Six beagles huddle at the back of their cages, watching us with wary eyes. Despite their pregnant state, they look thin and sickly. Not surprising, since they’re inhaling the equivalent of two packs a day. When I spot the spattering of vomit and feces staining the slatted steel floors of their cages, I’m not prepared for the rage roaring in my ears, the pity clogging my throat.
In a grim voice, Joel says, “Take the photos and video so we can get them out of these cages.”
After Sue films the dogs, we unlatch the doors, hunker down, and call softly to the beagles, who look fearful and indecisive. Finally, one of the beagles responds to Sue’s crooning and creeps toward her, tail tucked between her legs.
“You’re safe now,” Sue whispers, stroking the quivering dog.
With some encouragement, the others follow suit, and I can’t help grinning as six heavily-pregnant beagles swarm all over us, tails wagging.
Joel stands. “Let’s get the leashes on.”
I radio Michael to back up the van to right outside the necropsy room. Sue and Joel will each take three dogs to walk down and load into the van.
“I’ll do what comes naturally,” I say, “and wreak as much damage as I can.”
As soon as Joel and Sue leave with the beagles, I pick up the wrecking bar and start with the smoking chambers, trying to keep the noise level down. To corrupt the data on the lab computer, I remove the casing and place a large, powerful magnet on the hard drive.
When Joel returns, he surveys the damage and murmurs, “Not bad, but we still have five beagles with tracheotomies to rescue.”
My face grows hot with embarrassment. In my eagerness, I forgot a cardinal rule—animals first, destruction later.Stupid. I follow Joel down the corridor while Sue stays behind to collect our equipment.
“What’s going on here?” an aggravated voice echoes behind us. “What was all that noise?”
We freeze.
I close my eyes. A conscientious employee working late. Of all the rotten luck.
Joel tugs his cap down and turns around. “Sorry if we disturbed you, sir. We were cleaning and had to move equipment around.”
“It didn’t sound like equipment being moved. It sounded like glass breaking. Did you guys break something?”
I force myself to face the guy, keeping my chin tucked into my chest as if in sheepish apology. “That was me,” I mumble. “I dropped a glass container. I’ll report it. It’ll come out of my pay.”
Don’t come out, Sue.Stay in the room.
“I don’t know,” the man says, his voice still laced with suspicion. “I don’t recognize either of you. Are you guys new?”
“First time on the evening shift,” Joel says, “but I’ve been with CCS nearly three years now.” His hand grips my shoulder, a warning not to react. “Keagan is new, second day on the job. That’s why he’s so clumsy.”
I don’t like this. The man doesn’t seem to be buying our bluff. And he’s too close to the elevators.
“I think I should call somebody.”
“Why don’t you take a look inside the room?” Joel suggests, and my heart stops. “We’ve swept up all the glass. There’s still a strong smell of disinfectant, though, so I suggest taking shallow breaths.”
“Ah, I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” Hesitation replaces the irritation in his voice. “I can’t have any more noise.”
“There won’t be, sir.”
“I’m finishing up something and I need to concentrate.”
“We’ll try to be quiet.”
“Sorry again for the disturbance,” I add.
It’s worked. My shoulders relax. The man turns to re-enter his lab room.
“Hey, any idea where—” Sue steps into the corridor, the steel wrecking bar in her hand.
