Claws That Catch

by Lee Hayton

  If I spoke cat, I might know what they were saying. As it was, I only knew that all the animals were distressed.

  Footsteps approached from my left-hand side. I waited, holding my breath with anticipation, but they turned and walked away again.

  I had to get out of there. I mean, thanks for patching up the gunshot in my shoulder and everything, but I’ve taken advantage of your hospitality for too long.

  I turned over onto my back and started to kick out with my hind legs. No way were my front legs up to the task, and I had better leverage this way. The wire soon started to turn the bottom of my paws to mulch. After ten minutes, I stopped. The pain had grown too much.

  My other trick was to place my unhurt shoulder at the edge of the cage and press my shredded feet up in the opposite corner, gradually bringing all my weight to bear.

  Yup. Whoever had designed these hellish mini-prisons knew what they were doing. All I ended up with was an imprint of netting down my side.

  I angled my head close to the netting once more, trying to see how the side opened and closed. If they were just fixed with a lock, maybe I could change enough to let my fingers show off their dexterity.

  No matter which way I turned my head, I saw squat.

  In temporary defeat, I retreated to the corner of my cage and stared at the sad sacks across the aisle. I couldn’t see how their cages locked either. That probably meant that it was something electronic down the side.

  The entire box only measured a foot and a half square in each direction. I could try changing, that would give me more weight to leverage, but I might also suffocate or twist my body into a position of real harm before I could shift back.

  Still, being human gave me the best chance of escaping. I’d just bide my time. One shot. That way, hopefully, I wouldn’t die in stupid circumstances before I could find my way to freedom.

  Hopefully.

  As the minutes ticked by, claustrophobia rose in me until it turned into hands, choking my neck. I sat still for as long as I could, trying to convince myself everything was fine. There was room. When the panic threatened to engulf me, I paced the edges of the cage instead.

  Whatever harm had been done to my shoulder, must either have healed quickly or just been a flesh wound. The bandage covering it caused me more distress than the actual injury. It was taped in place, the grip pulling at the hairs around the edge with every movement.

  At last, just when I thought that stir crazy was going to be my permanent condition, the footsteps returned. As the shadow edged into my vision, I changed back into a human.

  A woman walked past my cage, did a double take, looked back.

  “Please help me,” I called out, barely able to speak. The space was so confining that there wasn’t the room to draw in a deep breath.

  The brunette’s face turned into an expression of surprise, then horror. Her loose curls bounced around her face as the woman ran over to the bank of computers and started to type.

  “Hold on,” she called out. “I’ve just got to log-in and then enter the release code.”

  The metal of the cage ate cruelly into my skin before the front of the container slid open. I fell out, preferring the tumble to the floor over staying in that tight space a moment longer.

  “What the hell happened?” the woman demanded, bending over me. “Who put you in there?”

  A note of caution sounded in the back of my head as I filled my lungs with sweet air. I didn’t know the place well enough to hazard too many lies.

  “I don’t know,” I said, raising a hand up to my forehead. The wound in my shoulder was just a light scrape, the bandage having pulled free during my change, but it bled a slow trickle down my side. The ache in my head was real enough that I didn’t need to fake it. A wave of slow nausea ran over me, chilling my skin down so that I broke out in goosebumps.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know,” I repeated. “All I can remember was walking along the street last night, then I woke up here. I don’t feel well.”

  I grabbed my stomach as intense nausea turned seething hot, the vomit rushing up the back of my throat to explode out of my mouth in a wave. “I’m sorry,” I said, weeping in distress at the mess. “I’ll clean it up, I’ll—”

  I broke off again as another rolling wave came over me. I retched, bile trickling down to spatter in the mess. The pain in my head increased until I had to press both hands to my skull. It felt like it was tearing apart.

  “Hold on,” the woman said, jumping to her feet and running down the corridor. “I’ll fetch help.”

  Help. I didn’t want any more people helping, thank you very much. I needed to wipe my tracks and get the hell out of here.

  The computer terminal controlling the cages had been left turned on. In the woman’s shock, she hadn’t thought to lock the screen against a potential intruder. Me, for instance.

  The cursor flashed, beckoning me toward it. As I looked at the screen, the instructions on the monitor blurred, tore apart, then reassembled in a slow dance.

  While nausea continued to rock my stomach and dizziness swirled through my head, I sat in front of the computer terminal trying to work out the location of the camera feed. For a brief second, I wished that Asha was here, plugging her incredible brain straight into this gadget and ordering it to do her bidding.

  No such luck.

  I followed a path from the desktop that led me to the actual video but not its backup. With a keen ear out for the woman’s return, I frantically typed my many names into the database, hoping that would turn something up.

  A file opened. An old one. I gasped as I saw my name along with those of my kittens. My poor, dead kittens.

  Except…

  Footsteps returned along the corridor, heading toward me at a fast clip. I staggered to my feet as a door slammed further down the aisle. To my right, an exit sign glowed, showing me where to go.

  I ran down the hallway, slamming into the exit door with my full weight.

  My feet tangled together, and I fell through into a stairwell. Concrete steps led up above me and down below.

  I crawled across until I could use the rail to pull myself upward. Not knowing where I was in relation to the ground, I headed down. If I’d started off in the basement, I was about to be fucked.

  One flight down, and I couldn’t travel any farther. My head and heart were pounding in unison, stars dancing before my eyes. I sat down on the cold, concrete steps, struggling to catch my breath. After a moment, cold sweat broke out on my forehead, and my stomach lurched up the back of my throat.

  I threw up the last of my stomach contents on the stair next to me, sagging down onto my elbow, my panting lips a scant inch above the mess.

  The door out into the stairwell opened above me. I heard a tussle of voices.

  “If she’s out here, we might still catch her.”

  “Yeah. If she exists at all, you mean.”

  There was a burst of derisive laughter, then the door closed again. As soon as my strength allowed, I pushed myself away from the splattered stomach contents and leaned my face against the cold, concrete wall. The coolness felt glorious against the heat of my skin.

  With the threat of immediate discovery gone, the vision of the computer screen danced in my head. My name, my kittens’ names. Next to each of them was a D inside brackets—a quick code for deceased. Next to each of them but the last.

  If the computer records were correct, then my youngest son was still alive.

  Chapter Three

  Seeing my name was on the computer surprised me. Of all the visions I retained from that dreadful time, the one of a man striding down the corridor, clipboard in hand was the strongest. The animal control officer would stop in front of cages along the way, hitching up his belt where the fat beer belly flopped forward over it. For a brief minute, the heavy leather would restrain him, then it would slowly disappear again under a roll of fat.

  The officer always smelled like the fags he snuck ou
t into the alleyway to smoke and the shots of vodka that he snuck into the staffroom to consume. Underneath was the slow creep of clammy sweat, oozing from his pores and gathering in the thick creases of his abundant flesh.

  When he stopped, his fat finger would trace down the edge of the paper. At the right name, he’d tap his knuckle twice and nod, then slide the ballpoint pen from its holder.

  Tick for adoption. Cross for execution.

  Even in my short stay, I could soon tell the difference just by the smile that spread like melting butter across his face. Executions propped his mouth open so wide, it revealed the stained teeth lurking beneath.

  No way in hell did that man use a computer.

  Panic had wiped a lot of that time out of my brain. I’d been exhausted from giving birth and trying to care for my tiny kittens. Even back then, the city didn’t provide a lot of sustenance for the destitute. More than now, but I didn’t have the energy to forage and couldn’t stay away from my mewling offspring for too long.

  I shook my head and tried to stand in the stairwell. It was no use staying slumped down here forever. With the new knowledge staining my thoughts, I felt the imperative to hurry—to dig up the dirt and find out the truth.

  Stupid, that. There was no hurry, not really. After thirty years—more maybe, I wasn’t good at keeping count—it wasn’t as though my child would be in imminent danger. After thirty years, he wouldn’t be a child neither. A grown man. I tried to picture it in my mind and failed.

  Though I could change now at will, wholly, partially, whatever took my fancy, back then my body dictated what it would do. My intention didn’t have a say at all.

  A body can’t give birth and sustenance to little ones if it changes species. For the term of my pregnancy and lactation, I’d been stuck in one shape.

  The helplessness of that situation still took my breath away. As much as a cat fights, it’s no match for a fully-grown and armed human.

  If I needed a reminder of that, my current incarceration would serve quite nicely.

  Traveling slowly, I reached the bottom of the stairs and the doorway out to freedom. For a moment, I hesitated. A white sign with red lettering informed me that if I opened the door, an alarm would sound inside the building.

  I’d be long gone by the time anyone responded, but the sound would bring a new era of devastation to my sensitive eardrums. A bell was already ringing in my head.

  I walked along and tried the door back into the complex instead. Locked. There was a card reader mounted on the wall keeping me in my place. With no other option except to stay put, I walked back to the outer door and pressed down on the bar.

  No alarm sounded. The door also didn’t unlock.

  Indignation swamped me as I stepped back, cupping my elbows. How dare this place not have functional exits? What would happen if they had a fire?

  A sudden image of staff crushed at the exits while flames licked at their heels washed through my mind, and I shook my head to clear it. A bad mistake. Nausea returned in a rush. I retched, sagging against the useless door for support. It would have been worse, but my stomach was already emptied out.

  I sat back down on the hard stairs, the coldness eating into my bones this time rather than bringing me relief. I had no idea what the time was. I’d have to wait until the crew upstairs left for the day so I could sneak back inside.

  A horrid thought struck me, and I hauled myself back up to the previous level, both hands on the handrail while I hefted the weight of my body up a step. All the time I moved upstairs, I hoped that a different sight than the one I’d imagined would greet me. No luck there.

  The door back to the animal shelter was also restricted access. Without a card ID, I wasn’t getting back out on this level either. Unless someone ventured into the stairwell, then I was stuck here.

  I napped. Always my first resort in any stressful situation. If the world was going to be difficult, it could easily do that without me paying attention.

  When I woke, my body had rid itself of more of whatever toxin the control bots had injected me with. Most of the way back to normal, I stood and examined the door more closely, hoping that with the departure of my addled brain an escape route would have opened up.

  Unfortunately, there was no change on that front. Again, I wished that Asha was here with me. One quick fiddle with the electronics, and she’d spring that key card lock with no one the wiser.

  My claws were sharp but not sawing through a metal door sharp. I looked above me, wondering if I could crawl into a vent or something similar. If the building had air-conditioning, it didn’t use the stairwell as an expulsion or intake point.

  I sat down again. The smell from where I’d vomited earlier was off-putting, but I couldn’t be bothered moving again.

  If I’d wanted another exercise in futility, the floors above called out to me. When I found my energy again, I could continue to climb upward. There was no reason to think that any other floor would be different, but it would give me something to do.

  An image of me dying of thirst on the stairwell flashed in my mind. Gosh, I was full of joyful imagery today. I tried to picture a door opening instead, but that was met with blankness.

  I shuffled closer to the door, not standing so much as crawling. Laziness meeting curiosity head to head. When I was close to the wall, I laid my ear upon it, trying to hear anything that might be happening on the other side.

  Running footsteps. Yelling.

  Life sounded like a party at the animal control shelter today.

  The yelling descended into screaming, and the nerves in my spine stood to attention. I jumped to my feet, moving to press my ear against the door where the wall was thinnest. A woman was shrieking—in panic rather than pain.

  A second after that, the footsteps ran straight at the door. I stepped back a moment before it burst open with the woman running through.

  I caught the handle before it shut and slipped inside. With the noise accelerating the pounding of my heart, I half expected to find the flames that had taunted my imagination earlier.

  Nothing.

  Apart from the lowering screams as the running woman got further away, I couldn’t hear anything. Wait. That wasn’t true either. There was the pattering of many small feet.

  I ran down the hall, back to where I’d been held and saw dozens of cats spilling out of their cages onto the floor. Some were running down the corridor, investigating. Others sat in place, washing, seemingly unbothered by whatever was going on.

  The elevator door dinged behind me. Perhaps the woman had pressed the button before she fled down the stairs. With a hammering heart—my headache once again pounding behind my eyes—I stepped inside. A few cats nosed their way into the car before the door slid shut.

  I pressed the button for the ground floor, keeping my fingers crossed that the exit there would be open. I reassured myself that even if the door were blocked, there’d be windows. There’d be some other avenue of escape.

  The elevator took forever to edge its way down to the ground floor. My perception had sped up to such a degree that I felt sure I could have run the distance quicker.

  The cats were pawing at the lift doors before they opened, spilling out onto the corridor outside. That they knew something was wrong told me I’d been right to anticipate trouble. The felines headed straight for the entrance door, and I followed quickly along behind.

  The doors slid open, sensing my presence. The frigid air of the night floated in and blew the last of the giddiness in my head away.

  As I walked outside, I looked back up at the building, wondering why my hackles were still rising. Nothing looked amiss. Aside from the screaming woman and the freed cats, nothing could account for the dread creeping up my spine.

  But my feeling of panic continued to increase. To release some of my nervous energy, I ran around the outside of the building, making my way to where the exit door had been bolted shut.

  If the woman inside had continued down, that’s wher
e she should have ended up. Even now, she might be making the same discovery I’d made earlier. The door that was meant to be a fail safe was instead a trap.

  I pressed my ear up to the metal, which was much thicker down here than up on the higher floors. Even through the layers of steel, I could hear the woman. She must be banging her hands flat against the door. The sound thinned down to inconsequential by the time it reached me on the other side.

  I tried the handle, already calling myself foolish for the attempt. If a door didn’t open for the people inside, it would hardly do so for those outside. The whole point of them was to keep those people exactly where they were.

  I scanned the ground restlessly, looking for something. I didn’t even know what. A crowbar? A wrench? A key to a keyhole that didn’t exist?

  A muffled thump shook the ground underneath me, and I stepped back, almost falling as the earth shifted under my feet.

  Although the woman was still inside, now I could hear her screams clearly. They’d increased in such volume that the desperation couldn’t be held back by simple physics.

  “Get back.” A man grabbed hold of my arm and started dragging me away. “It’s going to blow.”

  “There’s a woman trapped in there,” I shouted back, pushing him aside, drawing a thin trail of blood from one claw in my haste. They’d popped out by themselves, a symbol of my distress. “We’ve got to help her.”

  “Who?” The man who’d grabbed me looked across to his friend, then out at the gathering crowd by in the parking lot out front. “Where’s Stefanie?”

  “If that’s the name of the animal control lady, that’s her. She ran down the stairwell, but the door’s not working.”

  One man pulled me by the shoulders, hauling me back as the other ran for the door.

  Then the wall bulged, and the world exploded.

  Chapter Four

  The beep of the machines woke me. I wrinkled my nose in displeasure. There’s nothing worse than being woken early from a nap.