Cat Fight

Chapters 13 & 14

Previously on Cat Fight:

After a violent encounter with a mysterious kitten, Bobby exhibits disturbing behavior while being treated for severe wounds by Mary at the animal control facility, displaying unsettling symptoms including an odd stare and tongue-lapping gestures. Meanwhile, Joe, who had also encountered the kitten, appears feverish and unwell despite trying to hide his condition. In a parallel storyline, Olga Kovalenko ends up in the hospital with ten stitches after a dance floor accident, but her physical pain is overshadowed by her suspicions of her husband Sasha's infidelity.

Chapter 13

“Let’s see what we have to deal with.”

Mary scooped Damien’s limp body from the cage to her chest-gloves on, of course-cradling the kitten on her way to the hospital. She needed to administer the vaccines, medicines, and possibly an antibiotic. Mary had seen no injuries on the little guy, but there could be some damage beneath the fur. A full cleanup was required, and it wasn’t as though Damien couldn’t go without a bath. The stink from the kitten’s fur left much to be desired. Stunk like a mix of sulfur, baby vomit, and bad breath.

“My lord, do you stink.” She shuffled Damien from one hand to the other, laying him down on the operating table where he flopped on the cold metal, out cold from the local Mary administered while he was sleeping in his cage. She noticed how his heart was racing. Pounding really, she felt it against her chest when she walked him to the table, thumping like a rabbit padding towards a field of carrots and his breathing was labored, hoarse, and congested. She wondered if he was sick. Considering he felt like a hot furnace, she wouldn’t be surprised.

She’ll take his temperature too, just to be certain. Mary looked at Damien, flitting across his fur with her fingers, looking for wounds, blisters, or anything that may cause an alarm to go off in her head. She was convinced the little guy was frightened out of his mind over what happened in the brownstone. She’d caught a few newscasts about the murder. Something about cults and Satanic sacrifices. Apparently, the murdered woman had been cut open from her chest to her navel. Her organs were removed too. In their place, the murderer (or murderers) had inserted communion wafers and rosary beads. The organs were found lined up on a desk in the same room. However, the police could not locate the woman’s heart.

Mary wondered if the cult ate the bloody organ. She wouldn’t be surprised. People are sick, depraved loons, according to Mary. Brainwashed simpletons are easy to manipulate. They just can’t think on their own.

She couldn’t find one wound on the body, just matted fur, but that stink was getting worse by the second. Smelled like an unnatural death. She closed her eyes, face pinched, attempting to ward off the stink burning her nostrils before gasping out the breath, her tongue across her smacking lips. She could taste the stank on her tongue.

“Putrid,” she said, now assessing his face and the bone around Damien’s furless snout. “So strange,” she said. She’d never seen such a thing before. It’s like the fur never had the time to fully grow. It didn’t look grotesque, just strange. The orange fur just stopped before the snout, giving way to Damien’s bone, that was the color of burnt charcoal. Mary stood tall, assessing. If she was honest, the look seemed almost dignified.

Mary nodded. “Yeah, I can sell that.”

She was hoping to come out of this horrid situation with a silver lining. Selling Damien would be that silver lining and would help pay this month’s electric bill. A bill she was already late paying.

“I hope you wake up tomorrow clean, cute, and most of all, calm.”

Mary went to the supply closet next to the sink where she kept the vaccines and medicines and saw the garbage bags sitting in the sink. Five of them. The five dead cats Joe had brought in that he was supposed to toss in the crematorium before he left. Also, the source of the growing stink fuming in the room. The smell was worse while standing next to the sink.

Joe must have forgotten to toss the dead into the fire. She understood why, considering the strange way Bobby was acting and the fact that Joe was nursing a few wounds of his own along with what Mary was certain was an oncoming case of cat scratch fever. Yeah, she could forgive him for forgetting to finish his job, but the stench was nauseating, and the last thing she needed right now was puking her guts up.

She looked at Damien, still sleeping, his chest rising and falling with his labored breath. “Just one second, Damien.” She turned to the bags in the sink. “I’ve got to incinerate your family first.”

Mary went to the cremation chamber, unlatched the lock, and swung the door open. The oven was six feet long, round and made from bricks and stainless steel. She could already feel the heat even though she hadn’t used the crematorium in years when she pulled out the long grated stainless-steel table, then transferred the dead cats to the table.

Meow!

Mary stopped cold in her tracks. Damien was sitting up on the table, staring at her as if assessing her next move.

“Damien,” she said. “You scared the shit out of me.” She noticed he took a good, long look at the bag in her hand. This particular bag was a little heavier than the others. Damien’s mother was in the bag. She trained her eyes back on Damien. She didn’t know how, but Mary concluded the cat knew exactly what she was doing when the thought hit her, remembering how much anesthesia she administered to the little guy. Considering the fact that Damien had already cut up two grown men, she had used a little more than usual. The damn cat should be sleeping until tomorrow, not standing up and staring at her with that demonic look filled with anger. Mary craned her head. The last thing she needs right now is chasing after a damn cat.

“How are you even up right now?” She shook her head, not wanting to take her eyes off him. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She thought about the anesthesia in the cabinet. She’ll have to give him a larger dose. Damien raised his eyes to her, then lapped his tongue across his mouth, standing on all fours, stretching his back but never taking his eyes off her. Mary’s eyes narrowed. “Okay?” She put the bag on the grate and stepped to the cabinet, noticing how Damien followed her every move.

She opened the cabinet while swallowing the lump in her throat, uniquely aware of Damien’s continued stare. Mary noticed her hands were trembling. She pinched the vial between her fingers and took a needle off the top shelf before closing the door. Damien hadn’t moved. In fact, now the cat had all his weight on his front paws as he scraped the nails on his back paws across the metal exam table with the most god-awful screech Mary had ever heard. Looked like he was getting ready to pounce.

Her hands continued to tremble as she took the top off the needle with her teeth that she spit out-always looking at Damien-then plunged the needle into the vial when she heard the hiss, and she snapped her eyes over to Damien.

That last hiss did not come from him.

Now a shriek seared through her brain and Mary jumped in her skin. She looked at the garbage bags that were all jumping and hopping up and down on the grated table.

“What the fuck!” her voice rang out, echoing across the room when the fire erupted in the furnace and Mary’s eyes widened, staring into the fire while the bags kept jumping and yelping and screeching and hissing in a mad fever. Mary’s head was on a swivel, looking at the bags, then the furnace. The screeching hit an ear-piercing pitch and Mary’s hands instinctively went to her ears. Felt like her eardrums were about to pop.

“Stop it,” she hollered, her eyes closed, her head whipping from side to side when the noise cut off at the seams. Mary still heard screaming. Her own screaming that now ceased with a ragged exhale. Her eyes opened. The bags sat on the grate, unmoving. No fire in the furnace, either. Mary craned her head, staring into the furnace. Felt sweat on her forehead, she wiped it off with her arm and breathed a sigh of relief.

“What the fuck?” Her voice a whisper. She let out the proverbial breath she didn’t know she was holding and gasped. Mary shook her head and turned around.

Damien was no longer on the table.

Chapter 14

Olga looked up the walkway to her house after she stepped out of the car. Sasha closed the car door. The lights were on and for that, she was angry that Kendra hadn’t gone to sleep. She could see her bedroom from the driveway. The light was on, but Kendra was not in her bed or her room. She’ll need to talk to Estelle about appropriate bedtimes.

“You okay?” asked Sasha. “Do you need help?”

Olga shook her head. “It’s my shoulder, not my legs,” she scolded. “I’m fine.” She put her head down, walking to the front door when Sasha keyed open the lock and opened the door for her.

She could hear Kendra laughing the moment she stepped inside. All she wanted was to come home to a quiet house and drink a glass of wine-maybe the entire bottle. Now it’ll take Kendra a long while to go to sleep. She didn’t need another argument. Not this late at night and not after the day she’s had.

“We’re home,” Sasha called from the living room. His words brought pause from the backroom where Kendra was. Sasha closed the front door when Kendra came running around the corner, screaming Mommy the whole way down. Seeing her daughter so excited to see her brought a smile to Olga’s face. The first genuine smile of the day. Kendra jumped into Olga’s arms, wrapping her arms around her waist with a big squeeze.

“Are you okay?” asked Kendra.

“I’m fine, sweetie. Just a few stitches.” Kendra lifted those big doe eyes to Olga, who touched her fingers to Kendra’s chin. “But why are you still up?”

Sasha answered. “She was concerned and wanted to wait until you got home.”

Olga ignored him, crouching down to eye level with Kendra. She didn’t want to look at him and figured the real reason Sasha allowed Kendra to stay up was to avoid an all-out argument over what the hell he was doing in the kitchen with Jen for hours on end.

“Can I see?” asked Kendra.

“Ahh, there’s nothing to see. There’s a big bandage around it, but when I change the bandage tomorrow, maybe you can help me?”

Kendra nodded. “Okie dokie,” she said and gave a thumbs up.

Olga took her hand, walking past the living room into the kitchen. “What’ve you and Estelle been up to?” She could hear Estelle in the kitchen. Sounded like she was putting dishes away.

“Hmm?” said Kendra, then, “Estelle left hours ago.”

Olga didn’t hear the rest of what Kendra said. The moment she stepped into the kitchen, her heart stammered in her chest. At first, she wasn’t certain that who she was looking at could be possible.

“Hi Olga. How are you doing? That was a nasty fall.”

Jen was in her kitchen and that fact burned Olga more than she could fathom.

“Ow,” Kendra hollered. “Mom, you’re crushing my hand.”