Page 21 of Milk
She wasn’t like the others. She was still human – fully human. I freed her, even though I knew she might report myfamily for what we had done and me for murder. I let her go, perhaps hoping to atone for the sins of my father.
As I led her to the exit, black vans showed up. Men had filed out – military-like men – and tried their guns on Susan and me when we stepped out of the elevator. I will never forget the strange military man with the scars on his lip and the deep, cold grey eyes. He was older, like my father, but didn’t have the same manic glint to his eyes. He was cold and poised.
“You fucking moron,” he said, spitting on the floor near my feet. “You have no idea what you did, did you?”
I didn’t. He, of course, explained. My sister was not estranged. She was a prisoner living under the watchful gaze of his goons. He was my father’s silent partner. The man who paid for all of Sunshine Sanctuary’s infrastructure. The man who had all the knowledge and the science to operate it. My father would help him launder twenty billion dollars through the sales of milk from the farm, to legalize his fortune in the US. It was done slowly, across years and decades. In the middle of the process, it seemed, my old man had decided to grow a conscience. He didn’t like kidnapping, mutating, or torture. The Colonel – the man I’d later come to know as Komodo – kidnapped my sister when he saw my father losing his nerve. My father fell back in line for another decade. Before I blew his brains out, at least.
“Now, you stupid young man, you have two choices. You can take up your father’s spot and uphold your family’s end of the deal and I claim the one billion I promised your father or you can grow a conscience after twenty years of enjoying the wealth of this business. Though I doubt the latter will take you far,” he said, and after a pause added, “Not to mention your sister, and this pretty little calf you decided to rescue.”
I had no choice. My father had had no choice. We were trapped in this cycle of blood, gold, and milk until the deal was completed.
As I watched the last truck depart and run the numbers in my head, I calculated that it would just be another year (perhaps less if we were lucky) and we would be done. After nearly twenty years of running this business, I would be done. Susan would be done.
I would be free and walk away from this place forever with a billion dollars in my pocket. Just another year.
One more fucking year.
Concern twisted me up for the first few days of Carter’s absence (as far as I could judge the time, anyway). Then I started to be concerned thatnobodyhad shown up at all. My feeder had run empty a while ago, my waste bucket was now overflowing, and its foul contents were soaking the hay underneath. I still had some water, but it had been sitting there for a while now. It was starting to taste stale and rusty.
My desperation was growing. Had Carter abandoned me here to die? Was his plan to starve me to death?
After Jen, we met several times and he never seemed upset. Aside from that, I couldn’t think of anything else I’d done to anger him. I’d even stopped asking to be let out. Was he just a psycho who decided he’d enjoyed everything I offered and didn’t care if I wasted away? I wondered if there was a camera pointed at me so he could watch my agonizing end.
I cried for help and yelled for what felt like hours, but nobody came. The bell on my neck rang as I sobbed. I was hungry, the place smelled terrible, and I couldn’t help but think about what a horrible way this was to die. Suffocating on the smell of the stall while my body slowly gave in to starvation.
I fell asleep at some point or collapsed from exhaustion, but I was woken up by the sound of a heavy iron door moving. Heavy boots moved around me with agonizing patience. I lifted my head in hopes of seeing Carter, but almost laughed when I saw old man Henderson. This was better than Carter! Henderson had helped Jason and me spy on Sunshine Sanctuary from his lands. He hated the company. He was carrying several buckets and a mop. I assumed he had pretended to be a farmhand to infiltrate the facility.
“Thank God! Mr. Henderson! Please! You have to let me out of here! You wouldn’t believe what they are doing to us!” I pleaded.
Tears rolling down my face, half in hope, half in relief. I would be free. I’d walk out of this place alive. But Mr. Henderson didn’t move. He just looked at me with a faint smile, then lazily looked at my feeder.
“Seems like you haven’t been taken care of in a while, huh? You need some food and someone to clean your stall,” he said, with a dismissive look around the place.
“What? No. I just need you to free me! Please! I can show you the way out! Just get me out of this. Please, Mr. Henderson.”
“Oh, miss. I won’t be doing that, no ma’am. That be a short path to the grave, you see? But I might refill your feeder, change your water and even clean your shit, if you ask all nice and sweet.”
“What? What are you talking about? You … Work for them? Wait! Have you always worked for them? D-Did you betray me?DID YOU DO THIS TO ME? YOU FUCKING PIG! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!”
Rage boiled up from my belly, burning like red-hot fire. Mr. Henderson didn’t seem bothered at all. He stood there, looking down at me as I fought my bindings and screamed myself hoarse. He waited until I was too tired to keep screaming, then said, “Now that you got all that out of your system, want me to take care of this? Or do you want me to walk out, lock that door, and let you starve to death? You still got plenty of fat on your ass and sides, so I reckon you still have some days to go.”
I swallowed my pride. The man who I thought was on my side, the man I believed to be good, but he was the same man that was making me beg for his help. If I didn’t, I would die. I’d wallow in my emotions later. Right now, I didn’t have a choice.
“I-I would like food, water and for you to clean this place … Please,” I almost whispered.
“That’s what I thought, you fat cow. You think you are better than you are, that’s your problem. Don’t worry. That will sort itself out soon,” he said.
He didn’t elaborate, but much to my relief, he did what he had promised to do. He swapped my bucket for a clean one and replaced the straw. The smell improved instantly. He placed fresh water on my water tray and filled my feeder with granola.
Just as he finished up, he turned and sized me up. “Now, how would you like to show your gratitude, bitch?”
“W-what? You’re the reason I’m here, that I’m like this.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” he said, and he slapped my ass hard. “How are you going to show me how thankful you are?”
“I-I don’t know. Thank you?”
“Thank you?” He scoffed. “Let me show you what I had in mind.” He walked, to stand between me and the feeder. And ashe did, he pulled down the suspenders and allowed his overalls to fall down.
