Create a total panic by bringing attention to the fact that one of her peers had been taken; or leave it until some note from a human gave concrete information of the crime...and created total panic. Sam didn’t know that anyone would believe her. Darren was always playing tricks. So was Junior. She would be alone in this matter. As she deliberated the door flew open.
All at once, the goats were silent. Oliver Simms was in his bright orange slicker and glistening yellow hat. The rain streaked down the glossy sides. In his outstretched arms lay a sullen, quiet mass of fur.
“What the hell is wrong with all of you’s?” The old man looked about the blurry insides of the old barn, none of the goats moved.
Sparky was the first to notice the awkwardness of the silence.
“MAAH!”
No one responded.
“MAAH!” The room remained silent. Sparky kicked to the side and caught Muddy in the gut.
“MAAH!” Mudbubble joined in. The noise erupted as every goat in the room belted their proudest and finest maahs to their owner.
“That’s more like it,” Oliver was duly satisfied that everything was as it should be. He set the withered goat down on the ground. “Old lady Kettle called me excited out as a pedophile in a toy store. Saying get over here this or I’ll kill it that. Don’t know how he got out, but he’s home now.”
“I’ll get you filthy little monsters some more hay,” Oliver disappeared into the rain.
Darren’s mother and father rushed to his side. The two perused their son and groomed at his still form.
Oliver returned with a hay bail. “God damn, heavy ass, hay,” and was gone again.
“Are you okay, baby?” Blossom, his mother, nudged his neck. The boy’s legs gave the tiniest stretch.
Oliver came back with another bail. “You little bastards should be happy for a while. And you,” he pointed at Darren, “don’t run off, ‘cause I love you and I’ll never forgive myself.”
Oliver slammed the door shut.
The room was hushed. Darren accepted little bites of hay from his mother, although he adamantly refused to go out for a drink. It was a long while before he finally steadied himself on his feet. Darren met the concerned gaze of his father.
Oreo could wait no more. “What happened son?”
Chapter 7
The sunset had finished hours ago. Like most nights there was nothing but quiet. Darren was on his hind legs leaning over the front fence. A week ago he had seen a few trucks pass through. He hoped against hope that he would see more.
The boy had always wanted to escape the doldrums of the farm, head out to the city. He didn’t know why everyone was so scared of what was out there. All he could see was opportunity. He wanted to seize it, but he loved his mom and dad and couldn’t just abandon them, at least, not yet.
In the meantime he contented himself watching for cars. Sometimes he would pretend to know where they were going. The goat would make up fabulous destinations that he would someday visit. Still no one had driven by. It was more evidence to him that the middle of nowhere wasn’t far from home.
Late in the night his ears perked up. Through the still of the night he heard a distant yet familiar sound: the hum of an engine. His heart started racing.
The driver was of average height and weight and he was single, with long flowing blonde hair. This man was on his way to the ocean. When he reached the ocean, he would throw away his car and he would swim the rest of his life.
Darren became so caught up in his fantasy that he didn’t notice that the engine had ceased. His mind’s eye busy focusing on the wind whipping through the golden locks of hair on the open road, and he didn’t hear the car door close. Darren never saw the glint of the gun barrel in the moonlight.
~~~~~~
The boy awoke. Darren eyes were wrapped with a blindfold. His legs bound with cords. He struggled, but the bindings were too tight and only cut deeper into his legs. The goat had no means to move the blindfold from his eyes.
“Coming around?” the man’s voice was quiet. Darren could hear the muffled sounds of rain.
“What’s that old man been feeding you, huh?”
Darren didn’t move. The young goat mind raced through his parent’s stories about the evils of mankind. By them, if humans knew that the goats were no longer dumb animals, their lives would be over. They would be taken away from their home, separated, and tortured in the name of science. Darren had never before believed it was true.
“I know you can talk.”
The goat pushed the ropes slowly. His limbs stretched carefully, only to surrender once more to the securely tied rope. A faint tinge of rot twisted in his nose irritating him to the brink of a sneeze.
“I’m going to say this to you as nice as I can, goats that talk, are worth a lot to me. They are the kind I keep alive. The other goats, the ones that aren’t so talkative, they don’t live long.”
“MAAH!” Darren could feel an aggravation in the pit of his stomach; his heart raced faster. He saw the tear filled face of his mother and father upon learning of his death.
The boy goat took a deep breath, trying to think of something else. The first thing that came to him was the man in the car with blond hair, driving to the beach. A blow to the chest knocked his thoughts from him.
“MAAH! MAAH!”
“You think you’re going to outsmart me huh? I’ve got your mom and dad right here and I’m going to shoot them dead! Dead! Dead! Dead!”
“MAAH!”
“You little brat, you want them to die! Bang! Bang!”
“MAAH! MAAH!”
There was a muffled knock on the door.
“What’s going on in there?”
It was a woman’s voice.
“Valerie?” Reilly threw a sheet over the tied goat. “Hold still, you little prick.”
“Open the damn door, Reilly.” Valerie tossed her black hair. It had just been styled. She kept it shoulder length and it would normally stay very bouncy. Not today though. She was thinking about changing conditioners. The long car ride hadn’t helped either. “Now!”
Reilly opened the door to 6A. Valerie barged into the room surveying the area disapprovingly. Beer bottles and pizza boxes were scattered like modern art. Popcorn was littered about. The bed was unmade and squirming. The sight made her do a double take; under the sheet she could see the edge of a hoof.
“You’re here early.” Reilly quickly adjusted the bed covers to conceal the limb.
“Reilly, for the love of God, tell me you didn’t kidnap a goat?” Valerie walked toward the bed.
“No, no,” Reilly blocked her path. “Just borrowed it. But we mustn’t talk here, it can understand us.”
“Oh can it? Well pray it can’t dial a phone and report you.”
Valerie pushed past the brute and stripped away the blanket. The goat’s front and rear legs were tied together. A black bandana had been secured over his eyes. Valerie erupted in laughter.
“You put a blindfold on it!”
“You don’t know how smart this thing is!”
“I was sent to check on abhorrent behavior. No one said anything about cognitive reasoning and vocal development.” Valerie untied the blindfold. Darren didn’t move. “Relatively calm for a trapped animal.”
“You need to see them operate. I caught this one whistling and singing and all other sorts of mischief.”
“All other sorts of mischief? What was it opening a lemonade stand and not charging tax? Jesus, Reilly, come on!” She struck at him with the bandana.
“I’m serious Val, these things are highly unpredictable.”
“Reilly, you took an initiative that I was not prepared to take. You have already jeopardized the most important part of this endeavor: secrecy.” The woman tossed her hair, definitely changing conditioners. No one should ev
er be berated by a powerful woman with flat hair. She reenacted the scene in her mind with her hair bounding as she spoke. “Idiot.”
“Well, I can’t just put him back, he’ll warn the others!”
“Good, let them panic. If they are as smart as you say they are, they won’t want commotion either.”
Chapter 8
“They left me at that mean lady’s house. I hate Mrs. Kettle. She yelled at me for a long time to leave, but my legs hurt so bad I couldn’t get up.”
“What do you think Sparky?” Muddy asked.
Sparky didn’t know what to make of it. The child’s past history of pranks was of no concern. It was obvious from the marks on Darren’s legs that this wasn’t an elaborate story. The goat flashed back to the other day when he ran off the man measuring his daughter. These things were leading him to a conclusion he didn’t want to share.
“Well, honey?” Princess wore her concern in her eyes.
There had never been a vote to elect a leader of the herd. Sparky was never nominated nor had he volunteered. Still, all of the goats turned to him with their full trust and expected his direction in any matter of weight.
Blossom looked up from her son. “Someone knows about us, Sparky.”
“You are right, Blossom,” Sparky looked over the room full of goats. Their eyes were split between himself and Darren. Outside the rain was still falling heavily. Sparky let loose a sigh.
“I scared off a man the other day.” He swallowed his pride. “He was measuring Mythias.”
The room went silent save the rain. Sparky choked up, had Darren not come back…
“I’m sorry-“
“Why didn’t you say something?” Oreo’s face burned with rage. He was on all fours and charging head down in an instant.
Sparky didn’t move out of his way. Oreo sprang up and threw a left hook. The curled hoof struck Sparky hard, knocking him onto the ground. Sparky regained himself making no move to return a strike. Oreo raised his foreleg threatening to punch again. Other males rushed in, subduing the crazed goat.
“What the hell were you thinking? You should have told us, Sparky!” Oreo screamed from beneath the pile. “My son could have been killed!”
Blossom sobbed. Darren’s head hung low where he sat. Heads shook side to side to indicate their silent shame. A few at first became many, disapproving, shaking goat heads. Princess moved to Sparky’s side; she brushed his wounded eye. Sparky didn’t falter; he held stoic refusing to budge.