Norton, Andre - Anthology (41 page)

 
          
 
"She could be anywhere, but it's unlikely
she survived. Few did. Where did you last live? Do you know when?"

 
          
 
"We lived first in a very cold place
called Alaska, where I was born, and then my friend put me and the other cats
of the house onto a big thing that smells horrible and makes your ears hurt. I
thought it was the end of us all, but then after a while she was there and found
us a Home where it was never too cold and we could go in and out as we pleased.
The others hunted a great deal, but I was needed to help her with her writing
and so I remained inside, of course."

 
          
 
"That's all very well, but where was
it?"

 
          
 
Peaches tried to help but he had limited
himself somewhat with his indoor duties and had not really been aware of his
environment. "You could smell fish and salt there all the time, and the
air felt like water."

 
          
 
"So, on the coast of the United
States."

 
          
 
All of a sudden the voice of Peaches' friend
sprang into his head so clearly he cried out, missing her. "Box 11111,
Port Chetzemoka, Washington," he said.

 
          
 
"What?" Mu Mao asked.

 
          
 
"That's what she told people on the
telephone who wanted to send us nice things. She'd tell the telephone that, and
things would be left at the door. The brown people always knew how to find us
from there. Can you find her again from that?"

 
          
 
Mu Mao blinked and settled down to clean
between the pink pads of his gray paws, taking particular care with each
scimitar-shaped claw. "Peaches. Friend. I don't like to tell you this, but
I've seen what became of Washington in America. Much of what was near the water
is now under the water. Your friend must surely have died."

 
          
 
Peaches hunkered down until his eyes, one
brown and one green, were level with the blue eyes of Mu Mao, and their
whiskers almost touching. He laid his ears back and hissed. "Ssso"
and spat, "what?"

 
          
 
"No need to be rude, I'm sure," Mu
Mao said.

 
          
 
"No need to be stupid. I'm dead, you're
dead, what should it matter if she's dead? We could still find her, but she's
not in that Bardo place nor in your Nirvana. So she must be living, mustn't
she?"

 
          
 
"There's a bad place she might go,"
Mu Mao said.

 
          
 
"She wouldn't go to a bad place. She was
good. She was my friend," Peaches said.

 
          
 
"You mustn't rule out any
possibility."

 
          
 
"Fine, but you said you know where
Washington is. Let's look first for Port Chetzemoka and try to find her among
the living." He gave his tail three quick flicks, then conceded, "And
if we don't find her anywhere among the living, then we'll look in the bad
place."

 
          
 
"You look. I'm a very enlightened being.
I spend all my energy trying to keep myself and others out of that place. But
we can go to Washington if you like."

 
          
 
"How?"

 
          
 
"On the astral plane, we can travel very
quickly. You have only to envision your home ..."

 
          
 
"I can't think of anyplace else ..."

 
          
 
"And we can go there. I'll do the
navigating."

 
          
 
"Should I hold onto your tail or anything?"
Peaches asked, suddenly feeling timid again, now that he seemed close to
getting what he sought.

 
          
 
"No. Just think of your home."

 
          
 
Peaches thought hard. The house with the logs
inside, the heavy oak office furniture with the glass fronted bookcase and the
computer and printer and all the special awards and knickknacks only he, of all
the cats, was permitted near. And of course, his special cushion by the heater.

 
          
 
"I need more to go on than one
room." Mu Mao said.

 
          
 
So Peaches visualized the yard, the open
spaces filled with dandelions and tall grass, the bushes where you could hide
and wait for birds, the trees, and all the saltwater and fish smell.

 
          
 
He thought very hard, his eyes closed to shut
out the nothingness around him and invoke only home.

 
          
 
“You can look now." Mu Mao said in a
discouraged voice.

 
          
 
Peaches opened his eyes eagerly nonetheless,
thinking to see at least the yard, maybe the house, maybe his friend herself
calling him from the front door.

 
          
 
But when he looked, he could only wail.
"You did something wrong. It's nothing but water!" And indeed, there
was nothing but gray smoking skies with dirty rain falling into a gray turgid
sea stretching so wide that surely nothing had ever lived here.

 
          
 
“I told you." Mu Mao said. "A lot of
the coastal places were buried under tidal waves or split off and washed out to
sea."

 
          
 
But Peaches hardly heard him. He could do
nothing but ay, mourning his home and his office and his place. "It's all
gone."

 
          
 
“Sorry, friend. I did try to warn you. You
have no home to go to. Now will you come to your reward?"

 
          
 
"I suppose I—no," Peaches said.
"Just because our home is gone doesn't mean my friend is gone. Of course,
she won't be here, but perhaps she's nearby? She'll be looking for me. I tell
you."

 
          
 
"Peaches. Friend. It isn't pretty, the
things humans are doing to others now. The only place your friend would be safe
is in Shambala."

 
          
 
"Why didn't you say so?" Peaches
asked. "Probably she's there already, waiting for me."

 
          
 
"I can promise you that she is not. I
brought all who are there since the end of the world to Shambala myself and no
one there was looking for a stubborn orange cat. Besides, it's half a world
away from here."

 
          
 
"Can you not simply think of it and take
us there?"

 
          
 
"You. Now. Yes. Not a living being. That
mode of travel is for astral beings only. There are the tunnels, of course, but
they can be negotiated only by such as myself."

 
          
 
"What tunnels?"

 
          
 
"All over the world is a network of
tunnels connected to Shambala. Once in them, time is altered. But they are
secret, known only to Shambala beings such as myself and the yetis." Mu
Mao changed the subject abruptly. "You know, now that we're where you used
to live, we could try homing in on your friend instead of her house. Think of
her very clearly and try to see where she is. I'll help you."

 
          
 
Peaches closed his eyes and saw his friend
clearly, her large comforting form, her eyes as green as his green one, her
head fur brown and somewhat white now, her hands and voice soft and loving with
him mostly, though sometimes stern when he wet inappropriately.

 
          
 
"I don't know why you're so intent on
this one human. They leave cats all the time, you know," Mu Mao said
irritably.

 
          
 
"I know," Peaches said. "But my
friend always returned to me. She had to leave us to work in another country
and was gone for months, but she left someone kind with us, and when I became
very ill and she wasn't expected to return for weeks, all of a sudden there she
was. I was so happy I felt almost normal for two days and she was happy, too.
But when we both knew I had to go away, she said, "If you come back as a
cat and want to come home, find me or let me know where you are and I'll find
you." Thinking of his death again, and especially of her sorrow, made him
sad and he began crying again, her face still clear in his mind behind the
weepiness at the corners of his eyes as he yowled.

 
          
 
"But humans move on and get other cats
and forget about us. You can have the highest reward in Nirvana or, if you
like, come with me to Shambala to live once more in comfort and
happiness."

 
          
 
"How can I be happy somewhere she's not?
After I left my body, I hovered in the corner of the room and saw that she held
me until she was sure I was gone, then she took a basket so good that she once
chased us out of it and put me in it, along with some of the weaving we did
together, some catnip and some seeds, and called her friends to help bury my
earthly remains. She was very sad. Now our home is gone—what's become of her? I
have to know and go to her again."

 
          
 
"That is," Mu Mao said, "Unless
she's moved someplace where they don't allow cats."

 
          
 
Peaches laid back his ears, narrowed his eyes
and lifted a leg to wash beneath his tail in response to that remark, but just
then Mu Mao asked, "There. Is that her?"

 
          
 
Peaches wasn't sure at first. She wasn't large
anymore, but thin, and her hair was in patches as was her clothing. She was
among about twenty other people and was busy with a pointed thing, breaking up
soil and rocks. All around were mountains and she stood on a rocky path leading
into one.

 
          
 
"That's a funny way to garden,"
Peaches said. "My friend has never been fond of yard work actually. She's
a scholar and a thinker, as I am,"

 
          
 
"She's not gardening, Mr. Peaches,"
Mu Mao said his name derisively. He might as well have come right out and
called him "kitty-cat.” "See the the men with the guns? She's a
prisoner. It's forced labor."

 
          
 
Peaches wanted a closer look and without
trying to he found himself staring up into his friend's sweating, sunburned
face. He wished he could smell her, but just by looking, he could tell that she
didn't feel at all well and needed to spend a long time curled up in bed with
him purring beside her. He twined around her ankles, filthy and set far apart
to brace her for the impact of the blows of the heavy implement she carried.
Her knees buckled with each blow. Peaches cried to see her like that and for a
moment she stopped and listened.

 
          
 
The nearest man with a gun hit her with it and
knocked her down. "Get up, lazybones. That'll teach you to stop
work." He also said some other things Peaches didn't understand except
that his tone was so mean, it made the cat want to hide at first, and then it
made him so mad that all of his fur stood on end, his tail lashed and he wanted
to fly into the man's sneering face with all claws extended. Instead, he took
his usual revenge and peed on the man's boot but since he was not yet living,
the boot didn't get wet.

 
          
 
Peaches rejoined Mu Mao, who was curled on a
rocky ledge high above the workers.

 
          
 
"Still want to go back to your comfy
home, eh?" Mu Mao asked.

 
          
 
"What's become of her that she's forced
to do this?" Peaches asked, looking down at his friend's prostrate form,
as the other people worked around her. "She's not bad. Why did that man
hit her?"