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Chapter Four
Kingdom of the
Cats
As Buck hopped
down to join the group, the big yellow tabby began licking his best friend
Tom’s head, and then began moving down the line, giving each of the other
felines a token lick. It was, Sam
understood, a sign of friendship, so he was naturally moved when he felt Buck’s
tongue on himself. It was, he
recalled the sensation, a rough little tongue. Buck purred loudly as he moved the muscle up and down Sam’s
head. A familiar chirrup
accentuated the purring sound, at times becoming a rumbling noise—typical
feline noises indicating friendship and, in this case, a greeting. Not knowing if he should respond, Sam
looked with embarrassment at the ground.
He felt moved, but he was also aware of something terribly wrong with
this behavior. Of the six
bewitched humans gathered in the field, at least Buck understood what being feline
meant. He was too genuine for
Sam’s comfort, reminding him very much of his own tabby cat when he was a
child.
When
Sam tried to respond, a mewing followed out his throat, phonetically
indistinguishable except for the infliction he put on each meow. He couldn’t muster up a purr or chirrup
yet, but it seemed to be enough for the other cats. They all began licking him too, as had Buck, as if, now that
their leader accepted him, he was okay in their eyes, no longer the
self-righteous son of a bitch they knew at Shadowbrook Arms.
******
All
of the cats, including himself, had some of the same characteristics they once
had as humans. Sam looked down at
his paws and glanced back at his rump to discover that his sable coat was the
same shade of dark brown he once had on his head when he was human. He was, judging by the shadows he and
Buck cast during their flight, a medium-sized cat just as he had been a
medium-sized young man. Buck
Logan, who had a shock of blond curls on his big head before, was now a large
yellow tabby with brilliant copper-colored eyes. A strange and incomprehensible buzz filled Sam’s head, as if
everyone was attempting to communicate all at once. Their voices were muffled and unclear. He couldn’t discern words yet, only
grunting and groaning emotions.
The big tabby licked him in response to his own effort to talk and promptly
showed him his behind. It was as if, in spite of the lack
of females, he was nothing more than a member of Buck’s pride. After being an overbearing young man,
he was, naturally enough, top cat of the group.
Tom
Wellitz was the next feline to greet him—a low, friendly rumble emanating from
his throat. He was, as the other members
of Buck’s gang, a follower, rather than a leader. Normally silent and taciturn until he had something to say,
he now exhibited that same serenity he had as a mortal man. He reminded Sam very much, in both body
and temperament, of a Maine coon: a sturdy, longhaired and emerald-eyed cat,
with patches of white on is paws and nose, whose striped tail resembled the
tail of a raccoon.
It
was not difficult for Sam to pick Jim Courtney out of the group. Jim, a portly man in life, was now the
largest member of the gang: a fluffy, fat, blue-eyed cat, with calico fur. Good natured and talkative in his first
life, he was now the most noisy of the felines, meowing when he had nothing to
meow about and purring non-stop since Buck introduced Sam.
All
of the cats, including Buck, Sam believed, were trying desperately to
talk. There were definite sounds
in his mind coming from various felines, which expressed puzzlement, amusement,
anger, and surprise, but no words.
Not knowing from whom the sounds originated, Sam did not even know who
was trying to communicate until someone bumped up against him or licked his
head. He was able to match the
other two cats with their human names by a process of elimination. Drew Connors, who had been a gawky,
tow-headed youth, was now the scrawny, tan colored feline sitting by himself,
the most dejected looking member of the group. As if the dark forces of magic had a sense of humor, Ed
Montez now had the classic features of a pedigreed Havana, a shorthaired cat
with a dog-like muzzle, whose chocolate colored coat, Sam recalled, was similar
to a Cuban cigar.
Unlike
the other cats who seemed concerned about their state of affairs, Ed played
abstractedly with a bug. Now,
after several moments of idly batting it around with his little paw, the small
grasshopper he had trapped on the ground, was dead. A curious look appeared in his green eyes, and his canine
muzzle seemed to draw up into a pout.
It almost seemed to Sam that, losing his humanity, Ed didn’t understand
what he had done. He had just
tortured a defenseless bug to death, and he felt no remorse, only that feline
curiosity Sam had seen in his own childhood cat when he had just killed a mouse
or bird.
“Well,
he’s finally succeeded,” Drew’s thoughts filled Sam’s head. “He and the rest of those strays are
going to make fine cats. As for
myself, I keep expecting to wake up, and all of this nonsense will be a bad
dream!”
Though
his mouth had not moved, it occurred immediately to Sam that the tan cat, whom
he was certain was Drew, had ‘spoken.’ The same brooding gray eyes he had as a human were
focused upon him now. After
watching the cats’ feline movements and hearing their feral cries, Sam
realized, with great relief, that he was not alone. At least one of them could still talk. As the sound on
a badly tuned radio, the buzz in Sam’s head was suddenly muted; above the
confusing din, Drew Connors, as a voice in the wilderness, was communicating… with his mind!
Judging
by his past, Drew had the most complete metamorphosis of them all. He had, Sam recalled light-headedly
now, always been backward and uncoordinated as a mortal, and yet he was, as a
cat and in spite of his humble anatomy, obviously the smartest member of Buck’s
gang.
“What? What did you say?” he looked at Drew in
disbelief. “Your mouth didn’t move, and yet and yet—”
“I
spoke! It’s true,” Drew looked
squarely into Sam’s warm, golden eyes. “It sounds like science fiction, but I
spoke. I could hear you thoughts
too, not as a human, of course; we no longer have vocal chords. And don’t ask me how it’s done.”
“But
I heard you immediately!” thought
Sam, trotting up to him. “All I hear from those guys is racket: purrs, chirps,
and grunts.”
“Those
dummies have learned how to do it yet,” explained Drew. “Either that or they’re
too stupid to try.”
“Why
did you and I learn so quickly, while the others act so much like cats?”
“Look
at yourself.” Drew cocked his head. “You are
a cat too. We both are. They’re just
more stupid than us. I think
they’re trying though. I just hope
they learn soon. It’s not
something you can teach anyone; there’s no textbook for reading minds.”
“Mind-reading!”
Sam looked up to the sky. “Is it possible? I thought that kind’ve stuff was all make-believe. I never believed in telepathy or
extra-sensory perception, and yet we’re living proof of it.” “We’ve… we’ve,” he searched for the
right words, “been truly blessed!”
******
Settling
next to each other now and exchanging companionable looks, Sam and Drew became
fast friends. An incredible
awareness filled Sam’s mind. The
fear that he wouldn’t be able to communicate with the other cats had been
cancelled. Cats could communicate; Drew proved it. The other cats were learning too. He could hear their efforts, rising
from unintelligible mental grunts to short, uncouth sentences that only humans
thought could make. When Drew
transmitted his thoughts to him, Sam understood him as clearly as if he spoke
in English to him. Though they
couldn’t actually talk, they had read each other’s thoughts as well as cat-like
movements: the expression in each other’s eyes, bodily movements, and the
quiver of each other’s snout. Was
this form of telepathy a typical cat trait that all cats possessed? Or had it been bestowed upon them by
God? If it had been a gift from
God, it wasn’t in the Bible, and yet it was like spiritual balm for Sam’s
troubled soul.
“Thank
you Lord,” he mewed hopefully under his breath. “In my wretchedness, you’ve
given me special gifts: a feline’s instincts, a mortal’s brain, and most of all
the ability to read minds!”
“Very
pretty,” Drew nodded to him, “… but it’ll get worse, my friend, if we begin thinking like cats.”
“What
do you mean?” Sam tried to frown.
“It’s part of the spell,” Drew seemed to
sigh. “After awhile, India promised us tonight, we won’t even know who we are.”
“I
can’t believe that,” Sam shook his head. “God’s punished us enough! He won’t let her do that!”
“You
really believe He cares about us?” Drew replied glumly. “We’re cats Sam: felis catus. We don’t have souls.”
“Who
said we don’t?” Sam reasoned desperately. “Where in the Bible does it say we
don’t have souls…. You have a soul Drew.
I have a soul. Remember
that, if nothing else. That’s one thing India Crowley can’t change!”
******
For
the new Sam Burns, Drew, Buck, and their circle of friends were now his family
and home. Right this moment, in
fact, Drew Connors was his link to the outside world. Soon, however, to Sam’s relief, his head was filled with
Buck, Tom, Jim, and Ed along with Drew’s thoughts—a maddening experience at
first, but reassurance that, in their mental humanity, he and Drew were not
alone. The other cats were
learning to communicate their thought processes, as Drew hoped they would. Sam wondered if the stimulus of he and
Drew’s telepathic discourse had jogged their feline minds. Together, as a team, they would lift
the spell. And they must hurry, he
and Drew now reminded them, for they were running out of time!
Already,
a mere hour after India’s imprecation, as part of her curse, they could be
losing their humanity. Sam feared,
in spite of his own fine words, the bewitched cats would, as a result, also
lose their souls. For the time
being, as he sat alongside of Drew, Sam concentrated upon his blessings,
looking wistfully in the direction of Shadowbrook Arms. He was alive…. He was not a frog or
toad…. He had special powers and could
read minds!
Buck,
he noticed, was trying to be brave.
The big tabby’s mental words to his gang were simple, but encouraging,
at this stage, growing in coherency as he used his telepathic powers. At first his efforts demonstrated the
difficulties he and most of his friends had while in their feline bodies. The instincts of cats also worked
against the mental capabilities of human beings. Since Buck, Jim, Tom, and Ed were physically driven young
men, it seemed only natural that they would have problems now. And yet, at one point, in the
simplicity of his logic, Buck uttered what Sam thought might be the ultimate
solution for their dilemma: “We must kill the Shadowbrook Witch!” Almost immediately as if a mental fog
had lifted, the remaining cats began chattering intelligently with each other
inside everyone’s head.
“Didn’t
Dorothy’s house destroy the Wicked Witch of the East’s power by squashing her
to death?” Buck asked them in a surprisingly articulate way.
“Yeah,”
replied Tom, nodding with excitement, “remember what happened to the monkeys
when the Wicked Witch of the West melted on the floor?”
“The
spell was broken!” Ed cried with glee.
“They
turned back into people!” Jim blared into their collective thoughts.
“Wait
a moment!” Drew protested, scarcely believing his ears. “That was a movie! Those people were actors, not real
people! That doesn’t count!”
“Maybe
it’s true,” Sam murmured reflectively, looking back at Drew. “It could be our
only option.”
“What?”
Drew cried in disbelief. “That can’t be
our only option. That woman is
dangerous, Sam, and would probably have had us all stuffed!”
Hearing
Sam’s declaration of support, Buck gave him an approving look but frowned at
the reaction from his gang. There
was merit in Drew’s concern.
Both Sam and Buck reflected upon India’s hatred for them.
“Kill
the bitch! Kill the bitch!”
chanted Jim, Tom, and Ed.
They
simply could not rush back and take on the Shadowbrook Witch. Buck, as a leader of his gang, wanted a
plan, but he had no idea of what it might be.
“Listen,
you numbskulls,” he snapped, hopping upon his stump, “you want to wind up as a
trophies on India’s wall?”
“No,”
they meowed.
“Would
you like to be turned into frogs or toads?”
“No-no,”
they replied hissing and humping up their backs.
“Then
hunker down lads,” Buck counseled gently. “Let’s get some shuteye and wait for
the dawn.”
Upon
Buck’s signal, Sam trotted over and joined him on his stump. Drew joined Buck uneasily on his other
side.
“We
must think of a plan,” Sam transmitted to Buck.
“Yeah,”
Buck agreed, looking down at his gang, “a good plan!”
“Plan? What
plan?” Drew blurted mentally. “We have no hands to hold weapons or implement
plans. Our bodies would be crushed
by that woman. We’re cats now,
guys, no longer men. What possible
plan could we have?”
Buck
and Sam didn’t have a clue.
The
six cats’ eyes flashed on and off eerily as they caught passing motorist’s
lights. Sam knew that the mirror
behind the felines’ light sensitive eyes had merely transformed their copper,
green, blue, and hazel eye colors into fleeting flashes of brilliance, and yet
he shuddered at this effect. He
could see them so clearly with so little light, but it was their smells that
formed constellations around him now.
Already, he could distinguish Buck and Drew’s odors from the
others. The awful din of their
collective thoughts, which would take getting used to, remained as restless
murmurs in his head. The rubbing
and purring of Buck and Drew was a distraction too. The group’s feral feelings, which had no language, pervaded
his mind, as the primal, unspoken, emotions of all cats.
“Don’t
worry,” quipped top cat, emitting an expansive yawn, “we’ll kill the witch,
just like Dorothy did in the Wizard of Oz!”
Sam,
feeling uncomfortable with the big cat’s proximity, edged tactfully away.
“I’m
not so sure Buck,” he tried not to sound critical, “the Wicked Witch in the
Wizard of Oz was fiction. She
never existed.”
“What?”
Buck tried to frown.
“You
mean she wasn’t a historical character?” they could hear Jim and Ed’s thoughts.
“For
Christ’s sake, it was a movie!” Drew
shook his head in dismay. “Dorothy didn’t kill the wicked witch; the witch was
crushed by her house. We don’t
have a house men; all we have are claws on our little paws. We can’t shoot or stab her to death
either. We certainly can’t hold a
knife or gun!”
“Will,”
drawled Buck, lapsing slowly into silence again, “… our movie will have a happy
ending…. We’ll think of a plan!”
In
reality, the big yellow tabby was doing what all cats do after a long eventful
day: fall asleep. All of the cats,
including Sam and Drew, now needed a nap.
Exhaustion came suddenly over them as a heavy, pervasive wave.
******
Things
could have been much worse for them, Sam thought, looking down at the
group. They could, as Buck pointed
out, have been captured by India and become trophies on her wall, and they
could also have been sacrificed or thrown into her pot. There were, he believed, worse animals
to be than cats. India could have
turned them all into all kinds of creeping, crawling, or slimy things, much
worse than even frogs or toads.
Sam wanted to believe that India had,
in some ways, done him a favor in selecting such a sleek and intelligent
form. He had once read a book
about cats. Cats were, he learned,
in many ways superior to human beings.
He was, as a prime example, with his coat of sable fur, far more
handsome than he had been before.
He was also, with his new body, faster than he had been as a human. He could see much better and smell
odors he could not possibly have detected before. In spite of everything he once thought he knew about cats,
they could, after all, ‘talk.’
Whether
it was called telepathy or a supernatural gift (which he would much rather
believe), they could read each other’s minds and movements, as clearly as
plainspoken words. This no mortal
man or woman could do. There were
no sentences exchanged out loud, and yet clear English words were passed back
and forth inside their heads. After
a short period of adjustment, even Jim and Ed were communicating quite well.
Realizing
that he was this very moment sharing Buck’s stump, a man who had hated him as a
human, actually filled him with pride.
He was one of the pack. Sam
felt his hairs bristle on his back and an involuntary purr rumbled in his
throat. A strange feeling of
camaraderie he had never known before overtook him: a team spirit more akin to
pack mentality, devoid of clear logic or spiritual aims. He was more intelligent than Buck and
had, whether they had liked it or not, been their spiritual conscience in human
form in the past, receiving their verbal barbs but begrudging respect for never
wavering in his faith. But now he
was a sleek and agile member of Buck’s gang. He had become an animal he had always admired: a cat. His natural dread was tempered by this
irrational and unbiblical pride.
******
The
nagging fear gripping him, as he and Drew left the stump and found themselves a
place to curl up and sleep, was softened greatly by his common bond with the
pack. As he looked around to
survey the others, however, he was struck by the lingering feral movement of
the group. He watched the rest of
them as they bedded down beneath bushes and a discarded cardboard box, and
noticed his fellow felines scratching, preening, and purring as would ordinary
cats. Already, it seemed to him,
they were becoming more and more like felines…. How long did they all have?… A
few weeks?… A few days?… Was it measured in mere hours?
As
he looked up again to the heavens above, he felt, for the first time in his
life, alienated from his God. He
had always loved the little furry beasts, but did they, as he promised Drew,
really have souls? When dawn came
several hours from now, they would all have to face the new day, no longer as
humans but as cats. Sam found
himself remembering the poem he wrote in school. He realized, as he recalled each verse, what a lonely life
this might turn out to be.
In
the shadows, in secret play,
the feral felines roam.
Drawn by serendipity,
they
live without a home.
Castaway and vagabond,
true
children of the night.
In their secret twilight kingdom
they
shun dawn’s lonely light.
In the alleys and the field,
among
the silent grass,
all minor mammals quickly yield
or
become a cat’s repast.
Wary until daylight wanes,
in
darkened habitats.
At night the feral felines reign
in
the Kingdom of the Cats.