Claws

by Ricky Sides

  Patricia sighed tiredly. It had been an unbelievable day for her. She had been fired, endured a strip search, had her laptop confiscated, her home ransacked, and now this. The only bright spot to her day had been Jerry’s visit.

  Shemp would most likely make it, but it would be a long time before she had to worry about him chasing her. The veterinarian said he had never seen anything like it. It had required some two hundred forty-seven stitches to sew up the dog’s wounds. The vet had summed it up well when he had asked, “What hellcat have you been tangling with, boy?”

  ***

  George and Mary Lou were in the throes of passion when the cat jumped up on the bed beside them.

  “Awww, it wants to be near us,” Mary Lou said. “Isn’t that a turn on?” she asked George.

  He didn’t really think it was, but now wasn’t the time for him to get into a disagreement, so George said, “It sure is, baby.”

  “Oh! Shit. She bit me!” exclaimed Mary Lou a moment later. “Oh! Get it off me, George!” the woman yelled shrilly.

  George grabbed the cat at the scruff of the neck. He could see its jaws clamped down around Mary Lou’s wrist, blood seeping from the small gap between its mouth and her wrist. The cat let go of her wrist and turned, hissing at him angrily.

  He threw it across the room. The cat landed on the floor not far from the bed. George got off the woman and got out of bed. He advanced on the cat with the intentions of forcing it out of the room and then closing the door. The cat faced him, hissing, its ears laid back, its tail erect and bushy.

  “Get out of here,” he shouted as he lunged at the cat, fully expecting it to dart toward the open bedroom door. Instead of trying to escape, the cat lunged at George. Leaping into the air, its mouth snapped shut on his manhood. Its front claws grasped his scrotum, the half-inch long claws sinking in and holding tight. Its hind legs began to shred his legs from thigh to knee, rupturing several veins in the process.

  In shock from the savage attack, George fell backwards onto the bed, his upper body sprawled across Mary Lou’s legs. The woman was screaming. George instinctively reached down and grabbed the attacking cat’s body, jerking it away from him as hard as he could. He saw blood spurting in an arch and sat up on the bed. Staring down in shock, he was horrified to see that his penis was gone, his testicles a mangled ruin. He managed to get off the bed, took two steps toward the cat, and then collapsed.

  Mary Lou bolted from the bed. She had seen what had happened to George, and she was determined to escape a similar fate. However, the cat instinctively reacted to her headlong flight as a predator. It darted past the dying man in hot pursuit of what it considered its fleeing prey.

  In the hallway, Mary Lou sensed the feline behind her and spun around to face it. The cat slammed into the woman, hitting her in the chest between her breasts. The woman fell backwards. The back of her head bounced off the hardwood floor so hard that it momentarily stunned her into immobility. The animal sank its front claws into her shoulders and locked its jaws onto her throat. Its hind feet began to rake her body at a frenzied pace, shredding her abdomen.

  Incoherently, Mary Lou screamed as she struggled to get the cat off her, but every time she moved, the cat renewed its frenzied assault. She flailed feebly and ineffectively at the cat, which had finally managed to rip open her carotid artery.

  Like George before her, Mary Lou Bergen from Birmingham bled out on the floor of his home.

  ***

  Ricky Sidel pulled into the parking lot at Tris USA at 4:23 A.M. He generally arrived at work around that time of the morning so that he would have ample time to go through his startup procedure, and then spend a few minutes with the company cat before his shift started.

  The big grey Maine Coon cat had no name. Everyone just referred to her as cat. She’d wandered up years ago, feral and skittish of people. Ricky had a fondness for cats, so he’d occasionally thrown her pieces of food. Another employee, named Roger Byron, had taken it a step further. He bought dry pet food and established the tradition of an employee formally feeding and watering the cat. When Roger moved to Florida, Ricky took over the responsibility.

  Over a period of months, the big Maine Coon queen gradually began to trust people enough to permit a handful of employees to pet her, but she wouldn’t permit them to pick her up without protest. Since her protests involved the use of teeth and claws, most people quickly learned not to even attempt to pick her up.

  When Ricky was laid off, a well-meaning female employee managed to take the cat home with her, a distance of twelve miles. But the cat disappeared that night. She turned up, three days later at Tris.

  When Ricky returned to work, he resumed the responsibility for the care and feeding of the cat. As part of his routine, he fed her every morning. She always greeted him, meowing for her food until he placed it in her feeding bowl. Generally, the cat would eat for a few minutes, and then she would leap up on the picnic table bench beside Ricky. He would pet her a few minutes, but then it was back to her food.

  However, this morning was different. She meowed softly in greeting when Ricky went to feed her, but she took no interest in the food. “Not hungry, girl?” asked Ricky. “Alright,” he said when she just looked at him and then turned to face the woods that separated Tris from the Alcorn Pet Food Corporation.

  The cat meowed when Ricky turned off the fluorescent lights, plunging the patio into darkness. He didn’t like sitting out on the patio with the lights on. He preferred to let his eyes adjust, so that he could look at the night sky. Half blinded by the sudden absence of light, Ricky carefully made his way to the picnic table and sat down beside the cat. She moved up closer to him and butted his hand to get his attention. The man absently petted her, scratching her ears gently as he lit a smoke with his free hand.

  The queen moved away from Ricky, turning her back to him, and facing the woods. Her long tail swished back and forth in agitation. “What’s wrong with you, cat?” Ricky asked. He was puzzled by her behavior, which was out of character. Then he had a thought and asked, “Are the foxes out there?” He was referring to a family of grey foxes that lived in the area and frequently spotted by the employees.

  He wasn’t expecting an answer, but Ricky often spoke to the cat in that manner. This time, she turned and looked at him. She walked the length of the bench back to the man. He petted her head briefly, but she stepped inside the man’s caressing limb and butted him in the stomach with her head. Ricky laughed, thinking she was playing and stroked her long back. However, the cat butted him again and then again, and then she looked up at him, turned away, and walked to the far end of the bench.

  Once more, she sat with her back to him, her long tail swishing back and forth, and she again turned her face toward the woods. A moment later, Ricky saw that she lowered her head. The queen repositioned her body on the bench, lowering to a crouch, but she did not lie down.

  “What’s wrong with you, cat?” Ricky asked again. He was puzzled by her behavior.

  The cat rose to a standing position and approached the man again. He reached down to pet her and she nipped at his hand. It wasn’t a hard bite. She didn’t even break the skin, but it irritated Ricky. The man glared at the cat, but his anger diminished when she laid her ears down and closed her eyes, crouching, as if she expected him to strike her. Sadly, Ricky shook his head, thinking that at some point in time, some jerk had really abused the poor creature. But he did vent his anger as he said, “Damnit, cat! I won’t tolerate that!”

  He got up in a huff and walked inside the plant, closing the heavy steel door behind him, leaving his moody friend alone, but the mental image of her stoically waiting for him to hit her bothered Ricky.

  The moment the steel door closed, the cat leapt down off the bench. She crouched on the concrete deck, staring into the woods. She held up her tail and arched her back with her hair bristling. As she stared at the woods, her head and neck lowered.

  A minute passed as the cat crouched motionlessly and st
ared at the woods. Then four large cats bolted from the trees and raced toward the deck. The queen darted away as fast as she could run. The other cats tried to catch her, but their recent captivity left them no match for the semi-feral queen who still exhilarated in sprinting daily. She made it to a narrow concrete storm drain built into the executive parking lot curb and darted inside. One of the other cats tried to get inside, but was too large. Still, it pawed at the queen, who sat cornered with her ears laid back. But then the aggressive animal saw the others head for the patio. They had scented the queen’s food bowl. The four cats quickly ate her food and loped away in search of another food source.

  At 8:00 A.M. Ricky went to the patio for his morning break. He saw the queen in her customary seat on the bench. She meowed in hungry greeting, and from long habit, he checked her food dish. “Damn, cat! You’ve eaten all your food, so now I have to go in and get some more on my break. And you bit me this morning, you ungrateful animal,” he muttered under his breath. “I don’t know why I care about you.”

  Ricky sighed and stood up.

  “You mean you’re going to lose part of your break to feed that damn cat?” a coworker asked.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “Why?”

  “Because, I do care about her. She can’t help being a dumb animal, what’s your excuse, asshole?” Ricky responded.

  Minutes later, the queen was contentedly eating her food. But she kept one eye on the woods. When she finished eating, she hopped up beside Ricky. He petted her gently. His anger at the queen was forgotten. She needed him, and though he hated to admit it, he needed her too, because she filled a niche in his life. A place left vacant by the death of a Mini-Doberman female named Krystal, who had shared his company for eleven years.

  The moment the humans went back inside the plant, the cat returned to the sanctuary of the storm drain. For the next several days, she would spend most of her time there, only emerging when it was time for her human friends to visit.

  Chapter 4

  Patricia awoke to the sound of someone incessantly pounding on her door. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she saw that it was 10:39 A.M. As she slipped on a robe she yelled, “I’ll be right there!”

  She emerged from her bedroom into the living room. She could just make out someone standing outside her front door through the white lace curtains. “Who is it?” she asked, as she stood poised to unlock the door.

  “It’s Robert Woodfin and Jerry Wilson from Alcorn, Patricia. Can we come in and talk to you?” She heard Robert answer.

  Patricia unlocked and opened the door. “Come in, guys,” she said.

  When the men entered, she closed the door and turned to face them. “Have a seat. I’ll go get dressed and be back in just a minute.” She could tell from the expression on his face that Robert didn’t like what she’d said. Jerry just looked embarrassed that he’d had to come to her home on official business. She didn’t care whether Robert liked it or not, she had to use the bathroom and she planned to be dressed for this conversation.

  When she came back into the living room ten minutes later, Patricia sensed a tension in the air. Both men appeared to be angry, and it looked to her as if they’d had a volatile exchange.

  “Now, gentlemen, what can I do for you?” she asked as she sat down in her desk chair. As she spoke, she opened her desk drawer and took out the digital camera that she had carried the night before.

  “You can tell me where you were from 8:00 P.M. until midnight last night,” Robert said quickly.

  “Did you order my home ransacked yesterday?” Patricia asked.

  “No, I didn’t. Now answer my question,” Robert said.

  “Who did?” she responded.

  Robert sighed. “Alcorn will get the answers about your whereabouts, Miss Reese. You can do this the easy way, or you can do it the hard way.” Robert shrugged indifferently. “It makes no difference to me.”

  “Don’t threaten me. You people already invaded my home, so I’m definitely not in the mood for your threats.”

  “Please, Patricia, just tell him the truth,” Jerry pleaded with her. “This is important,” he added.

  “Alright, I’ll tell you what you want to know, but first, I want to know who ordered my home ransacked and who carried it out,” she said stubbornly.

  “It wasn’t any of my people. I’d neither condone it, nor permit my staff to carry out such an illegal task,” Robert explained.

  “Well someone did it, and that sort of thing certainly doesn’t make me feel as if cooperation with Alcorn is in my best interest,” she responded. But then she saw the strained look on Jerry’s face and added, “But Jerry asked me nicely, so I’ll answer your question.”

  The expression of relief on Jerry’s face made her glad that she had relented. She said, “From 8:00 - 9:45 P.M. I was here in my house. At 9:45, I went jogging around my normal route. At a bit past ten, I found a local dog that had been attacked by something. I contacted the animal’s owner. We took the dog to the vet. I assisted the veterinarian in the emergency treatment. At a bit past midnight, Matt, the dog’s owner dropped me off here. I put my bloody clothes in the washer to soak, took a shower and went to bed around 1:00 A.M.”

  “This Matt will corroborate your story?”

  “To the extent of the period we were together. He wouldn’t know the rest,” she explained. Then she said, “My turn, gentlemen. How many of the test specimens have escaped?”

  “None,” responded Robert. “They were all set free,” he added.

  Patricia dropped the digital camera she had been holding in her fingers. It landed in her lap. “You suspect me?” she asked.

  “As a disgruntled former employee, you’re at the top of the list. Surely you know that,” Robert responded. “Your certainty that some were free is also suspicious.”

  “As to that point, I have proof that at least one was free last night,” she pointed out. “I’ll show you. I haven’t had time to examine all of the evidence, but I’m willing to share it with you.”

  Patricia reached into a desk drawer and took out a USB cord. She turned on her monitor and the men saw the computer was already running. She connected the camera to the computer via the USB cord. A moment later, she was studying the photos.

  Robert and Jerry came closer so they could see the photographs. They saw the severely wounded dog, the three pictures of the bloody paw prints, and two photographs of the street. In one of those photographs, they could clearly see a large white cat. Its eyes reflected the light of the flash in the picture.

  “That looks like Snowball,” Jerry distinguished.

  “Snowball?” inquired Robert.

  “Yea, that’s what George called the cat. He warned me to stay well away from Snowball’s cage, because he was prone to violent behavior. If you got too close to his cage, he’d poke his leg through the bars and try to claw you,” Jerry explained.

  “Several of the cats exhibited that behavior,” Patricia replied. “But yes, that animal was the first to become so actively aggressive.”

  “But why did he attack the dog?” asked Robert. “Or was it the other way around? Did the dog attack him?”

  “I don’t know, but the dog’s owner, Matthew Carter is probably going to sue Alcorn. He’s got a huge vet bill that he can’t afford to pay.”

  “I think I can get that bill taken care of, if you give me the name of the vet,” Robert stated. “But I’ll need copies of your photos to back up my case,” he added.

  “Give me a moment,” Patricia said. She opened her email program, composed an email with the veterinarian’s name, enclosed the photos, and then sent it to Robert at his company email address.

  “Thank you for your time, Miss Reese,” Robert said, and then he stood and walked to the door.

  “How’s my team taking the disappearance of the test animals?” Patricia asked.

  “Jennifer and Fred were shocked. George didn’t show up for work this morning, and…,”

>   “Jerry! You know better than to discuss an internal investigation with anyone outside security,” Robert said firmly.

  “Sorry, boss,” Jerry said. Robert didn’t see the wink and smile Jerry directed at Patricia who smiled in return.

  Robert was almost to the door when Patricia stopped him with a question. “Is Alcorn going to report the release of the dangerous animals to the police?”

  “They were called in first thing this morning, but there’s no reason to assume that they are a threat to the people of the city,” Robert stated.

  “Actually, I think there is,” Patricia stated, causing Robert to pause with his hand on the doorknob.

  “I’m listening,” he said.

  “I think the cat was stalking me when it had the encounter with the dog. Moments before I encountered Shemp, I sensed something was chasing me. I glanced over my shoulder as I was running and I thought I saw a furtive movement.” She went on to describe her encounter with the dog. In conclusion, she said, “It took almost two hundred fifty stitches to patch Shemp up. If one of these cats could inflict that much damage on a dog with its superior reflexes, just think what it could do to a human.”

  “I’ll pass along your concerns,” the security chief stated, and then he opened the door and walked out.

  “Don’t go running for a while,” Jerry cautioned as he followed his boss out the door.

  ***

  About a mile north of Alcorn, seventeen-year-old Johnny Miller was hunting rabbits with his beagle hound Rex. He was hunting on farmland, which was bordered by a thick ribbon of forest. Generally, the rabbits were flushed from hiding along the edge of the woods. The beagle would follow the edge of the forest, seeking the scent of the prey. When it caught a scent, the hound would enter the forest and drive the rabbit out into the field where Johnny would shoot it with his sixteen gauge, single-shot, shotgun.