The Cat Master

by Bonnie Pemberton

  “Where’s the food?” Zekki sagged against the bottom step for support.

  “I don’t know. We’ll ask Soot.” Buddy’s eyes strained in the darkness. Something didn’t feel right, and he wanted to leave as soon as possible. “You and Shan Dara go back to the shed next door and wait for me.”

  “Why can’t we just stay with you?” the Siamese demanded, eyes drooping with weariness.

  Buddy playfully nudged her head. “Because I think you’d be more comfortable in the shed. Listen, Shan Dara, everything is fine. Just give me some time to find Soot; he’ll take care of us.”

  “I’d rather stay with you.” Her slender jaw tightened.

  “I know you would, but do what I’m asking, okay?”

  She stared unblinking. “You’ll be back soon?”

  He nodded. With an exasperated sigh, Shan Dara turned toward the toolshed, Zekki trailing behind.

  Buddy watched until he was sure they had found the opening through the hedge, then began to parole the perimeters of the house. A dim light shone through a back window, and he jumped onto a broken lawn chair, stood on his hind legs, and steadied himself on a ledge. Through the screen he saw the old lady sleeping. She lay on her back, mouth slightly open, a sheet drawn over her chest. An oscillating fan hummed on a dresser, and there, curled against her neck, was Soot, his injured back leg resting gently across her shoulder.

  The lawn chair beneath Buddy shifted in the dirt, and the black cat jerked awake, eyes glowing. “Who is it?” he hissed in the darkness.

  “It’s Buddy. I need your help.”

  Jumping off the pillow, Soot limped to the window and peered nervously through the screen. “Are you alone?”

  “No. I’m with Shan Dara, the Siamese I’ve been traveling with, and Zekki.”

  “So, you found them?”

  “Only Zekki. Pris is still with Jett. We need to rest and eat before we go on. Do you have any food?”

  Soot’s pulse throbbed. He did have some food left in the little bowl the woman had been setting out for him, but he’d have to let the cats inside to eat it. What if the woman woke up? Maybe she’d be mad, blame him for disturbing her, decide she didn’t want him anymore. Or worse—his heart began to thump—what if she liked them better? He pictured himself back in the alley, crippled and alone.

  “Do you have any food?” Buddy repeated.

  Soot swallowed hard. “I think I ate it all.” His words hung in the air like ashes.

  A car screeched around a distant corner. Tejano music blared from a boom box.

  “I see,” Buddy finally said. He leaped from the chair, and the black cat heard the rustle of dried grass as he retreated into the darkness.

  Soot huddled on the bedroom floor, his stomach churning. That had been wrong. All cats were brothers, and he’d betrayed them, lied to them. He needed to bring them back, offer them everything he had. Hobbling toward the kitchen, a hard pain in his leg brought him to a panting stop. Leaning against the wall, he slowly limped past the sleeping woman, down the hall, and to the screen door. Gritting his teeth, he put his full weight on both back legs and pushed hard against the frame. As she often did, the old woman had neglected to lock the door, and it creaked open an inch. “Don’t go!” he called, stumbling out on the first step. “There’s plenty of food for everyone!”

  “That’s really nice of you,” a voice said behind the bushes. “Where?”

  • • •

  Soot jumped backward, squalling with pain. “Who said that?”

  “I did.” Ambling to the foot of the steps, the possum sat down, scratched behind his ear, and waited for what he thought was a polite amount of time. Finally he cleared his throat. “So where is it?”

  The cat looked confused. “Where is what?”

  “You know . . . the food.”

  “Food? You mean the food for my friends?”

  The possum inspected the moonlit yard, face twisted with confusion. “What friends?”

  Soot followed his gaze. The yard was empty with only an occasional firefly to break the velvety blackness. He slumped on the steps. “You’re right. What friends? I don’t have friends because I don’t deserve to have them.” He stared in misery at the toppled lawn chair where Buddy had been. “How could I have done that?” he muttered, limping back toward the door. “Buddy was hungry, Pris is lost, and Zekki—”

  “Lost?” the possum said. Something was coming back. Lost cats. Cats in danger. “Is one of them yellow and the other a Siamese?”

  Soot stopped, face blank with amazement. “How did you know?”

  “Animal Control is looking for them. I heard them talking by the dumpsters.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Don’t know . . . something about them being bitten by a rabid raccoon.” He remembered the smell of the tire tracks and suddenly longed for the security of the loading docks. “They’d better hide. The man sounded mad; said he’s gonna kill them.”

  Soot leaped onto the grass with a moan. “Buddy!” He hopped toward the alley on three legs. “Zekki!”

  A wave of paranoia gripped the possum. “Wait for me!” he shouted, running after the black cat’s retreating form. He stumbled in a snarl of honeysuckle that separated the alley from the woman’s backyard, its tendrils grabbing his feet and tail, its aroma light and sweet. “Wait!” he called again, breaking free and scurrying beneath a young cottonwood tree for protection. A sudden breeze gusted through its branches, and he froze. There was evil in the air. It was a dank and nauseating smell, and he gagged from the stench.

  With a squeal the possum bolted into the alley. Something was wrong with this place, he thought, sprinting after Soot. Something was terribly wrong.

  T W E N T Y - T W O

  The sky had dimmed to amethyst twilight, and Pris’s sides heaved with fatigue. She and Jett had been walking for hours, and he still showed no signs of stopping. “Can’t we just rest for a little?” she cried. Her muscles ached and her stomach gurgled with hunger.

  “It’s not much farther.” He sounded happy. “We’re almost there.”

  The golf course was immaculate and lush. Jett had cleverly avoided the men in carts, crouching in weeds amid halos of gnats until twilight forced the last golfer home. Sprinklers came on, and the cats lapped thirstily from the spigots, water spraying in all directions, the fine mist clinging to their coats and whiskers.

  “When are we going to eat?” Pris called, as they crossed a velvety green and slogged through a sand trap. The big male appeared not to have heard, and she finally sat in frustration. “Please stop. I can’t go any farther without food.” Jett turned, and she flattened to the ground, tearful and afraid.

  “You know what?” he said, his huge head close to her face. “You’re absolutely right; we do need to eat.”

  “We do?” She looked up in surprise. He didn’t seem mad at all. In fact, he seemed pleasant, exuberant even.

  “If you can manage a little farther, there’s a place over behind that house that always has food out for cats.”

  “You mean we’re going to a real house where people like cats and there’s food in bowls?” She couldn’t believe her ears; maybe she would get home after all!

  Jett chuckled softly. “Well, not exactly in bowls, but I think you’ll like it. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  Together they trudged through the wooded area that encircled the course, then entered the back of a well-lighted yard.

  Pris stared in awe.

  The house was grand, with two stories and a balcony that overlooked the sculpted greens. Apricot roses dripped from an arbor, and planters of impatiens, ferns, and purple sweet potato vines created a fairyland of scent and color.

  “Who lives here?” she whispered. “Like I told you, people who love cats.” He took a deep breath. “Can you smell the food?”

  The calico gave a timid sniff. At first all she discerned was the sweetness of flowers and damp earth, but there was definitely something else. She inhaled deeply, her
little nose red with the effort. “I do! I smell it!” Her mouth watered. “What is it?”

  “See for yourself.” Jett moved closer, whiskers grazing her ear. “It’s right over there.”

  Together they crawled through the underbrush separating the house from the golf course. The scent became stronger, and Pris pushed ahead, salivating with anticipation. “I can’t find it!” she wailed, sniffing the ground and bushes in a frenzy of hunger.

  Jett walked to a clearing and stopped. “It’s here, but be careful. There’s a pretty steep drop on the other side of those bushes that goes straight down to a creek. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

  Pris ran to where he stood.

  A rectangular wire box glimmered in the moonlight.

  The calico crept toward it, cautiously sniffing again. “But where’s the food?”

  Jett strode with confidence to the far end of the contraption and sat down. “There,” he said, indicating a scoop of tuna glistening just inside the wire. “All you have to do is walk in and eat it.”

  “Are you sure?” Pris inched closer. “I’ve never seen food in something like that.”

  Tail flicking with irritation, the tom frowned. “Are you hungry or not? If you are, eat it. If you’re not, we’ll keep going. It’s all the same to me.”

  Pris hesitated for a moment, then walked to the opening of the cage and inhaled. The smell rose in oily waves, strong and irresistible. She raised one snowy paw, then stopped. “But aren’t you going to have some?”

  Jett plopped beneath a clump of dandelions and yawned. “Of course I will, but you go first. I need to rest for a minute.”

  The calico stepped gingerly over the rim of the wire. It was narrower than she had originally thought, but not a problem once she got used to it. The open can was at the opposite end, and she carefully navigated the wire passage until it was almost in reach. “I can’t get to it!” she said, stretching her neck as far as she could.

  Jett’s voice rose with encouragement. “Of course you can. Just move forward a little farther; you’re practically there.”

  Pris took another step. “Wait a minute.” She started to back out. “This doesn’t feel right.” Her paw made contact with a small metal plate, and something slammed behind her. She whirled, astonished to find a mesh wire door now blocking the entrance to the box. Frantically banging against the sides, she screamed as a hook snagged her ear. “Help! I can’t get out!”

  Rising to his feet, Jett sauntered to the cage, rubbed his eyeless socket against the wire and peered in. “You’re right.”

  “Can’t you help me?” Tears spilled down the little female’s cheeks and onto her chest.

  He glanced at the trap and shrugged. “I don’t see how.”

  Exploding in panic, Pris thrashed against the enclosure, banging her head into the wire and kicking the metal until she finally stopped, bruised and trembling. “But this is a trap!” Her racking sobs penetrated the sudden quiet. “You said the people loved us.”

  “Oh, they do love us,” Jett said, stifling a laugh. “They love us . . . dead.” He went to the end of the cage, snaked a paw through the wire, and pulled out a hunk of tuna, which he gulped in one bite. “Here’s a little secret.” His voice lowered to an intimate purr. “Humans don’t like cats running free and sharing their world.” He licked oil from one claw. “They only like fat, dull cats that they can keep as prisoners for their amusement.” He grinned, his teeth white in the moonlight. “So, they set traps, and stupid cats get caught, and then the nice people come and kill them.”

  Pris shrank against the side of the cage, horrified.

  “But don’t worry,” Jett said, snagging one more helping of fish. “That won’t happen to you.”

  A flutter of hope pulsed at Pris’s throat. “It—it won’t?”

  “No,” he said, carefully cleaning his whiskers. “Because they’re not going to be able to find you.” Leaning his full weight on the wire, he pushed hard.

  The trap lurched forward, and Pris toppled to her side. “What—what are you doing?” she screamed, fighting to regain her footing.

  “I’m pushing you over the side of the cliff.” The big male reared on his hind legs and thrust forcefully against the cage. “I wouldn’t want the nice people to find you . . .” he grunted and pushed again “. . . before our hero does.”

  The trap moved easily over the short grass, then stopped on the edge of the embankment, the front end teetering into space. Beneath her, Pris could hear rocks tumbling down into the darkness, and the gentle burble of water. Crouched motionless, her breathing rasped with terror. “Why?” she whispered. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because you’ve served your purpose, and because of the clever little trail you’ve left, I don’t need you anymore. But let me take a moment to thank you. Your pathetic dreams of adventure have lured the sainted Buddy into the Outs, where he’s now racing against time to save you.” Twisting his head, Jett smiled without humor. “What a surprise to find me instead.”

  Pris blinked back tears. “Please, please, I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll put it as simply as possible.” Jett pushed his face so close she felt hot breath on her fur. “He stole my destiny, and now I plan to take it back.”

  “But you said he was dead!”

  “He’s not dead.” The great eye glittered in the moonlight. “You are!” With a grunt he slammed the cage with one massive paw, howling with laughter as it toppled over the embankment, bouncing end over end into the chasm below.

  T W E N T Y - T H R E E

  The German shepherd stood at the mouth of the alley, head up, nostrils probing.

  “Well?” Orie asked, moving to sit between Tenba’s eyes. “Anything interesting?”

  “I’ve got them. I mean, they’re really close.” The dog gave her body a head-to-tail shake, which sent the lizard soaring over her nose and onto the ground.

  “That was a nice thing to do. Thank you,” Orie said irritably, shaking the dust from his back and flexing his hind leg. “And by the way thank you again; I think I’ve sprained my foot.” He took a tentative step. “No, it’s okay.”

  Tenba gave him a sniff. “Sorry, sometimes I forget you are up there.” She sat down and coughed. “Okay, you need to get a little more specific. Exactly which cat were we supposed to help? Mother’s sending a lot of different smells.”

  Orie wrinkled his brow. “I don’t know. I only heard a cat scream once, then I was directed to you.” He noticed a moth on a drooping briar and flicked his tongue with pleasure.

  “I smell Buddy and some other feline scents, so I guess we’ll go for that unless you’re told something different.” She paused. “Well?” she said louder.

  Orie jumped, and the moth fluttered into the bushes. “That’s great,” he groused. “I just lost dinner. Well, what?”

  “Has the ‘feeling’ given you any more instructions?”

  The lizard concentrated hard. “I don’t hear anything, so I guess that means we’re doing the right thing, whatever the heck that is.”

  Both animals sat silently in the darkness. Rats scuttered through garbage pails, and a grasshopper popped out of the grass and onto Tenba’s ear. She shook it off and began to pant.

  The old dog had been much better since the sun had gone down. Her heavy breathing had been only intermittent, and each time it started Orie made an excuse to stop so she could rest. “Boy oh boy oh boy!” he said too loudly, scratching his itching stump and giving a dramatic yawn. “I’m pretty darned bushed. We know where they are, and we don’t have any more information anyway, so why don’t we just settle down somewhere, get a little sleep, and start fresh in a couple of hours?” He gave Tenba a sidelong glance, trying not to notice the froth collecting at the corners of her mouth.

  She nodded, licking her chops. “I’m thirsty. I think I’ll just wander down the alley and back to the street. Maybe somebody has a sprinkler on or something.” Heaving herself onto all fours, she trudged h
eavily toward the curb. “You stay here; I’ll be right back.”

  “What, are you kidding?” Orie screeched, scurrying to where Tenba stood and clamoring up her hind leg onto her back. “I’m not staying here.” He looked fearfully over his shoulder. “Did you see those rats? One of them gave me the ‘look.’ Forget about it, we’re staying together.”

  Sitting quietly between her shoulder blades, the lizard enjoyed the thick, sweet smells of the summer night. Fading roses clung to fences, and vegetable gardens sprawled, spent and yellowed amid the last barrage of August’s heat.

  In the next block they found a child’s plastic swimming pool. Orie dropped from Tenba’s muzzle onto its rim, and once in position, both animals drank for a long time from its bright blue depths.

  “I feel a lot better,” the shepherd announced, waiting for the lizard to scramble onto her back.

  “Yeah.” Orie gagged, spit, and furiously wiped his mouth on her fur. “I always find kids’ pee very refreshing.”

  Tenba ambled back toward the protection of the alley, turning warily into its unknown murk. A faint spill of moonlight illuminated a cluster of bushes growing behind a garage, and she stopped. “This look okay?” she asked, legs already folding onto the dry grass.

  “Whatever you think.” Orie plumped up the fur at the base of Tenba’s tail and cuddled into the curve of her bony hip.

  Groaning with fatigue, the dog curled into a tight ball and closed her eyes.

  Orie waited until he was sure she was asleep, then carefully crawled across her flank, rooting his head beneath her fur and pressing his ear to her ribs.

  The old dog’s heart thudded with an obviously irregular beat, and the wheezing had returned.

  Something twisted in the lizard’s gut, as he listened to each ragged breath. He didn’t like the sound of it. He didn’t like it at all.

  The chow watched from the shadows. An abscess, oozing pus and blood, festered on his jaw, and his whole head throbbed with a feverish heat.

  He’d followed the German shepherd all afternoon and was glad she’d finally stopped to rest. Dogs barked in the adjoining yard, and he was confident his scent would mix with theirs if the wind should change. The old bitch had been talking with the lizard. They were looking for cats, and it appeared they’d almost found them. This altered his original plan somewhat, but it didn’t matter. He would still get her; it’s just that he’d kill the cats first to start his juices flowing.