The Last Free Cat (6 page)

“How will we get to Bluehaven?” I asked.

Kris mimed thumbing a lift. “Only way,” he said. “Too much security on the rail.”

“But we can't hide Feela,” I said.

Kris stood up to reveal what he'd been sitting on. It was an animal carrier, with an easy-grip handle and breathing holes in the side. I felt the weight of it. It wasn't too bad.

“Come on then,” he said.

“What?” I said. “Now?”

“Sooner the better,” he said.

“I can't go now!” I protested.

“Why not?” said Kris.

“Kris, my mum's just died!” I cried. “She's being cremated tomorrow!”

“You don't have to go to it,” said Kris.

I could have killed him. “For God's sake!” I said. “I've got to at least say good-bye!” My voice cracked as I said it, and the heaving sobs began again.

Kris waited till I'd calmed down some, and then, more sensitively, said, “Jade, Comprot will be there.”

“No they won't,” I murmured, wiping my eyes. But that was just what I wanted to believe, and when I'd composed myself, I began to wonder if Kris might be right.

“They wouldn't go there, would they?” I asked.

“If they want you,” said Kris, “they will find you.”

I got up. “I need some air,” I said. “I've got to think.”

Dusk was beginning to fall as I climbed out of the den. I gazed at the sky, I don't know why, because Mum wasn't up there any more than she was down here.

“Mum,” I pleaded, “tell me what to do.”

Suddenly, quite clearly, I heard Mum's voice. But it wasn't a miracle. Mum's voice was inside me, just as sure as my heart, my bones, and my blood vessels. And Mum's voice said,
Save yourself, Jade. Save yourself and save Feela.

“I want to say good-bye,” I cried.

Let your escape be my memorial,
said the voice.

How this sentence came to me I did not know. Maybe the memory of a book or a poem Mum had read to me once. But come it had. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was exactly what Mum would have wanted. She'd have thought me an idiot to risk everything for that last good-bye.

With a new resolve, I climbed back into the den to get Feela.

Chapter Ten

We'd been waiting at the edge of the quadway for half an hour. Hitching wasn't easy these days, with all the road robberies and health scares. So I sat on Feela's carrier while Kris thumbed the trucks as they came towards us and cursed them as they went past.

“She'll wake up if we don't get a lift soon,” I said.

“Don't worry,” replied Kris. “She'll be in dreamland for hours.”

We'd already had a row about this. Unknown to me, Kris had given Feela half a Dorma to knock her out. I was furious when I discovered this. Kris said she'd be perfectly all right, and I said how did he know since he'd never had a cat, and he wouldn't answer that. Besides, I said, Kris should ask me before he did anything to my cat. Kris came out with the usual line about Feela being her own creature and not owned by anybody. By that point I was too tired to argue any more. But it seemed we just couldn't avoid arguing.

“Ha!” cried Kris, as another truck flew by. “Wouldn't go in a Nu-Market truck if they paid me! Scabs!”

“Why d'you say that?” I asked.

“They broke the rail strike,” said Kris. “Carried all the cargo.”

“Is that bad?” I asked.

Kris shook his head. “What planet do you live on?” he scoffed.

“I was only asking!” I snapped. “Stop talking to me like I'm six!”

Kris's answer was to move farther away from me. As luck would have it, the next truck slowed down, pulled in, and waited for us. It just happened to be a Nu-Market, which I thought was quite amusing. Kris didn't see the funny side at all, but when it came down to it, he wasn't going to refuse a lift.

We climbed up into the cab and were greeted by a red-faced, muscular man in a yellow Nu-Market cap.

“Where you going, kids?” he asked.

“New Fishguard,” replied Kris.

“I can get you to Booth City,” said the driver.

“That'll do,” said Kris.

I sat back and relaxed. It felt good in the cab, high above the road, with all the lights and the gadgets and the music on. The driver switched on and we moved off, smooth and silent, a machine-beast of the night.

“What's your names?” he asked, turning down the radio.

“I'm Dale,” said Kris. “This is Susan.”

I smiled weakly, unable to give Kris the kick he deserved.

“Susan?” said the driver. “That's an unusual name.”

“She's an unusual person,” said Kris.

“Can't you speak for yourself, love?” said the driver.

“Obviously not,” I replied.

“I'm Finn,” said the driver. “Finn the van man.”

“All good, Finn,” said Kris.

Finn cruised smoothly into the outside lane. Kris watched every move he made at the controls with fierce concentration.

Then Finn nodded at Feela's box. “What you got in there then?”

“Ferret,” said Kris.

“Oh, aye,” replied Finn. There was a few seconds' silence. It was to be the last relaxed seconds of the journey. “I used to keep ferrets,” he added.

“Cool,” said Kris. At the same time, he shot me a glance which said,
Oh shit.

“Is it a jill?” asked Finn.

“It's called Ferry,” I replied.

“No, a jill!” said Finn. “You know, a female.”

“Oh … um …” I stammered,

“Why d'you think that?” asked Kris, quickly.

“'Cause it don't smell much,” said Finn.

“You know your stuff,” said Kris. “Yeah, it's a jill.”

“Got a hob for it?” asked Finn.

The only hob I knew was for cooking, and he couldn't mean that—could he? Maybe it was best to let Kris field the questions.

“Think that's a good idea, do you?” said Kris.

“Got to have a hob, ain't she?” said Finn. “Die without a hob. Less she's spayed, of course.”

“Had one die, have you?” asked Kris.

“Me?” replied Finn. “No, not me. I know ferrets. But I knew a guy once, his jill went into heat, kept her locked up for a month—didn't want no kits, see? Went toxic and bit the dust.”

“That's sad,” I said.

“So, you got a hob, have you?” asked Finn.

“Nah,” said Kris. “She's spayed.”

“Wise man,” said Finn. “Saves a lot of trouble.”

By now the light had completely faded. We were speeding down the quadway at 150 kph, as if in a dream, but one you weren't in control of, one which could go horribly wrong at any moment. Finn seemed nice enough, but there was a hard look in his eye, an illegal stun-stem under the dashboard, and a war magazine on the shelf behind me. I placed my hand on Feela's box for comfort.

“So,” said Finn. “What d'you feed her?”

Kris shrugged. “You know,” he said. “The usual.”

“Oh, aye,” said Finn. “What's that, then?”

“Come on,” said Kris. “You know what ferrets eat.”

“I know what
I
think a ferret should eat,” replied Finn. “But other people got their own opinions.”

“Such as?” asked Kris.

“Mate of mine fed his ferret dog food,” said Finn. “Swore by it.”

“He's in good company,” said Kris. “That's what we use.”

There was a short silence. “And she's all right on it, is she?” asked Finn.

“Fine,” said Kris.

There was another short silence. “How long you say you had her?” asked Finn.

Kris turned to me. “How long is it now, Sue?” he asked.

“Couple of years,” I grunted.

Finn said nothing, but checked me out in the mirror. I looked away. Finn turned up the radio and sang along under his breath. The conversation seemed to have ended. We made a few more kilometers, then Finn yawned.

“Time for a break,” he said.

A truck stop was just ahead. Finn pulled on to the sliproad and parked up amongst the other monsters. “Come on, kids,” he said, opening the door. “I'll get you a coffee.”

“I'll stay here, thanks,” I replied, my hand still on Feela's box.

“Uh-uh,” said Finn. “Sorry, love. I can't leave you here with all the stuff I've got. No offense, but you can't be too careful these days.”

Reluctantly, I left Feela and followed Finn and Kris out of the truck, across the black tarmac glistening with drizzle, into the strange lost world of the truck stop with its fake food outlets and its sinister rest cupboards. Finn led the way into the Old London Deli, bought the coffees, then sat himself opposite us, his giant hairy forearms dominating the table.

“What's the game then, kids?” he said.

“What do you mean?” asked Kris.

“That's not a ferret in that box,” said Finn.

“Yes it is,” I replied unconvincingly.

Finn gave something between a snort and a snigger. “No one in their right mind feeds a ferret dog food,” he said. His hard, flat-top eyes scanned first me then Kris. We made no reply. “Ferret's a predator,” said Finn. “Eats every bit of an animal. Guts, organs, cartilage, bone. You feed it just meat and it'll die of malnutrition.”

“We don't just feed it dog food,” said Kris, but Finn wasn't interested.

“So what you really got in there?” he asked.

“Ferret,” said Kris.

“Let's think,” said Finn. “An animal small enough to go in that box … but one which you got to lie about to get a lift. I can only think of one animal that fits that description.”

By now my face had letters of fire written across it, and those letters spelled GUILTY.

“Where d'you get this cat then?” asked Finn.

“What cat?” asked Kris.

“Just found it,” I replied.

Kris looked daggers at me, but there was no point in lying any more. And anyway, Finn was a kind of pirate of the road, an outsider, a man with an illegal stun-stem who maybe didn't think much of the law. With any luck, I thought, he might be sympathetic.

How wrong I was.

“I really ought to turn you in,” said Finn. “But as I like you, I'll offer you a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” asked Kris.

“Like I said, I'll take you to Booth City,” said Finn. “Except now, it'll cost you a grand.”

“A
grand
?” said Kris. “Are you joking?”

Finn rose up in his seat and moved threateningly towards Kris. “Listen, son,” he said. “If I do my public duty and turn you in, you're looking at ten years in a youth detention center and an ID tag for the rest of your life. You should be grateful I'm so generous.”

“We haven't got a grand,” I protested.

“I don't believe you,” said Finn.

“Why do you think we're hitching a lift?” said Kris.

“'Cause you can't use the bloody rail, that's why!” said Finn. “Think I'm stupid?”

“We could maybe afford fifty,” I suggested.

Finn snorted with derision. “Hand us your ID cards,” he said. “I'll find out how much you can afford.”

My hand moved instinctively to my bag. No one was going near my ID card.

“We need to talk about it,” said Kris.

“You got five minutes,” replied Finn. “I'm on a tight schedule.”

“Come on, Jade,” said Kris, getting up.

“Don't you mean Sue?” said Finn with a smirk.

Kris led the way out of the diner and through the concourse to the side door. He gave a quick glance back towards Finn then faced me with an urgent expression. “You wait two minutes then go back and say I'm in the toilet,” he said. “I'll go around the back way to the truck and get Feela.”

“How?” I asked.

Kris held up a smartkey. “Can't be too careful these days,” he said.

I was shocked. Stealing was wrong, that was always drummed into me. But to Kris it seemed as normal as breathing.

“What'll I do when he sees Feela's gone?” I asked, getting very frightened.

“Don't go back to the truck with him. Say you need the toilet as well. Meet me back here and we'll leg it through them woods.”

Kris nodded towards the trees at the back of the truck stop. It wouldn't be hard to get lost in there, I thought. But after that?

“I'm scared,” I said.

“Just do it,” replied Kris.

Kris turned and walked towards the exit. Without thinking any more about it, I went back to face Finn. But the moment he caught sight of me without Kris, things started to go wrong. He leaped out of his seat and raced full-tilt from the diner as the other customers gawked in amazement. I chased after him and reached the car park just in time to see Kris emerge at the other end of the building.

Kris had no chance. Finn had fifty meters on him. And just as he reached the truck, to my utter dismay, it became apparent Finn had another key. As Kris raced hopelessly towards him and I screamed at the top of my lungs, the monstrous beast-truck lit up like a fairground, and before my horrified eyes drove off into the night, with Feela a helpless passenger.

I just cried.

“What the hell did you do?” said Kris as he arrived, panting for breath.

“I did what you said!” I blubbed.

“Crying ain't gonna help,” said Kris.

“I'm not crying to help!” I blathered. “I'm crying …'cause he's got Feela!”

Another belt of emotion hit me. The sobs came like heaving waves.

“Yeah, well,” said Kris. “When you're used to knocks …”

I turned on him in disbelief. “My mum's just died!” I cried.

Kris buttoned it. For a moment I thought he was going to put an arm around me, but it was a vain hope.

“Come on,” he said. “Let's get after him.”