Hellcats: Anthology

by Kate Pickford

  It led out into a brightly lit area which appeared to be a rundown warehouse. It smelled fresh and welcoming. Patrick had never seen so many of his kind in one place before. There were different breeds, ages, and sizes littering the entire space. Each greeted Kibble as he walked in, as if they were all family. Many of them lounged and on the upper floors. Patrick could see fluffy beds, all of which he assumed were full of sleeping kitties. He walked past a box of toys, which sparked in him a moment’s temptation, but after a moment, he decided it was best to introduce himself first.

  At the far end of the room was a large chair of sorts, made out of toys, cardboard boxes, and cat beds. At the foot of the chair stood two large black cats.

  Patrick shrank in on himself. It felt like every set of eyes were on him, and they most likely were. He walked just behind Kibble. His white fur was dirty, and he paused to lick a paw in some agitation.

  “Snowball, calm down. No one here cares where you’re from or where you’re goin’,” Kibble reassured. “C’mon, Sphynx is back here.”

  But still, Patrick was uncomfortable. He sat by Kibble, tail tucked neatly over his toes, anxiously waiting to see Sphynx.

  At the base of the chair, the two black tabbies puffed out their chests as a delicate cat came into view. She was graceful, with a lengthy tail, pointed ears, and large emerald eyes that Patrick thought could examine his very soul. And also, she had no fur.

  The cats around her nodded and chirped before they went back to their business. It seemed no cat cared that she looked like that, but Patrick stared, completely nonplussed. He had never seen a bald cat before. Had she had some sort of terrible accident? He couldn’t bring himself to ask Kibble. The cat was so undiplomatic; he’d tell Sphynx what Patrick said in an instant.

  Patrick blinked again, starting to panic. He had no clue where to look and settled on staring at the floor.

  “Sphynx, you look lovely as always,” Kibble charmed, motioning to Patrick. “This is Snowball.”

  “Patrick!” Patrick hissed, flustered. His hiss attracted the guards’ attention. They stared at him, intimidating him further. “Snowball…Snowball is fine…”

  “Kibble, how was New Jersey? You’ve been gone for so long, my darrrrrling.” Sphynx sat proudly on her throne, her deep emerald eyes staring deep into Patrick’s blue ones. “And who is your friend?”

  “Patrick…?” Kibble had clearly forgotten.

  “Patrick Bernard Louis the 3rd, formerly known as ‘Snowball.’”

  Sphynx laughed—the sound could cut glass. “You’ve given that name to yourself, I assume.” She pondered, looking him up and down. “Very regal. You think highly of yourself.”

  “He’s a real princess,” Kibble sniggered.

  “Kibble, leave us whilst I get to know Patrick.” Sphynx rose from her position on the throne and stretched. Despite her charm, she had an aura about her that made Patrick nervous. Perhaps it was her influence or her looks but either way, the two came together to produce one powerful kitty.

  He followed Sphynx back to her office. The back room was dimly lit. Every lamp had a purple cloth draped over it, making the room look both regal and intimidating. At the far end of the room was a purple chaise longue, but…miniature. Patrick stared.

  Sphynx purred as she leapt lightly onto it. “Isn’t it exquisite? An old admirer brought it down for me.” She lay across it languidly. “Now, let’s get down to business. You seem like you’re in good shape, well taken care of…more or less. Can you climb?”

  “Yes!” Patrick nodded.

  “Did your owner pass away? Is that why you’re a stray?”

  “I ran away!” Patrick blurted out quickly, “She was… She was smotherin’. I don’t like that kinda stuff.” He sniffed.

  Sphynx looked at him for a time before continuing.

  “How old are you?”

  “Four.”

  “Which of your lives is this?”

  “The first. I’m very careful and not clumsy.” Patrick shrugged. “I prefer to plan than to jump straight into things.”

  Sphynx nodded and smiled, showing off two very white fangs that glimmered in the dim light. “I have a proposition for you, and I’m happy to give you something in return.”

  “Depends what it is…I’m not lookin’ to hurt nobody. Hell, I don’t even know what I’m doin’ here…or where ‘here’ even is.”

  Sphynx laughed. “I created the Meowfia community here a year after my old human, Sylvia, died. She was a doll. An absolute maniac, mind you, but a doll. After she passed, none of her sons wanted me because…well, look at me. I’m no fluffy-kins.”

  She paused. “I was alone for weeks, barely getting by when a tomcat approached me and asked me if I wanted any help. He took me to his boss, Marlon, who gave me a job. I was getting on well, and for the first time in my lives, I felt accepted. But…” Sphynx trailed off, standing up from her chaise longue and walking into the room. She switched on a light and a board lit up.

  “This is Marlon, my old boss.” She tapped the board with her paw, and it shook. On the board was a photo of a Maine Coon cat, large in stature with dull, orange eyes that seemed to stare right at Patrick. “He’s head of the Meowfia on the upper side of town. He had a thing for Sphynx cats like me and asked me to be his mate. I refused and that night I escaped. He’s been after me for years.”

  She was angry now, every word held venom. “He’s recently taken over the Milk Depot. It’s ours; it’s where we get most of our food. It could ruin us.”

  “And you want me to help you take it back?”

  “In the future? Yes. But for now, you will be a part of a team, stealing two milk trucks. Both are ready at the depot. We have an accomplice inside the depot that will help.”

  “Why only two—why not take the whole depot back?” Patrick asked.

  “It’s risky. Tensions are high and I’m afraid for the safety of our kittens. Once they are older, then we will take it back. For now, we just need our family to be fed.”

  “Will it be dangerous?”

  “Possibly,” she replied quietly. “I just didn’t want to send one of mine in there. Most are injured or too old…they’re weak from eating scraps.” She stared at the board. “If this went wrong and any of them got hurt…” She stopped herself and looked down. “If you do this for me, I’ll help you get a new owner.”

  Patrick’s ears perked up despite himself. “I don’t want another owner.”

  “Yes, you do. Every house cat needs a human to live. They’re your family, just like the cats here are my family. Sometimes when I sleep I still see Sylvia in her chair, counting those counterfeit bills. I still think of her, even though I’m content where I am.”

  Patrick stayed quiet.

  “She kicked you out, didn’t she?”

  Patrick looked away, his silence answering Sphynx’s question. “So that’s what you were hiding…”

  Sphynx waited for a charming response. When none came she continued to speak, but none of the words reached Patrick. He sat, staring at a discolouration on the carpeted floor. The stares from the bodycats behind him felt like pinpricks in his back and he was sure they were whispering about him.

  Patrick knew it wasn’t his fault he was thrown out. At first, he was babied by his humans as if he was their own. They bought him special food and toys and they let him sleep in their bed. But as the years went by they became distracted. Then a small pink human was brought home and Patrick wasn’t wanted anymore.

  The mumble from the cats and the sharp voice of Sphynx became too much. Patrick fled from the room. His paws slipped on the floor as he re-entered into the main area. The cats were playing together, their laughs and purrs echoing. On one of the upper floors, Patrick saw a beautiful ragdoll cat licking clean a small kitten. The kitten cried fretfully but was comforted by the motherly instincts of the ragdoll.

  Patrick walked further into the room, past the ‘throne’ made of scraps and onto the upper floor where he had seen t
he ragdoll and the kitten. Another ragdoll lay in a small pink bed lined with cushions. She seemed to be asleep as four kittens nursed off her.

  “I haven’t seen you before.” A cat spoke from behind him. He looked round; it was a ginger cat with large, brown eyes. “Are you new?”

  “No, no. Just visiting.”

  “You’re here to help us with the Milk Depot, aren’t you? Don’t tell Sphynx I know, but I overheard her talking about it.” She bent down and gently lifted a lone kitten into the bed it had fallen out of while asleep. She had a comforting voice and Patrick felt calmer than before.

  Patrick murmured, “How many kittens are you housing?”

  “About twenty. We found them on the streets; as winter is coming, we need to look after them,” she said quietly. “But as Marlon has taken over the Milk Depot. We might struggle.” Her eyes held real concern.

  From behind her a kitten began crying and she turned to help it.

  Patrick sighed, and retraced his steps to Sphynx’s office. “I’ll do it,” he mumbled from the doorway. “Just…tell me what to do.”

  Sphynx smiled at him. “Welcome to the Meowfia, my darrrling.”

  Patrick sat in Sphynx’s room, along with Kibble, who was telling another one of his off colour tales to an Egyptian Mau. She sat in silence. After ten minutes of Kibble’s repugnant story, Sphynx finally entered. Her eyes were wide, and her tail swished behind her excitedly. She ran toward the board and pinned a small layout of the milk depot on it.

  "Are we all introduced?" Sphynx asked, turning to face them all.

  Kibble opened his mouth to speak, but Sphynx spoke quickly; "Kibble, be quiet, dear. Patrick, this is Minx, our top cat for all missions!" She gestured to Minx who nodded her head. "Very smart, very agile, and very good at her job. We're incredibly lucky to have her."

  "How do you do?" Patrick asked. She ignored him.

  "And Minx, this is Patrick... Louis..." Sphynx stumbled.

  “Patrick Bernard Louis the 3rd, formerly known as ‘Snowball.’”

  Minx concealed a smirk and Kibble turned away, his shoulders revealing he was laughing.

  "We..." Kibble stopped to chuckle. "We gotta get you a better name, Marshmallow."

  Minx snorted.

  Sphynx filled the three of them in on the plan. They were to arrive at the Milk Depot, take down the guards, and find Duke. “Duke has been secretly working for us, filling us in on important information over in the other meowfia. Whilst Patrick and Minx stand guard, Kibble will help Duke steal the two truckloads of milk that are ready to go at that hour and hide the milk in the tanks where we usually keep it. Kibble knows where they are.”

  Patrick had already forgotten the first two steps, but it seemed Minx was inspired. Her mouth was moving as Sphynx spoke as if she was making a mental note to herself.

  Kibble appeared to be daydreaming, but Patrick’s tail twitched with excitement.

  Once all the finer details had been discussed, Kibble was fitted with a small backpack. “What is this, what are you putting on me?” Kibble barked, turning and panicking as Minx forced the backpack onto him. “Get off me! I’m too powerful in this town to wear such a thing.”

  Patrick snuffed his laughter as Kibble stood, frazzled.

  “Don’t you start laughing, now, Powderpuff…” Kibble growled.

  Claiming he was; 'Too powerful in this town to wear such a thing', he was finally forced into it by Minx. Patrick had to snuff his laughter as Kibble sat with a frown.

  “Make sure you’re properly warmed up before we leave, we’ll be running and jumping a lot.” Minx spoke for the first time in a beguiling Russian accent. "Especially you, Kibble, you're not in the best shape."

  "Shut it, kitty-kat."

  “I used to have a cat tree. I would try everyday to jump from the floor to the very top.” Patrick attempted to find something in common with the sporty Minx.

  “Did you do it?” She looked fascinated.

  “No…I managed to get to the middle, and nearly pulled a nail out doing so.” Patrick smiled awkwardly. “I think my talent lies in being charming.”

  Minx laughed “Sure, Fluffy, whatever you say.”

  Patrick went quiet after that.

  As the three cats made their way uptown, Kibble suggested new names for Patrick to fill the time as they walked. "How about something cool like; Bones...or Scar..."

  "No, no, he doesn't suit that. He's too fluffy. Perhaps...Leo...or Claude," Minx suggested.

  Patrick grumbled, wondering why his name was so hated.

  The further they got upstate, the nicer the areas became. More trees appeared and more grass. Eventually, there was no more town, just one big road that led out towards a small rural area.

  “How much further? My paws are starting to ache.” Kibble stopped to lick his sore paws. He moved onto the grass verge to ease the pain.

  “Stop complaining. Would you rather the kittens starved?” Patrick asked. “My paws ache too, but there are far worse things to be worrying about.”

  “Huh? What you talking about?” Kibble stepped in front of Patrick. “What about the kittens?”

  “Sphynx didn’t tell you?” Patrick lowered his voice, “What do you think we’re doing here?”

  Kibble glared. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Sphynx is struggling to find milk for the kittens. Without the Depot they would…you know.” Patrick could not say the word.

  “I didn’t think it had impacted the clowder this much.” Kibble stepped out of Patrick’s way and fell into step behind him.

  Kibble was unusually quiet until a large, red-bricked building came into view. It had two visible entrances, one large steel door lined with milk trucks, presumably leading to the stacking station, the other a workers’ entrance.

  Outside the two main doors were four kitties strolling around the yard, talking to each other aloud. They all suddenly burst into a monstrous roar of laughter.

  Just as the laughter had reached its loudest, Minx picked up a rock and threw it at one of the trucks causing a tremendous smash. It echoed through the yard and the four cats ran to find the source of the commotion.

  “Follow me.” Minx dashed across the yard. Kibble and Patrick scrambled after her.

  She picked the lock and pushed the door open. She ran behind a large oak desk and the boys followed her, watching as she jumped on a leather office chair and onto the desk above them. Kibble turned to Patrick and whispered; "How about Rocky?"

  "Now is not the time."

  Patrick tutted as Kibble turned to face the trash can behind them. It was overflowing with empty coffee cups and sandwich wrappers. Kibble licked his lips and began walking towards it.

  "The CCTV shows two of them down the hall, four on the factory floor and another four near the loading dock. But why so few? Surely there has to be more?" Minx frowned.

  “Who cares? Less work for us.” Kibble said.

  Minx shrugged and leapt up to the shelving unit that stretched to the hall.

  Kibble prepared himself, rolling his neck and stretching. “Ok, Kitts, watch how the pros do it.” He loped towards the shelf and leapt up towards the top, but misjudged it, and scrabbled desperately for the top with his front paws. He let out a strangled 'HUH' as he caught himself, digging his claws into the shelf below and scrambled up on to it.

  "Oh? Is that how the pros are doing it nowadays?" Patrick whispered from the desk.

  "Shut it, Q-tip."

  As Patrick readied himself, preparing to exercise the least of his talents, one of Marlon’s guards rounded the corner. Patrick, who had already set off on his running jump, skidded in a semi-circle and crashed down behind the desk. He pressed his back against the cool wood and held his breath.

  “Dum, dum, dum.” The tubby cat hummed as she walked towards the desk, pausing to inspect the trash can for something edible. “Laa de dum.”

  Patrick slowly crept from behind her, moulding his body around the chair and then jumping for the d
esk once more. Unfortunately, he misjudged the distance, and landed on the chair which spun round and round. He clung to it, desperate and wild-eyed. Unbeknownst to Patrick, the tabby had stood up, prepared to battle whoever had caused such a commotion. But, the chair hit her on the head, sending her flying head first into the trash can to the extent that only her feet and tail were visible.

  “Oh, my Cats,” Minx whispered.

  The chair stopped spinning and Patrick, dazed, climbed slowly on to the desk, where he stood like a drunkard waiting for nausea to pass.

  “Don’t, no!” Minx shook her head wildly. “Give it a moment!”

  The fat cat, still with her head buried deep in the trashcan, rolled to the floor. Only her legs were visible under the coffee cups and wrappers, and she didn’t move—most likely knocked out.

  Patrick, now as steady as he could be, prepared himself to jump and… Landed it! He pressed his back against the wall and breathed out wearily. “I don’t wanna do that again.”

  Kibble patted his shoulder. “You’re a clown. Come on, Klutz.” They followed Minx as she walked along the shelves to the hallway.

  The two cats that were supposedly patrolling the hallway were not patrolling anything other than a set of cards. Their full attention was focused on their paws and it appeared they were playing ‘Go Fish’.

  “Do you got…any fives?” The slim, brown cat asked. “Go fish.” The other cat grinned.

  “Ronnie, you’ve got to have a five, I swear, look at this deck, it’s nearly all gone!” He gestured to the thin stack on the floor.

  The other cat shook his head. “Maybe you’re just bad. You know what they say; don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

  “You suck.” The thin cat picked up another card.

  As they bickered, Minx grabbed a small object from Kibble's backpack and began twisting the clockwork toy. She held it over the two cats and shot a warning look to Kibble and Patrick as if to say, 'Don't you dare.' Then she dropped it and turned away.

  A small mouse toy with wind up wheels tumbled to the floor just next to the cats and started up, running over the stack of cards as it jetted off. Ronnie and the other cat jumped up, shouting, “A MOUSE! GET IT, GET IT, GET IT!” They skidded after it, sending the cards flying.