Love and Whiskers

by Olivia Myers

  “Stop! Please. Don’t do this! Stop!” Gabby screamed and sobbed.

  He twisted the knife deeper into her wrist, making her shriek once again. The blade felt like it pierced all the way through her arm; her fingers were tingling yet immobile.

  This was really happening. Trying to fight hadn’t helped anything. She felt herself giving up and floating away, when she noticed a large pot that had been left out on the counter. The handle was facing her, just within reach.

  She only had one shot at this, so she endured a second of Cory’s frantic grappling behind her, waiting for just enough leeway to spring forward for the pot. His grip on her wrist loosened just enough as he was trying to get his pants down with one hand. Gabby lunged for the pot, pushing him off-balance. She grabbed the handle and swung around with all the force she could muster. The pot sailed forward, but just barely caught Cory’s face.

  He let go of her wrist, but the knife was still sticking out of her arm. She didn’t dare move it. Cory stumbled back a few steps, stupefied at what had just struck him. He looked at Gabby and then down at the pot she still held in her hand. He felt his nose and mouth as if checking for blood.

  “You bitch!” He charged back at Gabby.

  She raised the pot, ready to hit him again, when all of a sudden someone shouted, “Freeze!”

  Gabby and Cory turned and saw Raja aiming a gun at Cory.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Cory said. “Raja, put the goddamn gun down before you hurt someone.”

  Gabby looked at Raja, who was intently focusing on Cory’s head. She felt like she should say something, like, “Don’t do this. Let’s just call the police,” but she couldn’t find the words. And she was tired. So tired. Tired of Cory, tired of hurting.

  Cory held his hands out in a placating gesture. “Come on, Raja. I wasn’t going to hurt her. Things got a little carried away, but we were just fooling around. Don’t be stupid. Just put the gun down.”

  “No,” Raja said. “Don’t move. Gabby, go.” Raja nodded her head for Gabby to leave through the living room, but Gabby stared at her, not understanding. “Gabby! Now!”

  Gabby backed out of the kitchen and into the living room. She ran to Cory’s study to call 911. She could hear Cory trying to talk to Raja, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Gabby was trying to explain to the dispatcher what was happening in her home, when she heard a shot. She dropped the phone and stood unmoving at the desk. She could hear the dispatcher raising her voice into the phone asking if everyone was all right, but Gabby couldn’t pick it up. She couldn’t even breathe. She stared at the door, waiting for either Raja or Cory to appear. Without dropping her gaze, Gabby felt around the desk for something to use as a weapon. Her fingertips felt something long and somewhat sharp. A letter opener. It would have to do. She hovered by the door, waiting for Cory.

  It was still silent downstairs. Cory would have come up by now, she decided. After what felt like an eternity, she exited the study and crept back toward the kitchen. The first thing she could see were blood spatters in the kitchen. As she moved closer, she saw more blood pooling on the kitchen tile. The air felt humid and too close, and sweat trickled down her hairline. Legs stretched out on the floor from behind the kitchen island. Gabby looked away, closing her eyes and stifling a scream. When she looked back, she realized that there were pants around the ankles; it was Cory. Still hesitant, she looked around for signs of Raja or anyone else that might be in her house.

  “Raja? Raja where are you?” she whispered.

  Gabby quickly peeked into the garage, whispering for Raja to come out. The garage was empty. She returned to the kitchen to check if Cory really was dead. She kicked his foot and there was no response, so she yelled out Raja’s name. She covered the gash in her arm with a kitchen towel. Then she searched the entire house, hoping to coax Raja out of hiding, but Raja had vanished without a trace.

  Gabby examined Cory’s lifeless body. There was a bullet hole in his head and his pants were looped around his ankles. An appropriate ending for such a jackass, she thought to herself. She sat down on one of the stools at the counter, waiting for the police to arrive. She couldn’t look away from Cory’s body for fear that he might somehow come back to life. She was too overwhelmed to cry or even move. Then she realized that her purse had been placed on the counter, and an envelope was carefully balanced on top.

  She opened the envelope, which was stuffed full of dollar bills. She couldn’t tell how much money was there, but it seemed like a lot. She pulled out the money to count how much she had, and a little white piece of paper slipped out. There was no letter, just an address and a little “R.” What does this mean, Raja? Gabby pondered where the address might lead her, but the pain in her arm was still as sharp as ever, and Gabby felt faint. Sirens wailed outside, so she stuffed the envelope in her purse and went to open the gate for the police and ambulance.

  After taking one look at the crime scene, the police called the CSI unit in. The police briefly questioned Gabby as she sat in the back of the ambulance. She told them the whole story, minus the part about Raja being the one with the rifle; instead, Gabby claimed that she didn’t recognize the person because of her memory loss, but it may have been a neighbor because the guy knew her name. Gabby was taken to the hospital in the ambulance to stitch up her arm and check for any other injuries.

  A detective showed up in the ER and questioned Gabby more thoroughly about her alibi. Once she was finished, the detective didn’t seem too convinced of her story. Gabby didn’t blame him; the whole things seemed outlandish to her too. The detective recorded her contact information and said he’d be in touch soon. Gabby could see legal proceedings in her near future, but right now she didn’t care about that. She’d been through enough today, and when her body finally stopped pumping adrenaline, all she wanted to do was sleep.

  After several hours of waiting, sleeping, numbing and stitching, Gabby was finally discharged from the hospital. She had no choice but to call a cab since she didn’t know any of her friends, but that was just fine with her--she didn’t want to explain how she’d ended up in the hospital or where Cory was, anyway.

  When she got in the cab, she almost asked the driver to take her home. But there was still a mystery to solve. She gave him the address Raja had left her. She at least wanted to check out the place Raja had instructed her to go to. Thirty minutes later, they were in the suburbs, and the cab driver turned onto a quaint neighborhood street lined with trees that towered over her. This was the kind of neighborhood she’d expect on 50’s sitcoms with little kids riding their bikes or even playing soccer in the streets. Gabby found it charming.

  The cab driver pulled up next to a small house and announced that they’d arrived. Gabby stared at the simple house. Nothing looked familiar; no memory rose up from her subconscious. After everything that had already transpired today, she told herself it wasn’t smart to go up to this stranger’s door.

  She nearly asked the driver to turn around and take her home when she thought, What the hell am I going back to? She just couldn’t bring herself to go back to that empty mansion filled with nothing but horror. She took one more look at the house in front of her. There were flowers planted in the front yard, and several potted flowers on the front porch, the same kinds of tulips and wildflowers that Gabby had adorned her own home with. It was all she needed to see.

  She hurried out of the cab and paid the driver, who sped off to his next fare. She stepped resolutely up to the door and knocked before she could talk herself out of it.

  Nothing was happening. She rang the doorbell. A man inside yelled, “Be right there!”

  Footsteps thudded toward the door. Gabby inhaled deeply, steeling herself for what was to happen next.

  The door opened.

  Seeing the man in front of her, she gasped, “Logan!”

  THE END

  Taming the Jaguar

  Felicity Parker knew her life was fading. She hadn’t even noticed the bullet
wound until the wet, sticky blood ran through her shirt. The surrounding chaos of screaming men, women, and children were muffled in her ears. Felicity suspected she was now partially deaf due to an explosion that had blasted through the area earlier due to a sabotaged furnace. It had spewed vine-covered rocks, bricks and armed men across the jungle in a blazing inferno. The majestic temple that had previously stood was now a pile of rubble. She hoped it had trapped the human monsters that had caused so much pain to countless innocents.

  In the melee, Felicity had been caught in the crossfire. A bullet, meant for the orange beast now ravaging the standing ring members, had shot through her abdomen. The lack of blood was now making her feel lightheaded and weak. Her slender arms were straining to support the half-conscious body of her classmate, Carol Ferguson. If she let go, Carol would sink into a mud pit. Felicity struggled to regain her grip on Carol and didn’t see the person limping towards her. Turning only a moment before the bloodied man prepared to swing down his machete, she heard the roar of a jaguar.

  ***

  “Welcome, welcome!” their hostess greeted. She stood at the front of a large villa. “I am Maria Gutierrez. This is my husband, Pedro. Please make yourselves at home!”

  Felicity and her classmate, Carol, would be housed by this couple during their summer abroad program here in Brazil. Felicity smiled up at Maria Gutierrez, trying to be polite despite the humid air clinging to her skin, her empty stomach, and her fatigue.

  Felicity hid her jet lag better than Carol did. It wasn’t the only difference between them. Felicity had blond curls, Carol straight brown hair. Carol was obviously hung over, and Felicity had her eyes wide open, eager to take in their surroundings.

  Carol scowled at the woman’s loud voice. Felicity tried to pay attention to the house rules as they toured the expansive villa. However, she found herself constantly distracted by the interesting relics on display.

  “I see you are ready to learn the history of ancient Brazilian cultures.” Senhor Gutierrez noticed her interest in their antiquities and smiled approvingly. “Professor Johnson sure picked some good ones for his class study.”

  “We’re thrilled,” muttered Carol.

  Either ignoring or not hearing her, Senhor Gutierrez continued, “My wife and I love collecting artifacts. I feel we can learn so much from them. The indigenous people lived such simple lives. I feel blessed every time I get a new work of art!”

  Felicity nodded while Carol rolled her eyes. Their hosts led them throughout the many rooms for another few hours, explaining every piece of artwork or sculpture that they passed. Though it was all very interesting, even Felicity was starting to lose her focus.

  Finally left in their room, Carol collapsed on the nearest lounge. “Thank God it’s over,” she said, her voice muffled in the leather. “I thought those people would never shut up.”

  While taken aback by Carol’s rudeness, Felicity remained civil. “Aren’t you the least bit excited about Brazil’s culture? There were literally dozens of tribes that lived here!”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I’m not a history geek like you,” Carol replied with another eye roll.

  Annoyed, Felicity asked, “Then why bother to come if you’re not even interested?”

  “Hello! It was a free trip to Brazil,” Carol responded, looking at Felicity like she was stupid. “Cheap booze, wild parties, and hot guys - ring any bells?”

  Indignantly shaking her head, Felicity took her bags and walked to her room, thankful at least the bedroom was a single. They might be the only two students staying in this villa, but at least they had separate rooms. Felicity sighed, leaning against the closed door. She’d known the minute she’d seen Carol walk out of Professor Johnson’s office that something like this would happen. He was a good teacher with a lot of well done studies for his young age. However, he had a penchant for attractive young women and seemed to favor a different student each semester. Although Felicity found such ideas repulsive, especially from someone whose work she admired, she supposed that every person had a weakness. Still, she was not happy that Professor Johnson had chosen her of all people to be Carol’s roommate.

  The day went by quickly as they spent time unpacking and catching up on some much needed sleep. Carol decided to sleep through dinner, waving away Felicity when she tried to wake her. Felicity didn’t mind though, as least she didn’t have to witness Carol’s rudeness toward their hosts.

  As Felicity passed the maze-like rooms of the villa, she spotted a particularly eye-catching relic: a white dagger, made of stone, with an intricately carved hilt. Making sure no one was watching, Felicity cautiously picked it up for a closer look. The paint was somewhat worn away, but it was clear that the carving was a jaguar. The cat was in a lunging position, its claws and large fangs bared ferociously. The eyes were the most striking feature: two pea-sized flawless emeralds.

  “I see you’ve found one of my most prized treasures!” exclaimed Senhor Gutierrez.

  Nearly dropping the dagger from surprise, Felicity placed it in his outstretched hand. Running his fingers across the jagged blade, he continued, “You know there was a tribe of indigenous people that lived in the Amazon rainforest. They called themselves the jebá-beca – the jaguar people.”

  “Oh Pedro, haven’t you lectured that poor girl enough?” his wife said, shaking her head. “Excuse my husband, Felicity. He believes he was meant to be an anthropologist instead of a bed-and-breakfast owner.”

  “Come on, you know it’s not often I get to share my expansive knowledge, Maria,” he responded.

  “You know some fascinating things, Senhor Gutierrez,” Felicity said.

  “Please, call me Pedro,” he said.

  “And you may call me Maria. Now, Pedro, if you must talk about your magnificent collection, at least do it at the table. You know how Lupita gets when we let her food grow cold.”

  Felicity watched their exchange with a smile. They clearly loved each other and enjoyed teasing every now and then. She wished she had someone in her life like that.

  After positioning the knife on its pillow, Pedro said, “Yeah, she’s right. Besides today is feijoada night! You’re going to love it!”

  Well, she did love it. Felicity was absolutely starving from the meal-less, eleven-hour flight from Bloomington to Barcelos - as well as the five-hour trip from the airport to Manaus. Despite the urge to stuff her gullet, she tried to savor each bite of delicious food.

  “Like I was telling Felicity here earlier, Maria,” Pedro said, “there used to be a large tribe of Barasana people that lived in the Amazon Basin just east of here. They believed their spiritual ancestors were jaguars.”

  “What happened to them?” Felicity asked, wiping her mouth.

  “The same tragic thing that happened when any of the indigenous peoples come into contact with Europeans. They were wiped out,” Pedro said solemnly. “Either by wars, being sold into slavery, or diseases they had never encountered.”

  “Now, now,” Maria said in a warning tone. “This is not good dinner talk.”

  “Bah,” he replied. “She’s a fourth year anthropology student. I’m sure she’s heard more about this than I have!” Pouring himself another glass of caipirinha, Pedro continued. “Anyway, some of their ancestral members are still around. They live in a small village outside of the city. I would love to take you there!”

  “Really?” Felicity said. This was the perfect thing to use for her final class report.

  Swatting his arm, Maria said, “Pedro, no one is allowed in the jungle right now remember? There have been sightings of the Selvagens Verdes in that part of the jungle for weeks!”

  “Oh… right,” he said sheepishly.

  “‘Green Savages’? Who are they?” Felicity asked.

  “Bad men,” a large woman answered, suddenly appearing in the room. “They take pretty girls into the jungle and sell them like cattle.” Looking into Felicity’s eyes with burning intensity, she continued, “Like my s
ister, Juliana. And no one ever sees them again.”

  “It’s only been a few weeks, Lupita,” Maria said. “The police could still find her.”

  Lupita shook her head sadly and grabbed the emptied plates. “The polícia are incompetent. They cannot stop these monstros.” Lupita walked back towards the kitchen. “Take care of yourself, Felicidade. And do not wander too far off into the jungle.”

  “I’ll go check on her,” Maria said with concern, leaving Pedro and Felicity alone.

  “I’m so sorry about her sister,” Felicity finally said, breaking the awkward silence.

  Pedro sighed. “This place used to be so peaceful before those brutes moved in and started kidnapping people left and right. But I think there is still one place you can check out that may have a Barasana member or two.”

  “Really? Where?”

  “A communications facility between linguistic conservationists and indigenous peoples: Cesta De Linguas. It’s bit towards the outskirts of the city, but there’s plenty of security. I’d love to come along! I’m quite the celebrity there!”

  “More like the pest,” Maria muttered as she helped the grave-faced Lupita carry the rest of the dishes. “You should get some rest, Felicity. Don’t you all have a long trip tomorrow?”

  After thanking them for the meal, Felicity headed back to her room. Determined to get some notes down, she sat her desk and opened a book. Underestimating the amount of rest her body still required, it wasn’t long before she slumped over into a fitful sleep.

  ***

  She awoke to sound of something breaking. Groggy, Felicity clumsily grabbed the nearest solid object and ran out the bedroom door. Instead of an intruder, she only found her scantily clad roommate.

  “Shit,” Carol mumbled as she looked at a pile of shattered pottery.

  “What’s going on?” Felicity garbled. “I thought I heard someone break in.”