“I’ve come to see our kittens,” he answered, rubbing his face along her shoulders and neck. Suddenly he stepped back as though confused. “But where is everyone?”
She tilted her head, and a streetlight illuminated eyes that were matted and dull. “They’re all dead, except for Soot and me.”
Jett stared at her ravished face for the first time. “What’s wrong with you?” His mouth twisted in horror, and he staggered back. “You’re diseased!”
Puffy clouds drifted across the moon momentarily obscuring her face, and her ragged breathing filled the night in wordless answer.
“No!” The big tom’s anguished wail reverberated through the alley, and he whirled with fury on Soot. “Don’t come near me,” he hissed, flattening his ears, paw raised to strike. “You’re all diseased!”
“No, no, I’m not sick! I’m okay, honest!”
Jett recoiled. “So you say.”
“But where are the kittens?” Pris stretched her neck toward the female sitting silently in the dirt.
“They’re in the box.” Ahn-ya gave a wet cough, bony shoulders heaving with the effort, and struggled to her feet. “All of our litters . . . all of the colony . . . all dead.” With shaky dignity, she turned toward the cardboard box, slender tail dragging behind. Reaching the opening, she paused. “All dead,” she repeated; then she vanished without a sound.
Jett hunched beneath the crepe myrtle, eye fixed and unblinking on the spot where Ahn-ya had been. “All dead,” he enunciated carefully. An avalanche of emotion tore through his mind. The colony had been destroyed by disease, and now his kittens were gone, his lineage broken, and Ahn-ya was . . . A coil of grief constricted his chest, but he stopped it with a shake of his head. Feelings were bad—dangerous, and not to be tolerated. Scorching pain pulsed behind his socket, and he grimaced. “Never mind,” he thought, squinting against the relentless ache. Just a little more time, a little more planning, and every wrong would be righted. All he had to do was lure Buddy into the Outs and expose him at The Gathering. After that, it would be plain to all that Jett was the rightful successor. A light breeze rustled the foliage, and he lifted his head. “Bring me his scent, Mother,” he intoned, blocking all memories of Ahn-ya’s ravaged face. “Soon they’ll all know I’m the one.” Perfected by years of practice, the sense of loss dissipated, replaced by something cruel, cold, and irreversible. “The punishment has only begun,” he muttered and noticed with satisfaction the pain had completely gone.
• • •
Zekki moved tentatively toward the box.
“You shouldn’t go in there.” Soot cringed, haunches quivering.
“It’s okay,” Pris said with confidence. “We’ve had vaccinations.”
“Vaccinations?”
Shifting with impatience, Zekki snorted. “You know, humans stick you with needles, and it keeps you from getting sick.”
Soot drew a quick breath. “You mean, you’re Indoors?” He emphasized the word as though referring to royalty.
“Oh, yes.” The calico touched his ebony nose with hers. “We live in a house and everything.” She crept to Jett’s motionless form, keeping a watchful distance. “Are we going to stay here?”
“No.” Moving from the bush, Jett brushed past. “I’ll never come here again.” For one brief moment he paused by the box, body stiff, eye staring straight ahead; then, with startling power, he vaulted the fence into an adjoining yard.
Dawn shimmered through the alley, and the three remaining cats blinked with confusion.
“It was nice meeting you, Soot.” Pris craned her neck, eager to follow. “But we’d better go.”
“Can I come?” Soot whispered. “I don’t even care where you’re going. I just need to get out of here.”
“I—I don’t know.” She looked at Zekki. “Can he?”
“I’m not sick, I swear I’m not!” Creeping closer the black cat twisted his head, voice desperate and pleading. “But the alley is contaminated. If I don’t leave now, I’ll end up like the rest.”
Zekki anxiously licked his chops. “Well . . . I mean Jett didn’t say you couldn’t.”
Soot inched forward, eyes round and hopeful.
“Okay, okay, but both of you hurry!” With one quick movement Zekki dashed for the fence and jumped over it. The others quickly followed.
Running in single file, they wound through yards and alleys, finally reaching Jett who was waiting beneath a mailbox.
They traveled the rest of the way in silence, Jett striding in machinelike precision down streets and pathways, Zekki and Pris racing to keep up, and the black cat scurrying a discreet distance behind.
Lights blinked on in the neighborhoods, the sounds of slamming car doors and blaring TV weather reports signaling another workday.
Just as the morning sun filtered through the trees, Jett led the panting trio to a ramshackle shed, where he squeezed behind a rusted lawn mower.
Paws blistered and throbbing, Zekki and Pris collapsed beneath a workbench, and Soot curled up in an empty flowerpot, his wasted body twitching with exhaustion.
• • •
The morning sun shone in the alleyway, and a garbage truck lurched along, unloading the contents of dumpsters and trash cans into its cavernous mouth.
A sweaty young man ran alongside the vehicle, swinging plastic bags and newspapers up to his partner who made sure nothing spilled out of the churning machine. In the next block the man noticed a lone cardboard box leaning against a dumpster. Bending down as they passed, he tossed it into the air and onto the truck with one motion. Light as a feather, it seemed to hang for a split second, suspended in the sunlight, and then tumbled quietly into the yawning darkness below.
E I G H T
Buddy awoke, startled and afraid. At first he couldn’t remember where he was and began a frantic search for The Boy. Reality zoomed back in one queasy jolt, and he stood in the crawl space forcing himself to be calm.
The vet’s sedative had worn off, but his head hurt and his tongue was parched and thick. Stiff from the fall in the bushes, he limped to where the lizard lay sleeping and tried to decide the best way to wake him. Finally, he cleared his throat.
Orie, who now rested against the wall, emitted a gurgled snore and pushed his snout further under one clawed foot.
Buddy cleared his throat again, and the reptile jumped, eyes wide and terrified.
“What? What’s going on?” he shrieked.
“Everything’s fine, take it easy.” Buddy moved back, hoping to give the frightened creature a sense of safety. “I have to get out of here, and I need to ask you some questions. Are you awake?”
“I am totally awake. I’ve been awake for hours.” Orie blinked rapidly and scrambled to his feet. “What?”
“I need some water. Where can I get some?”
The lizard frowned, reached one clawed foot behind his body as if searching for something, then froze. Swiveling his neck, he stared at his back. “It’s gone!” he screamed. “It’s gone, gone—!”
“Calm down! Stop!” Buddy interrupted. “It’s okay, everything’s all right. Your tail sort of got . . . broken off, remember? I think you put it under the cap.”
Orie gaped, sides heaving with emotion. “Right, right, I knew that.”
Oak leaves rattled against the grate, and the two animals sat in an uneasy quietness.
“I also need something to eat,” Buddy finally said. “I’m hungry but not picky. Anything will do at this point.”
The lizard looked alarmed.
“No, no,” Buddy said. “I was telling the truth last night, I really wouldn’t eat . . . you know . . .” His voice trailed off. “You.”
Orie’s eyes narrowed with cunning. “So . . . if I help you find food and stuff, would that be considered an act of”—his lip curled with disgust—“kindness? Like a good deed?”
“A good deed?” Buddy repeated, feeling confused. “I guess you could call it that.”
“Then this is your luc
ky day, pal,” Orie said. “Because I’ve been looking for one of those.” Abruptly, he scuttled to the vent and looked into the yard, brow creased with concentration. “You can get some food next door, but we’ve got to go now.” With one glance at the cat, he scrambled through the opening and vanished into the yard.
Pushing himself through the grate, Buddy stopped for a moment beneath the den window. The house seemed quiet, and he wondered if Mrs. O’Connell was letting The Boy sleep. “That’s okay,” he murmured, slinking through the foliage. “Once I find Zekki and Pris, we’ll all come back here, and things will be exactly like they were before.” But he knew this wasn’t true, even if he didn’t exactly know why.
Orie waited nervously on the patio. The stump where his tail had once been twitched from side to side. He gestured toward a chain-link fence separating the O’Connells’ property from their neighbor’s. “There’s some food up there on that deck,” he hissed in a stage whisper, “and water in a bowl by the birdbath.”
Buddy licked his chops. He hadn’t eaten or drunk anything in twenty-four hours, and he felt dehydrated and weak. Wiggling closer to the fence, he strained to see. The lizard was right. There was food on a deck by the back door, and the birdbath stood in a graceful circle of ferns in the yard. “Thanks, Orie, I won’t forget this.”
“Good,” the lizard replied. “There’s one thing, though.”
“What’s that?” Buddy called as he vaulted over the fence and slunk toward the steps.
“You should probably watch out for the dog.”
Buddy whirled and froze. “The dog?” Of course! Why hadn’t he remembered? He had always heard barking from this direction, but the O’Connell’s bushes were so thick, he’d never been able to see anything.
“Don’t worry, it’s too early for her to be out.” Orie squinted into the sky. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s not time for her to be . . .”
The back door of the porch burst open, and a large German shepherd lumbered onto the deck.
“Out,” Orie finished weakly.
Panicked, Buddy sank into the grass, sheltered by a hedge of azaleas.
The dog sniffed the air and shook her massive head. Casually, she trotted past the birdbath, sat with her back to the azaleas, and yawned. “I see you,” she said over her shoulder.
Buddy stayed where he was. Seconds became hours. Minutes, years.
“Incidentally, I can also smell you,” the dog continued, flopping onto her side. “You might as well come out.”
Raising his head, Buddy evaluated the best escape route, which was iffy at best. “So we both see each other. Now what?”
The shepherd rolled to her back, twisting her head toward the bushes and staring through the glossy leaves. “Now you come out and tell me what you’re doing in my yard.”
“Don’t do it!” Orie screeched from behind a caladium. “Run! Run!”
Buddy assessed the situation. Instinct told him this wasn’t a cat killer or she would have attacked him by now, but you could never be too careful. Taking a deep breath, he moved warily from his position, eyes fixed on the dog still watching from her upside-down position. “Sorry about the trespassing thing.” He tried to appear calm, but every nerve flashed danger. “There’ve been some problems, and I’m just passing through. I won’t stay long . . . just hungry and . . .” his voice cracked “sort of . . . thirsty.”
Twisting from side to side, the dog scratched her back on the dewy grass, groaning with pleasure. “What kind of problems?”
“Some friends of mine are . . . they’re lost.”
“White cat and a calico?”
Buddy started forward, then stopped himself. “You’ve seen them?”
“Yesterday.” Resting huge paws on her chest, she snapped at a butterfly. “They went off with another cat. Big. Gray.” Rolling to her side she curled her lip, exposing scissor-sharp teeth. “And rude. I don’t mind cats. What I hate is rude.” She lurched to her feet, and Buddy tensed, ready to run.
“Come on, there’s some food left from last night, and there’s always water over there.”
“Are you crazy?” Orie had crawled through the O’Connells’ fence and now clung to the chain-link in panic. “Get out!”
Buddy paused. Normally he would never believe a dog. He realized Indoors were forced to cohabit with many un-desirables, but Ferals never trusted canines. Never. It was The Law.
Silently the shepherd waited as though aware of Buddy’s struggle. There was something about the dog, a feeling of trust Buddy had never experienced with another species. Not fully understanding why, he walked to her side. “Thanks for the offer.”
At first he tried to drink with one eye scanning for danger, but thirst overcame him. He greedily gulped the cool liquid, licking the bowl long after it was empty.
The German shepherd sat in the shade of a redbud, listlessly scratching one ear. “My name’s Tenba.”
“I’m Buddy. I live with The Boy over there.” He indicated the house, then sniffed. “Food?”
Tenba motioned toward the porch, and Buddy eagerly raced to the pan, grabbing large dry chunks and swallowing them whole.
“Thanks, that was good.” Sinking into the grass, Buddy felt tired and completely overwhelmed by the task before him. “Could you tell me which way they went?”
“I can do better than that.” Tenba rose to her feet with arthritic care, took a few hobbling steps, and stretched. “I’ll trail them for you.”
“Do you want to die?” Orie screamed from under a caladium. “Because I don’t think it’s considered a ‘good deed’ if you die!”
Ignoring him, Buddy surveyed the sturdy enclosure. “Thanks for the offer, but it looks like you’re locked in here pretty tight.”
Tenba shook her head. “Don’t let my limp fool you. Once I get warmed up, I can still leave here whenever I want.” Legs slightly splayed but with a strong gait, she loped to the rear of the yard and gracefully sailed over the fence and into the alley. Then she jumped back into the yard and stopped, legs wobbling only slightly. “No problem.”
A feeble but relentless scratching came from the underbrush where Orie lay entangled in a morning glory vine. With delicate tendrils wound around one hind foot, the lizard frantically inched back toward the O’Connells’ side of the fence.
Tenba galloped toward the noise and pushed her graying muzzle close. “I know this one,” she said with disgust. “Cranky, mean, and curses a lot. Hey!” she shouted in the lizard’s ear. “You’ve got a dirty mouth!”
Orie jumped, stared at the giant nose, and shut his eyes. “I am special! I was saved for great things,” he chanted.
“What’s it doing?” Tenba asked.
“I’m not really sure, but his name is Orie,” Buddy said, jumping between the dog and his friend. “He’s a little different, but okay . . . in a hateful sort of way.”
His eyes tightly shut, the reptile lay in a Zen-like trance, repeating the mantra with increasing volume. “I am special! I was saved—”
Buddy batted the mottled head with a gentle paw. “You’re fine, Orie, relax. This is Tenba. She’s going to help me find my friends.”
The lizard opened one eye, now inches from the shepherd’s panting jaws. “That’s nice,” he said, squeezing his eye closed again.
Snapping the vine with his teeth, Buddy carefully pushed him through the chain-link and into the O’Connells’ yard. “I think you should go back under the house and get some rest,” he said softly. “Go on now, you’ve been a real friend, and I won’t forget you.”
Orie lay like a stone. Buddy reached through the chain, nudging him again.
“Listen to me,” Buddy said, enunciating carefully as though speaking to a child. “Time . . . to . . . go . . . under . . . the . . . house.” Slowly, the lizard got to his feet, his face dazed and dreamy. “Yes, I think I will rest now,” he mumbled, tottering toward the vent. With a beatific smile and a feeble little wave, he fell into the crawl space, a tendril of the morning glory tr
ailing behind him.
The two animals moved slowly, occasionally stopping as the shepherd sniffed a leaf or bush. For the first six blocks they stuck close to the houses and foliage, but once they passed out of their neighborhood, they used the sidewalk. Tenba trotted briskly along the curb, eyes alert, tail up.
Then abruptly, she stopped, snorting with irritation. “Arrogant, really arrogant. This guy wants to be followed. He’s left a trail a chicken could track.”
Buddy said nothing. He, too, smelled Jett’s pungent scent.
“This is so easy it’s not even any fun,” Tenba grumbled. “Give me a dismembered corpse, frozen stiff, and stuffed in a sewer. Now that separates purebreds from mutts.”
With a frustrated huff, they crossed into the next block and turned into an alley where Tenba spent the next hour tracking between fence lines and dumpsters. “Looks like they’re headed toward the highway,” she said, panting.
Her breath seemed strained and labored, and Buddy wondered if arthritis was her only problem. “Why don’t we take a break?” he said. “There’s some shade beneath that jasmine, and I could use a breather.”
“Sounds good.” Tenba wheezed, joining him beneath the glossy snarl of vines. “I’ll stay with you for a little while longer.” Squinting at the sun directly above them, the big dog stretched on her side. “Then I have to get back before my woman realizes I’m gone.”
Buddy stared down the alley and felt a flash of familiarity. Shaking it away, he nodded at the dog. “Leave whenever you need to; I’m just grateful you came this far.”
“It’s been interesting.” Tenba gave a phlegmy cough, chest heaving with effort. “Sorry I’ve had to stop so much, but it’s just too hot. I haven’t tracked anything in a long time . . . out of shape.”
“I’m a little soft myself,” Buddy said, scratching his ear and suddenly realizing fleas were part of his life again. “I’ve been wondering . . . I mean, whyare you helping me like this?”
The Cat Master Page 5