Hellcats: Anthology

by Kate Pickford

  My jaws opened without my input. The yawn nearly floored me. Before I tracked down the woman, maybe I needed to figure out how to keep this body alive. Somewhere I'd read that cats slept up to eighteen hours a day. And I'd been awake for most of the six hours cats were active.

  Time for a cat nap. Don't judge me for the pun.

  Half asleep already, I tumbled on to a townhouse’s front step. The sun had had hours to heat the stone. Stretching luxuriously, I wallowed in the warmth before falling asleep.

  When I woke up, it was dark. I remembered dozing rather than being in a deep sleep. But apparently my cat's mind had assessed any threats, judged them to be harmless, and never bothered to wake me fully. I felt well-rested and raring to go.

  A loud growl coming from my stomach told me I needed food. Right now. It grumbled and rumbled at every step as I stalked toward the alley.

  So what did cats eat? I fed my dog food from a can or a pouch. He certainly seemed to enjoy it, although he wasn't keen on dry dog food. And Mom fed him scraps from the table when she didn't think Dad was looking.

  But where would I find canned food? And even if I found some, would I be able to stomach it? The thought of cold, congealed meat pieces or dry, smelly cat food made my stomach heave while at the same time filling my mouth with saliva.

  But weren’t cats hunters? They went after small mammals like mice and voles. Ugh. Did I even have the skill to chase down a tiny, agile mouse when I barely managed to coordinate my legs?

  My stomach cramped, reminding me my body didn't care if I didn't like eating cat food. It needed sustenance, and fast. Maybe I should just allow nature to take its course?

  Crawling on my belly along the street's houses, I practiced slinking. It didn't take long to get quite good at it. And even better, my eyes worked great in the dark. As a human, I’d barely have been able to make out the outlines of others walking past me.

  As a cat, I saw their faces and expressions. It was like using night goggles without the green light. Nice trade-off for my crap vision during the day.

  Very soon, I'd reached a gap between two houses at the end of the road. I remembered the space. It wasn't huge, barely the width of a terraced house, but as a cat, it seemed enormous. The weeds were higher than my head, and as I crouched down at the edge of the jungle, the rustling and whispering of grasses called to me. Right ahead of me, something scurried through the undergrowth.

  I crouched, wound as tightly as a rubber band, aimed, and pounced. Before I lifted my paw to look at my intended victim, I knew I'd missed. A mouse sat some distance away and seemed to smirk at me. I tightened the muscles in my hind legs and jumped. Missed again. And again. And again. No matter how hard I tried, the vermin was quicker and more agile.

  I thought this is my natural prey.

  Hangry didn't describe the way I felt. My shoulders tight with frustration, I sat on my haunches and thought. This should come naturally to me, shouldn't it. But then I didn't grow up as a cat. So what. I'm a human. That means I'm smarter than some dumb mouse. I can figure this out.

  I thought of a simple plan. If I could only stay perfectly still, not move a whisker, I might be able to fool one of the critters. I laid down, tucked my paws under my furry body, closed my eyes, and waited. I might even have nodded off for a moment, because obviously, nodding came far more naturally than hunting.

  When I opened my eyes again, the moon had climbed much higher. Without my cell phone or a watch, I had no way of marking the passage of time, but I guessed at least a few hours had passed.

  A loud rustle sounded from my left. I slowly turned my head, intent on not giving away my location. There was something very close to me. I couldn't make it out, but it was bulky, like a very fat mouse. I would have swallowed hard, had my body been able to. As it was, I coiled tighter, knowing that this was my best chance to finally get something between my teeth.

  When the creature rustled again, I pounced. The moment my claws and teeth connected with my prey, I froze. That thing was a lot larger than I'd anticipated. Yeah, not a mouse. Instead, a rat glared at me with furious, small eyes as it fought back.

  It twisted in my grip until it was free. My claws had barely done any damage. While I tried to gain control of the situation, the rat slipped behind me and dug its teeth into my hind leg.

  I yowled. Ouch, that hurt. No matter how much I tried to shake the rat, the beast kept attacking, taking chunks out of me. The pain was excruciating.

  In my panic, I somehow managed to rake the rat across the nose. It distracted the vermin, and I finally got away. Running as if the rat was still biting me, I crossed the grassy lot and didn't stop until I’d reached the far side.

  When I stopped, I collapsed in the shelter of a dumpster. My breath wheezed in and out in short, pained gasps. My ear was on fire, and the top of my back legs was numb. When my heart slowed down, I rolled to my side and started the disgusting process of cleaning up.

  My human brain urged me to get looked after properly, maybe even find a vet, but my cat brain wouldn't permit that. I needed to lick myself, no matter how disgusting the process was.

  The moment my tongue touched the wounds on my leg, my entire body melted. This was something I had control over. Over and over, I ran my tongue across the open sores, hoping like hell that rat hadn't given me a disease.

  What did rats carry, anyway? I froze for a moment before relaxing again. Rats weren't the ones carrying the Black Death bug. That was fleas, wasn't it? For the first time in my life, I wished I'd paid better attention to my history classes when we talked about that stuff.

  Eventually, the sharp pain of the bite wounds all over my body dulled. The only areas left to clean were my head and face. Blood had trickled from my ear into my fur. It pulled on the skin every time I moved.

  There was little I could do about it other than run my paw across the area, hoping it would remove some of the dirt. Without a mirror, I had no way of telling how bad the damage was.

  Would I carry the injury back into my human form? What if I'd lost a part of my ear? I shuddered. I needed to be very careful with this body, otherwise I might be disfigured when I finally turned back.

  If I finally turn back. If I don't die before. The thought was unhelpful, but I couldn't shake it. Not when I was hurt, hungry, and lying shivering next to a garbage dumpster, too weak even to check for scraps inside.

  "Is it dead?"

  A shoe pushed into my side. I lifted my head, glaring at two boys who stood over me. One of the children bent down, reaching out toward me. I flinched back, fearing more pain.

  The other kid said, "Nah, it's in bad shape, though. It'll probably die soon anyway. Maybe we should put it out of its misery."

  Nonono, no putting me out of my misery. What the hell? All that came out of my mouth was a broken whimper. I scooted nearer to the metal dumpster behind me, grateful for the solid bulk it provided.

  "Wanna grab a rock, and we can hit it over the head?"

  My eyes widened. What was wrong with these kids? Without giving myself away, I tightened and loosened the muscles in my limbs. My legs hurt, but they worked. There would be no killing today, thank you very much.

  "Yeah, look over there. There's a big one."

  The boys had both turned away. This was my chance. I coiled, released, and before the kids could react, I was racing through their legs and back into the grassland of the open lot.

  All I heard was a surprised, "Hey!" shouted after me. I didn't stop running until I could no longer see them. Darnit, that had been close. People were the worst. If I wanted to survive this, I had to be a lot more careful. And I still hadn't eaten.

  For the rest of the afternoon, I prowled through backyards, hoping to find somebody who'd put food outside their back doors. Wasn't that what people did? Feed stray cats? Apparently, that didn't work for large, orange tom-cats like myself.

  My reflection stared back at myself from a patio door, before the house owner shooed me away. Yeah, I was a big, fat
cat. The only cat I ever remembered seeing as big as myself was Garfield in one of my dad's comic books from the eighties.

  Other backyards were guarded by territorial cats or dogs, none of whom were keen on sharing food with me. I tried meowing at the cats, hoping to be able to communicate with them. It was a stupid idea. Cats didn't speak to each other like humans did. And I didn't really know how to use my body to communicate any other way.

  By the time I gave up, it was turning dark again. This was the second day without eating. I'd managed to drink a little from a puddle, but not only did it taste disgusting, it didn't fill the craving for something more solid. I walked and walked until I reached the end of the town. Maybe in the subs people were friendlier and would help me out?

  Turned out, they weren't. After getting chased by a man with a broom, I gave up for the day. I curled under deep undergrowth in an abandoned house's backyard. The thorns of vicious blackberry tangles snagged in my smooth fur without hurting me further. But I was in trouble. My strength was waning, and my body felt stiff after the injuries. After another licking session, I fell asleep.

  My stomach hurt so much with hunger, I woke up while it was still dark. Maybe now would be a good time to check back gardens for leftover pet food left outside. The thought of scraps of meat no longer made me nauseous. At this stage, I would have eaten anything.

  Finally, I got lucky. A house I'd walked past every day on my way to school for as long as I could remember. I never paid much attention to it. An old man lived here, although nobody had seen him in years. Apparently, there was a son who looked after him.

  When I slunk up to the back door, a fishy smell hit my nose. There was a garbage bag, the top open, leaning against the door jamb. On the very top was an open can of tuna with its metal lid only half cut off and bent back. Underneath the flap, there were still large chunks of fish. I sniffed the fibers of fishy goodness. They smelled amazing, not a bit rotten. The man had probably used the tuna for his dinner only a few hours ago.

  I reared up on my hind legs and pawed at the top of the bag until the can tumbled down. I froze for a moment when the metal rang out as loud as a bell when it hit the concrete. No light came on.

  Before another animal could take my treasure, I lowered my head and carefully licked at the scraps. I didn't need a cut nose on top of all my other injuries. Long after the tuna was gone, I still licked the metal inside until I’d savored every bit of fish and oil.

  Then I extended my claws and sliced at the trash bag. I found some more leftovers—some rice dish that didn't smell too bad. A scrap of pork on the turn, but still edible. When a half-eaten apple tumbled down, I gnawed on it.

  My human brain told me to eat the fruit. But my cat teeth couldn't chew it, only tear bits of the core. It didn't taste anything like I remembered. Eventually, I spat it out. If it didn't taste good, chances were my cat stomach wouldn't be able to digest it. Plus, cats were carnivores, weren't they? So not really made for eating stuff like fruit and vegetables.

  I whirled around when an angry hiss announced the arrival of a fox. I didn't want a fight, so sprinted away as quickly as my furry legs carried me. It was amazing how a little bit of food helped with my energy. And I wasn't tired at all anymore. It was time to find the witch who was responsible for my change.

  The only clue I had was the alley where I found myself first after my transformation. I entered the narrow dead-end carefully, sniffing, and checking for any predators that could harm me.

  Walking around the perimeter, I looked for anything that might help me find the woman. How had I even gotten here? I had no recollection from the time after I was turned to when I woke up as a cat. I knew logically that there was no chance of finding a clue like a business card or a matchbook, or whatever villains always dropped in movies.

  A few minutes later, I trotted out of the alleyway, my head hanging low. There’d been nothing to help me find the witch. Walking down the road, I automatically avoided humans and their stupid dogs. My thoughts were churning.

  What to do now? Was there any point staying around in this area, hoping for a miracle? It wasn't like I had a choice. I had literally nowhere to go. And maybe, just maybe, there was a reason why I'd been turned, and maybe, just maybe, the woman might come back to find me.

  Sure. Right. As if I’d be that lucky. I chuckled bitterly. Of course, the sound never traveled to the outside. All it did was quiver my whiskers as I moved along.

  And so it went on for days and weeks. I established my territory. I became a mean, lean fighting machine. My ear was torn up, my face and body battle-hardened with the scars to prove it. Other predators became weary of challenging me as I got better and better at defending myself. Sometimes I worried that my cat's instincts were taking over completely. There were days when I went without a single human thought.

  I still kept my eyes open for the black-haired witch, but one day I realized I hadn't thought about my old life for many days. That scared the crap out of me. The next morning, I decided to focus on finding the woman, even if it took me the rest of my much-shortened cat life. I walked the city in ever-widening circles, holding on to scraps of hope to notice something, anything that might help me.

  One afternoon, I walked through an unfamiliar neighborhood. Something tickled my nose until I sneezed. I knew the scent, but couldn’t quite place it. What was it?

  Then I remembered. It reminded me of the municipal pool my mom used to take me to. Ozone. That's what it smelled like. Pleasant, yet pungent, and irritating to my sensitive cat nose. But the pool was on the other side of town.

  Curious, I followed the unusual scent. Straight ahead was a street lined by trees with restaurants and bars. The whole neighborhood was upmarket residential—nicer than the one I'd grown up in.

  As I watched the humans, the sky darkened as if somebody had turned the sun off in the middle of the day. I cowered deeper against the asphalt, my eyes closed to slits. Every hair on my body stood up, as if a balloon had been rubbed over my fur. Something was coming.

  Expensive cars were parked along both sides of the road. Another one pulled up as I watched. A couple got out and was about to walk into a small restaurant. That’s when all hell broke loose.

  First, a fork of fire streaked from above and hit the road next to the parked cars. The ground shook, and the shrill howling of car alarms pushed my ears flat against my skull.

  The woman screamed and ran inside the building. Another lightning bolt hit the awning above the entrance, and burning material rained down on the man who covered his head with his hands and yelped in pain.

  I slipped under a parked car as fast as I could. My heart was beating like crazy, and my whole body was in a state of panic. I squeezed myself against the front wheel of the car as the world blew up around me.

  White and blue lights sparked off metal and hit trees, as thunderclaps as loud as explosions sounded all around me. I was sure people were screaming, but I couldn’t hear any sounds but the crackling of lightning and the blast as the forks found their targets.

  A pair of jeans-clad legs stopped right next to my hiding place. I was so terrified, I couldn’t even think about moving, never mind running away. Then somebody bent down and looked right at me.

  I was too panicked to react other than shrink back further. That’s when the female stretched out a hand, hovering her fingers in front of me. I looked up, and calm, green eyes met mine.

  Just like that, I relaxed and followed the draw toward the girl. She never said a word, just grabbed the scruff of my neck, and pulled me out from underneath the car.

  The next moment I found myself in her arms, and she ran. The world rushed back into the oasis of calm she’d created around the both of us. Lightning was still flashing, and now I could hear people wailing in fright and pain.

  She held me tighter and ran even faster. Her skin smelled like the lightning, but also like so much more. The sharpness of ozone mixed with a sweet scent I couldn’t identify.

  The m
otion of her body made me drowsy. I snuggled closer to her soft chest and closed my eyes. And that’s how I met Amber Whitman, the girl who would become the most important person in my life before she killed me.

  Ella J. Smyth writes steamy urban fantasy romance, full of adventure and excitement. Ever since she discovered #loveislove and #whychoose, she has embraced her motto, “Unapologetic romances because love needs no excuses.” She guarantees a happy ending, even though she puts her characters through hell to get there.

  Find out more about Ella at ellajsmyth.com/booktrailer.

  12

  The Cat From The Silent Kitten

  By Chris McFarlane

  He thinks he’s 100 percent human. His entourage say he’s 50 per cent feline. He’s without doubt 100 per cent social hand grenade and he’s in the military..what could possibly go wrong?

  The year was 2002. I was unhappily married to two entities concurrently. The first marriage began in 1992—The Royal Air Force, now trying to send me to the Falkland Islands just as I had separated from the second party. A tad unfair I thought…so I had appealed it.

  The RAF used a rather strange method of deciding whom to allow redress and whom to reject their appeal. I was the latter. Rejected because, “I was civil to all parties and managed to keep my life and that of my son together in a way deemed conducive to an overseas attachment.” Now if that wasn’t a quote direct from, “The Modern Managers Guide to Bullshit”, then I don’t know what is.

  When I had this read to me, my first question was a little Northern but I reigned it in and pressed my cause.

  “I’d like to ask the officer who oversaw the meeting what constitutes ‘qualified counsellor’ in the RAF.”

  “I have done a week’s counselling course and I decided you were handling all this very well and seem very sound of mind and were therefore qualified to make sound and reasoned decisions.”