Catnip

by J. S. Frankel

  Harry nodded and concentrated on unlocking the secrets to the DNA universe. There had to be an answer to the question of what Anastasia really was, and he wanted to find out.

  “Dinner,” Jason announced, breaking through Harry’s concentration.

  “What time is it?”

  His host pointed at the clock. It was just past six. Harry stared for a moment and rubbed his tired eyes. He’d been running simulations for the past five-plus hours and hadn’t thought about eating. He rolled his shoulders, and while his joints cracked softly, his muscles didn’t seem to feel so beat up.

  “I’ll nuke a few pizzas,” Jason told him. He hesitated slightly. “Your girlfriend likes pizza, right?”

  Harry flushed. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  His friend walked into the kitchen and paused at the doorway. “She’s kinda cute. You could do worse, you know? And she likes you.”

  Turning around, he saw the sincere expression on Jason’s visage. “Since when did you become an expert on women?”

  Jason shrugged. “It’s just a feeling. If she didn’t trust you or like you, she would’ve split, right? Well, she’s still here.”

  He disappeared into the kitchen. Harry shut off his computer and went upstairs to see if his companion was awake. He knocked on the door and heard a “come in” reply.

  Anastasia sat on the edge of the bed, stretching out. “How are you doing?” he asked.

  She gave him another tiny smile which revealed small, perfectly shaped white teeth. Her eyes had a thoughtful glow. “I’ll make it. I just hope that thing doesn’t follow us here.”

  “Are you two psychically linked or something?” He remembered reading about that phenomenon somewhere and wondered if it was true.

  Anastasia shook her head and replied, “No, but we both have upgraded senses. I can smell everything inside of a mile. I can tell your friend exactly what’s inside his fridge. I just know…and I know this thing is looking for a trail. He’ll pick up my scent sooner or later or I’ll pick up his.” She suddenly hugged herself. “I’m not afraid of much—but I’m afraid of him.”

  Harry remembered how she’d acted when confronted by the larger foe. She didn’t know the meaning of backing down. “You don’t know who he is, do you?”

  Her mouth twisted and she said, “I don’t remember.”

  Some detective he was…and then he killed the thought. Only Anastasia had the answer to the riddle, and it was locked away in her mind. He sat down beside her, unsure of what to say or how she’d take it. “You told me yesterday you thought I was a friend,” he said slowly, uncertain how she’d take his words. “Did you mean it?”

  Her yellow eyes shifted back and forth as if she was rating and assessing his statement for truth. Finally, she nodded. “Yeah, I did. I like your smell, if that counts for anything.”

  It should have surprised him, but it didn’t. From what he’d read, some animals liked the smells of people or other animals better than others. “I like yours, too.” Then he stood up, somewhat embarrassed by his admission. “Are you in for some pizza?”

  “I could eat a person.” Anastasia grinned and added, “Just kidding.”

  Harry cracked a smile. She had a sense of humor after all. When they got downstairs, Jason had already cleared the computer away from the dining room table and laid out three large pepperoni pizzas. Harry’s stomach growled, and he heard a quiet squeak come from his female companion’s tummy as well. She giggled and he felt pleased. It was the first time he’d ever heard her laugh since their ordeal started—and hers had been the harsher one by far.

  They sat down and feasted on the pizza with very little conversation between them. Anastasia ate her pizza in a regal manner, carefully picking up the thin slices of pepperoni between her teeth and daintily eating them. She ate the crust and cheese in the same queenly way and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin after finishing off her meal.

  Dinner over, Jason cleared away the plates, still awed by the sight of a cat-girl in his presence. For a moment it appeared as if he was going to say he was freaked out by the sight of her, but then discretion on his part took hold and Harry didn’t feel like volunteering any more information than he’d already done.

  “Who’s in for some television?” Jason wanted to know after he came back from the kitchen. “It’s still early.”

  “As long as it isn’t an animal documentary, I’m fine,” Anastasia announced as she settled down on the sofa. “I could watch a movie.”

  Harry sat beside her, aware of the faint, musky smell of her fur, a smell which he actually found rather exotic and exciting and disconcerting, all at the same time. “Yeah, a movie sounds good.”

  Jason flicked on the set and some blow-‘em-up action flick started. Not much in the way of small talk went on over the next two hours, but Harry noticed Anastasia’s tail occasionally twitched when the action got particularly heavy and as the movie went on, she leaned over more and more until she was lying on the floor, stretched out on her stomach. It freaked him out to see her tail lash the air in excitement and she actually growled—seemingly with satisfaction—as the bad guy met a very explosive end.

  Movie over, Anastasia jumped to her feet. “I’m going to bed,” she stated, and mounted the stairs. “See you guys in the morning.”

  The clock read almost nine-thirty. Even though it was still fairly early in the evening, Harry didn’t feel much like working on his theories. He helped his friend clean up in the kitchen, and soon after, he felt tired, gave his friend a wave, and went upstairs as well.

  In the guest room, he stripped down to his shorts and got in under the covers. His eyes were about to close when he heard the sound of padding feet and turned over. Anastasia was on all fours and her face came up to meet his. “You’re not sleepy yet, are you?” she asked.

  “Uh, no, I’m good,” he answered, sort of confused by her sudden appearance. “Um…”

  His voice trailed off when she put her hand on his shoulder. He felt the power in her fingers and also experienced that certain thrill again, the thrill that said she likes me. “I just wanted to say thanks again,” she began, and her voice trembled slightly. “Your friend is okay,” she added. “I didn’t trust him before, but I do now.”

  “You’re welcome.” It had to be the lamest thing he could say, but there it was, right in the open, and he felt like a total dork for uttering it.

  Anastasia suddenly smiled and her voice became surer. “Good night, Harry. And I trust you, too.”

  She leaned up to plant a small kiss on his cheek and quickly padded out of the room. The kiss tickled his cheek, and the soft brush of fur sent a sensation through him, something he’d never experienced before.

  Was it just like or something beyond being friendly? He didn’t know for sure, but as he looked at her retreating form, he thought maybe she did feel something for him after all. It was all so new. The other kids at school had all the cool moves, the cool lines, and they knew just what to say and how to say it.

  Still…this situation had arisen and he was on the verge of experiencing something new and fresh. Like a wave breaking on a shore, to him it signaled a new beginning. “Pretty good,” he muttered. He settled back, hands clasped behind his head, and thought about her kiss once more. There was a first time for everything. He stared at the ceiling for the longest time until sleep came up to catch him.

  Chapter Six

  Hiding Out and Working Things Out

  Harry woke up early the next morning, yawned and then as the events of the last thirty-six hours came back to him in living color, his heart began to race and he sat bolt upright. The sounds of the bear creature bellowing with rage, the snap of the Taser and the roar of the pistols, the screams of the frightened guests at the convention—the memories made him shake, and for a second he wondered if he was suffering from some kind of PTSD—then he decided no, he’d deal with it.

  A hot shower helped, and after toweling off he looked at his eye once more in th
e mirror. The swelling had gone down, but the colors—a combination of yellow and blue and black—stood out clearly from his pasty skin. His body still ached from the impact of the monster’s slap. A series of deep breaths helped him to calm down and he decided to see how his fellow escapee was doing.

  Jason had thoughtfully deposited some clothes in the bathroom during his time in the shower. After he got dressed Harry, crept quietly down the hallway. Anastasia had left her door slightly ajar, and as he peeked inside a pair of yellow eyes met his. “Don’t try to sneak up on me,” she told him. “I heard your footsteps.”

  Cat’s eyes and cat’s ears…he bobbed his head apologetically and mumbled, “I, uh, just wanted to know if…”

  “Save it,” she said and her voice got a knife-sharp edge to it. A soft grunt followed, perhaps her way of understanding the situation, and the edginess in her voice disappeared. “Look, I do trust you, okay? It’s just that I still get a little jumpy around people. Come in.”

  He entered and found her bed already neatly made. Jason’s sister had obviously been into the makeup thing—a waist-high dresser stood in one corner of the room with a ton of brushes, combs, jars and tubes and lipstick holders covering its surface—and a full-length mirror stood next to it. Anastasia grabbed a brush, and studiously avoiding her reflection, she combed her hair and groomed herself all over, and then put the brush down. “Do I look okay?”

  Flustered, Harry nodded quickly. “Yeah, you look great.”

  The words just tumbled out of his mouth, but damn, she did look good. Her long gray hair, high cheekbones and yellow eyes stood out, and fur or no fur she had a hot body. In fact, she was just plain hot. She had on the same clothes as the previous day, and smiled briefly at his compliment. Then she sniffed the air. “What’s wrong?” he asked, worried that their foe had tracked them down.

  “Nothing,” she answered. “I smell eggs cooking. Let’s eat!”

  She brushed some stray fur off her skirt, fluffed her hair, and they went downstairs. Sure enough, Jason was in the kitchen cooking up a mess of fried eggs. He would never win the title of neatest chef in the world. Traces of spattered egg yolks, eggshells and toast crumbs littered the counter and the floor.

  “Hi,” he said brightly. “Eggs are almost ready. Have a seat.”

  At the table, Jason quickly served everything up. It didn’t look very appetizing, but Harry would have eaten the tablecloth if food hadn’t been served, and Anastasia seemed just as hungry. “It doesn’t look like much,” their host apologized, “but it’s the only thing I can make without blowing up the kitchen.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Harry told him, his mouth full of food. His female companion nodded her head in agreement.

  Both guys devoured their meals while Anastasia ate as daintily as a taster sampling food would. She nibbled on each morsel of egg and toast and wiped her whiskers with her claws. Breakfast over, Jason flicked on the television. The news report said the FBI was still searching for the perpetrators and believed them to still be in the New York City area.

  Anyone remotely fitting Harry’s description had to expect to be stopped and searched by the police, and the downtown footage of Manhattan showed numerous young teens being frisked by New York’s finest. Security had been beefed up at all the major train, airport, and bus terminals. Jason shut off the sound. “So what do we do now?” Harry asked.

  His friend shrugged. “Hey, like I said, you’re both guests, so you can stay as long as you like, at least until my folks come back.”

  “Thanks,” Anastasia said, and gave him a gentle pat on his shoulder.

  She disappeared up the stairs, after saying she wanted to take a nap. Jason stared at her retreating form. “She isn’t what I expected,” he remarked.

  Harry had to agree. “No, she isn’t.”

  It was time he got to work on his hypothesis. The scenario he’d dreamed up looked perfect, but at the same time he thought something was missing, and after running a few scenarios he found that the matrix he’d configured just wouldn’t play out, which pissed him off no end. What was wrong with this scene? He’d always gotten the answers before, so he continued to hack away at the possible cure.

  Jason busied himself at his own computer, searching various anime websites, writing letters to his e-friends—he said that he belonged to over twenty fan clubs and had to keep up to date on all the happenings—and tapped the keys with practiced fingers. “One day off the Internet and I miss things, you know?”

  “You interact with all those people?” Harry asked incredulously. “Have you ever met them?”

  “Yeah, a few times,” he answered, and his voice got a bit defensive. “It’s not like I stay in all the time. About twenty-five of us hooked up at the recent Comic Symposium.”

  With a rapt expression, he ticked off the places he’d been to on his fingers. “Then there was a cosplay show a couple of months back, and before that, some gamer exhibitions. Man, it was wall-to-wall game software heaven! Those were good times.”

  The look on his face seemed to say he saw himself as the ultimate warrior in every fighting game, the hero in every catch-the-bad-guy scenario, and the penultimate champion in the universe of the make-believe.

  “What are cosplay events like?” Harry wanted to know. He knew the term meant—dressing up as your favorite anime character—but he’d never been to an exhibition in his life. That’s what you get for living your life in a lab.

  Jason favored him with the grin of someone who’d seen it all and done it all. “It is the ultimate in cool! You got the comic book universes out there, the anime universes in your face, and it’s like a dream come true, you know what I’m saying? I always go as Tengoyama. He is the finest anime hero around. You know who he is, right?”

  “No.”

  Jason’s grin broadened as he explained in loving detail the various animated shows, their scenarios, and their characters. Harry listened patiently, but he really couldn’t get the idea through his head of someone dressing up like a costume character. Call it missing out on his childhood or call it having greater maturity, it didn’t make much sense to him.

  “Anyway, I can sort of rule out going out right now,” Jason said sadly. “Cops are gonna be checking everyone.”

  His last statement made Harry think. The cops were going to check everyone. He wondered if he called in, told the FBI he was innocent, maybe they’d call off the search. Yes, there was a chance someone would trace the call, but he couldn’t just let the public think he was some kind of killer. The real killer was out there and Harry wanted no part of him, now or ever. “Where’s the phone?”

  Jason pointed to the rear of the dining room. Harry quickly placed the call to FBI headquarters. After giving his name, he waited and ten seconds later Farrell came on the line. His voice sounded raw, angry, and in a lot of pain. “Thanks for running out on me, kid.”

  Oh, what is your problem, Harry thought. This situation called for all the sarcasm he could dig up. “Hey, taking on a bear wasn’t part of my job description. You ordered us to leave, so we left.” Then he cut the act. “Did you get hurt?”

  Farrell grunted. “My arm’s broken and I got slashed up. I’ve had worse.” His voice got darker. “We lost a lot of good people. I emptied an entire magazine into that thing and it kept coming. When you and Miss Kitty ran out, it chased after you. We’ve got a city-wide APB on it. Where are you now?”

  Harry covered his mouth with his free hand. “I can’t tell you. Just don’t call her Miss Kitty, okay? And don’t mention my father’s name,” he warned, pretty sure the agent didn’t care. “He had nothing to do with it.”

  “We know,” Farrell responded. “It was just a way to—”

  “To get me to come in,” Harry finished. “Yeah, I got it.” Aware the call was probably being traced he decided to cut things short and glanced around, more than a little paranoid that the agent could somehow actually see him through the telephone lines. “I’ve gotta go.”


  “Harry, you’ve got to give yourself up,” Farrell urged. “It’s for your own protection…”

  “Seems like you fell a bit short there,” he answered, and the sarcasm kept on coming. “Anastasia and I are gonna take our chances. I’ll call you again if I learn anything.”

  The agent started to protest and Harry hung up. He turned around and found his friend staring at him with a what-the-hell-did-you-just-do look on his face. “You called the FBI—from here?”

  “Well, yeah,” he answered. “You know I’m innocent.”

  Jason had already started to shake his head. “Man, are you naïve or what? The feds can trace stuff back in, like, ten seconds. They’ll send their own here, you know? I can’t do prison, man!”

  “Oh, you can’t do prison?” Harry pointed an accusatory finger at Jason. “Hey, think of where I’ve been the last few months. Think of how those reporters just crapped all over my father’s name. What I’ve gone through, it wasn’t summer camp time for me, either. And Anastasia’s had it worse.”

  For his part, Jason threw up his hands as if to say his genius buddy was an idiot and returned to his computer games, all the while mumbling about cops busting down doors. Harry felt bad, but at the same time he had done nothing wrong. He cursed his own lack of foresight and damned himself for actually trusting the authorities to do the right thing. Still not over his mad, he busied himself with his computer simulations and studied the data intently for over an hour.

  “Are you into her?”

  “What?” Harry blinked and came back to reality. He’d been thinking about enforcing the DNA transfer matrix by employing another kind of protein enzymatic shell…but the results showed up negative time and again. He swiveled around in his seat. Jason had taken a break from blowing up the universe to ask the question.

  “Are you into her?” Jason repeated. His tone was one hundred percent serious. “I mean, like I said before I think she’s sort of cute, but would you wife her?”