No answer. He stood up and called again, one last act of
desperation.
Nothing. He went down on one knee, and patted the ground with his open
hand. He needed no more prodding. The time had come to act.
'Alaska,' he whispered intently. 'Sylviana. SYLVIANA.'
This time the cub seemed to understand, and apparently had some insight
as to where they might be found, for she set out at once. Or at least
some idea where they might begin to look.
If it was not already too late.
*
'Stop it! Stop it!' she cried, covering her face with her hands.
She had gone with him, and listened as he spoke of junkies, toxic waste,
victims and violence and hospitals. From place to place, in growing
horror, thinking with one last gasp of real courage that perhaps she
deserved this, and needed to know.
But when he brought her at last to the ruins of an enormous research
facility, and began to describe, in detail, the torturous experiments
performed here on bound, terrified animals in the name of progress and
the greater good, she felt the tip of the blade licking at her heart.
Because she knew it was true. Her father had been assigned here as an
intern. He had stormed out in a rage at the asphyxiation, force-feeding
of toxic substances, vivisection, 'Sweet Jesus,' and ‘stress
tests', performed on dogs and cats, rhesus monkeys and other
primates, some more intelligent than the lackeys who tormented them.
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