|
|
JAKE SAW SOMETHING in the darkness of the interstate and slammed the brakes. He took a deep breath, grabbed a flashlight, and jumped out into the rain, sweeping the light over the road. The object looked like some sort of cloth-wrapped package. He ran toward it and gasped.
Completely wrapped in bandages, the little cat mewled.
“Poor thing,” Jake said. He tucked it inside his jacket. “You look like a miniature mummy.”
Once home, he decided to change the cat’s soaked bandages. He started unwrapping. When he was finished, he stared in disbelief.
He had expected a soft, furry kitten, but in front of him sat a hairless cat, shrunken and thin. A skeleton with a sheet of leathery flesh tossed onto it and pinned into place. The eyes were clouded. The cat mewled and purred, rubbing against his hand. The skin was stiff and dry. Jake jerked back in disgust.
I have to get rid of it, he thought. The cat stared through him. He grabbed a spare pillowcase and a brick, stuffed the cat inside, tossed in the brick and drove to the bridge. He dropped the sack over the side and rushed back home to bed, heart pounding.
The next morning, he was sick. Skin pale, eyes dull. He shuffled into the kitchen for medicine and gagged. The smell overpowered his senses: Old musty dirt. There on the kitchen table, staring, sat the cat. Its skin looked pliable and soft. Jake thought perhaps the water had done it some good, but how had it found its way back? And, God, the smell. He gagged and retched into the sink.
He stuffed the cat into another pillowcase, set it behind the back wheel of his truck, backed over it, then dug a hole and buried the whole thing. He went back to bed with a groan, trembling with weakness, and broke out in cold sweat.
Jake woke, heart pounding. His clothes clung to him. The bed moved slightly, and he heard licking. He clicked on the light, and there, with tufts of long white fur shooting out at various spots, clouded eyes staring, lay the cat. With all his remaining strength, Jake grabbed the cat, and dragged himself and the mongrel into the living room. He opened the woodstove and tossed it inside, squirted a whole can of lighter fluid on it, and threw in a match. He closed the stove and went to bed.
His sleep was disturbed by yowling. He felt hot and itchy. He got up to pee and looked in the mirror. His face was gaunt, his eyes sunken. His skin was dry and leathery. He fell to the floor as muscle fatigue overcame him. He stared out into the hall, unable to move, when a beautiful, white cat prowled into view. It turned to look through him with clouded eyes.
As the cat stared, Jake felt his body shrivel, felt his skin tighten against his bones. His vision clouded. The last thing he saw before he went blind was the cat’s now green eyes penetrating his soul.
