Go to Next Chapter -- Return
to Contents/Writer's Den
Feline Retribution
Before Sam sent his e-mail to Alice, Buck, with his
own solution in mind, had led his small band of felines to his apartment at the
end of level two. The four young
men had been living in Buck’s tiny domicile, while Drew Connors had his own
apartment across town.
Unfortunately for Buck and his gang, the side windows for the living
room, unlike Sam’s place, were locked tight. While Sam and his new friends ate heartily and rested in the
safety of his apartment, Buck and his gang tried unsuccessfully to slide a
window open after tearing a hole in the screen.
“This
is just great!” groaned Jim, “I need food! Let’s go back to Sam’s.”
“Sam’s
got enough problems without us,” Buck spoke with resolution now. “I know of
another place we can go.”
“Sam’s
place is fine with me,” Tom said eagerly, “let’s go back to Sam’s.”
“Yeah,
I’m starving,” Ed declared dismally, “I could eat cat food right now.”
“I
wanna big thick steak!” pouted Jim.
“No,
I gotta better idea,” Buck said, scampering down the hall.
Unable
to keep up with the fleet footed ex-athlete, the other three grumbled and
hissed as they tried catching up, then froze in their tracks when he stopped at
a familiar door.
“Whoa
there, Bucky-boy,” Jim called out shakily now, “this is India Crowley’s
apartment. We’ve got no business
in there!”
“Listen,
guys,” Buck implored, “we gotta check out the witch’s apartment before the cops
return. Maybe we can find a book
with her spells in it or something.
I’m sure she’s got something yummy to eat!”
“Hah!”
Jim retorted, holding firm, “she probably eats witches food: snails, lizards
and toads.”
“Yeah,”
Tom nodded in agreement, “what about that witch whats-her-face in the Land of
the Dead who ate dead people?”
“Come
on Tommy,” Buck was becoming frustrated now, “that was a B-grade horror
movie. I’m sure she eats normal
food like us.” “Besides,” he took on a crafty look, “I got something else in mind too!”
The
other cats sat there in various poses of incredulity or rebellion: Jim with the
closest thing to a frown he could muster, Tom facing the opposite way and Ed
distracted by a tiny ant. In spite
of these typical feline responses, Buck began working at India’s living room
window screen by himself until the material was finally torn. When Buck grew tired, Tom and Ed felt
guilty enough to take turns, themselves, until a gaping hole was created by the
constant action of their paws.
“After
grabbing a bite,” Buck explained as he climbed through the hole, “we’re gonna
have some fun!”
“This
is a dumb idea, Tom shook his head as he watched Ed follow Buck in. “It would
be much easier to hole up at Sam’s!”
“I’m
not going in there. I’m going back
to Sam’s!” Jim decided, looking with terror at the hole.
Suddenly
the remaining two cats froze in their tracks then broke into the characteristic
spooked cat pose of humped back and upright frizzled tale, hissing at the sound
of a human voice.
“All
right, team,” someone shouted at the top of his lungs, “let’s secure this area
and call it a day!”
With
no apparent witnesses, the investigation of India Crowley’s accident had been
brief. The investigation team,
which had combed the grounds for evidence and questioned several more tenants,
now responded to the lieutenant’s order as factory workers to the whistle,
retreating in bored detachment to their cars.
“I’ll
catch up later,” Detective Randolph called to his partner, “I wanna ask a few
more questions.”
“Get
your asses in here!” the two laggards heard Buck cry into their heads.
******
Without
further argument, Jim and Tom followed Buck and Ed’s example up and over the
ledge, through the screen and onto the carpet below. Jim landed with a thud, while Tom landed lithely on all four
paws. The big gray Maine coon,
though timid, cut the most handsome figure of the four.
“We got to do this caper today,” Buck said
conspiratorially to them now. “I think trashing India’s apartment is a good way
to keep our minds focused on what we are: humans, not cats.”
“Look at us boys!” he hopped up on a chair and
inspected himself in the living room mirror. “We can’t make love properly in
this form. We can’t do
foreplay. We were gonna hump two
female cats until Sam stepped in.
Pretty soon we won’t even like human food. We’ll be chasing rats and birds, like Ed!”
“Disgusting!” Jim spat. “It makes me sick!”
“I never chased no rats and birds, only bugs,” Ed
replied defensibly, wagging his chocolate tail.
“Well, it’s not normal,” Tom joined in scornfully,
“you’ve got to show more control!”
“The point is,” Buck redirected sternly, “we’re
human underneath this fur, not beasts.
We gotta stay focused on our enemy: India Crowley. We’re gonna show that bitch what we do
to witches here at Shadowbrook Arms!”
“Yeah,”
Tom nodded with approval, “humans don’t stay mad; they get even! Let’s
kick ass!”
“I’m
hungry.” Jim said, collapsing in a multicolored heap.
“You
puto! You need a bath!” Ed’s voice
growled inside Jim’s head.
Jim
jumped up and hissed: “You disgusting bug-killer! You dare criticize me? At least I don’t act like a cat!”
“No,”
Ed challenged, “you act like a pig!”
Rising up with his back humped, Ed seemed ready to
do battle. Buck came between his
two friends immediately, shocked by what he saw. Tom joined him now to form a united front.
“You
see what’s happening Ed? You too
Jim!” he challenged. “You’re acting like beasts —both of you! Stay focused on the enemy: India
Crowley.”
“Jimbo,
my old friend,” the top cat transmitted gently, after taking the portly cat
aside, “Get this into your thick skull: the enemy is the Shadowbrook Witch, not
Ed. You should feel sorry for poor
Ed. He’s sinking fast. Look at him. You guys used to be buddies. Let’s stop acting like spooked-up cats and try to figure out
how we can break India’s spell. Let’s
not fight amongst ourselves!”
“Sam
will help us.” Jim suggested, looking forlornly around the room. “Let’s go back
to his apartment where there’s food and it’s safe!”
“In
due time,” Buck promised, surveying the scene. “Weeeeee, this is great!” he scampered
across the floor. “What shall we do first?”
“What
do you suggest?” Tom asked thoughtfully, as Buck ran aimlessly around the room.
“Let’s
shit on her carpet,” Jim offered, squatting on a likely spot.
“Let’s
piss on her furniture,” Ed walked over to the couch and raised his leg.
“Very
good,” Buck nodded, marking a few zones, himself, “we’ll stink the place up
first then get down to some serious destruction before we leave.”
“I’m
going to tear up all her clothes and soil her bed,” Tom said gleefully
scampering into the hall.
“I’m
going to find some food,” Jim said, looking back proudly at his mess. “Wow,
that’s worst than human shit!” He wrinkled his pudgy nose.
******
The
four male cats proceeded to befoul and damage India’s apartment, the greatest
stroke of mischief coming from Buck who managed to tip over her fish tank and,
with the help of the others, kill all her fish. It occurred to Tom, the most civilized of the foursome, how
cruel this act was. Buck, who
began having second thoughts, himself, also looked on in horror, when Ed, as
expected, ate several of the hapless fish before it was time to leave. Buck, who, as Tom, was trying to hold
onto his humanity, was having no more success than the others, and yet he felt
a pang of guilt now. He knew that
this was wrong even though he ate one himself.
“Jesus,”
he drew back and shuddered, “I don’t believe we’re doing this. We just killed a dozen of these poor
little bastards. Enough
already. Let’s get out of her
bedroom. This makes me sick!”
“Ed
ate four fish! Ed ate four fish!”
Jim pointed his nose accusingly. “This guy’s out of control!”
“Well,
I didn’t eat any!” Tom said
self-righteously, trailing behind the others. “I’m going to get me some human
food!”
Once
more Ed hissed at Jim, and Buck again moved as a buffer between the two cats,
again counseling Jim to be more patient with his more feral friend. They had to be careful, he explained to
them both, and not make a lot of noise.
A catfight would draw attention to their gang and bring animal control
down on their heads. For several
moments, to everyone’s delight, they gorged themselves on lunchmeat from
India’s refrigerator and slackened their thirst from India’s toilet, lapping
the water up with their rough little tongues.
******
On
the way back to the living room, Buck suddenly remembered why they came here
and began looking around for a special book.
“Wow,”
he remarked, rummaging with his nose and paws through the clutter on her desk,
“she’s messier than me! Here’s an
apple core. Look at this; it looks
like a cigar!”
“What
are we looking for?” Tom inquired, scanning the bookcase above. “I’ve never
seen so many books on witchcraft and Satan worship! Where do we begin?”
“Spooky
books, with witchy titles,” Jim answered his friend.
“Yes,
and ones with weird pictures, like this one,” Buck found a large, beautifully
scrolled volume with the title “Sanctum Regnum” on the cover. With a great deal of effort, Buck
opened the book. A circle of naked
woman were portrayed on the title page dancing around a steaming pot.
“Whoa,
this is more like it,” he crowed, literally drooling onto the page.
Unfortunately
for Buck, it was impossible to turn the page. He attempted several times to flip the gossamer paper,
tearing pages and, at one point injuring a nail, until he drew back, hissed at
the infernal book and let out a loud meow.
“Oh
what’s the use!” he groaned in despair. “We don’t know what were looking
for. I can’t function with these
stubby paws.”
“What
do we do?” Tom looked up expectantly at his leader.
“Let’s
take a nap,” thought Jim with a yawn.
After thinking about it for a moment, Buck again
displayed his characteristic resolve.
Hopping off the desk, he scampered down the hall, disappearing in a
flash through the screen.
One-by-one, the cats followed as before, Jim barely making it this time
through the hole. When the group
emerged in the corridor outside, they rallied around their leader, overstuffed,
drowsy, and ready for a nap. Buck
was thinking again about killing the Shadowbrook Witch. He didn’t know exactly how to
accomplish this feat, but his mind was now set.
The sudden return of humans in the courtyard below,
however, sent them scurrying back as frightened, hissing cats down the
hall. Voices, at first
unintelligible, echoed throughout the complex as two gardeners, finished with
their chores, walked through the corridor below.
The
four cats recognized the language spoken, laughing hysterically amongst
themselves. Ed was immediately
ordered by Buck to decipher what they said.
“They’re
talking again about what happened,” Ed translated swiftly, perking up an ear,
“…. Manuel, the landscape supervisor is telling Pedro, one of his men, about
the woman’s accident…. Manuel said the woman is a witch… she was shot by one of
the tenants… but she’s alive… They could find no identification on her and no
one would talk about it…. Most of the tenants pretended they were not home
until the detectives arrived and made them answer their doors.”
“That’s
incredible.” Buck wanted to slap his forehead in disbelief. “All the mischief
she’s done, and she’s admitted as a Jane Doe!”
“We’re
John Does” Jim uttered a bitter
laugh. “It’s like we don’t exist.”
“Shhh! There’s more,” Ed interrupted,
tip-toeing to the rail. “…. Manuel just told Pedro that the woman, because of
her injuries, must be in a deep coma.”
“But
she still might live.” Tom shook his head in dismay. “What if she recovers?”
“Yeah.”
Jim nodded. “Witches have special powers.”
“She’ll
come after us, guys.” Buck groaned. “I’m telling you; we gotta kill the bitch
before she wakes up. We gotta pull
her plugs!”
“Hold
on a minute,” Ed shushed them, “I hear Frank Harper talking to one of those
detectives. He heard the shots.”
“Detectives?”
Tom wrinkled his snout. “I thought they left!”
No longer
needing Ed as a translator, the four cats stuck their little heads through the
bars of the balcony, their fuzzy ears angled forward for maximum
reception.
“Mister
Harper,” uttered the detective, “we found the weapon in the bushes in front of
your apartment, only a few feet from where she fell.”
“Don’t
know about no weapon,” grunted Frank. “Just heard shots—four or five
maybe. Thought they were fire
crackers at first.”
“Mister Harper, after all that commotion, you didn’t
think to look out your window or front door?”
“Mind
my own business,” the old man said in a deadpan voice. “Them kids is always running
amuck!”
Detective
Randolph, the last member of the team to depart, walked away to join his
partner, laughing under his breath.
The four cats shared the detective’s mirth. Because none of her neighbors had come out to investigate,
India Crowley was emitted to ER as a Jane Doe. Giggling uncontrollably a moment, Buck felt light-headed yet
filled with purpose as he scampered toward the stairs.
“Lets
go men!” He called back cheerily. “We know what hospital she’s in. We know what we gotta do!”
“We’re
going to the county hospital?” Jim’s thoughts shot into his head. “Are you
nuts? That’s clear across town!”
“You’re
not seriously thinking of going there now?”
The slits of Tom’s feline pupils widened with alarm.
Jim
and Tom backed away in dread. Ed,
anticipating Buck’s next move, had already began running toward Sam’s when he
was called back with the others now.
“Ed!
Jim! Tom!” He transmitted shrilly. “You want to be cats the rest of your
lives?”
“No,”
Jim and Tom both replied faintly, “we want to live!”
“Then,
if you want to live as humans and not cats,” Buck beckoned, “follow me. I’m going to kill the Shadowbrook
Witch! I’m not going to wait
around for some bimbo to step in like Sam’s doing. All my instincts tell me that this is right. We got to do this ourselves!” “Are you with me?” He challenged them now. “So help me,
if I have to, I’ll do it myself!”
By
now, he had at least fired up Ed, the most feral of the four. As Buck scampered down the staircase,
the little chocolate Havana raced passed Jim and Tom, quickly materializing by
his side. The remaining two,
shamed by their own frailties, followed at a distance, until Buck and Ed,
pausing at the edge of the parking lot, allowed them to catch up.
As
a pack once more, they scampered down the sidewalk. Together, they ran across the intersection when the light
turned green: four small members of the species felis catus, on a crusade to
kill a wicked witch, who held all their fates in her comatose hands.
Go to Next Chapter -- Return to Contents/Writer's Den