The Cats that Stalked a Ghost (12 page)

She swallowed hard and bit back tears. “This isn’t happening.  I’m dreaming again.  How did you find me?” she asked through the doors.

Scout muttered something in Siamese, pulled out her paw, and went back to jiggling the latch. 

Katherine heard the sound of metal scraping, and then a thump on the ground.  Scout returned to the knothole, and launched a series of emphatic ‘waughs.’

Katherine took her cue, pushed the left-hand door, and opened it.  Scout peeked over the other side and squeezed her blue eyes.  “Ma-Waugh,” she cried, which sounded like “Hurry up!”

Katherine picked up Scout and hugged her.  “I love you, sweet girl.”  She squinted, and adjusted her eyes to the daylight.  Glancing at the burned-out shell of a two-story building, she wondered where she was. 

Behind her was an overgrown yard with a rusted, barbed wire fence in front.  She could make out weathered tombstones; some of them had toppled to the ground.  When she looked back at the building, the apparition appeared behind a glassless window. 

The teenaged spirit was wearing the same clothes as before:  madras blouse with green shorts.  First, the ghost pointed to the cemetery, then gestured toward a dirt lane that went around the building.

Scout chattered, “At-at-at-at!”  Her tail quivered against Katherine’s side.

“You see her, too,” Katherine whispered, relieved that she wasn’t hallucinating.  “It’s okay, Scout.”  She was too frightened to speak any louder.  Then the spirit disappeared.

Katherine moved Scout to her other shoulder.  “Okay, hang on.  I’m going to run faster than I’ve ever run before.”  She jogged around the building, in the direction the spirit had pointed. She saw a long, graveled driveway on her left, and a shack on the right, with two vehicles parked in front. One looked like Stevie Sanders’ pickup, and the other was some sort of Ford sedan she vaguely remembered.  Her gut feeling told her not to seek help there.  The people inside were probably the ones who kidnapped her in the first place.

She darted to the lane, but her high-heeled pumps were slowing her down.  She kicked them off, and ran on the grassy part of the lane, clutching Scout for dear life. 

Close to the highway, she heard a vehicle.  She partially hid behind a tree, and watched it approach.  It was a shiny, black Dodge Ram.  “Oh, no,” she said to Scout.  “We’ve got to find another way to get out of here.”  Then she saw the front license plate — not clear at first, but readable enough to know it was Stevie’s logo — Stevie’s Electrical.  She hobbled to the edge of the highway, crying out in pain, as the rocks tore her feet. 

Stevie was a hundred feet away, when he saw Katherine holding her cat.  He jammed on the brakes, and pulled over to the side of the road.  “Ms. Kendall, what are you doing out here?”

Katherine sighed, and said, “Does everyone in town drive a black Dodge Ram?”

“Get in,” he said, ignoring the question.  “Half the county’s lookin’ for ya.”

Katherine stepped up onto the running board, and opened the passenger side door.  She got in, shut the door, and set Scout on her lap.  The Siamese eyed Stevie suspiciously, growled, then jumped onto the floorboard.  Katherine reached down and petted her on the head.  “It’s okay, honey.”

“I love it when you call me honey,” Stevie said.  “Again, what are ya doin’ out here?” he asked, putting the truck in gear, and getting back onto the highway.

“I can ask you the same?”

“I drive around all day looking for good lookin’ damsels in distress.”

Katherine’s internal distrust-gauge began to rise.

Stevie said, “I’m just messin’ with ya.  I’ve got a rewiring job a half-a-mile up the road.  I’m late, so I’m tryin’ to git there.  Now it’s your turn.”

“I was kidnapped in the back parking lot of the mansion.”

“Damn, woman.  Did you see who done it?”

“No, they grabbed me from behind, and held a smelly rag to my nose, then I passed out.  Do you know who owns the property back there?”

“Yeah, the county does.  It started out as an old folks home, then turned into a nut house, and ended up being a hush-hush place for unwed mothers.”

“What do you mean by a hush-hush place?”

“Years ago, when a girl got pregnant, and couldn’t git a husband, her parents would send her to that place back there.  She’d have the baby, which would be taken away, then she’d go back home, to finish high school.”

“That’s heart-breaking!  What year was this?”

“Don’t know.  1960s, maybe.”

“Was it one of the buildings torched by the arsonist?” Katherine asked curiously.

“Oh, no, I can tell you exactly what happened.  One of the girls was smoking in bed, and set the place on fire.  The building was in awful shape to begin with — a deathtrap.  It went up like a bonfire.”

“What happened to the girls?”

“Well, Ma’am, I remember my mom said a bunch of them died, but their babies were saved.”

Katherine became quiet, and started putting clues together.  Could the spirit at the yellow Foursquare be one of the girls burned in the fire?  Was she an unwed mother who was forced by her parents to live in shame, in a god-forsaken hell hole, then have her baby taken from her?  Was she an employee of the Clay family, or her great-aunt Orvenia?  Katherine needed to find out, so the young girl could finally be at peace. 

“Cat git your tongue?” Stevie asked.

Katherine said wearily, “I’ve been through a lot today.  Being thrown into a storm cellar was the final
coup de grace
.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, I mean being kidnapped, and thrown in a cellar, was the finishing touch of a very bad afternoon.”

“Cellar?  In the house?”

“It’s out back behind the burned building.  It reminded me of the one in the movie “Wizard of Oz.”

“Yeah, I git what ya mean.  Ya know, if I was gonna kidnap someone I would have found a more secure place.  Why ain’t you wearin’ shoes?”

“I ditched them back there.”

Stevie looked in his rear-view mirror, and floored the accelerator.

“Waugh,” Scout cried in alarm.

“Stevie, slow down,” Katherine said in rising terror.  “What’s wrong?”

“Somebody’s followin’ us, and they’re drivin’ up fast.”

***

The woman staggered out of the building, and headed to her car.  A flash and small boom let her know that the man had dealt with the kidnapping problem.  Then she looked down the lane, and saw a Dodge Ram truck picking up a woman.  She started screaming toward the back of the asylum.  “Get over here!”

The man ran around the building.  “What’s the matter with you?”

“Did you check the cellar before you torched it?”

“No, why should I?”

“You idiot, the woman got away.  A pickup just stopped for her.”

“Damn, we’ve got to chase them down.  I can shoot them, and make them crash.”

“Go for it,” she said, climbing into her car.  “See ya later.”

“No, you ain’t leavin.’”

“Use your truck.  You’re not using mine.”

He tugged his handgun from the small of his back.  Pointing it at her, he said, “You’re drivin’.”  He moved to the passenger side and climbed in.  “Hurry up!”

“But I’m drunk,” she implored.

“Then maybe that will improve your lousy drivin’.”

***

“Oh, no.” Katherine started to panic.  She reached down and picked up Scout, and held her close.  “Turn off my airbag,” she demanded.  “If we have an accident, I don’t want her to get crushed.”

“Done,” Stevie said.  “Hold on.”

Stevie tapped on the brakes, slowed down, and veered to the right.  He drove between a row of apple trees.  The truck hit the side of a ditch, went airborne for a split second, then landed safely in a weeded area.  He swerved to avoid a fence post, then zigzagged across a farmer’s field of recently harvested corn.  Driving through a barbed-wire fence, Stevie found a gravel lane to a farm. Its dilapidated barn stood on the horizon with both of its doors open; Stevie drove the Dodge Ram inside. 

“What are you doing?” Katherine asked, terrified.

“We got to git out, and run.”

“Where?”

“Over yonder,” he pointed.  “To the woods, so I can call for help.”

Stevie jumped out of the truck, and opened his crossover toolbox.  Katherine scrambled out and struggled to hold on to the anxious Siamese.  “Scout, you can’t get down.  Trust me, sweet girl.”

“Waugh,” Scout disagreed, and continued to wriggle.

Stevie joined them, carrying a nylon cord.  He cut a length of cord with his pocket knife, and threw the remaining cord into the back of his truck.  He walked over to Scout and inserted the cord into the metal D-ring of the Siamese’s collar, and quickly tied it.  On the other end of the cord, he tied a small handle.  Handing the improvised cat leash to Katherine, he said, “Run to the woods. I’ll catch up with ya later.”

“How?  I don’t have any shoes on.”

Stevie grunted irritably, opened up the toolbox again, and extracted a pair of flip flops.  “Here, it’s better than nothin’.”

Katherine noticed he’d also extracted a handgun.  He stuck it down the waistband of his jeans.

“Stevie, I beg of you.  Come with us?  There doesn’t need to be any bloodshed.”

“Ain’t happenin.  See that bunch of dead trees in the middle of the woods?” he pointed.  “There’s a path behind them.  Follow it to a shack and wait for me.”

“No way,” Katherine protested.  “It’s getting dark!”

“Woman, I ain’t askin’,” he said firmly.  “Just go.  I’ll explain later.  Here, take my cell, and pray you get a signal out here.” 

“Waugh,” Scout cried, jumping from Katherine’s arms. 

“Okay, let’s go,” Katherine said.  Scout took off, running toward the dead trees.  Once again, Katherine was amazed at how smart her Siamese was. 

“Not so fast.  I can’t keep up.”

Katherine clutched the leash and jogged after Scout, trying not to think about the horrible pain she was suffering from wearing flip flops on the rocky ground.  Looking over her shoulder, she could see a dark gray car speeding down the farmer’s lane. She wondered where she’d seen that car before. Was Stevie really trying to help them, or was he a part of the kidnapping scheme?  There wasn’t time to figure it out.  Several shots were fired from the car; one hit the Dodge Ram. 

Scout scampered at a faster gait, while Katherine struggled to keep up.  The Siamese was leading the way, exactly to the area where Stevie told them to go.  At the edge of the woods, the cat darted into the cluster of dead trees, then found the path.  She stopped abruptly, and Katherine nearly fell over her. 

“What’s wrong?” she whispered, picking Scout up. Scout swiveled her ears toward the barn.  Behind a large rock, Katherine got down on her knees, and held the trembling Siamese.  She peeked over, and saw three people in the back of the barn; one of them was Stevie.  The other man didn’t look familiar, but something about the woman did. 

Katherine was startled when three shots rang out in the half-light.  She ducked back behind the rock.  A volley of other shots sounded, then silence.  Not knowing what to do, she slowly peeked over the rock. She was relieved to see Stevie racing toward them, with his handgun pointed toward the ground.  When he caught up to them, he said, “Gimme my cell.”

Katherine hurriedly handed it to him. 

“Did you call for help?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t have time.”

He punched in the Erie police’s number, and said, “This is Stevie Sanders. I need help at Clint Sanders’ old farm, off of Highway 41.  Send an ambulance.  A couple, driving a dark gray Ford Taurus, ran us off the road, and then opened fire.  The driver may have been shot; she’s lying on the ground.  The man with her is armed, and still out there.”

Katherine was amazed at how easy it was for Stevie to describe what happened.  She could barely get two words out without stuttering in shock, let alone calmly speak descriptive sentences. 

Stevie paused while the dispatcher said something.  He answered, “Katherine Kendall is with me.  She’s safe.”  He started to say something else, but hesitated, then ended the call.  “Come on,” he said to Katherine, heading down the overgrown path.  “We need to hide.”

Katherine picked up Scout to carry her, but had only walked two feet when a loud explosion sounded from the barn.

Stevie lunged back, and stood with his mouth open.  “The bastard is torching the barn.  Oh, hell no. Not my new truck!”

Katherine tried to turn to see who it was Stevie was calling a
bastard
, but Scout dug her claws in her chest.  “Ouch,” she said in pain. 

Scout struggled to get free, so Katherine crouched over her, and held her down, to stop the Siamese from bolting.  Looking through the tall weeds, she could see a glimpse of the barn, and the huge cloud of smoke bellowing out of its roof.  Inside, a mass of flames consumed the Dodge Ram.  Then there was a second explosion.

Stevie grabbed Katherine by the arm and helped her up.  “Here, I’ll take the cat.”

Katherine objected, but was surprised Scout allowed Stevie to hold her without becoming a wild animal — all teeth and claws — like she’d been a few seconds earlier.  Instead the cat snuggled against him, and cried a sweet “waugh,” which could have been “Thank you,” or “Hurry up and get us out of here.”

Katherine followed Stevie, hurting from the wounds her darling “treasure” had inflicted on her, but she didn’t blame Scout for being frightened.  She was, too.

“Watch your step,” Stevie warned.  “You can’t see the deep ruts in the path because of the undergrowth.  This path ain’t been used in a while.”

Katherine tripped on a root, but caught herself.

“And the roots,” he snickered.

“Gee, thanks.  Where are we going?”

“To my great-Grandpappy’s still.  Back in the day, he was a moonshiner,” Stevie announced proudly.

Katherine thought,
Why am I not surprised?  Seems like ‘back in the day,’ everyone in Erie made booze to make a buck
. 

“I’m sorry about your truck,” she consoled.

“It’s insured,” he said fatalistically, “but I’m not so sure about my tools.”

Katherine made a mental note to buy Stevie whatever tools he needed.  “Ouch,” she said, stepping on a rock.