Children of Bast (9 page)

“What’d they taste like?”

“Old metal. Go over there to that rainspout and take a lick. That’s what they taste like. And the guts are bloody and oozing, and the heads, which this old mollie said was the best part, were like eating rocks. I never understood her love for them.

“She ate bugs, too. Just sniffing a roach, her favorite, was enough to put me away. That’s when I met Chubby. He said there was a better way if I wanted to move uptown, where I learned the art of the scrounge.”

“Okay, but that just fills your belly. It doesn’t make you an amait.”

“Please don’t get philosophical on me. I’ve heard all that khara a thousand times from amai who swear that hunting wild and eating wild is the only way to go. Well, it isn’t, trust me.”

That night over a basket of fish bones and rice, I told her my plan. “I’m gonna try it. I’m sorry, but I need to find me, what I am, who I am. Besides, this isn’t filling me.” I pushed the basket toward her. “No to the fish bones, and I hate rice.”

“So, go find something else.”

“Can you hook me up with some amai, what do you call them?”

“Alley amai. That’s because they live in alleys, like we do. We’re alleys. But the amai you want are completely wild, never been house amai, born in the street. They hunt rats and mice under the buildings, and they live on them. You’ll be filthy all the time and . . .”

“I get filthy and slimy digging in dumpsters.”

Ignoring me, she went on, “You’ll stink of mouse blood. If you go, don’t come looking for me.” She got up and walked a short distance before turning toward me. “Gaylord, you got a good life here, a safe life. You got friends, half decent places to sleep, and eventually, you’ll probably get me. But, if you go to the wild ones, you’ll cross a line that will be very hard to re-cross.”

“I’ve got to try.” I started washing my face.

“No matter how you scrub, mouse stink never goes away. Think about it.”

~ ~ ~ ~

That’s when she urged me to talk to you, Chubby.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because you’d have intimidated me with horror stories.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I sort of admire your need to find yourself. I don’t think it was necessary, but I do admire your courage, because it did take guts to strike out without a brain in your head.” He smiled.

“Thanks a lot.”

“Don’t mention it.”

~ ~ ~ ~

“I appreciate your concern, Adele, and I respect your experience and Chubby’s, but I have to find answers myself. Maybe I’ll quit before I begin. Maybe I’m too soft. I don’t know. All I am sure of is my stupidity, which you remind me of all the time by cutting me down. I want to cure that if possible, so you’ll be proud of me. Besides, I stink of rotten meat, fish, rancid butter, coffee—you name it. So what’s the difference?”

“I can be proud of you here, Gaylord. I think you have the stuff to be a great alley amait without all that tiraan khara about finding yourself. Find yourself here.”

“Sorry, Adele, but I have to try.”

She looked at me for a long time, and then meowed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re a stranger to me and I can’t see an amait in you any more. So, I greet you as we do them.”

I was pissed. “Maybe I’ll be more amait than you are.” I hissed at her.

“I see a loser.” She flatted her ears, dropped to a crouch and hissed back. “Don’t ever threaten me, Gaylord, or I’ll shred you alive.”

“Go to hell.” I screamed at her and ran away.

I didn’t know where to go, but I wanted to get away from her and her insulting meowing. I headed for the street. If I was going to do it, I had to take the first step. I didn’t need Adele or you, Chubby; I’d take my lumps on my own.

Chapter 8

The city of cats and the city of men exist one inside the other, but they are not the same city
.
Italo Calvino

I
ran south until I got to a bunch of apartment buildings. Adele took me there one Time of Owls to look at the lake but told me to stay away from the alleys behind the apartments because some tough amai roamed there. Of course, that’s exactly where I needed to be.

Stepping into the alley caused me to bristle like something crazed. It was the first time I’d been totally alone since escaping, and I was terrified. The alley reminded me of the hallway at Ned and Harriet’s apartment except there was no ceiling, just a deep black sky without stars. Both sides were lined with apartment buildings that seemed to go up forever. I’d never seen such tall buildings.

Yellow light beamed from street lamps dotting the edges of the alley and gave off shadows that made it look like chunks had been cut from the sides of the buildings, some looking like they’d been chopped in two.

Bašar voices blasted my ears. Some were just talking and laughing. Others were angry shouts and screams, like when Ned and Harriet argued. It always seemed odd to me how they tangled together in bed like well-fed kiths but later screamed and yelled at each other. But, I guess we do that, too, don’t we?

As I trotted down the alley I heard kids crying and kalb barking and the sound of glass smashing. I looked up and saw black staircases like skeletons crawling up the sides of the buildings and heads of amai looking down on me. I wondered if they were wild or housies. Suddenly, a car roared down the alley and missed me by a whisker. What is it about me and cars, Chubby?

Opening my mouth slightly, I tasted smells from all kinds of things: bašar, kilaab, hot asphalt, grass, and, surprise-surprise, garbage. But it smelled better than Adele’s alley, and when I hopped on a dumpster, I saw the lid was closed. Scratch that, I thought. I jumped down and continued walking.

I kept to the shadows and stayed low to the bases of buildings. Despite the loud sounds coming all around me, I picked up scratching and squeaking from cracks here and there where the buildings met the street, openings just big enough for an amait to squeeze through. I sniffed into one. Adele’s description of old metal attacked my nose.

When I pushed my head in, I saw the outline of a huge amait come down on a rat almost his size. In an instant, the rat’s head disappeared in the amait’s mouth and stopped moving. I couldn’t tell if it was a tom or a mollie, but it looked at me, flattened its ears and growled a warning. Blood oozed from its mouth. I pulled my head out, raced to the nearest dumpster, jumped on top, flattened, moved slowly to the rim and watched as the big amait crawled out of the crack and strolled to the center of the alley, the rat dangling from his mouth.

In the low yellow streetlight I could see it was a huge, gray tom. He dropped the rat and crouched over it. Holding it with one paw, he ripped its belly open with a snip of his teeth and a quick tear with his claws. I saw the guts roll out and watched him lap them up as he purred like a new car.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Yup, those were the days, all right,” Chubby said, chuckling. “I was raised on rats and mice, and there’s nothing, nothing at all, like a warm, juicy kill. Mmmm!”

“So, why don’t you indulge now?”

“Old. We’ve talked about that. No use going over it again. Continue, please.”

I almost puked remembering what Adele told me about the taste of mice, and I guessed rats would be the same. And watching the guts pour out and watching him lap them up . . . yuk! But, I knew I was watching my teacher. If I made friends with him, I’d learn to hunt and kill. I watched him slurp down the entire rat, and then wash his face.

Jumping to the top of a trashcan below me and then to the ground, I kept an eye on him as he continued to wash. I slipped around the corner of the dumpster,

Here goes either my fortune or my death, I thought. I pranced out cheerfully, hoping to catch him off guard. I might not die if he thought I was bonkers. Then, again, maybe not.

His ears flattened, a growl rumbled from deep down, he hissed, and then dropped to fight position. I didn’t know what to do, so I sank to the ground, rolled on my back, made with a sad look and purred. It worked. His ears came up and he stopped growling although the fighting stance remained.

“Eih axbār,” I said, still on my back.

He stood and stared at me. “Who are you?” he said, his voice croaky. “You the one Mutt told me about?”

“Mutt? I don’t know a Mutt.”

“Never mind. Who are you, what do you want, I don’t like other amai in my territory, so you better run like hell.” He flattened his ears again, growled and tightened his fighting position.

“Hold it. I don’t want to invade your territory. I need a teacher.”

~ ~ ~ ~

“Okay, Chubby, what’s so funny now? You’re coming apart like a cheap toy.”

He rolled on his back and gut laughed until I thought he was going to pass out.

“Okay, let me in on it, you old fart.”

His words popped to the surface like bubbles in water. “You really said you needed a teacher?” Laughter grabbed him again.

“Yeah. So, what should I have asked him?”

“It’s a wonder he didn’t eat you. Gaylord, you’re priceless. An amait like no other: all guts and no brains.”

I was disgusted. “I gotta dig a hole. I am so thrilled to give you a reason to crack up.”

“Please hurry. I can’t wait to know what this wild amait did next.”

I went out and took a beh yeh. He was still laughing when I got back, so I sighed and laid down. “Say, don’t we know a tom who took on a raccoon? With all guts and no brains?”

“I ate that raccoon. Tell me you ate the wild amait and we’ll be even.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Okay, this wild amait, as you call him, stopped snarling and stood up and looked at me a long time, frowning.

“You’re wacko, right? You’re from one of those fancy apartments and you got out and now you’re scared khara-less, right? I’ve seen it over and over, but if you scram right now, I won’t tear you to pieces. Dig?” He continued staring at me, but I couldn’t say anything. Suddenly, he ballooned up twice his size and hissed so hard in my face that I felt it ripple. “I said scram, Kith Brain!”

I cringed and almost puked from his breath, but I found my voice. “I’m not crazy and I’m not from around here, but you’re right, I am scared, khara-less, whatever that means, and I am a kith brain. I need someone to teach me to hunt and kill, and when I watched you from that dumpster over there, I knew you were the one I wanted. Good job, by the way. I mean that rat.” I was shaking like a kilaab passing scrap iron, but I continued to lay there and carry on the bluff.

“Your maama didn’t teach you?” He sat again and looked puzzled.

“No. I was imprisoned from birth and only escaped a short while ago.”

“Aw, man. A stupid, pampered, soft-as-khara house amait” He frowned and growled again. “I hate your kind worst of all. Snobbish, lookin’ down your nose—you’re all alike. Now scram while I’m not hungry and in a good mood.”

“All I want is for you to teach me how to hunt and kill. I’ll leave as soon as you do.”

He started toward me. “Go back to your dry food, your canned meat that looks like the khara it’ll become and stinks worse. Guys like you’ll never have the guts for what we do. Git!”

I was paralyzed. If he was going to kill me, I’d have to lay there and . . . die. He loomed over me. I smelled his breath again, like old metal, like rats, and I looked at his matted gray faraawi that stunk like his breath. Scars like yours, Chubby, lined his face, and his right shoulder had a big plug of skin ripped out. He stood for a long time breathing on me and growling. Suddenly, he laughed and sprawled on his side. “You ain’t afraid, are you? You are nuts, a friggin’ wacko staring at a’maar. What’s your name?”

“Gaylord.”

He lurched back and eyed me carefully. “Gaylord? Now I know you’re nuts and you’re lyin’. Gaylord is not an amait name. Is that what your owners called you?”

“Amai are not owned,” I heard myself say in a flat voice.

“You’re so stupid. Some of you kith brains even wear collars. I seen your kind sashaying along the street or being carried in some kind of basket. Fat, spoiled, coddled—you disgust me.”

“I never asked to be spoiled or coddled, and I don’t think I’m fat.” I didn’t know where I was getting the sass, Chubby, but it didn’t impress him. “Listen. What’s your name, by the way?”

“None of your damned business.” He licked between the toes of a paw. “Fergus.”

“Fergus?”

“Yeah, my maama was a Lap, but my old man was part serval and I got his ears.” He smiled, looked away a moment, watching a memory, then said, “Now, there was a tough alley amait, my father. Saw him bite into a cop once and live to tell about it.”

I gaped a moment because I was getting my head around an amait biting a cop, or any bašar, for that matter.

“Okay, listen, Fergus, I think I could be a real amait if you’d teach me. You can kill me, sure, and you’ll find it easy. But think what a reputation you’d have if you’d turn a soft-as-khara house amait into a real alley amait and real fighter and killer. Huh? What would your friends say then?” I felt I had to keep the baloney flowing or die.