Allison Brennan - Cutting Edge

The lighting was different, certainly twenty minutes or more earlier, Sean thought. He couldn’t hear what she was saying at first because of the boos and complaints from the students gathered in the room. Cole said, “Shh, listen.”

“… broke into a private laboratory and released twelve quarantined ducks. The thieves believed that they were helping the birds by releasing them into the wild. On the contrary, they are responsible for all the dead animals you saw today. But even worse, they killed a human being.”

“I don’t fucking believe that fascist fed!” a tall, older student exclaimed.

“Shh!” Cole admonished. The kid continued to grumble and Sean strained to hear the television from his position on the far side of the room.

Agent English was saying, “… Sheriff’s Office will do everything we legally can to find and arrest those responsible for this tragedy.”

The on-scene reporter was back, and it was now dark and he wore an overcoat in the breeze. “The California Department of Fish and Game are still out here, but refused to say why. Speculation is that there are more infected ducks, or they’re looking for additional evidence. The Placer County Sheriff’s Department recently confirmed that the victim in this morning’s arson fire was in fact Dr. Jonah Payne, a genetic scientist from Auburn. Unconfirmed sources claim that the same group that attacked three other facilities, including a laboratory at Sacramento State University, is responsible for the Butcher-Payne arson.”

The broadcast returned to the studio, where a newscaster said, “The Placer County sheriff, Lance Sanger, issued a statement that his office was cooperating fully with the FBI. When asked whether officials were looking into Action Now! the environmental activist group founded by conservationist and Rose College Social Science Chairman Leif Cole, Sanger confirmed that Action Now! and other groups were all being looked at closely, but he wouldn’t comment on whether any one group is under investigation.”

Cole turned off the television.

His students ranted on his behalf.

“Okay, everyone!” Cole tried to get their attention. It took him several minutes before he could speak without raising his voice.

“I know that you’re all upset by what happened,” Cole said. “But we need to put this in perspective. What the FBI and Fish and Game did was wrong-”

“Absolutely! Fascist pigs,” a voice called.

“But,” Cole continued, “we also have to think about the loss of human life. That goes against everything we believe, and I know that all of you agree with me.”

There were still rumblings. One girl said, “But Leif, why did they kill the ducks? I don’t understand how they could be so cruel.”

“Neither can I,” Cole said.

Sean waited thirty minutes after the meeting had broken up. He finally got Leif Cole alone.

“Hi, Professor Cole? I’m Sean, I’m new here.”

“I remember you from my class this morning.”

“Anya Ballard invited me to this meeting, but she’s not here. Do you know where I can find her?”

Professor Cole was suspicious, Sean saw it immediately. Suspicious or jealous. “I saw her earlier,” he said. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

“Oh. Too bad. I’ll see you Wednesday morning.”

Sean felt the man’s eyes watching him leave.

In the campus parking lot, he got into his car. He had planned to head home, but a niggling worry about Anya had him getting out and heading over to the dorms. Earlier, he’d looked up Anya’s dorm room number, and now he knocked on the door.

She answered, her eyes tired and red. “Sean,” she said, surprised.

“I missed you at the meeting tonight.”

He looked over her shoulder, trying to maintain discretion. There were others in the room. Two boys sitting on the floor that he could see. One of them had been at the meeting.

“I’m tired. We were studying and time got away from us.”

“Sorry to bother you,” he said. Had he been wrong? He glanced at the kid who’d been at the meeting. Sean remembered his name had been Chris, and he’d left early. Maybe he’d come here to study … but Sean didn’t see any books or papers nearby.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Anya said.

“Wednesday,” he said. “I don’t have class tomorrow.”

“Wednesday. Maybe we can have lunch again.” There was no romantic interest from her tone, just friendship, but Sean was emboldened.

“I’d like that,” he said.

She closed the door, and he could have sworn he heard a female voice asking, “Who was that?”

“Who was that?” Maggie asked Anya. The guy hadn’t looked familiar. Though she didn’t know why, he’d given Maggie bad vibes. Maybe because he was so clean-cut, but she hadn’t seen him very well through the crack in the door.

“Sean-he’s a new student,” she said.

“Oh.” No one interesting. “I forgot Leif’s meetings were on Mondays. Sorry I kept you.”

Anya shook her head. “I wasn’t planning on going.” She sat back down on the edge of her bed. “It’s over,” she said.

“We’re not talking about it,” Chris snapped. That had been one of their strictest rules: Never discuss past actions.

“I’m not. I’m stating a fact. I can’t live with myself if there’s another accident, if someone else-”

“Anya!” Chris shouted. “That’s enough.”

Tears welled in her eyes. She didn’t like being yelled at.

Maggie played the part of her defender. “Cut it out, Chris. We’re all upset. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Scott stared at her, but he didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t. He was as guilty as she was. Well, he hadn’t actually cut Jonah Payne, but he’d helped Maggie bring the body back from Tahoe, and he hadn’t said boo about it. Of course not. He was always too stoned to care much about anything but when he was getting his high. He was stoned now. Not too heavily, but enough to mellow him out.

“I’m sorry, Maggie,” Anya said. “I can’t do it anymore. It’s wrong.”

Wrong? Anya had said the wrong word. There was nothing wrong in burning to the ground corrupt businesses. There was nothing wrong about killing bastards like Jonah Payne who destroyed lives without a thought. Lives like Maggie’s father, who had just wanted a platform like everyone else …

“We’re done,” Scott agreed. “I’m out. Chris?”

“Yeah.” Chris acted like a tough guy, but he’d gotten sick earlier. He didn’t have the stomach for action, and Maggie was glad they were quitting.

“It’s unanimous,” Maggie said. “I’m relieved.” Relieved that she had a plan to take care of these fools.

Anya hugged her. “I’m glad you’re back, Maggie.” She tried not to feel guilty, but she squirmed.

“Me, too.” Maggie pulled back, blinking away tears.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I’m just-the ducks. I’m so angry and upset. They didn’t need to do it.” That was the truth. Agent Nora English, the things she’d said. The things she’d allowed to happen. Maggie couldn’t think about that now. Later, later when she was alone and didn’t have to worry about what she said or did or thought.

“I’m thirsty,” Maggie said. “Anyone for iced tea?”

“Water?” Anya asked.

“Sorry, none here.” She’d gotten rid of it, knowing Anya preferred water to anything else.

“Iced tea, then,” Anya said.

Maggie poured the tea into cups and handed them around. She reached into her pocket, looked at her cell phone. “Damn, it’s my mother.” She rolled her eyes. “I gotta talk to her. I’m going in the hall so she doesn’t think I’m having a big party or anything.” As she opened the door she said, “Hi, Mom.”