The Ethical Assassin

“It can’t be that bad,” I said.

“It’s amazing. You’re like a walking poster child for ideology. How can it not be that bad? You are looking right at it. It is that bad. And if your own eyes don’t convince you, how can you ever be convinced of anything ever except what you already believe?”

I had no answer.

“Look,” he continued, “even if you have no sympathy for the suffering of the animals, even if you’re too shortsighted to care about the long-term health risks of tainted meat, then think about this: There are consequences, terrible, human consequences, soul-crushing consequences, from being asked to not think about something as basic as our own survival because big corporations need to keep up their bottom lines.”

It was a good point, and I didn’t have a response. “Let’s get out of here.”

Outside, even in the midst of all that stench, I didn’t feel like moving. We stood in the clearing while I stared at the building in numb disbelief.

“Imagine what you’ve just seen,” Melford said, “only multiply it by millions. Billions. It makes you wonder, doesn’t it.”

“Makes me wonder what?” I asked. My voice sounded hollow.

“If it is ever ethical to sacrifice human life for the sake of animal life.”

Even in the face of what I’d witnessed, I didn’t hesitate. “No,” I said.

“Are you sure? Let me ask you something. Say you come upon a woman being raped. The only way to save her from rape is to kill her attacker. Is killing him the right thing to do?”

“If I had no other choice, of course.”

“Why? Why is that morally acceptable?”

“Because I value the right of a woman to escape rape over the right of a rapist to live.”

“Good answer. But what about the right of an animal to escape torture? You don’t value that right over the right of a torturer to achieve pleasure or profit?”

“No. Look, what goes on in there is terrible, Melford. I would never say otherwise. But there is still a basic divide between people and animals.”

“Because animals have a lesser sense of themselves?”

“That’s right.”

“And what about a severely retarded person- one who, as far as we know, is not any more aware than a monkey? Does he only have the rights of a monkey?”

“Of course not. He’s still a human being.”

“And receives the rights thereof, yes? The umbrella that includes the imagined or the typical person must also include the lowest of us. Is that it?”

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s it.”

“But is that umbrella natural and right and just, or is it just what we tell ourselves for our ethical and economic and sensual convenience? Why shouldn’t that umbrella include all creatures who are capable of feelings and emotions? If it’s wrong to torture a pig, then it’s wrong. To say that it is no longer wrong when it’s lucrative- because we want valuable exports and cheap meat at the supermarket- is insane. Ethics ca

“I understand what you’re saying, but you can’t convince me that there’s no hierarchy. Animals might feel emotions, but they don’t write books or compose music. We have imagination and creativity, and that means human life is always more valuable than animal life.”

“Always? Let’s say there’s a dog, a heroic dog. A dog who has saved the lives of countless people through acts of bravery. Maybe a firehouse dog who rescues babies from a fire. And let’s say there is a convict on death row, one you know is guilty of horrible murders. He’s escaped on the eve of his execution and he’s taken the dog hostage. The next morning, the authorities discover his hideout. They know they can recapture him, but in doing so, the dog will surely be killed. Or they can have a sniper take out the convict and save the dog’s life. What’s more important, the convict who has killed numerous people and who would already be dead had he not escaped, or the dog, who has only done good?”

“Come on. It’s an extreme case,” I said.

“Agreed. It’s the most extreme case I could devise on short notice. Now answer the question.”

“You save the man,” I told him, not entirely convinced I believe it. “Once you go down the road you’re talking about, it’s a slippery slope.”

“So human life, no matter how evil, must always take precedence over animal life, no matter how exalted?”

I shrugged, playing at an apathy I didn’t feel, didn’t come close to feeling. The truth was, I had no answer to his line of questioning, and it bothered me. If Melford was right, then there were no absolutes, not like I’d always believed, and it put me in an ethical free fall. The example was extreme, and I understood that was Melford’s point. I wasn’t willing to admit that you probably save the dog, however, since that meant that the question was no longer black and white, but a matter of degree. It wasn’t if you value human life over animal, but when and under what conditions. “I don’t know. Can we go now?”

“Yeah, head over to the car. I haven’t quite figured out how I’m going to save these pigs, but in the meantime, I need to feed and water them. It will only take a few minutes.”

“You want help?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.”

I did worry about it, but I obeyed, because with Melford it was my lot to obey. So I put my head down and shuffled toward the car, trying to blank my mind, trying to think of nothing at all rather than think about those pigs with their ugly red tumors and the hollow looks in their eyes. I couldn’t make my mind go blank, though. Instead, I thought of Karen and Bastard, cold and dead and wide-eyed.

When I was halfway to the car, I looked up from my miserable reverie. Something must have attracted my attention, and when I peered in the glaring afternoon, with everything hazy from the sun blasting the land with oven-hot intensity, I saw something that made me freeze with terror. A cop car was pulling onto the grounds and pivoting right at me, as if it were lining me up to run me over. There could be no doubt. Whoever was behind the wheel had seen me.

I craned my neck in search of Melford, but there was no sign of him. The cop probably hadn’t seen him, either. As far as he knew, I was there all alone.

I recognized the cop at once. It was the guy from the dark Ford outside Bastard and Karen’s trailer, the guy who had helped the Gambler move the body. The police chief of Meadowbrook Grove.

Chapter 22

THE COP STEPPED OUT of his car, shut the door, and leaned back against it. If he’d been a smoker, he’d have lit up. The car was clean; I noticed it right away. It looked newly washed, the kind of car you wouldn’t mind leaning against.

He waved me over as if we were old friends, and I obeyed the command. I wanted to run, figured I probably ought to run, but I knew I wasn’t ready for an instant metamorphosis from working teen to outlaw. Besides, Melford was nearby, and I figured I was probably safer with him lurking somewhere around here than I would be ru

I walked over slowly, trying to keep my head up, to smile, to look as though I’d done nothing wrong. I’d learned that much from Melford. Act like everything is cool, and maybe everything will be cool. Of course, Melford was also willing to start shooting people in the head if things ended up leaning toward the not cool.

“Good afternoon, Officer,” I said.

“Well, now,” the cop said. “If it ain’t the encyclopedia salesman. You sell any encyclopedias to them pigs?” He gri

I recalled that I had never told the cop what I’d been selling. “I never thought to try,” I said. “I was getting out of the heat in those trees, and sort of wandered around and came out here. I was curious about what this place was, the smell and all that, so I thought I’d look around. Am I trespassing or something?”