Hellcats: Anthology

by Kate Pickford

  The queen’s tail flicked across her field of vision. The Larrys will go with you, she said, and the tail withdrew.

  Sashelle rolled to her feet, alert and on guard. Two black cats materialized from the forest—one large, the other larger. They looked at Sashelle and disappeared into the woods. Sashelle followed.

  Large Larry stalked along the forest path, his tail swinging in time to his footsteps. Sashelle followed at a distance, watching and sniffing for predators and prey. The noise of the humans’ shredding machines made listening useless. Behind her, Little Larry padded along silently, or so she assumed. She glanced back, but his black fur blended with the dark shadows, rendering him invisible. Or maybe he was farther back than she realized. She could still smell him, though.

  There. Large Larry stopped, dropping to his haunches.

  Sashelle crept up beside him, peering through under the thick prickle bushes.

  The land ahead had been cleared of trees. Broken stumps poked out of churned dirt and trampled brush. The huge ripping and shredding machines growled as they devoured the murdered trees, spitting piles of bark and shred into enormous bins. One of the bins filled as they watched, then trundled away. Another took its place.

  So many! Sashelle said.

  They travel in packs, Large Larry said.

  I have learned the history of our planet, Sashelle replied haughtily.

  You sounded surprised, he replied. I merely sought to inform you.

  She wasn’t sure if Larry was condescending or trying to be helpful. Since he was a member of the Lerrr Pride, it was probably the former.

  What is your plan, little one? Larry asked.

  Sashelle swallowed a sense of panic and let her tail twitch in what she hoped looked like arrogance. I will speak to them.

  Large Larry laughed. They can’t hear you. They are deaf.

  Perhaps we haven’t tried hard enough, Sashelle said.

  Little Larry’s snort caught her by surprise. Her head whipped around, to see him sitting near the base of the closest tree. When had he arrived? Her eyes narrowed. Will you teach me that?

  Teach you what, kitten? Large Larry asked from the lowest branch of another tree.

  That! Sashelle’s ears jerked in annoyance. How you move so invisibly.

  What are they teaching the young these days? Little Larry asked.

  Sashelle jumped back, claws extended at the cat who now sat beside her.

  Sad how the old skills die out, isn’t it, Large Larry replied. He leaped to the ground and paced toward her. We will teach you.

  When? Sashelle demanded.

  He didn’t answer.

  Sashelle arched her back and stretched her spine. She pushed her tail toward the moon and her head down to her paws. A cool breeze ruffled her fur, and the smell of meat tickled her nose. She stopped herself from looking for the Larrys and stalked out of the trees.

  The humans sat around a fire in the center of the clearing. The full moons shining through the denuded tree trunks cast dark stripes over their bulky equipment. They had shed their head and paw coverings but still wore strange external fur over their bodies.

  “And then, they noticed shadows falling on the campfire,” a low, dramatic voice said. The humans leaned in close, listening avidly. “The shadows of wolves.”

  Someone gasped. A couple laughed nervously.

  You there, humans, Sashelle said. Leave my lands at once.

  The humans ignored her command.

  “They crept closer to the campfire,” the storyteller continued. “One of them said—”

  “Wolves don’t talk,” another muttered.

  “That’s why it’s so terrifying,” the bard continued. “The shadow wolf said, ‘I’ll see you in hell!’ And no one ever heard from any of them again!”

  People laughed and slapped their hands together. Several of them glanced nervously out of the circle of light.

  Sashelle’s eyes narrowed. Enough nonsense. Humans! she repeated. I insist you—

  Told you they can’t hear us, one of the Larrys said.

  Sashelle’s head whipped around, but he was hidden. She meowed in frustration.

  “Look at the pretty kitty!” A large human stomped to her, his huge feet making an appalling amount of noise. He reached down. “Kitty want some meat?” He held out a piece of—what was that? The humans had done something to the meat. She sniffed—had they burned it?

  She glanced at the offering and at the human again. I don’t wish to eat that abomination. I want you to leave.

  “Kitty doesn’t like meat?” The man shoved the scrap into his own mouth and grasped Sashelle around the waist, lifting her from the ground.

  Unhand me, you scoundrel! Sashelle yowled, claws popping out. She swiped.

  “What the hell!” The human dropped her. “Bad kitty!”

  She scrambled away as his booted foot swung through the air where she’d been. The man landed on his backside with a yell. Laughter rang out through the camp.

  “Who brought a ninja cat to the camp?” someone asked.

  “Stupid cat,” the man on the ground said. He stood and dusted off his external fur. “Come here, kitty. I’ll give you what you deserve.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stick that smelled of meat. “You like jerky better?”

  Sashelle’s stomach grumbled. She and the Larrys had hunted earlier in the day, but the rodents had been scrawny and tough. Probably from running away from these oafs. She sniffed the offering. It smelled both better and worse than the first piece. She turned away.

  I won’t share meat with you until you agree to leave, she said. I will return tomorrow. She hurried away into the darkness.

  How can I get them to listen to me? Sashelle prowled around the small cave they’d chosen for their camp.

  Humans don’t listen, Large Larry repeated for the hundredth time.

  Not helpful, Sashelle growled.

  Wasn’t trying to be.

  Sashelle lashed out, slapping his nose without thinking. Larry exploded into action, uncurling in mid-air with a lightning attack at her face. Sashelle ducked and danced back on her hind legs, forelegs up and claws out.

  Larry hissed, his back arching. Sashelle sprang forward, getting a good swipe at his ears. Larry lunged, and Sashelle flung herself away.

  The two combatants dropped to all four paws, backs arched, fur on end, eyes wide.

  Enough! Little Larry commanded. He swiped at each of them in turn. They dropped to their bellies.

  Sashelle, this is your mission; you need to come up with a plan, Little Larry said. He turned. And you, Larry, will help her complete her mission, as instructed by the queen. He stalked out of the cave. I’m getting dinner.

  Sashelle stared warily at Large Larry. I will devise a plan, she said.

  Larry nodded then butted his head against her flank as he followed his brother.

  Sashelle stared at the rocky walls. How was she going to get rid of the humans? She paced around the space, jumping from one boulder to the next. The humans seemed completely dependent on their equipment. Maybe she could destroy something they needed? But that would only slow them down. If they could make those machines, they could repair them. She needed something permanent.

  Late that night, she approached the human camp. Most of the humans had disappeared—she could hear them snoring in the large boxes at the edge of the clearing. Two or three remained awake, walking around the perimeter, but she’d easily avoided them in the darkness.

  She identified the tree-killing machines, sleeping boxes, and a smaller, foul-smelling box that must contain their waste. Why did humans save that stuff? She shook her head and tried to blow the stench from her nose.

  This box was different, though. It contained no sleeping humans, and it smelled of burnt meat and other items. She jumped onto a crate by the door and pawed at the latch. She’d seen humans work these—they pushed or pulled...the door popped open. She jumped through the narrow space, landing inside the box.


  Bright light stabbed down, forcing her eyes shut. She darted into a low space and turned to peer out. The smell of food overwhelmed her, making her mouth water.

  “Who’s there?” a voice asked.

  Sashelle’s head snapped around. This human was almost as stealthy as her own people. She must have been distracted by the smell. I am Sashelle, of the Lerrr Pride.

  “Where are you?” the human asked.

  Sashelle stuck her nose out, sniffing. This human smelled different from the rough creatures she’d seen by the fire. She detected flowers and a clean scent. She stepped into the center of the room. I am here.

  A human with long hair and a flowing external skin stood in the doorway. This human wore no coverings on her feet, and her eyes were green like the queen’s. Her aura felt female.

  Who are you?

  “My name is Lisbeth,” the human said. “I’m the camp cook. Am I going crazy? I can hear a cat?”

  You are the first person to hear me, Sashelle replied. I think that means you are discerning, not insane.

  Lisbeth laughed, a musical sound like water trickling.

  What does a camp cook do? Sashelle asked.

  The female—Sashelle was sure now—wrinkled her eyebrows. “I cook for the camp, of course.”

  Cook? Sashelle asked. She could sense the meaning of some of the female’s thoughts. You mean the burned meat?

  “I don’t burn the meat!” Lisbeth replied indignantly. “If meat was burned, it was that oaf Jarent. My food is good.”

  We do not cook our food, Sashelle explained. Heating is a waste of time and good nutrition.

  “Agree to disagree,” Lisbeth replied. “What are you doing here?”

  I want you to leave our lands, Sashelle replied. This land is under the protection of the Lerrr Pride and you are ruining it.

  “You mean the tree removal?” Lisbeth asked. “You’re right, they’re ruining it. But they want to plant more potatoes.”

  Why are you here if you agree with me?

  “A job’s a job,” Lisbeth answered with a shrug. “But I’m ready to go back to civilization. These loggers are animals.” Her eyes widened. “No offense.”

  Sashelle’s eyes narrowed to slits. That is very offensive. They are humans, not animals. We are civilized.

  “Fair enough.” Lisbeth held up both hands in surrender. “Do you have a plan?”

  Why must I come up with all the plans? Sashelle grumbled. My plan was to tell you to leave and you would go.

  “It’s not going to be that easy.” Lisbeth opened a door, and cold air rushed out. “I have to prep breakfast. You want a snack? I think there’s some cheese in here.”

  Lisbeth pulled out numerous items, then used a sharp metal and wood implement to shred vegetation into smaller pieces.

  Sashelle stared at the woman’s hand moving almost as fast as a paw strike. Why don’t you let them use their teeth to shred? Much more efficient.

  Lisbeth laughed. “Not very civilized, though. Cutting—with the knife,” she raised the tool, “—makes it cook faster.”

  More burning of food? Humans are a strange breed.

  “Eating it all raw would be pretty strange if you ask me.” Lisbeth continued with her meal preparations.

  Sashelle watched in fascination. The movements were soothing—almost hypnotic.

  Lisbeth swept the shreds into a pan, and a few pieces fell to the floor. Something beeped. Sashelle zeroed in on the sound—it came from the wall. A small flap near the floor popped up, and a flat, round metal thing with a malevolent red eye zipped out of a slot. It headed straight for the scraps.

  Sashelle’s tail twitched, and she pounced, landing dead center of the attacker. The demon ignored her, continuing across the floor. She dug in for purchase, but its surface defeated her claws. It reached the far side of the building and spun around. Sashelle scrambled to stay aboard. Then it made another pass on the dropped vegetation.

  I will tame you! Sashelle cried. Fear me!

  “Why are you riding the vacuum?” Lisbeth laughed. “I need a video of this.” She fumbled in her pockets for something, but Sashelle didn’t see what. She was too busy maintaining her balance.

  The device headed for another wall, and Sashelle braced herself for the quick turn. This time, the squat cylinder disappeared into the slot, slamming Sashelle into the wall. She bounced and twisted in mid-air, then landed, her hair on end.

  Curse you, demon disk!

  Lisbeth cackled. She laughed so hard she had to lean on the counter to hold herself up.

  Not amusing, Sashelle said.

  “You didn’t see it.” Lisbeth held out a slim device. To Sashelle’s amazement, an image of her appeared on the dark rectangle. She rode the cylinder across the floor, then flew into the air when it returned to its tiny cave.

  Sashelle raised her chin and narrowed her eyes. Still not amusing.

  Lisbeth wiped her eyes and put the device away. She returned to her cooking, chuckling every few minutes.

  Sashelle retreated to a high shelf to regain her dignity.

  At sunrise, Sashelle led the Larrys out of the cave. They crouched in the branches of trees near the clearing.

  What are we looking for, Kitten? Little Larry asked.

  Don’t call me that, Sashelle snapped. I am a mighty warrior, not a kitten.

  The Larrys chuckled.

  Sashelle growled, her tail lashing back and forth. They could just wait and see what she had planned. She stretched out along the branch and watched.

  A human screamed. Lisbeth lurched out of the box—the kitchen, she’d called it. “Vermin!”

  Breakfast, Little Larry crowed, and he sprang. Large Larry followed before his brother reached the ground.

  A smug expression crossed Sashelle’s face as she trailed in their wake.

  Dozens of rodents scurried around the kitchen unit. The Larrys raced into the box, snapping up the tiny animals in their lightning-fast jaws. Sashelle sauntered in, batting a few of the tiny creatures out the door.

  Humans erupted out of the sleeping boxes, carrying large, heavy sticks that did not look well designed for swinging. One of them pointed his stick and fire burst out of it. The vermin in its wake were toasted to a crisp.

  Lisbeth shrieked. “No flame throwers in the kitchen!”

  Burned meat, Large Larry said in disgust. He leaped out the door and streaked back into the woods. Little Larry grabbed one more live rodent and raced after his brother, a tail still protruding from his mouth.

  Sashelle tracked down the last of the rodents and dispatched them.

  “You are a mighty huntress!” Lisbeth said, scrubbing behind Sashelle’s ears.

  That feels good! Sashelle leaned against Lisbeth’s hand. Don’t stop!

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” The large, smelly human scratched his armpit. “We have a lot more land to clear. We aren’t going anywhere.”

  “But this land belongs to the pride,” Lisbeth protested. She turned to the other human. “They helped us, Mr. Fortescue, so we should help them.”

  “They ate the mice; big deal,” Fortescue said. He was tall and thin, with bushy whiskers under his chin. He sat in a tilting contraption called a chair, behind a large, rectangular box. His feet, in their ridiculous “boots,” perched on the edge of the box. “That’s what they’re supposed to do. You should keep it—we don’t want any more rodents.”

  Keep IT? Sashelle cried. I’m not a thing to be possessed! I am of the ruling class of this planet!

  “I know, but they can’t hear you,” Lisbeth muttered.

  “You talking to the cat?” Fortescue asked. “They warned me you were crazy, but I didn’t know you were cat-lady crazy.” They both laughed.

  “I am not crazy,” Lisbeth said. She stood and glared at the men. “You will be sorry you refused to listen.”

  “You’ll be sorry when you lose your job, crazy lady!” Fortescue said. The large one caressed Lisbeth’s hindquarters as she passed. Lisbeth shudder
ed and hurried away.

  I tried being nice, Sashelle said in disgust. Now I shall eliminate these vermin.

  “I’ll help you with those two, and a few of the others.” Lisbeth’s face looked pinched as they crossed the camp to the kitchen. “What’s your plan?”

  Sashelle glanced up at the human—woman, she heard from Lisbeth’s thoughts. I don’t know, but I will make it happen. My pride is counting on me. I must consult my companions.

  “You’ll come back, though, right?” Lisbeth asked, her voice tinged with sadness.

  I’ll be back.

  Leaving Lisbeth at the kitchen, Sashelle raced across the compound toward the cave. The residents of the camp had risen with the sun, and after eating an enormous pile of the burned food, had returned to their plundering, turning the next stretch of forest into desecrated soil and broken tree stumps.

  On the far side of the camp, another machine uprooted the stumps one by one, throwing the remains into a shredder. Sashelle took a last look at the devastation and hurried into the woods.

  I need your help, Sashelle said as she rushed into the cave, leaping on the first boulder.

  Run! One Larry called weakly.

  Sashelle got one wide-eyed look at the scene. Three humans stood before her, looking down at two heavy metal cages. Each cage held one of the Larrys. They lay still, asleep or dead, she couldn’t tell.

  She bolted out of the cave and scrambled up a tree, hiding in the heavy foliage. The humans exited the cave, dragging the cages with them. They didn’t notice Sashelle watching their every move.

  Are you alive? she asked.

  I am, Little Larry said, his tone groggy. I can hear my brother’s thought patterns, but I cannot discern his meaning. They pointed their heavy sticks at us, and they spit stingers. My brother collapsed. My body refuses to obey my commands. Get help. The queen will send warriors to save us.

  Sashelle crouched on the tree branch, quivering. She could call to the pride and the queen would send help. But it would take hours for them to arrive. And she was on a quest. Caats were meant to complete their quest on their own. But she had seen how the humans treated the rodents. Would they offer her species anything different?