The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller

by Joe Augustyn

  “But you didn’t want to be turned into a pharmaceutical zombie. Neither do I.”

  “I don’t know, Felicia. I wish there was something more I could do to help.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll figure it out. I just have to control my feline temper. Maybe some breathing exercises or something. My mom’s into yoga. I’ll check out her DVDs.”

  “There you go. Yoga’s really good for you; you should be doing it anyway. I take classes here and the teacher’s really impressed with my flexibility.”

  “Hello! Does he know you’re a snake girl?”

  “I guess that helps, huh?” Ruta laughed. “Uh oh, gotta go. I promised the parental units I’d go to some wanky dinner party. I think they want to impress my dad’s boss with how hip they are to have such a freaky daughter. Speaking of which, what’s that music I hear in the background?”

  “Oh,” Felicia rolled across her bed to check the CD cover, “Rhea’s Obsession. Initiation. It kills. You want me to burn you a copy?”

  “No, thanks. No more bootlegs for me. I’m trying to watch my karma. I’ll put it on my birthday list. After this dinner party my dad will owe me big time.”

  “I miss you.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  Felicia hung up and stretched out on the bed. She felt an itch and rolled onto her back, wiggling her spine to scratch it.

  Her body felt loose and limber. The exotic music she was listening to seemed more vibrant than she’d ever heard it. She let it overwhelm her and slipped into a sensuous trance.

  When the song ended her consciousness returned. She found herself lying on her back, with her arms and legs drawn up over her.

  Someone knocked gently on her door. She rolled onto her side just in time as the door cracked open and her mother peeked in.

  “I’m doing laundry, Felicia. You have anything to add?”

  “No, mom, thanks.”

  Her mother left.

  Felicia sighed and rolled onto her back.

  Jesus. Next I’ll be growing a tail.

  241

  The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller

  49

  At last...

  Felicia had been counting down the hours since the extended weather forecast showed Spring lurking just around the corner. For the past two nights she’d slept with her windows open wide, testing to see if her parents would notice any cold drafts and come scurrying into her room to check the source. Not only did they not come to investigate, they made no mention of anything amiss at the breakfast table.

  The worst days of winter were over. The kids at school had already ditched their winter coats in favor of hoodies and jackets. Wally even rolled up on his ratty dirtbike, happy to kiss the school bus goodbye and make his seasonally adjusted entrance with an obnoxious blast of noise and smog.

  It was time for Felicia to resume her blood hunt. She had no excuse not to, and no other way to vent the passionate hatred that had been festering in her soul through the winter months.

  As sundown neared she locked her bedroom door, booted her powerbook, and pulled up a picture of the cat she had chosen for her first foray in months. She studied the shape of its spots carefully, and took care to paint the properly shaped rosettes.

  She had considered taking the form of a lightning quick cheetah, figuring it would give her the best chance of running down Wally as he rode his motorcycle along some lonely stretch of country road. But she researched carefully before making her selection, and was glad she did.

  With claws and footpads designed for fast traction on flat ground, the cheetah wasn’t built to climb trees like other cats. It wouldn’t be difficult to leap from her window to the tree outside and make it down to the ground, but getting back up to her room might have proved impossible.

  She also discovered that a cheetah could only sustain its high speeds for a few brief minutes before having to stop and rest. That might be an even bigger problem.

  If she managed to run the bastard down but didn’t have enough energy left to finish him off quickly, he might put up a fight. She knew he carried a knife with a long sharp blade, she’d seen him flashing it on many occasions. If she was going to take Wally down without getting hurt, she had to dispatch him quickly and efficiently.

  And so she settled on a leopard. It was a fast stealthy predator, yet powerful enough to knock a man senseless and crush his throat before he knew what hit him. If she was spotted and reported by a witness, there would be no denying the oddity of the sighting.

  There was no way the presence of an African leopard could easily be explained away, and no way anyone could mistake it

  for something else. It would cause an uproar of confusion and skepticism in the community. But there might be a way to turn that measure of doubt in her favor.

  She sat patiently before the mirror, eagerly awaiting the sun to go down. Although it had been months since her last metamorphosis, her excitement outweighed her trepidation.

  The transformation went smoothly. She took an extra minute to admire her beautiful spotted face in the mirror, then flew out the window in a flash. For the first time ever as a cat she was able to scoot down the tree headfirst with no problem. A talent unique to the leopard.

  She darted cautiously from yard to yard, keeping her spotted body low to the ground, taking full advantage of the hedges and shrubs in the green suburban neighborhood. Only once did she have reason to worry, when a pair of elderly men strolled past walking their matching dachshunds.

  Felicia crawled beneath a hedge and lay low, not wanting to alarm them. Although some of her neighbors were scandalized by the gay couple’s presence on their block, the men had been nothing but nice to Felicia, placing generous orders when she’d peddled girl scout cookies and dispensing heaps of delicious candy on Halloween.

  The normally placid dogs put up a frenzied commotion as they sensed her lurking nearby. They strained at their leashes, barking and struggling to investigate.

  “Tony, what’s gotten into you?” snapped Jonah, embarrassed by the nuisance the dogs were making in the quiet neighborhood. “Stop it. Enough!”

  A sharp tug on the leash finally quieted the dog, whose bark gave way to whimpers of frustration.

  But the other dog picked up the slack, barking louder still.

  “Gussie, calm down,” pleaded Vincent. “Jesus. They must smell something. Probably a skunk in the bushes.”

  “Come along, kids. Stop it now. Behave. You want to get sprayed with skunk oil?”

  The men dragged the dogs away but they resisted, braking their feet as they eyed Felicia’s hiding place. They growled and yapped and refused to move until their owners finally scooped them up and carried them away down the street.

  Felicia waited ‘til they were halfway down the block, then darted away to fulfill her deadly mission. Soon she was safe in the woods. And half an hour later she was sitting in a tree, keeping a watchful eye on Wally’s house.

  She could see a dim light in his bedroom, and people moving around inside. Wally’s bulky shape was hard to miss. But someone else was in there with him.

  Sweet. I might not get Wally tonight if he chooses to stay home. But I’ll get whoever is in there with him. They can’t stay all night.

  She thought of Nelson, and her blood coursed hotter through her veins. If it turned out to be him in the house, she would have no problem nailing him on his way home.

  At least that’s what she told herself. But a sliver of doubt remained in her heart, buried deep but trying to surface. Like a rat gnawing at its cage.

  I will hunt him down and kill him, she reassured herself. With extreme prejudice.

  She scanned the yard but saw no sign of his car. Well it can’t be Nelson. He never goes anywhere unless it’s in his Audi.

  A part of her was strangely relieved. She couldn’t understand why. He had abused her as badly as anyone. She hated him. That was undeniable. So why did a part of her feel tempted to forgive him? To try to reform him before giving up?

>   A cold breeze chilled her to the bone. For the first time in any of her transformations she regretted her choice of cat, thinking it might have been better to be a mountain lion again... or at least a snow leopard. What the hell was I thinking anyway? That a leopard has a prettier coat? This isn’t Project Runway.

  She looked back at Wally’s bedroom window and saw the light go out. Her tail flicked apprehensively. She focused her eyes on the front door of the house. Even with prior transformations under her belt, she was still amazed at how good her feline vision was.

  A minute later the front door opened and Sparrow came out, followed by Wally. They were walking a little jerkily, a combination of stiff ankles and loose legs that told her they were wasted on booze or drugs.

  “Here, ya pussy,” Wally said. “I know you’re afraid to ride without one.” He handed a helmet to Sparrow. A gleaming chrome Nazi helmet.

  “I can’t help it if I have a brain to protect,” Sparrow said. “Unlike you.”

  “Remind me to laugh.” Wally slipped a hand under his jacket and adjusted something in his belt, then climbed onto his dirtbike and kicked it over. It took several tries, but finally the motor sputtered to life.

  “Hop on the bitch seat, bitch,” Wally quipped.

  Sparrow climbed on the rusty back fender and barely got settled before Wally twisted the throttle. The bike lurched forward, popping a mini-wheelie.

  Sparrow cried out and grabbed Wally’s waist just in time to keep from falling. Wally laughed, and aimed the bike toward the driveway.

  Felicia took off in pursuit. With a dashing leap she hit the ground, racing through the woods towards the road.

  The metallic whine of the bike’s straining engine grew louder.

  Felicia ran faster, gauging the rising volume of sound to plot a trajectory to catch it. But she reached the edge of the woods a second too late.

  Without missing a beat she veered back into the woods. The bike was entering a long swooping curve in the road and if she pushed herself hard she could catch it at the end of the turn. But it would be close.

  Go, girl, go! You’ve waited too long for this!

  Brambles nipped at her legs but she didn’t slow down. She splashed through swampy puddles… leaped fallen trees… until finally she saw the road again.

  The humming of the motorbike grew louder. Its headlight flashed through the woods, giving her a fix on its position.

  Hurry! Run!

  She reached the edge of the road as the bike whizzed past. It was moving faster than she’d expected, and gaining more speed as it entered the straightaway. The boys were oblivious to the fact that they were being chased but Wally had the throttle opened wide, pushing the battered old bike to its limits on the secluded road. Enjoying the speed and the wind on his face.

  Felicia dashed onto the road, just ten feet behind. Her claws dug into the rotted tarmac, battling for every ounce of traction. She was pushing herself to her limits, which she knew from her research was well over 30 mph. But the bike was slipping away.

  If I don’t catch them now…!

  With a desperate leap she threw herself forward, stretching her front paws forward as far as they’d reach.

  A single claw hooked the tail of Sparrow’s flapping jacket. Her weight yanked him backwards as she landed.

  With a startled shriek his hands slipped from Wally’s waist and he somersaulted into thin air. He slammed down hard on the road. His head hit the asphalt and the cheap metal helmet did nothing to buffer the blow.

  The abrupt shifting of weight caused Wally to lose control of the bike. It bounced and wobbled and finally slid out from under him. As it slid on its side down the road Wally’s bootstrap got snagged on a footpeg and the bike dragged him over the gravel shoulder and into a ditch.

  “Ow! Fuck! What the fuck goddammit?!” Still unaware of the leopard, he was furious at Sparrow who he thought had simply lost his drunken balance. He was sorely shaken and badly scraped up, but in much better shape than his jeans. Landing in the ditch saved him from serious injury. It was just deep enough to swallow his body whole and keep the bike from tearing him up as it spun around and finally settled above him.

  The drive chain had snapped but the engine never quit. The headlight shone brightly on Sparrow sprawled in the middle of the road. He lay trembling on his back, not sure what just happened and afraid to move, for fear of aggravating any injuries.

  Gently pressing and rubbing his limbs for signs of broken bones, he realized he was only bruised. Breathing a sigh of relief he smiled up at the glittering stars overhead.

  My lucky stars, he thought. Then he heard a growl. And saw the face of the leopard looming over him.

  Just then Wally crawled out from under the bike, shaking like a leaf. His hands were scraped raw and his clothes were in muddy tatters.

  Sparrow tried to speak but his voice was a feeble peep. Wally thought he was reacting to the crash. Then he saw the leopard hovering over him.

  “Don’t move,” Wally whispered firmly, but he wasn’t quite sure if his words were heard, because Sparrow was already losing it. A horrible sobbing noise dribbled from his lips, which were twisted into a sad rubbery upside-down smile. His eyes were squeezed tight in terror, as if shutting out the sight of the big cat might make it dematerialize.

  The sight of Sparrow’s terrified face under the bad biker helmet and the unlikely spectacle of the big spotted cat looming over him struck Wally as darkly comedic.

  But that impulse quickly faded as the leopard raised its face and glared at him. A growl rose in its throat, scarier and more dominant than anything he’d ever heard in his life. Its whiskers twitched and its jowls drew back and its long sharp fangs and hollow eyes glistened in the headlight’s glare.

  The cat pounced suddenly, slamming its front paws onto Sparrow’s head. Wally couldn’t see if it had done any damage, but Sparrow screamed and flailed his body like a man with a hot wire rammed up his rectum.

  Wally remembered the gun in his waistband and reached for it—but it wasn’t there. What the fuck?

  He turned and ran back to the ditch. The Tokarev was on the ground, jammed under the bike’s front tire.

  The leopard’s mouth opened wide and snapped down at Sparrow’s face. In desperation he whipped his head forward and the helmet blocked the bite. The big cat snarled as its teeth hit cold metal. In anger it raised a paw and batted the Nazi helmet so hard the chinstrap snapped and the metal pot went clanging across the road.

  “Wally help me!” Sparrow screamed. He raised his arm to protect his face and the leopard bit down, crushing the bones of his forearm with one bite. Sparrow started shaking in a fit of pain and shock, and the leopard sank its teeth into his cheeks and chin, and with one crunch took half of his face.

  Wally grabbed the pistol and worked it free, wincing as pebbles and grit dug into the open scrapes on his hand. But he soon had the gun and was scrambling to the rescue.

  The big cat looked up at him, its jaws dripping blood and strands of skin. Sparrow lay thrashing like an epileptic. In a frenzy of pain and terror.

  Wally raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  His rectum bubbled open and the soggy remains of a school lunch burrito plopped wetly into his jockeys.

  The leopard rose to its feet, about to move on to the second course of its dinner.

  Rack it, you dumb fuck!

  Wally frantically racked the slide, chambering a round.

  The leopard froze as it recognized the sound.

  POW! POW! POW! The sound was deafening. Flames flashed from the high-powered pistol’s muzzle.

  Bullets hit the ground all around her but miraculously Felicia wasn’t hit. Wally was aiming too high, afraid he might shoot his friend by mistake.

  Too late for that, Felicia thought, knowing that a bullet couldn’t do half the damage she’d just inflicted.

  POW! POW! POW!

  Felicia ducked low, flattening herself behind Sparrow’s twi
tching body. He was gurgling and clawing at his throat with his remaining arm, choking on the dislodged teeth that slid down his windpipe when the cat crunched his jawbone into confetti.

  How many shots does he have? Felicia wondered, still hunkered low behind her victim. What if he moves closer to get. a better shot? Does he have the balls?

  The answer became moot as a pair of headlights swung into view. A car horn sounded. Felicia recognized the sound, and the big boxy shape of the Sheriff’s SUV. Its siren blipped loudly and its spotlight flared on, flooding the road with light.

  Time to go. Felicia made a dash for the woods.

  POW! POW! POW! Wally emptied the Tokarev at her fleeing body and kept pulling the trigger until it just clicked.

  But Felicia was safe in the woods.

  “What the hell is going on out here?” Sheriff Sutter yelled as he hopped out of his vehicle. Wally just lowered his pistol and stared listlessly at Sparrow. He was stunned not only by the incident itself, but by the realization that something unnatural was afoot.

  “Jesus Christ in Heaven Almighty.” Owen stared horrified at Sparrow’s ravaged body. The boy’s head looked like some weird hybrid rose. His hair like wet spiky petals. His chin and neck crushed into a narrow stem. His face covered with bright red blood that glistened in the spotlight. Sparrow coughed, and a burble of blood welled up from his shriveled mouth-hole. The Sheriff saw teeth and bits of bone in the bubbling mess.

  He turned back to his son, who stood frozen in horror. The ashen-faced boy finally dropped the empty pistol. He looked up at his father, eyes wide in disbelief, and for the first time the Sheriff remembered in his son’s life, the boy broke down crying.

  241

  The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller

  50

  “Sheriff, why are you telling us it was a bobcat when your boy’s telling anyone who’ll listen that it was a leopard?”

  Owen grimaced. He hated town meetings. They always brought out the kooks with their crackpot theories and the dicks out to bust someone’s balls and stir up some shit for the heck of it.