by Chris Coppel
She felt her eyes growing heavier by the second as she heard the sounds of the last few cats depart their headquarters, presumably to begin their night’s endeavours as decreed by the charter of, Los Gatos de la Noche.
Lucy closed her eyes and began immediately to feel the first fingers of sleep as they pulled her towards the dark and comfortable recesses of slumber.
Just then, she heard Bob’s voice only inches from her ear.
“Don’t stir my tired friend,” his voice whispered almost dreamily. “Now you need to sleep. Tomorrow your adventure continues. I wish you and your friends every possible success. Remember, the Gatos will be with you always.”
Lucy then felt the gentlest of licks against her muzzle. She wanted to look up and say something, but she knew that such a reaction was not appropriate.
Feeling a new sense of inner warmth and security, she allowed the sleep to finally take a firm hold and pull her down into its enveloping warmth.
CHAPTER 28
Lucy woke before the others, feeling surprisingly refreshed and invigorated. She lay where she was for a while, observing Rex as he continued to sleep. He appeared not to have altered his position even a fraction from the night before.
It took Lucy a few moments to realise that she was able to see. There was light. She raised her head and saw that the light was coming from above, from a series of long tubular devices that exuded not only light, but an annoying, high-pitched, buzz as well.
As she resumed gazing at Rex, she wondered what sort of dreams he would have. Could he, even after so hard a life, still dream moments of utter contentment as she did, or were his dreams built of darker material, colouring his fantasies with hurt and pain?
She continued to ponder this thought right up until something tapped her on her shoulder causing her to yelp and leap up in surprise. She spun around and involuntarily began to growl at whatever had touched her.
Lucy only saw the briefest glimpse of a very full and colourful tail as it slithered out of sight under one of the biped vehicles.
Lucy walked slowly over to it and cautiously bent her head to peer underneath.
Cowering in the darkness afforded by the metallic hulk, was a cat. An extremely nervous and frightened cat. Even in the gloom, Lucy could see that it was a very unusual looking animal. She had long hair (Lucy instinctually knew it was a she), giving her the immediate appearance of bulk, but on closer inspection, one could see that the animal under the heavy coat, was actually quite petite. Lucy couldn’t make out much more because of the shadows, and for a good few moments, simply looked back into a pair of rapidly blinking, olive eyes that were nervously trained on her.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” Lucy said, whispering. “But you see, you actually gave me quite a start as well.”
There was a long silence, then a tiny and timid voice wafted out from under the vehicle.
“I’m terribly sorry . . . I . . . I . . . didn’t mean to frighten you . . . I simply wanted to introduce myself.”
Lucy smiled back at the animal, waiting for the promised introduction. None came. In fact, the cat didn’t utter another word. Finally, Lucy felt it necessary to break the silence.
“You mentioned something about introducing yourself,” Lucy prodded softly.
“Oh yes . . . I . . . I did, didn’t I? Thank you for reminding me.”
Again, there was silence.
“Well?” Lucy tried to keep the impatience from her voice.
“I’m working on it,” the cat replied nervously. “It’s not that easy you know.”
“Yes, it is. Look, I’ll begin, shall I? My name is Lucy. What’s yours?”
Again, no reply. Lucy waited and waited and was finally about to give up on the whole encounter when the timid voice responded.
“My name is Ryphoryl Ynextril Hydxmass.”
Lucy shook her head in astonishment at the complexity of yet another cat name.
“I presume they call you Rye?” Lucy inquired hopefully.
“No,” the cat replied.
“Well, what then?”
“I . . . I . . . told you. Ryphoryl Ynextril Hydxmass.”
“Oh,” Lucy said, somewhat embarrassed. “I’m afraid that your names are simply too much for me to cope with! I will call you Rye.”
“If you must,” Rye replied, almost dejectedly.
“And you’ll have to come out from under this vehicle if you wish to carry on a conversation with me.”
“Oh, alright,” Rye sighed.
Lucy waited for the cat to appear, but after a while, realised that Rye hadn’t budged.
“I’m waiting,” Lucy announced.
“I’m . . . I’m . . . working on it,” Rye replied nervously. “It’s not easy you know!”
“Why do you keep saying that? It’s perfectly easy. Now come out from there.”
“I will.” Rye sounded quite distressed. “Just give me a moment.”
“I’m not going to hurt you, you know,” Lucy said, comfortingly.
“Okay,” came the unconvinced reply.
Lucy again waited for the animal to appear. Finally, much to her delight and by that time, surprise, Rye’s head came into view.
“Well, hello!” Lucy said to the just visible face.
“I can’t,” Rye squealed and shot back under the vehicle. “I’m truly sorry. I thought I could, but I can’t.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Lucy asked, feeling great pity for the obviously disturbed creature.
“I’m . . . I’m . . . ,” Rye tried to speak.
“You’re . . . sick?” Lucy offered.
“N…No. I’m . . . I’m . . .”
“Shy?” Lucy tried again.
“N…No. I’m . . . I’m . . . a . . .”
“Oh, come on. Spit it out!” Lucy was again becoming impatient at the cat’s reluctance to speak her thoughts.
“I’m a scaredy cat!” Rye blurted out.
“A what?”
“A scaredy cat. I can’t help it. It’s what I am.”
“Well, there’s nothing to be afraid of out here, so please come out from under that thing so I can at least see you.”
“Why?”
“So, I can talk to you.”
“You . . . You’re talking now,” the voice said.
“That’s enough!” Lucy snapped, her good nature beginning to wear thin. “You come out here this minute, or I’ll simply have to crawl under there after you!”
“You wouldn’t,” Rye responded with weak defiance.
“I most certainly would,” Lucy stated firmly.
Lucy heard some movement under the vehicle then, with agonizing showiness, watched as Rye slid herself out from the shadows. With her eyes darting every which way in fear, Rye got to her feet and faced Lucy.
The first thing that struck Lucy was Rye’s beauty. Her coat was simply gorgeous; long, full and resplendent as it gleamed under the harsh, buzzing lights. It was multi-coloured with patches of white, black and orange that covered not only her coat but her face as well.
The second thing that struck Lucy was that Rye couldn’t seem to sit still. Not even for a fraction of a second. As Lucy tried to comfort the terrified cat with a glowing smile and happy pant, the poor feline seemed unable to control any part of her body. She would sit for a second, then suddenly begin licking a paw or limb with a frantic effort, only to stop with equal abruptness and begin scratching a completely different part of her anatomy. What made it worse was that one could tell from the pained look in her eyes, that her body’s antics were not consciously carried out at all. They were more a side effect of her almost debilitating fear that seemed to consume her every action.
Lucy tried to ignore the twitching and ticking, but found that the longer she stared at the animal, the more she herself began to itch, as
if catching the cat’s own affliction.
Finally, Rye’s nervous movements began to abate slightly, and Lucy felt she could converse without sending the cat into a frenzy of some sort.
“You know Rye, you have the most beautiful coat.”
“Thank you,” she replied with a tremble to her voice.
“I hope you don’t mind my calling you Rye, but those names of yours really are very complicated.”
“Do you think so?” Rye asked.
“Yes, I do. They’re so long and so complicated.”
“I think that’s the whole point,” Rye replied.
“The point of what?” Lucy inquired with real interest.
“The point of having a name!” Rye said with timid conviction. “With cats, every name is different. Just as every cat is different. I mean what’s the point of being born a completely unique creature, then carrying a name that’s been used hundreds or even thousands of times before. We feel that every single cat should always have their own name, fresh and new, for them to keep as their own. That’s why they are a little long and complicated. It’s not that easy to make up new names after hundreds of generations have gone before.
“I see,” said Lucy with a mixture of surprise and interest.
A silence ensued as Lucy waited for Rye to speak further but no words materialised.
“Rye?” she asked casually.
“Y . . . Yes?”
“Did you want something?” Lucy inquired.
“No, why?” Rye replied nervously.
“Well, you did wake me up for some purpose, unless I’m quite mistaken.”
“Oh . . . Oh . . . Yes. I forgot. I’m sorry. I get so scared sometimes; I can’t think straight.”
“That must be terrible,” Lucy offered.
“It is . . . it is,” Rye said, nodding her head emphatically.
Lucy waited for the reason for her wake-up visit. Again, no words were forthcoming. She finally cleared her throat noisily as a hint to the trembling cat. Rye simply stared back at her with a terrified and completely blank gaze.
“Oh yes,” she suddenly cried remembering what she had to say. “I am your guide.”
“My what?” Lucy asked, suspiciously.
“Your guide. I was chosen to stay behind and help lead you on your quest.”
“Pardon my bluntness Rye, and please don’t be offended because I’m sure you mean well, but aren’t you just a tad fidgety to act as our guide?”
“No . . . n . . . not really. My frightened disposition has no effect on my tracking ability whatsoever.”
“So, what have we here?” Rex boomed playfully as he suddenly appeared behind them.
Rye’s beautiful coat instantly enlarged to double its size, a fraction of a second before she dived back under the biped vehicle with a shriek.
“What was that?” Rex asked, clearly startled by Rye’s frantic departure.
“That was our guide,” Lucy responded.
“I see,” Rex said as he lowered his head to peer under the vehicle. “Sorry to have startled you . . . Uh . . . ”
“Rye! We’re calling her Rye. Her cat name is way too complex,” Lucy stated.
“Rye . . . you can come out, it’s quite safe,” Rex coaxed.
It took quite a while, but eventually, after exhaustive patience, they managed to convince Rye that none of her nine lives were in jeopardy. Once out from under the vehicle, she gave herself a thorough wash with fast, darting motions that made Rex and Lucy feel just a bit on edge. They tried on a couple of occasions to interrupt the cleaning process to ask a question or two but were utterly ignored.
Rye finished with one last convulsive lick of her left shoulder, then, with a deep sigh, sat and faced the two dogs.
“So, where am I taking you exactly?” she asked shyly.
“I thought you were supposed to guide us?” Rex replied, haughtily. “I mean isn’t that the point . . . ”
“I think Rye needs some idea of where to guide us to?” Lucy interrupted gently. “Am I correct?”
Rye was staring intently down at the ground next to her feet. Lucy assumed the cat was deep in thought until she suddenly began pawing at something ridiculously small that was moving across the road-like surface. She managed to ensnare whatever it was on one paw, which she then raised to eye level for examination.
“Rye?” Lucy said, with gentle annoyance.
“Hmm?” Rye murmured to herself, her attention focused fully on her paw.
“Rye!” Lucy snapped angrily, causing both Rye and Rex to jump.
“What did you do that for?” Rye whimpered as tears began to form in her eyes. “You yelled at me!”
“If you’re going to guide us, you are going to have to pay attention,” Lucy scolded. “And besides, that was hardly a yell.”
“I was only grooming!” Rye replied, with moist eyes downcast.
“Well, I’m sorry if I frightened you,” Lucy said. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” came the pouty reply.
“And you won’t go dashing off at the first thing that startles you?” Rex added.
“No.” Rye raised her eyes to the two dogs. “I was chosen to guide you and that’s what I’ll do.”
“Good,” said Rex.
“Yes, good for you Rye!” Lucy praised. “Once we get going, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Do you really think so?” Rye asked, hopefully.
“Absolutely,” Lucy replied.
At that moment, Angel let out a loud howl in her sleep for no apparent reason. Rex and Lucy smiled over at their sleeping friend then turned back to Rye. She was gone. Well not completely gone; the tip of her multi-coloured tail was just visible as it flicked from side to side, back under the biped vehicle.
“As I said,” Lucy grinned over at Rex. “once we get going!”
It took a while to coax Rye out from under the vehicle for the umpteenth time. Once out however, she seemed intent on trying to relax and help formulate some sort of a plan to find where Rodney was being held prisoner. The first phase was to join up with Lester and Hans, which turned out to be easy. Even as Rye volunteered (to everyone’s surprise) to sneak up to the top level and check on the two dogs, they came striding down the sloping drive, both looking none the worse for wear.
Lucy introduced them to Rye and highlighted the previous night’s encounter with Los Gatos. They were suitably impressed and eager to start off on what they all now termed to be their quest.
The dogs took turns describing to Rye, every single detail they could possibly recall about the place in which they’d all ‘done time’ at the hands of Squat Lady and the others.
Rye tried to connect their details to any area she knew, but without success. The problem was that the dogs’ descriptions of the dilapidated buildings could quite easily fit almost all of the unimproved dockland territory.
“There must have been something unusual?” Rye urged.
“No there wasn’t,” Rex insisted. “There was simply row after row of old, brick buildings. There was nothing different about any of them.”
“We’re not thinking straight. There must have been something out of the ordinary,” Lucy said, as she racked her brain trying to remember anything that would help. “We’ve just got to concentrate a little harder.”
The dogs exerted themselves, trying to sort through the thin memories they all held of their escape.
“Wait,” Angel suddenly squealed. “I know . . . the . . . the . . . oh, come on! What was it called . . . you know . . . the thing . . . the . . . ?”
Her face began to turn red with exertion. The others looked on in silent hope, as she grew more and more crimson. “The anchor!” she finally blurted out joyously. “The big anchor, remember?”
The others all did.
“Very good Angel,
” Lucy cried. “The anchor, of course!”
“The anchor,” sighed Lester.
“The big anchor! How silly of us,” Hans said, shaking his head.
“That’s a landmark alright,” Rex stated.
The five dogs turned happily to face Rye.
“What’s an anchor?” she asked timidly.
The dogs looked at one another with a mixture of disbelief and frustration.
“Sorry,” Rye responded, with a double flick of the tail.
“Oh, come on you must know,” Lester stated with conviction. “Bipeds use them to hold their water vehicles in place.”
“Big hook like things,” Angel added.
“On the end of lengths of chain,” Lucy contributed.
The dogs all stopped their descriptions to see if anything was sinking in with Rye.
“Oh those,” Rye remarked casually.
“So, you do know what we mean?” Rex asked.
“Of course. I may be scared but I’m not stupid.”
“So, what do you call them?” Lester asked.
“What?” Rye replied.
“Anchors!” the dogs yelled in unison.
That only caused Rye to visibly shrink in front of them, and as she took a step back towards the vehicle, Lucy rushed to her side, full of apologies.
“We’re awfully sorry. We forgot how sensitive you are. We only wanted to know what the cat word for anchor was.”
“There isn’t one.”
“But there must be,” Lester insisted.
“No, there mustn’t,” Rye countered. “Cats don’t bother creating words simply for the sake of doing so. There’s plenty enough to do without wasting our time needlessly.”
“So, what do you call something if you need to discuss it and there’s no word for it?” Angel asked, with confused interest.
“If there’s no word for it, then it obviously isn’t worth discussing, now is it?”
The dogs all glanced at one another and by some silent signal between them, decided to venture no further on the topic of cat logic.
“Alright,” Rex said with as much calm as he could muster. “But have you even seen the giant anchor that we’re referring to? It’s a huge thing on a stone base.”