VWS on CLARK walking from his house to the barn. The day is overcast, but it is plainly about noon. He carries a heavy bag at his side and looks somewhat grim. He is wearing a pair of heavy-duty gloves and a ratty set of clothes. He passes most of his small dairy herd grazing in a fenced-in pasture, and enters the barn through the main door.
INT CLARK’S BARN
OSS as CLARK makes his way to a stall near the back of the barn. The building is empty save for a black-and-white Holstein cow, ABIGAIL. ABIGAIL is sitting in her stall and lowing forlornly. She gazes up at CLARK as he enters her stall.
CLARK
Okay, girl. No need to belabor it. I need
to have a look at that foot of yours. Up!
TS as CLARK taps the cow lightly on the flank twice. She struggles to her feet, though she is plainly striving to keep weight off her left rear leg. CLARK gently takes the leg in his hand and bends it at the knee, looking at the hoof below.
CLARK
I told him to keep the herd indoors if the pasture
got too wet, but did he listen? No. It’s a wonder
more of you didn’t pick something up out there,
I tell you what.
ABIGAIL
Grunt.
CLARK
Sorry, girl. I’m just on edge because of all this
running. Life used to be pretty simple, and
now I’m having difficulty remembering a time
when I wasn’t living in fear of the WoBies coming
and breaking down the door in the middle of
the night. I hear TerraSec sirens when I close my eyes.
ABIGAIL
MoooooooOOOO!
CLARK winces in sympathy with ABIGAIL as he scrapes the soil off of her hoof, revealing a bloody red mess on the bottom.
CLARK
Yep, it’s abscessed. Sorry, girl, but this is
going to have to come out if we’re gonna save
the leg.
CLARK lets the cow’s leg down and fetches a syringe out of his bag. He flicks the needle once and sprays a short jet of fluid through before nodding and administering the local anesthetic to ABIGAIL’s leg.
CLARK
Don’t worry, girl, you shouldn’t feel a thing.
You’ll probably be a better patient then Alex
was, anyway. You know I had to practically
re-assemble his second and third metacarpals?
ABIGAIL
Moo.
CLARK
Exactly. Do me a favor and don’t you get shot while
resisting arrest, okay?
ABIGAIL
Grunt.
CLARK
Good. It’s not that I mind helping. Well, okay,
I do mind. I do mind risking life and limb and
dodging the lawful authority in the name of a
resistance that is starting to look more and more
doomed with each passing day. I mean, as far
as I know, our houseguests are some of the only
ComGuard left alive on Terra, and one of them just
had his hand put back together in a Travel Inn.
ABIGAIL
Huff.
CLARK
I know! He barely even thanked me, although that
might have been because of all those painkillers
I put him on. At least he’s been good for teaching me
another thing or two about marksmanship. Still,
those are lessons I’d as soon not use.
CLARK replaces the needle in the bag and removes a sturdy-looking, surgically-sharp knife with a thick handle and a short blade. He also takes out a few disinfecting wipes, and begins to clean ABIGAIL’s foot as he speaks.
CLARK
We had to bug out of Montana, of course, which
means that like as not some poor Branth is
stuck out in the wild with no clue where it is
or what it’s supposed to be doing. Branths on
Terra! It was a dream of mine for years, but
like this...as weapons for the Word...I’d as soon
they stayed on Lopez. Poor beast. I wish they’d
let me help. That’s why I’ve asked Simon to help
me put my name out on the net, see if I can
get brought in on the project. I might know more
about Branths than most scientists on Terra.
ABIGAIL makes a brief rumbling noise in her throat, and then begins to chew her cud, blinking at CLARK occasionally. CLARK takes hold of the knife and begins to dig the bloody abscess out of the cow’s foot, continuing to converse with her as he works.
CLARK
I’m not...ngh!..sure what our next move
should be, girl. Mmmph...I just want to do right
by Terra, and I know...eyah!...that getting the
Word of Blake out of power is the best thing. I
just have to...wow, this is a juicy one, girl...not
lose faith. Maybe Cho came up with something.
ABIGAIL’s eyes begin to roll, as though she has finally noticed something amiss, and she lows loudly. CLARK keeps her hoof in one hand while patting her with the other, fingers stretched over the handle of the bloody knife, which he clutches to his palm with his thumb.
CLARK
Easy, girl. I know it feels weird. Just a few
more minutes and we’ll be done, okay?
At the soothing words from CLARK, ABIGAIL calms herself. CLARK continues his work.
CLARK
I just wish I could get in touch with the
Resistance again, you know? Get some kind of
hint that we’re not the only ones doing anything
out there. ‘Cause it’s really starting to feel that way,
and this job is too big for our ragtag bunch.
CLARK plops the abscess’ bloody tissue into a biohazard bag, and grabs a looped hose off the wall, with which he begins washing out the wound channel. Pus and blood flow freely onto the floor. CLARK finishes this task silently, then applies some cream from his bag and begins to wind a cloth bandage around the hoof.
CLARK
You’ll be hobbled for a few days more, sweetie,
but we’ve got fodder enough to see you through, and
if the antibiotics take, you should be frolicking again
in a month or two.
The sound of a distant helicopter makes CLARK freeze, and he casts a nervous glance out the barn’s loft window. He does not even seem to breathe until it passes.
CLARK
I wish I could be so sure about myself.
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