“Come on, Josie, you know, one of those beasti… I can’t bring myself to even say it.”
“Oh my goodness gracious me, not one of those men who do unthinkable things to…”
“Yeah, I reckon it might just be that, Josie! Dang it, I’m going to tell the boys to look out for any weirdos hangin’ around the cattle.” Big Bill rose to his Western-booted feet, hitched up his denims as far as they could go beneath his paunch and placed his Stetson on his head. The clerk could hear him mumbling to himself as he strode out the door. “Damn perverts…”
Taking a quick, suspicious glance over the car park, where the buyers’ cars, pick-ups and small trucks were clustered at one end and the large stock trucks at the other, he made his way over to the livestock pavilion.
The sound of the auctioneer with his ultra-quick banter was like a cash register to Big Bill. He loved the sound and the atmosphere of dozens of prospective buyers drooling over the animals paraded before them. He couldn’t believe it had been over forty years — goddamn, I love this place.
“Hey Jimmy, quick word in private.”
The head auctioneer followed his boss to where no one would overhear them.
“Jimmy, I just got this email from the police, telling us to look out for lowlifes around the yards.”
“I’ve seen some kids playing behind the yards over there… but that’s all.”
“These won’t be kids, Jimmy, more like dirty old men after our juicy young heifers.”
“You’re kidding me… right?”
Big Bill shook his head.
“Got to be damn near thirty years ago since we had one of those perverts around here! I’ll tell the boys to keep en eye out, boss.”
“Thanks. How’s the sale going?”
“Just got the in-calf cows to go, there’s been good demand for the in-milk cows and some of the heifers went for more than expected. A load of buyers and agents here from interstate.”
“Not surprised. Mr. Mason, God rest his soul, was a damn fine farmer and stockman. Real shame his demise, real shame. Anyways, Jimmy, appreciate it if you let the boys know straight away. Any sign, they get back to me.”
Yusuf and Bashir had been silent for the remainder of the hour it took them to reach their destination. They had rightly concluded their comrade-in-arms wasn’t the talkative type — an intensity hung over him, like a veil of invisibility.
The Ford Explorer crunched gravel as it slowly drove into Mainway’s Auctioneers’ car park. Bomani cut the engine and looked around the complex with cold calculation. Yusuf’s leg started to twitch, the muscle spasms catching the driver’s eye. “Calm yourself… now.”
Yusuf grabbed his thigh, closed his eyes and prayed that Allah would look after him.
Bomani was the ultimate in self-discipline, his voice calm. “Take only two cans and go to that area over there.” He pointed through the other parked vehicles to the outside holding yards where large numbers of black and white cattle could be seen. “I cannot see people there, that is good. Both of you go now with the blessing of our brothers and do Allah’s work. Force the American cows to breathe the virus. Do not get caught… this is only the first of our targets, we have much more work to do.” Bomani then gave his final signal to proceed. “Allahu akbar.”
Only Bashir had the composure to respond. Yusuf was far too frightened.
“Quickly,” Bashir said. “We mustn’t attract attention.”
Yusuf felt as if his legs were made of heavy stone as he lagged behind. “Bashir, I feel like there’s a dagger in my back and death in front of me! I’m scared.”
Bashir slowed down and waited for Yusuf to catch up, then placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked back to the car, where Bomani was watching. “The dagger is only our friend’s eyes and to our front is our destiny. You’ve got nothing to be afraid of — remember when we were back in Afghanistan at training camp? We faced greater dangers there, we had bullets fired over our heads to make us men.”
“But this guy gives me the creeps… I don’t trust him.”
“You don’t have to like him… and our trust is with Allah. Look, there are the cows. Just ahead.”
By now the cattle yards were close, the smells stronger and stronger the closer they came. The city dwellers were unaccustomed to the distinctive aroma.
“It smells like shit!”
“Exactly, Yusuf, exactly.”
The two laughed, which made Yusuf feel better.
“Wait.” Bashir pulled up suddenly.
“What is it, have we been seen?”
Bashir hesitated; he had seen two men further over in the cattle yards, herding cows out to pens from the adjoining large pavilion. “No, I don’t think so. This way.”
Taking the lead Bashir veered away and approached the yards from an angle. The yards were made of wooden railings. Between the railings, the two could see the large beasts milling around on concrete pads. The odd cow watched as the two humans approached, some were chewing their cud while standing, some were laying down, resting.
“We’re too far from them — we can’t reach them through the rails.”
“I know — but we have to spray directly into their noses. We’ll have to get in with them.”
“I’ve never been this close to cows before,” said Yusuf. “What if some of them are bulls?”
“Then we really will be in the shit.”
“You are such a big help. You go first.”
Bashir looked cautiously around for any sign of someone looking. As far as he could tell no one was. “Here, hold this while I get over.” He handed his friend the spray can then cautiously stepped up on the first rail. His heart pounded in his chest. The cattle showed some anxiety as he drew himself up, leapt quickly over the rail, then crouched down in the yard. His feet squashed into animal dung. Reaching through the rails, while keeping a close eye on the cattle not six feet from him, Bashir grabbed for the two cans. A cow gave a loud cough. Startled, Bashir turned quickly and the cans caught between the rails. One hit the concrete floor of the yard, clinking before coming to rest in the muck, the other tumbled backwards to the gravel next to Yusuf.
“Fuck!” Backed hard up against the rail, it was Bashir’s turn to feel vulnerable. Slowly he regained his composure as he realized the cows weren’t going to attack him. The animals themselves were uneasy, sensing fear in the human. Most of those that were sitting rose to their feet, and the cattle all looked towards the two men. Bashir forced himself to look away for the dropped cans — there — he saw one lying in the yard.
“Are you all right?”
“Of course I am!”
“Do you see the other can?”
“Yes.” Bashir crouched down and felt for the can in the yard. Not a good idea. The cows looked even bigger from closer to the ground. A couple of the more inquisitive ones inched forward, their heads low, snorting intermittently. Blindly Bashir reached out for the dropped can, his hand making a small bow wave as it pushed through a slurry of excrement. Clutching the virus-filled can he slowly stood up and grimaced at the shit-covered surface. He would never make a cattleman.
Yusuf watched from relative safety on the other side of the rails as Bashir pulled off the plastic lid and walked cautiously forward. “Nice cows, nice cows.” His feet squelched, and he realized his running shoes probably weren’t the most appropriate footwear for a cattle yard. He hoped he would have time later to clean them before getting back into the Ford. Some of the cattle moved to one side as he approached, others remained still. One in particular with long eyelashes had a kinder face — that would be his first victim. The targeted cow flicked her ears. The human was very close, she reached out towards him, stretching her long neck, her tongue pushing forward trying to reach him. The cow belched, sending a foul breath of methane gas towards him and he had his first whiff of the gaseous contents of one of a cow’s four stomachs. Bashir extended his arm, his hand holding the can, his finger on the spray nozzle. The moment was close — the first transmission of foot-and-mouth disease in America since 1929 — it would take only one infected animal to be diagnosed and the country’s economic growth would be affected. The friendly cow with the long eyebrows opened her mouth inches from the can and thrust her large tongue forward again. Bashir pressed the nozzle.