Catnip (10 page)

“I’m not the one with the black eye.” She
cautiously edged out of their confines, sampled the air with her
nose, and then withdrew back inside. “He’s not around. I’d be able
to smell him if he was.”

Curious, but not knowing anything about
enhanced senses, he asked, “What does he smell like to you?”

She shrugged. “He smells like blood…and
death.”

It wasn’t the most encouraging description.
Warm air flowed around them, as did the odors from the alley, a
swirling miasma of rotting food, pee and wine, and the myriad
smells and stinks that comprised the pollution of the big city.
Judging from the sun’s position, it had to be around eight in the
morning. He peeked into the alleyway and observed pedestrians
striding past. None of them deigned to look inside.

Suddenly, the fatigue of the night before
came rushing back, and Harry sat down. In spite of his injury and
the fact that a monster was most likely on their trail, he felt a
little more in control, even though this situation was far out of
it. He’d been arrested and used by the authorities, met a cat-girl,
and then the memory of the bear creature crushing the former KGB
doctor’s head rushed back in living color and all sense of control
suddenly went out the window. Practicality took over as his stomach
growled. “We need something to eat.”

Anastasia sniffed his body and drew back, her
nose wrinkling with distaste. “You need a shower.”

Her remark stung. “What is it with you and
cleanliness?”

She raised her arms ever so slightly and
gazed at him blandly. “I’m a cat, remember? We like to keep
clean.”

While the expression on her face remained
impassive, the sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable. At the same
time, though, Harry had to admit she was right. He stank. However,
one question demanded an answer. “What
was
that thing?”

“Why are you asking me?” Her face got a cross
look to it. “Do you think we’re related or something?”

Well, yeah, thinking about it, they were, if
only through the magic of science. Obviously the bear-thing and
Anastasia were transgenic creations, but who’d created them, and
where did they come from? If her amnesia continued, he wouldn’t be
able to get much information, and he needed to do some more
research.

The computer…where was it? He frantically
turned back to the box, only to find Anastasia holding it carefully
in her hands, the disc on top. “Relax, you were looking for these,
right?” She handed the items over.

He nodded and his mind raced. They couldn’t
stay here, not for long, or else the authorities or the monster
would find them. “We have to find a place to stay.”

The cold metal of the computer gave him a
sense of reassurance. Taking the USB port from his pocket, he
plugged in, noticed it was low on power, so he sent a quick message
and turned it off. “What do we do now?” she asked.

“We have to wait.”

The pace of the people walking by picked up.
It was Tuesday, a work day, and everyone had something to do.
Fortunately no one entered except a stray cat which wandered over
to their position, sniffed them both, didn’t spit or hiss or hunch
up, and then wandered back out again. It didn’t seem to treat
Anastasia like another cat, just rubbed its head first against her
leg and then Harry’s, and ambled off.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Anastasia
commented as the stray cat strutted out of their temporary
hideout.

She decided to stay in the box while Harry
sat outside, eyes alert for any unwanted visitors. He fidgeted,
tried to work out the kinks from his muscles, and looked around
nervously every few seconds.

“Are you scared?” Anastasia suddenly asked
from behind him.

“How did you guess?”

She chuckled. “You were trembling all night
and you’re looking around in every direction now, so it’s not too
hard to figure out.”

Busted, he was busted. He hung his head so
she wouldn’t see the ashamed look on his face. “Yeah, I’m scared,”
he admitted.

“You’re not much for the outdoors,
right?”

It seemed like she had a sixth sense. He was
too embarrassed to admit what he was, a home-loving nerd who felt
like a king inside his room or in the lab, but felt like a pauper
out on the mean streets. Here, size and strength ruled, and since
he possessed neither of those traits…

Anastasia laid a gentle hand on his shoulder,
startling him, and he turned around. “You get used to it. I feel
like I can survive anywhere.” She gave another quiet chuckle. “Cats
are pretty adaptable, you know?”

Her eyes, large and full, calmly regarded him
with a look of…he couldn’t decide whether it was curiosity or
compassion. “Yeah, I guess they are,” he mumbled.

“Anyway,” she added, “Thanks for jumping in
last night. You didn’t have to do that.”

He stared at the ground, not knowing what
else to say. He’d done the only thing he could, which was to toss
hot coffee into the monster’s face. Hand to hand, he wouldn’t have
lasted ten seconds. “Uh, well, you did okay, too.”

Lame answer or not, Anastasia didn’t seem to
mind. “So did you,” she offered, and gently patted his shoulder
again. “You got guts, and I respect that.”

The mere touch of her hand sent a shiver down
his spine and he felt his face get hot. Wiping the sweat from his
brow and cheeks, he mumbled, “You’re welcome,” and fell silent.

As he turned around to survey the alley, she
suddenly crawled out and leaned against his side—he guessed—as a
way of reassuring him—and the warmth of her body, the softness…it
felt good and disturbing at the same time. “Why are you working for
the FBI?”

Her question didn’t come as a surprise, as
she’d asked him the same thing before the bear-man attacked. After
quickly thinking about what to say, he decided on the truth and had
the feeling she’d understand. “I wanted to do the same kind of
thing that…that happened to you, but use it for an anti-cancer
cure.”

She drew back ever so slightly and looked at
him through narrowed eyes. Her mistrustful nature had returned and
he hoped that she wasn’t going to lump him in with whoever had
experimented on her. “Go on,” she said.

Harry told her the rest of the story, his
experiments and his simulation with combining DNA. “I didn’t think
someone would actually do it,” he finished.

The expression on Anastasia’s face and the
fact of her form being as it was told him all he needed to know.
Someone had already gone beyond what he first imagined, but had
perverted his research in a way he’d also never dreamed of. There
were so many questions he wanted to ask her, but abruptly she
snapped her fingers and brought him back to reality. “I’m still
listening.”

With a sigh, he told her about his days in
jail and the virtual blackmail Farrell had laid on him. She took
all of it in, the expression on her face gradually softening as the
details came out. “So you didn’t have much of a choice, huh?”

“No, they made the call, not me.”

She meditated on his answer. “I guess we’re
both prisoners, aren’t we?” Her voice came out lifelessly.

What could he tell her to make her feel
better about her life? Then she said, “Tell me about your
parents.”

“Why?” No one had ever bothered asking him
about his folks, either before or after they died. It just wasn’t
in the cards. “Why do you want to know?

Anastasia lifted her shoulders slightly. “No
special reason, just that…I don’t remember mine, what my mother or
father looked like. According to what that guy Oleg said I’m
Siberian, so at least I know my roots—maybe.”

She doesn’t remember anything about her
family. At least I had one, he thought. He licked his lips, found
they were dry, and wondered what to say. “Well, they were pretty
cool. They supported me and, uh, didn’t push me to study or
anything. They worked a lot and let me do what I wanted. I…” he
hesitated, “I wasn’t much for going to school.”

“Not a lot of friends,” she said. It came out
as a statement and not a question.

He shook his head and mumbled, “No.”

Anastasia squeezed his shoulder gently.
“Well, you got one friend.”

He felt the blood rush to his face, and
turned his attention to the alley. It was the only thing he could
do in order to take his mind off the situation. Shyness begat
shyness, and while he wanted to tell her he liked her and her
attitude, he couldn’t really find the words. “You know, I…”

The sound of a car horn interrupted him, and
then a voice called out, “Harry, Harry Goldman, you around here,
man? It’s Jason!”

Harry motioned for Anastasia to wait.
Paranoia ruled and he couldn’t be sure they hadn’t been tailed.
Wary of a trap, he yelled out, “What’s your last name?” Then he
realized they were in an alley with no alternate route of escape.
Pretty dumb of them to have camped out here, but then again,
there’d been no place to go the night before.

The person who’d issued the invitation
sounded exasperated. “Aw, man, it’s Parham. You know that,
right?”

Anastasia crept back inside the box and Harry
cautiously walked out to greet his old friend. People passed them
by, but after cautiously scanning the street, he didn’t see anyone
wearing a dark suit or shades.

Jason hadn’t changed much over the past few
years. Taller now and just as skinny, he had long, straight black
hair halfway down his back and wore a rumpled black T-shirt with a
picture of a mean-looking unicorn on it and a pair of jeans. His
face was sallow and spotty-complexioned which spoke of a lack of
direct sunlight along with too much oily food.

“Hi,” he said, and gave Harry an awkward
bro-hug. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Harry stepped out of the embrace, slightly
embarrassed. “Uh, yeah, it’s good to meet you again.” He didn’t
know what else to say and hated his inability to act cool like
everyone else.

“Got your message before,” Jason said,
nodding all the while. “Borrowed my father’s car ‘cuz my parents
went on holiday and…”

Harry interrupted him, holding up his hand.
“Listen, I’m sort of in a tight spot. I appreciate the pick-up and
all, but I’ve got a problem and you’re the only one who can
help.”

The expression on Jason’s face was nothing if
not confident as he tapped his skinny chest. “Hey, man, we’re
practically bona fide best buddies, right? You got a problem, I can
fix it. What’s going on?”

Harry gestured toward the back of the alley
and when Jason came over to take a look at the cat-lady sitting in
the box, his look of surety disappeared and he let out a low,
nervous laugh. “Man, is this freaky or what? It’s Miss…”

His voice dried up when Anastasia launched
herself at him with a snarl and pinned him against the opposite
wall. With her free hand, she flicked open her claws to menace his
face. “If you’re thinking about calling me a cartoon character’s
name, then don’t. Just…don’t.”

Jason’s face paled and he squawked out, “Hey,
all I meant was this is…
different.
”

She let him go and stalked back to the box
while he stood there massaging his throat and looking back and
forth at them. “Is this for real?” he asked.

Harry placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Take us to your place and we’ll tell you everything.”

Parham lived north of Manhattan. His father’s
car, a vintage Corvette, moved smoothly through the streets. Harry
and Anastasia sat in the back seat and she kept her head down
during the entire journey, muttering to herself and holding her
stomach. Halfway to their destination she started groaning and the
sounds increased in loudness and intensity with every passing mile.
“What’s wrong?” Jason asked. He glanced nervously in the rearview
mirror and then turned around to concentrate on driving.

“I feel carsick.”

Jason muttered something about cats not being
car-trained and Harry had to use every bit of his strength to
restrain her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Jason yelled after
she managed to slash a tiny chunk of flesh from his neck. He bled
profusely, and between his swearing and her moans of motion
sickness, Harry wondered if they’d ever reach their host’s house in
one piece.

Finally, after an hour’s drive, they arrived
at a very nice two-story job in a quiet neighborhood. Jason cut the
engine, held his hand to the back of his neck, and announced,
“We’re near Inwood Park. My dad owns a real-estate company and my
mother helps him in the business. Wait a minute.”

He got out of the car and ran to the front of
his house, unlocked it, swiveled his head left and right to check
for whatever enemies might have been lurking in the bushes, and
hastily waved to his passengers. Anastasia quickly tore inside with
Harry and Jason close behind.

“Where’s the bathroom?” she gasped out once
they got through the door. Her face was green. Harry had never seen
anyone literally turn green before. It was a sight he was sure he’d
never forget. Then again, the last two days had been pretty
unforgettable.

“Upstairs, second door on your left,” Jason
said and pointed the way. He then quickly drew the drapes to hide
the room from prying eyes.

She raced up the stairs and seconds later,
Harry heard the sounds of retching, quick breaths followed by
forceful exhalations. It sounded like everyone he’d ever heard
barf, only worse. Jason wondered aloud if she was heaving or
tossing up a hairball. “Let it go,” Harry ordered and his friend
shut his mouth.

The sounds of hurling continued and then the
toilet flushed. More running water noises followed, and after a few
minutes, Anastasia came down the stairs carefully grooming her
whiskers. Her color—hard to tell with the fur—appeared to be more
normal. “Thanks, I feel better now.”

“No problem,” Jason said with a more than
slightly spaced out look on his face and a tone of wonder in his
voice. He quickly shut the door and looked at his hand. It was
smeared with blood. “Man, if there’re stains on the car seats my
mother’s gonna have kittens.”