“What’s going on?” Curt said, running to where she now stood hysterically brushing her legs.
“Get it off, get it off!” she squealed, spinning in a circle and stamping her feet. “Is something on me?”
“What are you talking about? I don’t see anything.”
Judy hugged herself. “I was looking at the dog, and something jumped on me.”
Rolling his eyes, Curt knelt beside the shepherd, running a practiced hand across its body. “I don’t see any wounds.” He lifted the dog’s lips, revealing pale gums and yellowed canines. “But she’s definitely old and in bad shape.” Standing up, he glanced at the chow. “Let’s load ’em and get this one to a vet.”
Judy waited by the shed while Curt carried the shepherd to the truck and placed her on a tarp in the back. Leaning against the rough wood, Judy relaxed in the morning sun, picking at some peeling paint and wishing they’d break for lunch, when something rattled inside the shed. Startled, she went to the grimy window, wiped it with her palm, and looked in.
Behind dirt-smeared glass, two periwinkle eyes stared in wide surprise, then disappeared into the darkness amid a flurry of dust. “Look at this!” she shouted. “There’s a Siamese cat trapped in there! Aren’t we looking for a Siamese?”
Curt trotted to where she stood, pressing his face against the casement. “Yeah, I see it under the bench.” He slapped his thigh. “Awesome! First we find the dog and now this!”
“Maybe it belongs to somebody around here.”
“Naw,” he said, wiping off another pane for a better look. “Look at that fancy collar. I’d be surprised if anyone in this neighborhood owns a purebred like that. Bet you anything it’s one of those cats.” He ran to the front of the shed, pushed the chow to the side with his foot, and held the door shut. “Go get the snare.”
Judy sprinted toward the truck, grabbed the pole, and ran back to Curt, who held out one muscular arm. “Just pass it to me easy now.”
“You’re not gonna believe this,” Judy said quietly, “but look to your right.”
Curt turned to see a yellow cat crouched by the shed, ears flat, eyes narrow and fixed. “Man, oh man,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “We’ve got ’em both! We . . .” He stopped, brow creased with confusion. The cat didn’t appear alarmed or sick; in fact, it was creeping forward, expression fierce, focused, and strangely intelligent.
“What are you waiting for?” Judy hissed. “Just snare him, and let’s get this thing over with.”
“I—I don’t know,” Curt stammered, instinctually moving back. “Something’s wrong . . .”
The cat moved closer, tail still, whiskers quivering.
“He’s—he’s stalking you,” Judy said, tugging his sleeve. “I think we should back off . . . ”
With a guttural moan, the cat sprang upward, claws extended, spitting in fury.
“What the—” Curt shielded his head, tripped over the chow, and fell backward as the cat streaked passed, whirled in the dust, and approached again, muscles undulating in a smooth, confident movement. Curt scrambled for footing, his voice breaking with panic. “Get the snare! Get the snare!” Covering his face, he struggled to stand.
Judy started forward, then stopped, as the cat changed direction. “Oh, my God!” she screamed. “It’s coming after me! Help! It’s rabid! It’s . . .” With a grunt she stumbled over the snare and fell in a tangle across Curt who had just risen to his knees.
“Get off me!” he shouted, lurching to his feet as the shed door creaked open. Helplessly, he watched the Siamese dart to freedom, the yellow tom bounding behind.
Judy sprawled by the chow, mouth gaping. “It got me! I—I was attacked! Did you see it?”
Brushing off his pants, Curt huffed with fury, hands shaking. “No, I didn’t see it! I was too busy trying to keep my freakin’ eyes from being clawed out!”
“But I tore my scarf and messed up my haaaaaair!” she wailed.
Curt checked himself for wounds and frowned, surprised to find none.
“I’m not going out again unless we have guns or something!” Judy screeched, voice rising with hysteria. “I want hazard pay!”
“Listen.” Curt snarled, jerking her to her feet, their faces almost touching. “You’re not hurt, and you’re not going to say anything about this to anybody.”
She sniffed, mouth puckered with indignation. “But— but we were—”
“You wanna lose your job? You wanna see this story in the newspaper?” He framed an imaginary headline with beefy hands. “Animal Control Officers Attacked by Kitty. Woman’s Hair Screwed Up.” He stepped back. “Do you?”
Judy reluctantly shook her head.
“Okay, so here’s our story.” Curt paused and nervously licked his lips. “The cats were ripped to shreds by both those dogs before we ever got here, okay? We looked for their heads to bring back for testing, but something must’ve dragged ’em off during the night. Got it? I’m already up to here with the department, and they don’t need to know I was—” he paused, voice rising with rage and humiliation “—that I was ambushed by some . . . some freak of freakin’ nature! We got the chow, the cats are dead, end of story.” He squinted for emphasis and leaned closer, squeezing her arm. “I’m not kidding, Judy. Keep your mouth shut!”
“Okay, okay!” She jerked away. “I heard you!” Flouncing toward the truck, she furiously straightened her shirt. “You don’t even care about me!” she called. “I could’ve been killed! ”
Curt followed, holding the snare out in front of him like a spear. “Stay away from me, you freakin’ freak,” he mumbled to the shadows, trickles of sweat rolling down his jaw. “I know you’re out there. Jumping in the truck with Judy, Curt turned on the engine and roared down the alley, dust puffing like smoke beneath the wheels.
T W E N T Y - N I N E
Shafts of light streamed through the mesquite leaves, reflecting sunbeams off the water. Pris raised her head, squinting against the glare. Above her the white Texas sun blasted a searing preview of temperatures to come, and the creatures of the creek bustled with activity. Squirrels tumbled through branches in fearless acrobatics, while grackles the size of terriers strutted by the bank, their black feathers shining with incandescent blues and purples, their yellow eyes bright and clever.
The movement made Pris dizzy, and she lowered her head, calmed by the burble of water lapping around the cage. For a moment she felt relaxed, wanting to fall back against the glistening wire and sleep, but even in her disoriented state she knew that wasn’t a good idea.
Something bad had happened, though the exact details were foggy. She remembered going into the cage for food, but where was she now? Her brow wrinkled, and a dark memory shoved its way to the surface. Jett! His voice permeated her brain, cruel and mocking. He had pushed her into the water, left her for dead! She opened her eyes wide. He was after Zekki and Buddy as well!
Waves rolling in moonlight, feathers beating the water.
There had been a mockingbird! And she had gone to get help! Tangles of details clamored for attention, but Pris’s head ached, and the sun felt so good she yawned, welcoming a dream-filled escape. She jerked awake. There was something else, though, something even more terrible and frightening. She tried to remember, but thoughts flickered out of reach, dissolving in a drone of mosquitoes. With a deep, careful breath, she rolled to her stomach. Her ribs were sore, and an acrid taste of blood filled her mouth, but for the most part, she felt okay. Maybe she could even stand. Rising on trembling haunches, she took a wobbly step forward. The cage slid farther into the creek, its water covering her front paws in icy ripples. Startled, she tried to steady herself, but her muscles shook so violently she stumbled against the wire, and the trap tipped forward again, continuing its slow slide into the creek. “Help!” she called. “Somebody help me! I’m here!”
Behind her something dropped on the trap, its weight tipping the enclosure backward and stopping further movement.
The bird had br
ought help! With a whimper of gratitude, she turned awkwardly in the cage, words of thanks already forming . . . words that quickly turned to hisses of shock and fear.
Tongue flicking, head erect, the frightening “thing” she’d forgotten uncoiled four feet of muscle and glided silently toward the door.
• • •
The animals hurried through the pecan grove, their labored breathing harsh in the shadowed silence. Rigid rows of trees formed a natural pathway to the golf course, and pecans in bright lime husks plopped to the ground.
Though filled with an increasing sense of urgency, Zekki knew that Soot was falling behind. Slowing to a trot, he stopped beneath a tree. “Why don’t we take a little break? I think the bird said the golf course is beyond that stand of trees.”
“Yeah.” Soot’s voice was faint and winded. “That would be good.”
The possum flopped to his side without comment, and the cats settled down, their tongues cleaning debris from their coats and tails.
Above them the mockingbird skimmed through the branches, finally landing in a particularly large pecan tree. Hopping forward, she approached a camouflaged nest and peered into the twiggy structure. With a screech of anguish she shot skyward, bursting from the grove and looping in wild circles against the sapphire sky.
“Where’s she going?” the possum asked, standing up and watching her small figure disappear from sight.
Soot gazed through the leafy canopy. “I don’t know for sure, but I think her mate was killed here.” He nodded toward the ground, and they turned, eyes fixed on a spray of taupe feathers scattered in the leaves.
Zekki’s mouth watered at the sight, and ashamed, he jumped to his feet. “We need to keep moving. She’ll be back.”
Both the possum and Soot had difficulty keeping up with Zekki, who darted beneath a fence, charged fearlessly across a road, and ran onto the rolling fairways.
As predicted, the mockingbird reappeared without explanation, her demeanor subdued but committed, and directed them as they ran. “The creek is right beyond those houses to the right!” Flitting close to their heads, she swooped upward. “Follow me!”
Dodging sand traps and sprinkler heads, the little group slunk behind bushes, waiting impatiently as golfers played the course, their carts eventually disappearing up an immaculate green. After a brief pause for water and some backtracking for safety, the cats and possum raced behind the mockingbird’s darting shadow, eventually skidding to a stop at the backyard of a towering two-story home.
“She’s down that ravine.” The bird flew further into the yard and past some trees. “Be careful, though; it’s a jagged drop with a creek at the bottom.”
Soot and Zekki crouched low to the ground, bellies dragging through trailing vines of ivy and jasmine. Behind them the possum scurried in the underbrush, preferring to keep as close to the sprawling foliage as possible.
“I’m going down to get a closer look.” With a tilt of her wings, the bird soared over the ravine, disappearing into the trees below.
The trio crept to the edge of the cliff and looked down. Beneath them the creek wound in a glittering ribbon of water. Mud and gravel covered the banks, leading to a precipice of jutting rocks and weeds.
“She’s there! In the trap! I see her!” Zekki whispered, his voice hoarse with excitement.
Pris’s plump form was vaguely visible through the mesh. She hissed loudly, her face inches from a blob of darkness coiled by the door.
The possum leaned over, whiskers forward, nose wiggling. “And the snake. It’s a big one, too.” Stretching his back legs, he snapped his tail and did some calisthenic-type hops and lunges. “Okay, I’m ready.” He turned to the cats. “I’ll call you when I’m through.”
Zekki wrinkled his forehead, bewildered. “When you’re through? I thought we were all going.”
“Nope, just me.” “Why? We know what’s down there. We’re not afraid.”
The possum sniffed at a nettle, then casually scratched his ear. “Have you ever actually seen a snake before?”
“Yes, well, no . . .”
“Ever kill one?”
Both cats exchanged glances and shook their heads.
“That’s why I’m saying you shouldn’t go down there,” the possum said, his earnest face solemn and set. “And don’t let Pris know we’re here, either. Not yet.”
“I didn’t come all this way to do nothing!” Zekki’s voice rose with frustration.
“But you’ve already done your part,” the possum said.
Frowning, Zekki narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything.”
“You got us here, didn’t you?”
“But—but this is different,” Zekki stammered. “I mean, we’re a team, and I don’t think you should go alone.”
“Have to. It won’t work if I don’t.” The possum shrugged, heading for the cliff. “I’ve already talked to the bird. We have a plan, and she knows what to do.” He looked at their doubtful faces. “Trust me. Snakes are my specialty.” Before they could protest, he scrambled over the rocky edge and began the steep descent toward the water.
The cats watched him slip against a boulder, regain his balance, then traverse sideways across the ragged terrain. With one last look, he flicked his tail in salute, then disappeared behind a rock formation.
“What if he doesn’t kill it?” Zekki said. “What if it kills him? You saw what he did at the highway, maybe he’s all talk, maybe he—”
“Don’t underestimate the possum,” Soot interrupted. “He’s a wild thing, and wild things have their ways.”
• • •
The water moccasin tightened his coil and watched the cat closely. She looked bigger now that she was on her feet.
Flattening her ears, the cat moaned a low, guttural warning.
The snake wasn’t concerned. He had studied every inch of the cage during the night, and he knew exactly how to get in; but getting in wasn’t the goal. The goal had been to wait for the mockingbird to come back so he could kill and eat her . . . and she had, only instead of hovering around the cage like before, she was sitting in a tree, watching him. Lifting his head, he glared at the bird staring impudently from a low-hanging branch. He bumped the cage with frustration. The bird had been right there in the water, so close he could have touched her, and then the loud-mouthed cat had warned her and ruined everything. He peered through the wire with malice. Hunger was clouding his judgment, and he considered sliding into the cage, killing her, and forgetting about the bird all together.
Sensing a vibration from behind, he swiveled his head for a better look. The bank was empty and still—too still. Something wasn’t right. Uncoiling from the metal door, he undulated toward the safety of the bushes.
Fluttering from her perch, the bird landed on the ground beneath the oak.
The snake watched, stunned. She was almost within striking distance. Cautiously, he changed direction, his tail quivering with aggression.
Cocking her head, the bird hopped a little closer, ignoring him and preening her feathers.
He inched forward until he could see the fine gray quills around her beak, then stopped. Unbelievably, she appeared not to notice, and he slid toward her once more, this time, a third of his body raised, preparing to strike.
Branches rustled above, and before he could move, something fell from the tree, its weight dragging him backward. Thrashing in the mud, the snake writhed and twisted in desperation, mouth gaping in silent fury as the possum clung to its head, razor teeth grinding steadily through muscle and bone.
“He has him!” the mockingbird screamed, soaring over the cats who watched transfixed from the cliff.
With one last contortion, the snake arced his spine, then flopped limply to one side, his head partially severed, his tongue twitching between slack jaws.
The possum sat in the mud, a chunk of flesh caught in his teeth and his whiskers red with blood. “Piece of cake.” Panting, he licked his chops. “H
ey!” he called to the cats, now tumbling down the embankment and running toward the cage. “Are you gonna eat this?”
Zekki tripped on a limb, rolling sideways into a crevice. Brambles tore at his ears and clumps of mud clung to his fur, but he didn’t care. “Pris!” he howled. “Pris!”
The calico stumbled weakly to the end of the trap. At first she didn’t have the strength to squirm through the narrow opening, but finally she managed, and collapsed with exhaustion on the bank. Zekki fell beside her, his dirty paws entwined in her fur. Their sobs of joy mingled with throaty purrs of comfort and moans of distress.
“I knew you’d come,” she whimpered, burying her head in his matted coat. “I knew you would.”
T H I R T Y
The creek rang with joyous laughter, and Soot stood back from the water, suddenly awkward and embarrassed in the face of such emotion. He watched Zekki and Pris join the possum and mockingbird beneath the mesquite. They shared the snake, congratulating one another as comrades, while Soot stood alone, the uninvited guest at a party he’d helped to plan.
A familiar loneliness engulfed him. He had always been an outsider, even in the alley, and memories of life on the sidelines squeezed his heart with a familiar ache.
His mouth quivered with self-pity. He’d left the old woman; jeopardized his only chance for happiness and for what? They hadn’t even missed him. Limping toward the cliffs, the sun stung his back. With luck he could make his way to the highway by late afternoon; maybe even be at the house by dark. Searching for a solid toehold amid the smooth rocks and sifting dirt, he clamored upward.
“I could have told you they would never accept you,” a smooth voice said.
Above him Jett stood on a rocky ledge, his great paws flexing, his head tilted with amusement.
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