Catnapped!

by Gareth P. Jones

  “Well done, Reg,” said Arthur, slapping him on the back with such force that the other man flew head first into the river with a loud splash.

  Holly suppressed a giggle but Arthur didn’t find it at all funny. “Stop messing about,” he said. “It’s time to go.”

  “Sorry, Arthur,” said Reg, treading water, then climbing up the muddy bank. “I must have slipped.” He was soaking wet, with streaks of muddy water down his face and clothes.

  Beyond him, caught by the river’s current, the raft and large crate bobbed out into the middle of the river, pulling the rope taut.

  “Can we go to my place so I can change my clothes?” asked Reg.

  “What’s wrong with those ones?” demanded Arthur.

  “They’re all wet.”

  “You should have thought about that before you decided to go for a swim, shouldn’t you?”

  They climbed into the van, closed the doors and, after some protest from the engine, drove away.

  Holly jumped out from her hiding place and ran to the river’s edge. She studied the raft floating on the water. She could hear something coming from the crate. As she listened, she realized it was the sound of cats meowing. She gasped.

  The crate was full of cats!

  She grabbed the rope and tugged at it, but it wouldn’t budge. Far out on the water she could hear desperate feline pleas coming from the crate.

  Those poor cats, she thought, they must be terrified! She had to rescue them.

  She needed Dirk.

  Dirk was trying not to worry about Holly. Why should he care what happened to the girl? He was too tough and too old to get sentimental. And even if he did care a little, it was only because of the possible repercussions for him. It was one thing a cat going missing, but a human girl was an entirely different matter. Besides, she had called him from home. The police only had to do a few checks and his number would come up – then they would start asking difficult questions, wanting to know his involvement. The police wouldn’t leave it at a phone call either. They would want to actually come round and check out his office. Yes, it would make life complicated if anything happened to her. That was the only reason he found himself hoping that Holly was OK.

  His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of the reluctant once-white van chug-chug-chugging its way back down the path, turning right on to the road and disappearing noisily into the distance.

  A few seconds passed while Dirk stared intently ahead and then Holly appeared, her arms outstretched, running towards him, shouting at the top of her voice, “Dirk! Help! Come now! You’ve got to help them!”

  Amateur, thought Dirk. If there was one thing he knew about being a detective it was that no matter how bad things got, you always kept your nerve. You didn’t go screaming blue murder at the first sign of a problem.

  “Dirk Dilly! You’ve got to save them!” she cried.

  Cursing the girl, Dirk quickly checked that the coast was clear, spread his wings and glided across the road, down the tree-lined path, to land in front of her. He raised himself up on to his hind legs and said, “Be quiet, will you? Do you want everyone to know we’re here?”

  But Holly just grabbed Dirk’s paw and dragged him towards the river. He looked across the water. The area was fairly rundown this far from the city. On the north bank was an old rusty boat that looked like it hadn’t been used in twenty years. Behind it was a shabby collection of ugly grey apartment blocks overlooking some overgrown allotments.

  “What?” asked Dirk as he looked out across the water.

  “It’s full of cats,” said Holly, pointing to the crate floating in the middle of the river. “Listen.”

  Dirk listened. Sure enough, he could hear the desperate meows drifting across the water. “This case just keeps getting weirder,” he said.

  “You’ve got to rescue them,” said Holly.

  “Hey, kiddo, it’s one thing me letting you tag along for a bit, but nobody orders the dragon around.”

  “All right,” said Holly. “Please can you rescue them?”

  “That’s better. Now let me see…” Dirk grabbed the rope and pulled. It didn’t budge. He tried again, straining as he did. Nothing. “The raft must have caught on something.”

  “Can’t you fly out and get it?” said Holly.

  “I think we’re taking enough risks as it is without flying over open water in daylight.”

  “Can’t you swim out then?”

  “I think you may have confused me with a Sea Dragon. Easy mistake. Sea Dragons have grey backs, shorter wings and they tend to be a little slimmer. I’m more of a red-backed, green-bellied, urban-based Mountain Dragon. Not a big swimmer.”

  “But what’s going to happen to them? Willow might be in there and you promised you’d get her back!”

  “Oh, all right.” Dirk gave in. “I’ll swim out and get the cats.”

  “Thank you, Dirk.”

  Dirk dropped on to all fours and cautiously approached the water’s edge. It looked cold. It looked dirty. In fact it looked about as inviting as a barrel of blue-skinned salamander sick, which, if you’ve never experienced such a thing, is not very inviting at all.

  “Hurry up,” urged Holly before hastily adding, “please.”

  Dirk dipped his paw into the water. “It’s cold,” he said.

  “Oh, come on,” said Holly, and she pushed against his large rear, catching him off guard and knocking him into the water with an enormous splash.

  “Oh th-th-thanks,” shivered Dirk. “I was just hoping someone would push me into a freezing-cold, filthy river.”

  “No problem,” replied Holly, trying not to find it too amusing.

  Dirk paddled through the cold and murky water towards the raft, thinking that he had been foolish letting the human tag along. She was already too involved. When he got back to the riverbank, he would take her home. No more Mr Nice Dragon. Dirk worked alone.

  He reached the crate and circled it, but was unable to see what it was caught on. The whole thing was very strange – dragons stealing cats, putting them in crates, then a pair of humans pushing them out on to the river. He had never heard of anything like it.

  He closed his nostrils, ears and mouth and ducked his head under the water. In spite of what he had said to Holly, Dirk, like all dragons, was capable of surviving for long periods of time underwater. Sea Dragons, such as the one he had seen at the warehouse, often went centuries without surfacing, their backs softening with time to aid swimming.

  The water was muddied and dark and the shadow cast by the raft made it even darker beneath it. Dirk couldn’t see a thing. He groped around until he found something solid. It was long and smooth and appeared to be wrapped around the base of the raft. He tugged at it but it wouldn’t budge. He tried to find the end but it seemed to go on forever. If only he could see what he was doing. After several more unsuccessful attempts to free the raft, he lost patience. He opened his mouth and bit down on the mystery object.

  Instead of snapping, as he had expected it to, he felt his teeth sink into it. It was soft like flesh and something inky and rancid leaked from it, blackening the water. Instinctively Dirk let go. He reached to grab it again but it had gone.

  Quickly, Dirk resurfaced and paddled as fast as he could towards Holly, pushing the raft in front of him, but his thoughts were cloudy and confused. His legs grew weak. Energy was draining away from him with each passing second. The raft seemed to get heavier and heavier. It was like swimming in treacle. Every stroke felt like his last.

  I must be near now, he thought. He could hear Holly shouting but he couldn’t muster a response. His vision had gone as though night had fallen. Too … tired. Even breathing was too much effort.

  Holly’s face loomed in front of him.

  “What’s wrong?” he heard her say.

  But the exhaustion had overrun every muscle in his body. He pulled himself on to the riverbank. He tried to stand but stumbled, and then the darkness took him and he collapsed.


  “Dirk!” screamed Holly. She shook the dragon’s limp body but he didn’t respond. She held her head down to listen to his heartbeat before realizing that she had absolutely no idea where a dragon’s heart was. Assuming they even had hearts…

  “What’s happened to you, Dirk? Can you hear me?”

  He said nothing.

  A meow from nearby reminded her about the cats. The crate bobbed by the side of the bank but it was too heavy for her to lift. Instead, she climbed on to the raft and edged her way carefully to the other side of the crate. With all the energy she could muster, she pushed.

  The crate toppled on to the ground, causing an almighty screeching from within. Holly crawled back on to the bank, rounded the crate and yanked open the top. Cats clambered out – more cats than she had ever seen in one place. Gingers, tabbies, black, white, grey, all scrambling over each other, desperate to get out of the crate on to dry land. Holly had never heard cats make such a noise. The poor things. They must have been terrified. In among the mound of confused cats, Holly spotted one with a white face, white paws and a black smudge on her nose.

  Willow.

  Holly reached down to grab her and received a scratch from another cat. The pain barely even registered. She picked up Willow.

  “Willow,” she whispered. “You’re alive.”

  The cat replied with a sweet meow.

  Holly hugged her tightly. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop them taking you but you’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

  For as long as Holly could remember, Willow had been a part of her life. She was there before they moved to London. She had been there before Dad married his new wife. She had been there before Holly’s mother had died too. After every bad day at every school, Willow would be waiting for Holly when she got home. She never got frustrated with her like Holly’s dad did. She didn’t judge her like Dad’s wife. Willow was always pleased to see her, no matter what she had done. Holly felt tears of relief fill her eyes. She blinked several times and swallowed hard to stop them from falling.

  She remained like that, lost in the cuddle, grateful that Willow was alive, until a low moan reminded her that they were not alone. Holly looked up. The other cats had all run off. The moan had come from Dirk.

  “Dirk?” she said, seeing that one of his eyes was half open.

  He let out another groan.

  “Wink if you can hear me,” she said.

  Slowly but surely the large eyelid closed, then opened again.

  Holly knew she had to get him back to his office, out of danger. But how? How could she get herself, her cat and this rather large dragon back to central London without drawing any unwanted attention? This called for some serious thinking.

  “I could call a taxi,” Holly said to Willow.

  The cat purred.

  “No. You’re right,” said Holly. “They would definitely notice that one of the customers was a dragon. The same goes for an ambulance or police car.” Seeing a plastic bag float past in the river, she said, “Maybe I could push him on to the raft and we could drift down the river.”

  Willow meowed.

  “Oh yes, the river does flow in the wrong direction. Besides, I would probably capsize it trying to get him on.”

  She held Willow up and looked her squarely in the face. “Then how can I get Dirk back to his office without him being seen?”

  Willow licked her paw.

  “That’s it!” exclaimed Holly. “Without being seen. Of course.”

  She put the cat down carefully and threw a fallen branch over Dirk’s body. It didn’t do a great job of hiding him and Dirk was clearly in no state to blend. Holly would have to act fast.

  She pulled a phone from her pocket. It belonged to Dad, but he hardly ever used it and, when Holly had decided to go in search of Dirk, she knew it would be a good idea to carry a phone. Dad probably wouldn’t even notice it was missing.

  She found her location on the map, then made a phone call. After deleting the number from the call log, Holly ducked behind a hedge to avoid being seen by passing cars. She waited like that for an hour until she saw what she was looking for.

  Coming down the road towards her, lurching dangerously from side to side and driving at around five miles an hour, was a pale blue, round-topped car. Behind it, five cars, two vans and a supermarket lorry were all furiously beeping their horns. Holly jumped up and down, waved her arms and shouted, “Hey, I’m over here!”

  The car turned on to the track, allowing its train of followers to finally pick up a decent speed. As they passed, each one yelled an obscenity at the driver of the blue car, but she remained unfazed, instead rolling down her window and saying, “Is that you, Holly? Where’s your uncle?”

  “Oh, Mrs Klingerflim, thank you so much for coming,” replied Holly.

  “Don’t you worry yourself, dear. I do like a nice drive every once in a while. Everyone in London, though, very impatient, don’t you find?”

  The last of the cars passed and the driver shouted something so rude that Holly wasn’t even sure what it meant. Mrs Klingerflim didn’t seem to notice.

  “He’s down this path,” said Holly, getting into the car. Then, lowering her voice to a whisper, she added, “He’s in an awful state, though.”

  “Oh dear, been at the old singing juice, has he?” replied the old lady, lifting off the handbrake and driving the car down the path. “That’s what my Ivor used to call beer. Then after a couple of pints he would sing a rather impolite song about the hair on a bear’s bottom… Or was it a hare with a bare bottom? I forget which.”

  “Watch out!” shouted Holly as the car veered towards a tree. Mrs Kingerflim narrowly avoided it by swerving at the last minute.

  “Don’t you worry. I’m an excellent driver,” she said unconvincingly. “Never been in an accident. Mind you, they do always seem to happen around me. I can’t see why.”

  She pulled on the handbrake, stopping the car suddenly next to the unconscious dragon.

  “Where’s that uncle of yours? I don’t know, getting himself all drunk and disorderly at his age,” said Mrs Klingerflim.

  “It’s all right, I’ll get him. You stay here.” Holly got out of the car, leaving Willow in the passenger seat. She opened the back door, walked over to where Dirk lay and knocked the foliage off his body.

  This was the tricky bit.

  She kneeled down beside him. “Dirk,” she said in his ear. A gentle groan indicated that he was still conscious at least. “We need to get you home and Mrs Klingerflim is here but I can’t lift you into the back seat. You have to get in yourself. OK?”

  Nothing.

  “OK?”

  Another groan.

  “Is everything all right?” called Mrs Klingerflim from the car.

  “Oh yes,” replied Holly. “I’m just helping him up.”

  “This is a lovely little dog you’ve got,” said the old lady, stroking Willow in such a way that it caused the cat to scowl angrily.

  Holly lifted Dirk’s large head and said, “Come on, let’s get you home.”

  For a second, Holly thought the plan wasn’t going to work. Dirk’s body was heavy and limp. Then she felt the weight of his head ease and, slowly but surely, he stood on all fours. Together they crawled forwards. They reached the car and Dirk began dragging himself on to the back seat, like it was the last thing he would ever do.

  “Everything all right back there?” asked Mrs Klingerflim.

  “Yes, just getting his tail – I mean his coat tail – in.”

  Dirk finally managed to squeeze his large body into the back. Holly grabbed his tail and crammed it into the car after him.

  “Did you bring a blanket like I asked?” she said.

  “In the boot, dear,” replied Mrs Klingerflim.

  Holly retrieved an old blanket from the boot and threw it over Dirk’s body. She slammed the back door shut and climbed in the front, lifting a very relieved-looking Willow away from
Mrs Klingerflim’s hand.

  “Home, dear?” the old lady asked sweetly.

  “Yes, Mrs Klingerflim. Thank you, Mrs Klingerflim.”

  “Such good manners,” she said, starting up the engine and driving the car back up the path, scraping a number of trees on the way and then turning right on to the wrong side of the road. Holly screamed and Mrs Klingerflim casually swerved again, only just missing an oncoming truck. Peeking through the slits in her fingers, Holly wondered whether this had been such a good plan after all.

  Dirk awoke from a terrible dream. He couldn’t remember the details but he was left with a feeling of cold dread. He forced his heavy eyelids open and found himself staring up at his own ceiling.

  He looked around. He was slumped in the corner of his office on the mattress where he normally slept. How had he got there? Waking up with no memory of the previous night was not entirely unheard of but it usually coincided with having drunk three bottles of pure undiluted orange squash. He didn’t recall having hit the concentrate last night, though.

  Last night, he thought, what happened last night?

  His office door swung open and Holly strode in, her arms piled high with newspapers. Seeing Dirk she squealed, “Dirk, you’re all right!”, dropped the newspapers and threw her arms around the dragon’s neck. Never having been hugged before, Dirk wasn’t sure how to react. He reached out his paw and awkwardly patted Holly’s back. Sensing his embarrassment, Holly withdrew and kneeled down to pick up the newspapers.

  “I’m so glad you’re OK,” she said. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever wake up.”

  “Why? How long have I been out?”

  “Three days,” replied Holly.

  Dirk crawled on all fours across the room and settled behind his desk. “That explains why I’m so hungry. What happened to me?” he asked.

  “Don’t you remember? You rescued the cats, then you passed out.”