A Cruelty Free Secret

Everyone in Westlake knew about the secret of the Wilhelm Family. It was odd that everyone knew because Wilhelms were a peculiar sort of family in the way that they never mingled with the town like everyone else, or ventured much outside of their mansion which stood proudly on top of the hill, so high that it was practically surrounded by clouds. It was more like a home of the gods rather than anything that belonged within the small cottages that scattered Westlake. Perhaps it was this status that was able to tie closed the mouths of the townspeople who evidently reaped the benefits of their wealth and goods. They all felt the effects of Wilhelm’s exportation of various meats, sprouting a “cruelty free” label, a revolutionary concept, allowing for people to feel better about eating and therefore purchasing meat products. It was for this reason that nobody in the past 20 years raised a fit when the Wilhelm family secret was discovered. However, that all changed when someone new entered the town. 

Inspector Hector arrived into town on the mandate of new county regulations that had hopes of standardizing sanitary processes in consumable goods. He was a stubborn and serious man with a mustache, resting on his upper lip, which was almost always turned down, giving the impression of a sheriff in a Wild West Hollywood movie. He was only in town temporarily to inspect the happenings on the Wilhelm farm and ensure that they complied with a list of regulations that he had marked on a clipboard he constantly carried with him. He set off from the villa that he was staying in, towards the Wilhelm’s mansion. Although it was early, the streets were surprisingly empty. I wonder what time people typically work here, he thought to himself.

“Good day, sir,” greeted one of the townspeople, making Hector jump. He was a nice looking young man with overalls covered in dirt. 

“Good day,” Hector replied confusedly. He wasn’t used to being greeted by random strangers. 

“Hector right? 

“Yes, that is me, but how did you know my name?”

“Not a lot of people visit Westlake, so when someone does, word travels quickly. Ms. Jones, the owner of the villa told Mr. Paul who owns the restaurant who told Mr. Whit who told Ms. Whit and I assume you can picture the rest. Where are you headed to? Maybe I can show you the way.”

Hector felt taken aback. This feels like a breach of privacy, he thought to himself, perhaps I will discuss this matter with Ms. Jones later, although it won’t do much good now.

“I am headed to the Wilhelm Mansion to do an inspection check,” Hector stated.

“I see,” the boy said, shifting his feet. “Although the mansion is rather beautiful, there are plenty of other places to visit in this village that would be way more worth your time here. Most of the people in this town have a niche of something they are incredibly good at like that house over there,” the boy explained, pointing at a little blue cottage to his right, “that family makes the most high quality bowls you’ve ever seen. I personally believe it would be much more exciting to hear them explain their craft because they are so much more passionate about it. That’s something you won’t get from Wilhelm mansion.”

“Perhaps another day I can take your suggestion. However, I must fulfill the duty that I was sent here to perform. Could you send me in the right direction.”

The boy’s posture deflated. “Straight down the path and take a left at the bridge,” the boy replied, pointing in a direction that Hector appeared to be going in the opposite direction. It’s possible it’s a shortcut, or it cuts back over into the right direction, he thought to himself. After all, the boy knew the town better than he did. 

“Thank you, goodbye,” Hector answered, walking in the direction that the boy pointed out. 

“No problem,” he heard the boy call out, but he did not stop his stride to turn around and continued along the beaten footpath that would hopefully lead him to the mansion. 

Hector took a left at the bridge as the boy told him and was faced with a steep hill that appeared more and more daunting the longer he looked at it. If this is the best route, I can’t imagine what the others must have looked like, he thought to himself as he started trudging up the hill. Multiple times he was tempted to turn back, as the path got steeper and steeper, but he felt like he needed to uphold his duties as respected inspector. After all, what good would he be if he couldn’t even make it to the farm he was supposed to inspect. 

Hector felt sticky with sweat when he finally reached the front door. It was midday and the sun was beating down on him, cooking him alive. He took a minute to catch his breath and gather his composure before knocking on the door. 

A tall middle aged man with white flowy hair that appeared to sprout from his scalp answered the door. “Mr. Hector, we have been expecting you. Please come in,” he greeted, ushering Hector inside. “I am Marley Wilhelm. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I understand you are here to inspect the livestock and packing sanitation?” 

“Yes,” Hector replied while taking in the sight before him. The front room was beautiful with full length windows that peered at a magnificent garden outside and a spiral staircase with a ceiling so high he could’ve easily mistaken it for the sky. 

“Follow me. I will take you to the livestock and answer any question that you may have.” 

Hector followed him, still in awe as Marley led him outside. Deep down, Hector had never believed that anything could be truly cruelty free until he saw the Wilhelm farm. There were almost three football fields worth of length behind the hill which was sectioned out with each space belonging to a different animal. The weird part was that there didn’t seem to be enough animals roaming the fenced in areas to sustain the amount the Wilhelm family typically exported in a year according to his charts. Perhaps this is a bad livestock year for them, he reasoned. 

Hector took out his clipboard and began checking off boxes. He asked Marley a couple more questions, but the more he listened, the more suspicious he became. There was no feasible way that Hector could see that would explain the multitude of wealth that the Wilhelm family harbored. Maybe I should do some sleuthing, Hector thought as he continued writing notes on his clipboard. After all, I can’t claim to be an inspector if I don’t thoroughly inspect.

“That is everything. As an inspector, I have no issues with this farm,” he declared to Marley, “Would it be possible for me to use the bathroom? It is a rather long way down.”

“Why of course,” Marley replied, “I need to feed the pigs, but the restroom is three doors to the right after you walk back in from the courthouse door that we came out of. Have a nice rest of your day!” 

“You as well,” Hector said with a wave as he started back towards the courthouse. 

Once inside, Hector started walking down the long corridor observing for anything that appeared off until he got to an old door that looked out of place. While the rest of the doors were made from a darker wood, this one was made of a material that looked similar to a rusted metal. Hector grabbed the knob and carefully opened the door. To his surprise, there was a dark stairwell that led downwards into an unknown abyss. Perhaps this is the basement, he thought with uncertainty. He took a step onto the half rotten staircase. It made a loud creak, but he continued. The steps seemed to go on forever, the light from the door was barely visible when he felt the drop off conclude. 

In front of him, there was a dim glow of green light around a corner. He felt a dip in his stomach but curiosity got the better of him. He turned the corner and almost fainted from shock. 

There were rows and rows of trays holding a reddish volatile substance that looked like it was practically self illuminating. These were getting fed into several large machines of sorts that clanked and whizzed in a steady, eerie rhythm. There was a sound of motors turning and packages of meat that had the Wilhelm logo along with “cruelty free” in big bold letters came out of the machine on a conveyor belt. 

“Who’s down there,” a voice boomed from the top of the stairs. Hector stood there paralyzed as the echo of the footsteps came closer and closer. Light illuminated the underside of Marley’s face as he turned the corner, making him look straight out of a horror film. 

“What are you doing down here?” Marley asked in a low voice.

Hector didn’t know what came over him, but he suddenly felt an incredible amount of rage towards the man before him.

“You are lying to your customers! This isn’t cruelty free, this is animal free! This isn’t even the real meat that you’re marketing it to be! What if millions of people are getting sick or this is causing cancer?” exclaimed Hector, “I-I must report this at once!” 

“Let’s not be so drastic,” Marley reasoned, stepping closer. “How much?”

“How much what?”

“How much to keep your mouth shut?”

“Keep my mouth shut?”

“Must you reply to me with all questions? I will pay you a yearly amount as long as word of this doesn’t get out. Almost everyone in this town gets twenty thousand a year and no one says a word. Well, this town would be gone if it did anyways. The people here are artisans but they are able to sustain themselves with my payments for the most part which gives them more time with their families, and I sincerely doubt any of them would be willing to give that up. But for you, I suppose it would require more since you have less incentive and a higher position. Is forty thousand enough?”

“Umm”

“Fifty thousand? I’m afraid it would be difficult for me to go over that”

Hector started to feel faint. “Ok,” he whispered before collapsing on the ground. 

Hector woke up on a cot inside of a red tent. There was someone who like they could be a nurse speaking some gibberish. He shook his head to clear the fog, and when he did, the nurse finally started making sense. She told him he had fainted and was brought here until he recovered. He honestly tried to listen, but his mind was elsewhere. Could everything have been a dream? It wasn’t out of the norm for him to have hyper realistic dreams. 

“One last thing before you go,” the nurse said, “this is for you.” She handed him an envelope with his name scrawled in black ink. It is most likely the bill, he thought grumpily to himself as he thanked her and started walking back to the villa. While he walked, he opened the envelope, almost fainting for a second time. Inside was a neatly written check. One for fifty thousand dollars.