Hellcats: Anthology

by Kate Pickford

  Don took the package. He could hear the contents shift, the crunchy pouring shift of dry cat food. Don grunted. “More cat food.”

  “That’s the third one this month,” Leroy observed. “How many cats do you have?”

  “One,” Don said ruefully. “My girls named him Mister Kitty, if you can believe that.”

  Leroy laughed. “You might get your cat checked out. Maybe it has a tapeworm?” Leroy suggested. “Hey, are you on that neighborhood app?” he asked.

  “Is that the app where people complain about each other and constantly post asking for someone to fix their PC for free?” Don asked.

  Leroy barked a laugh. “Yeah there is that on there. But there is other stuff.” He sobered up. “There was a home invasion last week in the next neighborhood over. Keep an eye out.”

  That surprised Don. His section of the city was pretty quiet. That was why they had built their house here so long ago. “I’ll have to check it out. Thanks, Leroy.”

  “Sure thing, Mister Franklin. You have a good day. And good luck with your cat. I hope he’s okay.” With a half-wave, Leroy pushed his mail buggy down the sidewalk and on to his next delivery.

  Don watched him go for a moment, then turned back inside, closing the door.

  “Who was that, dear?” Peg called out from the kitchen.

  “It was Leroy with more cat food,” Don said as he put the box on the square wooden table. He retrieved his pocket knife and, with a deft swipe cut the strapping tape on the top. He put the blade away, reached in, and extracted a thirty-pound bag of Blue Buffalo cat food. “He suggested that Mister Kitty might have a tapeworm with how much he has been eating.”

  Peg considered that. “You really think so?” She turned to the den where the girls were playing a game with Mister Kitty that involved a length of red ribbon and a lot of giggling. “He seems pretty happy, though he is getting pretty big.”

  Don shrugged. “I’m amazed that he can get bigger eating this food.” He hefted the bag. “I would think he needs more protein.”

  “He probably gets mice and what not when we let him out back,” Peg pointed out.

  A month later, the doorbell startled Don awake. He had just laid back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. He pushed the footrest down and got up to answer the door.

  On the stoop was a middle-aged woman of medium height, her hair in a coif reminiscent of the sixties, with a plump figure and dressed in white capris and a shockingly pink shirt. She clutched a large purse, and the black-and-tan head of a Chihuahua poked out of the top.

  Still a bit groggy from his interrupted nap, Don squinted at her in the bright afternoon sun. “Can I help you?” he slurred out.

  “Hello, Don. I’m Irene from the HOA committee. I’m reminding the residents in our little community to keep their pets indoors or on a leash,” she said matter-of-factly. His vision clearing up and his brain engaging, he caught on to what she was saying.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked, probing to see if there was an actual issue. It seemed the HOA committee, one that he never had voted for, seemed to take it on themselves to try to enforce any perceived infraction.

  “Oh, no,” she assured him. “I’m letting all the residents know. We wouldn’t want wild dogs roaming around—Dear God! What is that?” she exclaimed, looking behind Don.

  He turned to see Mister Kitty had come to the door. He was easily the size of a pit bull terrier at this point. The girls had put a large baby-blue bowtie on his collar. He turned to look at Irene. “My cat?”

  At this juncture the little dog began yipping like it was caught in a bear trap and thrashed to escape the purse, eyes bulging as they fixated on Mister Kitty. After a minute, the bag began leaking dog urine. It soaked Irene’s side and the bright yellow spread down her white pants.

  “Oh, my God!” Irene shrieked, from the freaking dog to the urine assault. Her self-important facade was shattered and she clopped down the sidewalk on her heeled sandals dramatically, holding the still dripping purse away from her.

  “Have a nice day!” Don called after her, then shut the door. “Come on, Mister Kitty, we have some nap to reclaim.” The two headed into the study. The antics of Irene quickly faded from his mind.

  As the summer ended, Don began to worry at the continued growth of Mister Kitty. He coaxed the cat into his little Nissan, put a nylon dog leash in the seat next to him, and let the Labrador-sized cat sit in the passenger seat for the ride to the vet.

  Don pulled into the parking lot. Tuesdays and Thursdays were for cats at his vet. As it was the Thursday before Labor Day, there weren’t very many people in the parking lot. He got out, quickly navigated around to the passenger side, opened the door, and clipped the leash onto the cat’s collar.

  Together they entered the building. An older woman stared at Mister Kitty as they turned to the front of the counter. Don observed that her cat had pressed itself as far back in its carrier as it could go.

  “Hello. Can I help you?” the vet tech asked. His floppy sandy hair partially covered his face. One brown eye peeked out from under the mop. His badge declared his name was “Steve.”

  “Yeah, I’m Don Franklin and I’m here to see Doctor Roper,” Don told him.

  Steve typed into the computer. “And who is Doctor Roper seeing today?” he asked.

  At that moment Mister Kitty stretched up and put his paws on the counter to see who was talking.

  “Woah! We don’t do exotics here,” Steve exclaimed.

  Don looked from Mister Kitty to Steve. “Mister Kitty here has been seeing Doctor Roper since he was a little kitten. How about you go get him?” Don said patiently.

  Mister Kitty watched with large green eyes as Steve got up and headed into the back.

  Don rubbed Mister Kitty’s head. “Don’t you mind him. You’re a good kitty.”

  Mister Kitty nuzzled Don’s hand, then dropped down from the counter. Just then Doctor Roper came out of the back.

  “Hello, Don. How are you and Mister…” He stopped and stared at the cat. “Wow, he’s grown.” Doctor Roper looked at Don. “Why don’t you two come into Exam One?” He moved over to a door and opened it, allowing Don and Mister Kitty to go through before he closed it behind him.

  Don tapped the tabletop with his fingertips. “Come on up,” he said to the cat.

  Mister Kitty jumped up onto the table, looked around, then sat down on it, his front paws dangling off the edge.

  “Holy cow, Don. I’m not sure what kind of cat that is, but it sure isn’t a house cat,” he said, watching Mister Kitty. He gathered himself. “Well, since we have him here, let’s see how he is doing.”

  Once Doctor Roper was done examining Mister Kitty, he nodded. “He seems to be in great health. Everything other than his size is right on.”

  Mister Kitty was fascinated with Doctor Roper’s tie and began pawing at it. The vet held it out for Mister Kitty to swipe at playfully. “Where did you say you got this cat?” he asked Don.

  “My daughters found him behind our house after a big rainstorm. Our house backs up against the national forest. Do you think he might be part bobcat?” Don asked.

  Doctor Roper shook his head. “No, Mister Kitty is much larger. If he didn’t have the orange coloring, I’d say he was a cougar. Only I’ve never seen a cougar like him. He’s more like a miniature Bengal tiger.”

  “A tiger?” Don exclaimed. “In Colorado? And shouldn’t he have stripes?”

  “I didn’t say he was a tiger. I’m not sure what he is. Let me take some pictures and I’ll see if I can run him past some of my biologist buddies. Meanwhile, just keep on as you were,” Doctor Roper said.

  “Hang on. If Mister Kitty isn’t a house cat, am I going to get into trouble?” Don asked, concerned that his girls might lose their best friend.

  “No, you aren’t going to get in trouble. I’m going to give you a tag for Mister Kitty. Put it on his collar and since we chipped him as a kitten, I’ll update the information on h
is chip. If anyone hassles you, get them to contact me.” He scribbled some notes into the chart. “I’ll give you a call when I find something out.” Doctor Roper petted the cat. “Goodbye, Mister Kitty.”

  With that, Don and Mister Kitty headed back home.

  The family sat at the kitchen table, the twins doing their best to look serious for the family meeting Don had called.

  “Okay, I talked to the vet and they aren’t sure what kind of cat Mister Kitty is. He had suggested a tiger—” The girls gasped and looked to where Mister Kitty lounged on his side in the afternoon sun. “But, he isn’t sure,” Don continued. “However, one thing is for sure, he’s eating more and more. So what can we do? Ideas?” He looked at everyone.

  Lucy tapped her lip with a finger, just like her mom was doing. Linda looked at Don. “He can have my vegetables,” she said earnestly.

  Peg laughed. “You need those to grow. I think Mister Kitty needs something different.”

  “What about fish?” Don asked. “We have the reservoir in the National Forest. We could go out there a couple times a week.”

  The girls clapped excitedly. “Fishing!” They had been a couple of times. They seemed to enjoy it immensely, even if they had only caught a little fish that had to be thrown back.

  “Even with the lake back there, I don’t know that we will be able to keep up with him,” Peg said. She watched Lucy and Linda dancing and clapping around a bemused Mister Kitty and shrugged. “Any bit helps. Besides, the girls will have fun.”

  “That’s one thing. The other thing we can do is to let him out at night. My brother has a dog door that fits into the sliding glass door. As long as he stays away from the neighbor’s dogs, he should be able to catch some of those rabbits we see in the back area,” Don suggested.

  “We just need to be careful to only let him out at night. I don’t want another incident of him scaring the neighbors,” Peg said.

  The phone rang early on a Saturday. For once, Lucy and Linda had been sleeping in, granting Don and Peg a reprieve. Don listened to Peg on the phone.

  “Oh?” she said. “Are you sure? In our backyard?” she asked and pointed at the bedroom window for Don to go look.

  He got up out of bed and parted the curtain. There on their back patio, Mister Kitty was working on what looked like half a deer carcass, pulling strips of flesh off and gobbling them down. Don was amazed at the surprising lack of blood. He turned to meet Peg’s gaze and nodded. Their cat had got himself a deer. Worse, someone had seen. Don breathed out a deep sigh. He knew it was only a matter of time.

  Don headed downstairs to see how he could fix this before the twins got up and saw Mister Kitty mauling Bambi. He got himself some coffee and sat at the kitchen table, looking out into the backyard. He watched the cat happily devouring the last bits until he was satiated and came in through the doggy door. Seeing Don at the table, Mister Kitty came over and nuzzled him, looking for head scratches. An enormous purr came out of him. Satisfied, Mister Kitty twisted around, curled up next to Don’s leg, and began grooming himself.

  Peg came downstairs in a pair of pajama bottoms and a Def Leppard T-shirt. Mister Kitty looked at her, then resumed bath time.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked. She looked into the backyard, expecting to see something out of a horror movie. There were a couple of meat-laden bones, but no real carnage. “Jackie made it seem like he slaughtered a herd of deer in our backyard,” she said.

  Don shrugged as he sipped his coffee. “My brother’s dogs find deer haunches and carcasses out there all the time. It was inevitable that Mister Kitty would find something like that,” Don explained. “The real question is who else is Jackie telling and who else might have seen the fancy feast?”

  Their answer came at sundown when the doorbell rang, the triple tones announcing trouble.

  Together, Don and Peg opened the door. There, three figures stood. The members of the HOA.

  “Mister Franklin?” the man in front asked. He was tall and fit, with close-cropped hair that screamed ex-military as much as his stiff bearing did. “I’m Bob from the HOA’s Executive Committee.” Bob was the guy up the street, always working on his yard. He pointed to his left, indicating an older woman. “This is Sue.” Her blue hair almost glowed. She lived a couple houses down and was always nosing out her windows at the goings-on in the neighborhood. It didn’t surprise Don she was on this committee. “And you know Irene.” This time she was sans purse and Chihuahua, instead clutching a manilla folder like a shield.

  “May we come in?” Bob asked. Sue seemed curious. Irene was distressed.

  Don and Peg stepped back, inviting them into the foyer. The front sitting room wasn’t used very often. In the past, it was a room for receiving visitors. A practice that had fallen by the wayside with the advent of telephones and coffee shops. People just didn’t visit each other much anymore. Don had insisted they have one when they built the house. It was a homage to his parents, a token of a more civilized time.

  Don motioned for them to have a seat on the chairs and couch. Don sat on the loveseat.

  “Would you like something to drink? I have sun tea,” Peg offered.

  Bob declined, as did Sue. Irene was staring off into the rest of the house. “Where is that…thing?” she asked.

  “Mister Kitty?” Peg asked. “He’s playing in the back with the girls.” She sat next to Don. “Is that why you are here?”

  “I suppose we could get right to the point,” Bob said. “As representatives of the HOA Executive Committee, we are serving you notice that you have thirty days to remove your exotic pet from the neighborhood.”

  Don snorted. “You all are mighty full of yourselves. What makes you think we have to listen to anything you say?”

  “We have right on our side,” Irene declared, brandishing the folder. “Your exotic pet violates the covenants.”

  Lucy and Linda rushed into the room just as Irene declared, “You need to get that filthy animal out of here.” Immediately, both girls burst into tears, wailing.

  Don leapt to his feet and laid into them about how they were petty neighborhood dictators. Bob got to his feet, futilely trying to broker peace as Irene continued to demand that the cat be removed. Peg tried to calm the girls down.

  It was at that moment that the front door was violently kicked open, startling everyone.

  A man in a ski mask stepped through the door holding a gun. “All right, gimme all your valuables. Make a fuss, and you get hurt.” He waved the gun for emphasis. He held out a dark pillowcase. “Watches, jewelry, cell phones, wallets.”

  “Take it easy, we don’t want trouble,” Don said. “We’ll do what you want, just don’t hurt anyone.” Don fished out his wallet and cell phone to put in the bag.

  Lucy and Linda were sobbing, huddled behind Peg. She handed over her cell phone.

  Don remembered the talk he had with Leroy the mail carrier so long ago about the home invasions. He quietly berated himself for dismissing that as happening somewhere else. Now it was right here in his own house. He was terrified for his family and started getting a little angry.

  “You have what you wanted. Why don’t you go?” Irene snapped at him. This drew the man’s ire and the gun muzzle moved in her direction.

  Don tensed to move. It was then he saw the orange blur erupt from the hallway as Mister Kitty collided with the intruder, his massive jaws locking on the man’s head, clawed forearms wrapping around in a deadly embrace, and hind legs landing straight in the middle of his torso.

  The man’s muffled screams were cut short with a violent twist of the cat’s enormously muscled neck. Mister Kitty’s back claws ripped down the man’s front, eviscerating his abdomen.

  The large cat got up off the now-still man, blood matting his fur and slowly pooling on the carpet. Mister Kitty padded over to Peg and the twins, pausing long enough to give a hate-filled look at the mutilated body and vent an enormous roar of defiance at him.

  No one moved for a lo
ng moment. The only sounds were the aggravated breathing of the big cat as it huffed in annoyance and exertion.

  The silence was broken by Lucy and Linda yelling in tandem, “Mister Kitty!” as they threw themselves at the big orange kitty.

  Bob recovered first. “Well, I think that solves that. I have a tarp in my truck. I’ll help you move that out of here.”

  Sue looked thoughtfully at the cat, then focused on Don. “There is a ravine at the far end of the cul-de-sac. Bear traipse through there all the time. They can get rid of him," she said dismissively.

  With all of that, it was what Irene said that surprised them the most. “I have just the thing to get all the blood out of your carpet.”

  Mister Kitty laid on the carpet, purring and grooming himself, without a care in the world.

  Mark Stallings is a member of Pikes Peak Writers, speaks at International conferences on Technology topics, is a writer of Wuxia, Fantasy, Thrillers and Military Sci Fi. He is a competitive shooter, drinker of craft beer, and motorcycle enthusiast.

  You can find him at MarkStallings.com.

  33

  The Cat's Consortium

  Kimberly Kennedy

  In Victorian London, a spoiled and corrupt member of society finds out what happens when he messes with the Cat’s Consortium.

  Harold swam in a mix of memories and illusions. He fought for consciousness, his mind a swirling circus of laughing gaiety. Now in a tavern playing cards. Now flush with money. Now with a beautiful angel with powder blue eyes lit from the heavens on his arm.

  The fog—both on the cold London streets and in his head, no doubt from an overindulgence of claret, and of course the scotch—sucked him in and held him close.