Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Fiction
vr 3.00
2008-02-16
"Kit/Kat" by Abraxas | 2000-04-07
Chapter Three
Early that next morning, WileyKat was awoken by the sunlight filtering through the bedroom windows. Groggy and disoriented, he was surprised that his sister was not by him. He was also surprised that he felt so tired, so weak - weary, achy, his legs were sore and acutely arthritic, his hands were raw and unusually spent. Slowly, carefully, he pulled aside the blankets and got off the bed. Looking across the windows, he saw the underside of the extended bridge and the walls of the rocky canyon, the desolate ravine that separated Cat’s Lair from the surrounding countryside.
The chamber was just as he had left it that night - even the cups and plates remained on the serving tray on the desk.
“Why didn’t Snarf come for it?” he asked, just under his breath.
WileyKat approached the table and saw, just by chance, through the corner of his eyes, that there next to the bed, there on the floor, was the box - WileyKit’s box.
Aghast but intrigued, he knelt toward that mysterious object but right as he was getting closer, nearer, his sister emerged almost out of nowhere in one of her discontinuities. She shook the box, ensured that its lid was tight and slid it under the bed.
“Sorry, I forgot to put it away after I came back.”
“Came back? Where did you go?”
“I had to take care of something.”
WileyKat looked stunned.
“You’re tired, aren’t you? Oh, there, there.” She cradled him, letting him nestle his face onto her breasts. “You were so nice to hold me last night, you’re such a gentleman. I thought you’d just get off of me but you didn’t, you stayed in to the end.”
“I don’t know, Kit, it feels like I ran a marathon. Are you sure nothing else happened last night?”
She let go and drew back.
“Snarf - he walked in on us.”
He turned half-white: “But the serving tray - wait, what did he see?”
“Everything.”
“Who did he tell?”
She shook her head: “He won’t be telling anyone, Kat, because I fixed it. I handled it. Just like you fixed my problem yesterday - I returned the favor.”
"Kit?"
“You’re too good, too decent. Unlike Tygra, your, um, ‘master’. And, um, what did he do? Got addicted time and time again to fruits, rocks and flowers. No one ever yelled at him. No one ever called him, um, weird. Talk about him behind his back? No one! No one, ever! The responsible Tygra. The trusted Tygra. The head of the council Tygra. Even after he let, um, MummRa get the Sword of Omens. Even after it, um, was his fault it broke. But no, it’s you! It’s you who they pick on, my dear brother, it’s you who they target and for what reason? Because of the crime of loving me - oh, what Cheetara will never have!” She cupped him in her hands and gently, very gently stroked him with her thumb. “My sweet and noble brother.”
“What about Snarf?”
He kissed her lips while she held his vulnerability.
She drew her hands up and pressed her forefingers to his lips to silence him: “He’s of no consequence - trust me - but it’s almost time. You’ll be late for breakfast.” Kissing him again she added: “Wash up, I’ll wait for you.”
* * * * * * * * * *
WileyKat entered the kitchen with the serving tray. An eerie, unsettled atmosphere greeted him with silence, dark, shadowy silence. But it was well past sunrise - Snarf should have been there, he should have been there ready to dole out breakfast. Yet, when he turned on the lights, he found that the zone was empty.
He continued onward, inward, getting deeper and deeper into the murky outer world of the kitchen. His footsteps resonated through the dense, sturdy floor while all around him echoed the symphony of the refrigerator humming, the faucet trickling - for Panthro had not repaired the leak - and the fluorescent lights flashing and vibrating.
It was at the rear of the chamber that he stopped and placed the serving tray into the deep basin of the sink. On the granite countertop, in the metal wrack, was all of yesterday’s dinnerware, sparkling spotlessly clean. He explored the immediate vicinity: the unopened freezer, the unused stove and the drawer. The drawer. For reasons he could not understand he was drawn to the drawer between the stove and the freezer and opened it: inside was a set of knives used to carve meals for special occasions. It seemed to be well-ordered, but a meat cleaver was missing and, what was more, he knew it would be missing.
WileyKat cracked his knuckles and then and there, under the bright, hot lamps, he saw cuts and scratches along his fingers - nothing major, nothing overtly noticeable.
“Come on, Kat, come to the table.”
He turned to the side - the heavy kitchen doors swung forward, backward but his sister he could not see. By the time he reached the exit the double-hinged doors were at rest and required more than the usual force to open.
In the conference room, seated around the table, were Cheetara, Liono’s empty chair, Tygra, Panthro, a wide arc without seats, his own, unoccupied chair, and then, at last, at the end, his sister - she sat on Snarf’s seat.
WileyKat walked about the circumference of the table - the adults awkwardly silenced their conversation when they noticed he had entered the hallowed chamber.
He nodded at WileyKit.
Passing Cheetara, she said: “Good morning, Kat, you look tired.”
“I know.” WileyKat smiled - the cheetah’s nipples stood erect through the fabric of her uniform.
His sister laughed and pointed at him.
Passing Tygra, he said: “Um, we have to talk later, OK?”
“I know.” WileyKat noticed a large number of blue hairs scattered along the tiger’s crotch - through which he caught the outline of -
Passing Panthro - the ‘mean old man’ grunted and muttered scant syllables under his breath as he rolled his eyes. His fur was superannuated, typical for the summer when Thunderians shed.
“I know,” WileyKat said as if to answer.
“Oh, don’t we know,” his sister added.
“Stop it, you two, we’ve got more important things to do right now,” Cheetara scolded and continued: “We can’t find Snarf anywhere.” WileyKat looked at her worriedly. “Liono’s out trying to find him.”
“Sit down, WileyKat,” his sister said. “You’ll only -“
“Alright, alright,” he sighed and complied.
“That damned Snarf! Complain, complain, complain: that’s all he’s good for! I hope he’s gotten stuck in his litter box.”
WileyKat’s solemn pose was perturbed by Tygra - Panthro had tried to stop his friend but it was too little, too late, the tiger had gotten up and walked over to his would-be student.
The older, striped cat knelt to the boy’s eye-level and whispered: “It seems breakfast is going to be late. Why don’t we wait until after lunch?”
WileyKat looked into Tygra’s eyes so closely, so deeply, that he could see his own reflection in their glossy moisture.
“Cheetara’s got a few things she wants to do with you and I need a bit more time to prepare myself.”
The boy gave no answer - he did not have to for at that very moment Liono stormed into the room violently.
“Did you find him? Did the Sword of Omens show you where he was?” Cheetara asked then turned around with a loud gasp. She saw that his hands were covered in blood up to the elbows. The fresh blood, the thick blood, dripped and trickled onto the floor in elongated splatters. “Snarf!”
WileyKit smiled - she put her hands over her mouth to stifle the impulse to giggle.
A window at the back of the conference room smashed and shattered to pieces - Panthro, Tygra and WileyKat ran for cover. But it was not a stone or a bomb or any ammunition tossed by disgruntled interlopers - it was Snarf’s immolated body.
A frayed, seared noose hung about its limp neck.
Cheetara wailed. Liono, his blood-stained hands within his red mane, babbled about water to put out the flames. Panthro and Tygra stared dumbfounded - WileyKat stared, too, but afeard. Only WileyKit remained calm and levelheaded - but then she did nothing either way inclined.
At the end the sacrificial fire was extinguished by the body’s latent moisture - it was wet with the downpour of that mid-morning’s sudden rainstorm. Indeed, the weather outside worsened with violent thunder and vivid lightning.
Snarf’s stabbed and beaten body lay absolutely dead.
* * * * * * * * * *
The rear stairwell of Cat’s Lair was a mixture of iron and concrete, rough and featureless. The Spartan architecture was lit by lead-framed skylights and slanted windows. The ambiance was aglow with filtered sunlight that varied through the shades of gray from bright to dark as the morning storm’s clouds alternately amassed and dissipated. Dewy beads of fresh moisture were suspended within the vapors of the air - the excess precipitated into puddles quickly soaked up by the substance of the stonework.
From the upper halls, where the evacuated conference room was located, WileyKat descended one, then two, then three floors until he came to the lower level of the garage - he would have to pass that immense, intolerable room on his way to meet Cheetara. Large, thick chains dangled from pulleys secured high atop the tall ceiling, welded into the framework of the skeletal supports. The rafters were arranged in intricate, geometric patterns, giving the roof the uncanny impression of a spider web unfurled, unwound. Indexed stacks of opened and unopened crates, color-coded containers of spare parts and rare supplies were spread about the floor. The empty spaces were filled by vehicles - broken, unfinished vehicles. His hover-board and Panthro’s Thunder Tank both lay in scattered pieces here and there.
And all the way at the back, beyond the scope of his vision, was Tygra’s workbench. The tiger seemed to struggle amidst scrolls of blue paper. He gave his would-be master a quick but courteous wave though he was unsure if he had been noticed.
Down ladders, across archways and through a wide hall with fluorescent fixtures, WileyKat passed by countless, locked doors. Suddenly one opened with the sounds of a toilet flush - it was Panthro and he stood facing the boy, clutching the doorknob. He had had an amiable look upon his face until he saw the youngster - it was incredible how many wrinkles and contortions the panther’s brow morphed into.
Somehow, something about that fevered countenance appeared dreadfully familiar to WileyKat. Panthro did not speak but uttered slight, low grunts that climaxed with a violent hiss as soon as he walked by. For the most part, though, his heart raced in fear and panic but he was confidant nothing would happen to him, nothing physical anyway. He did not answer the panther but he did stare deeply and unflinchingly into the older cat’s eyes.
Another door opened - but that time it was a friendlier face that greeted him.
“Kat,” his sister said. She ran from the school room to his open arms.
“Kit.” He hugged her and whispered: “I’m so happy to see you. I’ve missed you.”
“We’ve only been apart a few hours.”
“It’s felt like an eternity, like forever.”
“You don’t have to hide it; I know you were afraid back there. That mean old man needs to be straightened out.”
“I just don’t understand why he hates me so much. It’s more than the hover-boards, it’s more, I mean, it’s got to be more. Nothing I ever do makes him happy.”
“Panthro gets meaner and meaner every year.”
“I stopped caring about him, trying to be his friend a long, long time ago, Kit, I’d just like to know what did I do to deserve the way he condemns me to this tortured alienation.”
“Don’t give him that much, not even that much, Kat.”
The classroom door closed shut and for a moment, just for a moment, WileyKat thought he saw Cheetara peering through the thinning crack of the crevice but dismissed it.
“I guess I have to go.”
She kissed his lips and petted his mane before she, too, vanished through the corridor.
In the classroom Cheetara stood by window, looking out across wide, sweeping forestry - tall, ancient trees swaying to the furor of the howling winds of the raging thunderstorm. She held a crumpled tissue up to her face to wipe away the tears. She noticed he had entered by the tick of the shutting doorway.
“Oh, WileyKat!”
Cheetara stumbled toward him and without warning gave him a very warm and deep hug. Her hair fell into his face - very discretely he pushed it back with his hand and then carefully, tentatively, let his fingers drop onto her sides. Feeling the soft, silky contours of her body, he wanted the touch to linger, the hold to languish, veiled, as it was, by the masked intentions of innocent closeness and exploit it, perhaps, to brush against her breasts. But he stammered back when he heard the giggling - breaking away from the embrace, eyeballed the chamber but could not find his sister anywhere.
“What will we do today, Cheetara?”
“I don’t know. I - something terrible happened today. Weren’t you frightened?”
“I was surprised - I didn’t think something like that was going to happen.”
She looked at him funny.
“What did you think was going to happen?”
He shrugged: “I’m not exactly sure.”
The cheetah sighed, arising off the floor upon which she knelt. She gave the boy several sheets of paper and a pen and said: “Why don’t we try an exercise we’d often do in class back on Thundera. Write a letter to a friend about Snarf’s death - what happened and what you felt about it.”
“Does it have to be to a friend? Can it be to WileyKit?”
She glared as if her eyes were about ready to burst through their sockets.
“Of course,” she answered, without emotion. She directed him to the seat. “Are you all right? Do you need anything?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
Cheetara combed her fingers through WileyKat’s mane, adjusting his tunic for it was disheveled and lopsided especially around his legs. He resisted her motions at first the usual way he did lately but he relented. And with one, last playful rub of the head she walked out of the classroom.
“Dear Kit,” he said, as he wrote, scribbling away matter-of-factly on the blank sheet - the empty sheet.
Out in the hall Cheetara shrugged and looked about utterly distraught.
“Snarf,” she whispered, folding her hands atop her lips. “Why Snarf, too, after all of these years?”
END OF CHAPTER
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