Catnip

by J. S. Frankel

  Harry had nothing to say. She hadn’t asked for this. While part of his mind thought science was still the bomb, the other part of him thought it had blown up in the wrong direction. He wanted to tell her it didn’t matter what she looked like, but before he could say anything, she pointed at screen. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a possible way to reverse the process,” he answered and looked right at her. She didn’t seem to mind, however, and had a quizzical expression on her face. “What?”

  “The way you’re looking at me,” she said. “What, you don’t have a girlfriend or anything?”

  Had he been staring? Apparently, he had. She really had a direct way of speaking, got right to the point, and he knew it. “No,” he muttered, “I don’t.”

  “Aren’t you still in school?”

  He started to tell her about his early life, the bullying and the fact that he was ten times smarter than the other kids, but knew it would come off as either whining or bragging and he didn’t want to do either one of those things. Instead, he settled for saying, “I was home-schooled.”

  Anastasia shook her head and absentmindedly licked her shoulder with a rather cute pink tongue. “I don’t remember if I ever went to school. I’m pretty sure I did.” She crouched down next to him. “I mean, I think I went—I can talk and all that—but I can’t remember anyone I knew or what I liked or anything. If I think too hard, my head starts to hurt.”

  She dropped her gaze to the floor, staring at the concrete as if trying to decipher a pattern in the cracks. Harry tried a different tack. “Uh, you said your name is Anastasia. That’s a start,” he said in a hopeful voice. “When you were sleeping before, you said something like nstasia. Was that your nickname?”

  She looked up, her features twisting, and then the muscles around her jaw relaxed. “Yeah, I did. It was…Stasia.” She gave him a pleased look. “You can call me Stasia or Anastasia if you want.”

  “I like Anastasia better,” he decided. Satisfied with his efforts, he tried another tack. “Is there any food you remember eating that made you feel good or anything you drank or—”

  “Meat,” she interrupted. This time, her face didn’t twitch. “I like meat and chocolate, and…” She stopped as if unsure of what to say. “I don’t know if they made me say I liked meat or if I really liked it.”

  They, Harry thought as he took in her features, they—the people who’d made her this way. He decided not to push any more than he had to. He didn’t want to set her off again. Then again, she had asked for hamburgers…

  “Hey!”

  Her voice came out sharply and she had a dangerous glint in her eyes. “You’re staring at me again,” she said, and this time her voice lost its warmth.

  Embarrassed at doing the obvious, he bobbed his head shyly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he apologized. “It’s just…”

  “That I’m half cat?” she asked. Her friendly demeanor disappeared entirely and her voice turned into pure acid. “What did you expect, that I’d want to be petted, that I enjoy playing with string,” she mimicked batting at a piece of dangling string like a housecat would, “or that I get off on catnip?”

  Confused by her sudden anger, Harry shook his head. “No, it’s not that…”

  “How about I do some kitty jokes?” This time her voice dropped an octave and she did a very passable imitation of Farrell’s voice. “How do you get milk from a cat? You steal its saucer. How do you know when a cat’s done cleaning itself? It’s smoking a cigarette. What happens when a cat falls into the water? It becomes a wet—”

  “I get the message,” he interrupted. Her voice sounded raw and angry, but then again, if he’d woken up as someone different, he wouldn’t have been too happy, either. And he had been in jail…

  “Tell you something else,” she said and poked him in the shoulder with her finger. “Don’t even think of calling me Miss Kitty. The next person who says that…”

  “I’m sorry, okay?” Harry said and nervously held up his hands. “I didn’t know, honestly, I didn’t.” He paused to think for a moment. “Farrell told you that?”

  Anastasia rose in a quick, graceful movement and jerked her thumb toward the door. “Yeah, he and some of the cops who arrested me were cracking jokes when they drove me over here. Those were the nice ones.” She suddenly spat in the corner. “They’re all morons!”

  Then a frown crossed her face…at least Harry thought it was a frown. He couldn’t really tell through the whiskers.

  “So, why are you working for them?”

  He was about to tell her when the door opened. Farrell and Oleg walked in both carrying coffee cups. The Fed had a steaming pot of coffee in his hands, and both of them were laughing quietly at something the Russian defector had said. Anastasia’s ears twitched. “Are you two on better terms?” Farrell asked.

  “We’re getting by,” Harry answered quietly. He didn’t feel like saying anything to the agent, not any more than he had to, not now.

  Farrell set the coffee pot on the table and indicated the doctor. “Even though it’s sort of late, it seems Oleg wants to take another crack at unlocking Miss Kitty’s memory banks. You feel up to it?” he asked her.

  Anastasia didn’t answer him. Harry thought she’d gotten pissed at the Miss Kitty remark, but this was a totally different reaction. She stood up straight, her body rigid, and her nose and whiskers twitched wildly. “What is it?” Harry wanted to know.

  She didn’t answer him, but started to growl in a low and throaty voice, and the fur stood up on her body. Her claws quickly sprang out. A second later, a scream split the air. Farrell pulled out his cellphone and yelled into it, “What’s going on?”

  No one answered, and then the sound of more screams and a roar which didn’t sound even remotely human entered the room. Farrell locked the door and bolted it, drew his pistol and waved everyone back. “We got company,” he said with a warning tone to his voice. “Everyone, get back…”

  He never got to finish his sentence as the door suddenly blew inward and flew off its hinges. It smashed into Farrell and literally pinned him against the far wall before both door and man fell to the ground. A creature stepped into the light and Harry gasped out, “Holy crap!”

  “You said it,” Anastasia answered, and they both stared in wonder and horror at the invader. This thing had to be almost seven feet in height. Clad in a lumberjack’s shirt at least one size too small and a pair of ripped jeans, it had the body of a bear—a very muscular and hairy bear—and a face more ursine than human, with a long snout, fangs, and tiny blood red eyes.

  How in the hell could something so alien get in here, Harry thought. Nothing that big could hide, and then he backed up until his butt brushed the table.

  Anastasia hissed and extended her claws as far as possible. They came out a good two inches and she slashed at the bear-man. It roared at her and returned her slashes, but she deftly evaded them. The ex-KGB doctor wasn’t so lucky. He tried to escape, but the monster grabbed his head between its enormous hands and started squeezing.

  “Help me!” he cried…and then the monster closed his hands together as easily as a child would squish a stuffed toy. The pressure caused the doctor’s head to crack like an eggshell and subsequently explode.

  Blood and brains sprayed in all directions, and Harry fought down the urge to hurl. The creature didn’t seem to be too concerned with him, though. It tossed the limp corpse aside and turned its gaze on Anastasia. She drew her lips back over her teeth and leapt at her much larger opponent. “Back off!” she yelled. “He’s mine!”

  She spat and slashed at it, and the monster took everything she gave it, but she got too close and it clutched her around her shoulders and started to squeeze. Strong as she was, the bear thing was far stronger, and she twisted her head in Harry’s direction, eyes imploring him for help. He stood rooted to the spot, held back by fear and indecision.

  You can fight back. His father’s words suddenly reverberated in Har
ry’s head and broke through his self-imposed fear barrier. He ran over, jumped up, and slugged the creature in the jaw as hard as possible. It was the hardest hook he’d ever thrown in all his shadow-boxing days…and the thing didn’t even blink. It simply backhanded him across the face, which sent him to the floor.

  He got up, staggered, and looked around for something—anything—he could use as a weapon. The coffee…he picked up the steaming pot of coffee on the table and flung it in the monster’s face. Immediately it dropped its prey and howled in surprise and agony while clutching its burnt skin. Anastasia fell from his grasp and moved back a few steps, still gasping for breath.

  While the beast went wild, Harry gathered his computer, flash drive and disc, and stood horrified as Agent Farrell, now off the floor and with his right arm hanging uselessly, pulled out his pistol with his one good hand and started firing. “Get out of here!” he yelled over the sound of gunshots.

  Harry stared as the agent emptied his gun’s contents into the creature and it still came. With nothing left save for his Taser, he attacked the beast and the snap of electrical discharge echoed throughout the room.

  Anastasia’s command broke through his stupor. She grabbed onto Harry’s hand and started to pull him out of the room. “Hey, you heard what he said. We’ve gotta leave!”

  He didn’t need to be told twice. They ran out of the room and made their way upstairs only to be greeted by lots of dead and dying bodies. The smell of blood and entrails and human excrement was horrible, but the cat-girl beside him didn’t hesitate. “Move your butt!” she yelled.

  They ran through the lobby at high speed. Harry stopped briefly to grab a trench coat lying on the floor and Anastasia hurriedly threw it on. Their escape route took them past a number of shocked citizens. Anastasia kept her head down, and eventually they spotted an alleyway and tore into it. Harry leaned against the wall and gasped for breath. His heart practically raced into the next state while she sniffed the air as if trying to pick up the other creature’s scent. “I think we lost him.”

  “Who…no, what was that?” he wanted to know.

  “You got me.”

  It didn’t seem to be much of an answer, but neither of them had the luxury of time to sit down and think things through. “Hey, there’re some boxes over here,” Anastasia said and pointed to the rear of the alley. “We can hide out ‘til dawn.”

  She dragged him over to the spot and with the boxes they quickly fashioned a makeshift shelter for the evening. “I won’t need this,” she said, and took off the trench coat. Quickly, she folded it up as a temporary bed and lay down on it.

  Harry wedged himself in beside her and leaned back against the dirty stone wall. His fellow escapee had already fallen asleep, her breathing regular and quiet.

  No rest for the fearful on Harry’s part, though. As tired as he was, he couldn’t sleep and stayed on the alert, occasionally poking his head out the opening and waiting for the roar of the creature to come and finish them off. When the bear creature didn’t make an appearance for the next two hours, he finally gave in to his fatigue and passed out while the moon shone down upon them.

  Chapter Five

  Hideout

  “Hey, wake up.”

  Harry felt someone nudge him and opened his eyes. Alley, he was in an alley, lying inside a box. His hand felt something heavy on top of him and he realized it was the trench coat. “I put it on top of you last night,” Anastasia said and gestured with her hand at the coat. “It was a little cool and you were shivering.”

  “Thanks.”

  He threw the coat off and a grunt involuntarily came from his mouth. He was stiff and sore all over, his right eye hurt, felt swollen to the touch, and he couldn’t see out of it very well. Great, he thought, a gift, courtesy of the bear-thing that had attacked them only a few hours before. He got up while Anastasia crouched inside the box, her whiskers moving ever so slightly and her ears twitching. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m not the one with the black eye.” She cautiously edged out of their confines, sampled the air with her nose, and then withdrew back inside. “He’s not around. I’d be able to smell him if he was.”

  Curious, but not knowing anything about enhanced senses, he asked, “What does he smell like to you?”

  She shrugged. “He smells like blood…and death.”

  It wasn’t the most encouraging description. Warm air flowed around them, as did the odors from the alley, a swirling miasma of rotting food, pee and wine, and the myriad smells and stinks that comprised the pollution of the big city. Judging from the sun’s position, it had to be around eight in the morning. He peeked into the alleyway and observed pedestrians striding past. None of them deigned to look inside.

  Suddenly, the fatigue of the night before came rushing back, and Harry sat down. In spite of his injury and the fact that a monster was most likely on their trail, he felt a little more in control, even though this situation was far out of it. He’d been arrested and used by the authorities, met a cat-girl, and then the memory of the bear creature crushing the former KGB doctor’s head rushed back in living color and all sense of control suddenly went out the window. Practicality took over as his stomach growled. “We need something to eat.”

  Anastasia sniffed his body and drew back, her nose wrinkling with distaste. “You need a shower.”

  Her remark stung. “What is it with you and cleanliness?”

  She raised her arms ever so slightly and gazed at him blandly. “I’m a cat, remember? We like to keep clean.”

  While the expression on her face remained impassive, the sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable. At the same time, though, Harry had to admit she was right. He stank. However, one question demanded an answer. “What was that thing?”

  “Why are you asking me?” Her face got a cross look to it. “Do you think we’re related or something?”

  Well, yeah, thinking about it, they were, if only through the magic of science. Obviously the bear-thing and Anastasia were transgenic creations, but who’d created them, and where did they come from? If her amnesia continued, he wouldn’t be able to get much information, and he needed to do some more research.

  The computer…where was it? He frantically turned back to the box, only to find Anastasia holding it carefully in her hands, the disc on top. “Relax, you were looking for these, right?” She handed the items over.

  He nodded and his mind raced. They couldn’t stay here, not for long, or else the authorities or the monster would find them. “We have to find a place to stay.”

  The cold metal of the computer gave him a sense of reassurance. Taking the USB port from his pocket, he plugged in, noticed it was low on power, so he sent a quick message and turned it off. “What do we do now?” she asked.

  “We have to wait.”

  The pace of the people walking by picked up. It was Tuesday, a work day, and everyone had something to do. Fortunately no one entered except a stray cat which wandered over to their position, sniffed them both, didn’t spit or hiss or hunch up, and then wandered back out again. It didn’t seem to treat Anastasia like another cat, just rubbed its head first against her leg and then Harry’s, and ambled off.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” Anastasia commented as the stray cat strutted out of their temporary hideout.

  She decided to stay in the box while Harry sat outside, eyes alert for any unwanted visitors. He fidgeted, tried to work out the kinks from his muscles, and looked around nervously every few seconds.

  “Are you scared?” Anastasia suddenly asked from behind him.

  “How did you guess?”

  She chuckled. “You were trembling all night and you’re looking around in every direction now, so it’s not too hard to figure out.”

  Busted, he was busted. He hung his head so she wouldn’t see the ashamed look on his face. “Yeah, I’m scared,” he admitted.

  “You’re not much for the outdoors, right?”

  It seemed like she had a sixt
h sense. He was too embarrassed to admit what he was, a home-loving nerd who felt like a king inside his room or in the lab, but felt like a pauper out on the mean streets. Here, size and strength ruled, and since he possessed neither of those traits…

  Anastasia laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, startling him, and he turned around. “You get used to it. I feel like I can survive anywhere.” She gave another quiet chuckle. “Cats are pretty adaptable, you know?”

  Her eyes, large and full, calmly regarded him with a look of…he couldn’t decide whether it was curiosity or compassion. “Yeah, I guess they are,” he mumbled.

  “Anyway,” she added, “Thanks for jumping in last night. You didn’t have to do that.”

  He stared at the ground, not knowing what else to say. He’d done the only thing he could, which was to toss hot coffee into the monster’s face. Hand to hand, he wouldn’t have lasted ten seconds. “Uh, well, you did okay, too.”

  Lame answer or not, Anastasia didn’t seem to mind. “So did you,” she offered, and gently patted his shoulder again. “You got guts, and I respect that.”

  The mere touch of her hand sent a shiver down his spine and he felt his face get hot. Wiping the sweat from his brow and cheeks, he mumbled, “You’re welcome,” and fell silent.

  As he turned around to survey the alley, she suddenly crawled out and leaned against his side—he guessed—as a way of reassuring him—and the warmth of her body, the softness…it felt good and disturbing at the same time. “Why are you working for the FBI?”

  Her question didn’t come as a surprise, as she’d asked him the same thing before the bear-man attacked. After quickly thinking about what to say, he decided on the truth and had the feeling she’d understand. “I wanted to do the same kind of thing that…that happened to you, but use it for an anti-cancer cure.”

  She drew back ever so slightly and looked at him through narrowed eyes. Her mistrustful nature had returned and he hoped that she wasn’t going to lump him in with whoever had experimented on her. “Go on,” she said.