~
At the bonfire Jimmy was anxious about the animals, because they were being burned and surely that would hurt them. No, his father told him. The animals were dead. They were like steaks and sausages, only they still had their skins on.
And their heads, thought Jimmy. Steaks didn't have heads. The heads made a difference: he thought he could see the animals looking at him reproachfully out of their burning eyes. In some way all of this - the bonfire, the charred smell, but most of all the lit-up, suffering animals - was his fault, because he'd done nothing to rescue them. At the same time he found the bonfire a beautiful sight - luminous, like a Christmas tree, but a Christmas tree on fire. He hoped there might be an explosion, as on television.
Jimmy's father was beside him, holding on to his hand. "Lift me up," said Jimmy. His father assumed he wanted to be comforted, which he did, and picked him up and hugged him. But also Jimmy wanted to see better.
"This is where it ends up," said Jimmy's father, not to Jimmy but to a man standing with them. "Once things get going." Jimmy's father sounded angry; so did the man when he answered.
"They say it was brought in on purpose."
"I wouldn't be surprised," said Jimmy's father.
"Can I have one of the cow horns?" said Jimmy. He didn't see why they should be wasted. He wanted to ask for two but that might be pushing it.
"No," said his father. "Not this time, old buddy." He patted Jimmy's leg.
"Drive up the prices," said the man. "Make a killing on their own stuff, that way."
"It's a killing all right," said Jimmy's father in a disgusted tone. "But it could've been just a nutbar. Some cult thing, you never know."
"Why not?" said Jimmy. Nobody else wanted the horns. But this time his father ignored him.
"The question is, how did they do it?" he said. "I thought our people had us sealed up tight as a drum."
"I thought they did too. We fork out enough. What were the guys doing? They're not paid to sleep."
"It could've been bribery," said Jimmy's father. "They'll check out the bank transfers, though you'd have to be pretty dumb to stick that kind of money into a bank. Anyway, heads will roll."
"Fine-tooth comb, and I wouldn't want to be them," said the man. "Who comes in from outside?"
"Guys who repair things. Delivery vans."
"They should bring all that in-house."
"I hear that's the plan," said his father. "This bug is something new though. We've got the bioprint."
"Two can play at that game," said the man.
"Any number can play," said Jimmy's father.
"Why were the cows and sheep on fire?" Jimmy asked his father the next day. They were having breakfast, all three of them together, so it must have been a Sunday. That was the day when his mother and his father were both there at breakfast.
Jimmy's father was on his second cup of coffee. While he drank it, he was making notes on a page covered with numbers. "They had to be burned," he said, "to keep it from spreading." He didn't look up; he was fooling with his pocket calculator, jotting with his pencil.
"What from spreading?"
"The disease."
"What's a disease?"
"A disease is like when you have a cough," said his mother.
"If I have a cough, will I be burned up?"
"Most likely," said his father, turning over the page.
Jimmy was frightened by this because he'd had a cough the week before. He might get another one at any moment: already there was something sticking in his throat. He could see his hair on fire, not just a strand or two on a saucer, but all of it, still attached to his head. He didn't want to be put in a heap with the cows and pigs. He began to cry.