Cat's Cradle

by William W. Johnstone

  “Skip it. Our phones are out, Sheriff. We have no way of communicating with the outside.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. The county has been closed off. Orders from the federal government. Very dangerous wreck up the road. Hang on, sir.”

  “Right, Sheriff. Hanging on.” He looked at his wife. “Going to be a long, hot night, lady.”

  Dan backed away from the house, hoping his tires would squash some of the cats. They darted out of the way. “Bastards,” Dan said.

  Denier said, “The home seems secure and they barricaded themselves in. They seem reasonable people. If they can stand the heat, they’ll make it.”

  “Yeah,” Dan said, looking at a cat sitting on his hood as he backed away. He slammed on his brakes and the cat went sliding off, yowling. “At least we know where the girl is—I guess.”

  * * *

  “I don’t care what the sheriff said,” the burly, unshaved man yelled at his wife. He looked at the houses left and right of his. Not their house. His. His neighbors’ homes were dark. All the windows pulled. “Stupid,” the man said. “Right in the middle of town and have to stay locked up. I ain’t gonna do it. I’m opening the goddamned windows. I can’t take no more of this. And what’s the matter with that lousy air-conditioner? ”

  “Vic,” his wife pleaded. “Let’s get in the center of the house and barricade ourselves in. Please?”

  “No! I’m not movin’ all that junk around for a bunch of pussycats.”

  “The cats are dangerous, Vic. They . . .”

  “The heck with the cats, Grace. It’s just a bunch of pussycats. Lemme get my gun. I’ll scatter the little pests.”

  “Vic, I’m begging you. Don’t go out there. Do this one thing for me, Vic?”

  The man looked at her, disgust in his eyes. He drained his beer can and belched. He squeezed the lightweight beer can in his hand, crushing it. Marvelous feat of strength. Something the average six year old could do. But considered by some to be very macho. “Grace, just get me my shotgun and that box of shells. Don’t argue with me, just do it.”

  The much vocally and occasionally physically abused woman stared at her husband. As she had done so often, she thought: Why did I ever marry you? Why? She slowly nodded her head. She knew why. Big hot shot in high school. Big dud later. “Okay, Vic. Whatever you say.” She turned and went to their bedroom, returning in a moment with her husband’s shotgun. She handed it to him, along with a box of shells. She said nothing. She didn’t have to. Her eyes were saying it all.

  Vic loaded up the shotgun and stuffed his pockets with extra shells.

  “You can open the windows now, baby,” he said with a smile. “I’ll scare all the big, bad cats away.”

  She continued to stare in silence at him.

  He wanted to slap her silent face. “You really hate me, don’t you, Grace?”

  “No, Vic,” she said wearily. “I just don’t feel anything anymore.”

  “Look at all them houses around us,” Vic said, waving his arm. “Right in the middle of town and they are scared out of their gourd. Not me. I ain’t scared of no house cat. Not Vic.”

  She turned away and sat down at the kitchen table, pouring a glass of iced tea.

  Vic unlocked the back door and stepped out onto the porch. He heard Grace lock the door behind him. “Stupid witch,” he muttered. He stepped off the porch and into the unnaturally hot night. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” he called. “Come to Ol’ Vic. Ol’ Vic’s got a present for you.”

  The cats came. Silently, deadly, the blood lust high within them.

  * * *

  Dan pulled onto the road leading to the terminal. The three men could see the lights from the dying fire.

  Denier looked at the dim outlines of the buildings and said, “You chose well, Sheriff. It’s evil. Can you feel it?”

  “Yes,” both men replied. Dan saying. “But not as strong as I felt back at that house a minute ago.”

  “It will increase,” the priest assured them. “Tell me something, if either of you can. Has any business ever succeeded here?”

  Dan thought back. “Come to think of it, no. Not as far back as I can recall. I remember my dad telling me that during his lifetime, a dozen or so businesses were located, at one time or the other, in this vicinity. They all went under. Granddad said about the same, I remember. That’s odd, isn’t it?”

  Denier was silent, staring at the terminal site. “There was a road through here at one time. And a village.”

  Taylor twisted in his seat, staring at the man. “Back during the Revolutionary War, yes, sir. The whole town burned and was rebuilt twice. After the second fire, the people moved to what is now Valentine.”

  “Yes. For a very good reason. They were trespassing,” the priest said.

  “Trespassing, sir?” Dan asked.

  “Satan has claimed this land as his own.”

  Both lawmen felt their skin turn clammy.

  “Be careful at the terminal, gentlemen,” Denier said. “There are ... well, things moving about.”

  “Things, Father?” Dan asked.

  “Things. Little spawns of hell. Be careful.”

  Dan put the car in gear and moved out. The gate was closed and chained and guarded. A man carrying an M-16 walked up to the gate.

  “Sheriff Garrett,” Dan called. “Open the gate or I’ll ram my way through.”

  “No need to get hostile, Sheriff,” the guard said. “You can come in. Lou said you’d probably be out, all hot and bothered.”

  Dan muttered an obscenity under his breath. Concerning Lou.

  The guard opened the heavy gate and waved Dan in and to a halt. “Be careful in there, boys,” He looked at Denier. “Father. Bless me, Father?”

  Denier nodded and did. “A believer among the heathens?” Denier asked with a smile.

  “Yes, Father,” the guard replied solemnly. “It’s hell in there. I mean it, be careful. The mummy-man is loose, and so is that infected deputy of yours, Sheriff. We’ve got guards all along the fence line. More coming in. We hope,” he added. And there is ... well, some sort of maggot-like worms loose. Worse than piranha. That’s why you see those gasoline cans stacked over there. Fire seemed to kill them. But they breed like rabbits.”

  “What do you mean, you hope you have more people coming in?” Taylor asked.

  The guard shrugged. “Lou can’t get through. He thinks something’s gone sour.”

  “Electrify the fence,” Dan said. “That should stop them. You’ve got the capacity to do that, I know.”

  “Good idea. I’ll radio that into Lou.” He waved them on.

  “Don’t bother,” Dan said. “I’ll tell him myself.” Dan dropped the car in gear and rolled on.

  “Maggots?” Taylor asked. “Yukk!”

  “Little creatures of hell,” Denier said. “I told you, Satan is playing. All this is nothing but a big joke to the Dark One.”

  “Weird sense of humor,” Dan said. “What if the maggots get out of this area?” he mused aloud.

  Taylor looked at him. “Easy, Dan. Let’s take one problem at a time, huh?”

  Dan parked by the hospital trailers. He saw a shattered window in one, a broken door in the other. Bowie and the engineer, he guessed. He spotted Goodson and got out. “Getting a little out of hand, isn’t it, Doctor?” he asked drily.

  “If that is supposed to be funny, Sheriff, it isn’t,” the doctor said testily.

  Dan said nothing. He noticed that Goodson would not meet Father Denier’s eyes.

  “When did you add it all up, Doctor Goodson?” Denier asked.

  “A few days ago,” the doctor said. He still would not look at the priest.

  Denier stood in the night, staring at the doctor. “You should have contacted me when you first suspected.”

  Without replying, Goodson turned around and walked slowly into his lab.

  Denier sighed and shook his head.

  “Goodson!” Dan called.

  The man looked aro
und, standing in the door of the trailer.

  “Where are you people keeping Ms. Smith and her friend?”

  Goodson looked startled. “What?”

  “Yeah, you probably don’t know,” Dan said.

  Bennett and the other doctors joined Goodson around the open door. “What about this Smith person?” Bennett asked.

  “She and a male companion were kidnapped by Lou Lamotta,” Dan informed the doctors. “They’re being held out here, somewhere.”

  “I don’t believe that!” Bennett said.

  “Believe it,” Lou said, walking up. He carried an M-16. He looked at Dan. “You boys come out to join the festivities tonight?”

  “In a manner of speaking, Lamotta. First I want Ms. Smith and Kenny.”

  “Maybe I don’t want you to have them.”

  “Maybe I don’t care what you want any more, Lamotta. From now on, I’m running this show.”

  Lou laughed, a big, booming, arrogant laugh. “I tell you what, Sheriff. You may be dumb, but you sure don’t lack for guts, buddy-boy.” He wiped sweat from his face. “Now, Sheriff, just how do you think two cops and one priest are going to take over here?”

  Dan smiled grimly. He glanced at his watch. “Because, Lamotta, in exactly twelve minutes, if you have not turned over control to me and Captain Taylor, eight regular deputies, a half a dozen auxiliary deputies, my chief deputy, and four Virginia Highway Patrolmen will storm this place, and they will be coming in shooting.” He lifted his M-10, pointing the muzzle at Lou’s belly. “And, buddy-boy, I’ll start the dance by killing you.”

  All around the tight little tense knot of men, Lou’s people had stopped, listening to the exchange. Some of them lifted their weapons. Bolts snicked in the night, just audible over the dying crackle of flames.

  “I think you’re bluffing, buddy-boy,” Lamotta said.

  “Try me,” Dan flung the challenge at him.

  The men engaged in a silent staring contest for half a minute. Finally, a slow smile crinkled Lou’s lips. He shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, Sheriff. But you’re dumb, buddy-boy. Just plain dumb. You know why? ’Cause all you had to have done to keep your ass clear, is just stand back. The government would have had to take all the heat for this ...” He waved his hand. “... Mess! But now, buddy-boy, you got to take it. Okay. Fine. No sweat.” He smiled, wiping his face with a handkerchief. “Figuratively speaking, that is.”

  Lou looked around at his people. He looked back at Dan. “You want it, buddy-boy. Okay. You got it. Me and my bunch are through here. We’re pulling out. Forget about all this equipment, you can have it.”

  “My people are staying,” Doctor Bennett said, his voice firm. “I should imagine we’ll be needed before it’s all over.”

  Lou snorted derisively. “The noble physician.” He looked at the OSS doctors. Again, he shrugged. “Aw, what the hell! We’ll stick around. Maybe we can help out.”

  At precisely that moment, a young man was stepping off a plane at Oceana Naval Air Station near Virginia Beach. The Navy pilot and co-pilot who had flown him in from Washington state were glad to be rid of their passenger. The guy had not spoken one word during the entire flight. Just sat in the back and read reports of some kind. Then stuck the folders back in his briefcase. They both had seen that kind of briefcase before, too. The kind that if someone fools around with it, it blows up. Guy wasn’t very old. Maybe twenty-four, twenty-five, at the most. But hard-eyed. Odd looking, kind of slanty, icy eyes. Not really Oriental eyes; but more Eastern European, Slavic eyes. The guy had a car waiting for him. He got behind the wheel and drove off without even looking back.

  Oh, well, the pilot thought. He’d flown Agency guns and spooks before. Probably would again. But this guy was military. Everything about his bearing smacked of hard discipline. The cold-eyed dude could have put on a clown’s costume and any career GI could have recognized him as military.

  The pilot put his passenger out of his mind. Neither he nor the co-pilot would ever mention him to anybody. Even each other. They knew better. They both knew a walking gun when they saw one.

  They just wondered, silently, who was about to get wasted? And why?

  * * *

  Grace sat in her hot house and sipped iced tea. It was so hot the ice melted just about as fast as she put it in the glass. She had heard Vic scream in fright. Once. Then she heard him howl in pain. Once. Then the night had swallowed any further sound, returning to its hot, silent gloom. Through the closed windows, she had heard the sounds of what she guessed to be chewing. She knew she should be horrified; should be feeling terror and revulsion and all sorts of other emotions.

  She felt only one emotion.

  Relief.

  * * *

  Emily and Alice sat in the Ramsey’s den looking at their husbands, sitting across the room from them.

  The phones had stopped working. Dead. The men and women had no way of knowing what was happening outside the closed, very hot house. Only that the town seemed to be filled with cats. God, where had they all come from? It was frightening. Eerie. The cats were everywhere.

  * * *

  A couple of miles outside of Valentine, the man and woman stared at the dark outline of the garage/ storage area. That was where the bulk of cats were. And the cats were behaving very strangely. They were circling the building. The inner circle moving clockwise, the next circle counter-clockwise; that system repeated for a dozen circles.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that,” he said.

  “I have,” his wife said.

  He looked at her. “Oh? Where?”

  “In a horror movie. It’s some sort of devil dance.”

  “In that movie, who won?”

  “Satan.”

  * * *

  The town of Valentine, and a three mile radius, circling the town, lay like an egg on hot pavement-gradually cooking. The area’s population of dogs lay under porches, in sheds, by the sides of houses. They lay in packs, for protection. They had seen what had happened to dogs who shunned the safety of the pack. They had been torn to bloody bits by the cats. When this was over, if it ever was, the dogs would return to being friends or enemies-whatever. But for now, a canine truce was holding. The dogs did not understand what was happening, only that survival was the most important thing in their lives. When they rose for a drink of water, they went together, en masse, some standing guard while others drank. They maintained a very low profile.

  * * *

  Dozens of the thumb-sized, savage little worms escaped the fire around the trailer. They hunched and slithered away from the heat, crawling into empty buildings, holes in the earth, into vehicles, and under the fence. They slipped silently from the terminal grounds, into the country. And began to breed.

  7

  Mille and Kenny had crawled out of the crates at the sight and sound of Dan and his men. They stood silently, listening. They made no attempt to conceal their fear.

  “Stay with us,” Dan told them. “But stay out of our way.”

  “Yes, sir,” they said.

  “All right, Lou,” Dan said. “I want a half circle cordon around the grounds where we believe the girl is hiding. At first light, we’ll try driving them toward this area. You game for this?”

  “Sure, Sheriff. But what happens when your hard-nosed buddy, Gordon, finds out about this and moves his people in to stop us?”

  “I don’t know,” Dan admitted. “I’ve thought about that. It’s a surprise to me that he isn’t already here, right now.”

  “Yeah,” Lou said, his voice low. “I think something’s in the wind. Gordon made his appearance just about dark, then split. Said he’d be back, but I haven’t seen him. Aw, what the heck, buddy? I don’t see where he presents much of a problem. Dodge thought he was working for the Reds, didn’t he?”

  “That’s what he told me.”

  “Well, that’s easy, then. If I see him, I’ll just shoot the traitor. I hate a Commie.”

  “Dan?” Chuck said, walking u
p. “The power company boys are here. And they sure are goosy about this. One of ’em stumbled upon what’s left of that woman the worms ate. I ’bout had to handcuff him to get him to stay.”

  “He’ll stay if I have to chain him to his truck,” Dan said. “How about the wire?”

  “We’ve got every roll of wire we could find in this part of the county. I busted into the hardware store and swiped a dozen rolls of five foot chainlink. And something else, too. This situation is gettin’ weird.”

  “Good God!” Taylor said. “Now what?”

  “Cruisin’ patrol just called in. All of Miller’s people, the civilians, have left. No SST rig, no nothin.’ Just the military guards manning the roadblocks. The others just vanished. The MPs say they don’t know what is going on.”

  “I do,” Lou said. “It’s all gone sour. I guessed it about an hour ago. You guys hang on for a second. I’ll find out what’s going down.” He walked to his trailer, leaving the door open. They could hear his voice, muffled, as he talked with someone on the phone. He returned a few minutes later, a strange look on his face. “We’re high and dry,” he said to one of his people. “Beached like a whale. The Office of Special Studies no longer exists. Period. The FBI is rounding up agents all over the country. Dodge’s last report cinched it. Federal warrants everywhere. Most of our civilian money has dried up. The bigwigs are diving for cover.”

  “How about us?” Lou was asked.

  “We cooperate with the sheriff here, and that will be taken into consideration. In our behalf.”

  “Good,” Chuck said with a grunt, glaring at Lou. “That means when this is all over, I can kick your butt.”

  Lou looked at the much smaller man and grinned. “You’d really try to do it, too, wouldn’t you, you little hillbilly?”

  “No, I’m not gonna try, Lou,” Chuck told him. “I’m gonna do it.”

  Lou grinned hugely. “Maybe. But later, fireball, later. First things first. The Company’s put a contract out on Miller and the bitch with him.” He looked at Mille and mock-bowed. “Excuse me, my dear-the lady with him. Some top gun is coming in. Maybe already here. I’ll know him—or her-if I see him. I probably won’t see him.”