The Last Free Cat (7 page)

“What?” I gasped. “How?”

Kris opened his phone. His thumb punched away as his keen brown eyes focused hard on the screen. “I put a tracker on Feela's box,” he said. “We should be able to pick it up on Earthline.”

Kris tapped away some more, swiveled the C-wheel, then smiled.

“Got him,” he said. “Just check the likely destinations.”

I dried my eyes.

“OK,” he said. “Let's get a train.”

“What's the point of that?” I said. “They never run on time, if they run at all.”

“We'll get a bullet,” said Kris.

“That'll take all our credit!” I protested.

“Then we'll get more,” said Kris. “Come on.”

Chapter Eleven

It wasn't easy for me to step into that bullet pod. I'd overcome my fear of them because I had to, but I could never forget the day we heard what had happened to Dad. How I'd clung to Mum that day and prayed that nothing would happen to her, except I didn't really pray, because God was dead too, as far as I was concerned. Far better to believe he didn't exist than to believe in him and hate him, or her, or it, except everyone knows that God's a man really, and a typical one at that.

Anyway, they said they'd improved the design of the pods since the accident, and I did choose to believe this, because very senior people in the government said it. Unlike Kris I still believed there were people up there who were trying their best for us.

Kris barely seemed to notice we were in the pod, or the fantastic speed at which we were traveling. His eyes were still fixed on his phone.

“He better not hurt Feela,” I said.

“Why should he hurt her?” said Kris. “He wants to sell her.”

“Do you think that's what he'll do?”

“Of course he will!” said Kris. “That's guy's got con man written all over him. Ah! Got him!”

Kris tapped furiously at the phone. “He's stopped,” he said. “J42.”

We both glanced upwards at the list of stops for the bullet. J42 was after the next one. Kris programmed the pod to stop there.

“But what are we going to do if we find him?” I asked.

“I'm going to fight him,” replied Kris.

“Are you joking?” I said.

“He's a macho man,” said Kris. “He won't turn down a fight.”

“Kris,” I pointed out. “He's twice as big as you.”

“But I'm trained in tae kwon do,” replied Kris.

I viewed Kris's lean arms and slender frame. He was wiry and maybe stronger than he looked, but Finn had arms and legs like knotted iron. Tae kwon do or not, he could swat Kris into the middle of next week.

“This is stupid,” I said.

“Got any better ideas?” asked Kris.

“There must be something better than fighting him,” I said. “Besides,” I added, “I'm a pacifist.”

Kris screwed up his face in disgust. “A
pacifist
?” he snorted. “What's the point of being a pacifist?”

“If everyone became a pacifist,” I said, “we'd have world peace.” I knew it sounded lame the moment it was out, but it was too late. Kris seized on it like a ravenous dog.

“It's not going to happen, Jade!” he growled. “Wake up! It's not going to happen.”

“It
could
happen,” I protested. “Anyway, I believe in setting an example.”

“What of?” sneered Kris. “Someone who likes getting their butt kicked?”

I smiled lamely.

“You saw what Comprot did to get your cat,” said Kris. “What if they'd found her and put a gun to her head?”

“They didn't,” I replied.

“Thanks to me,” said Kris. “But what if they had?”

“They didn't,” I repeated. “I'm not getting involved in arguments about things that never happened.”

Kris snorted. “That's a cop-out,” he said.

“I just
hate violence,
OK?” I cried.

“Then don't watch,” replied Kris. He stood up, sprang into a combat position, and performed a series of quick, twisting punches.

What was going through this strange boy's mind? Was this a serious attempt to get Feela back, or just some pathetic shot at proving himself as a man? Sure, he looked like he knew something about this tae kwon do—you could tell that from the precision of his movements. But if he really thought he was going to beat Finn he was living in a movie.

The pod went into a powerful deceleration and stopped. J42. We got off. Kris rechecked his phone.

“He's at the nightmarket,” he said.

“Maybe he's left Feela in the parking lot,” I suggested.

“I doubt it,” said Kris.

“He can't sell an illegal cat at the nightmarket,” I said.

“You'd be surprised,” replied Kris.

We set off through a bleak industrial area, Kris practicing moves as he walked, giving me a running commentary on the art of tae kwon do.

“This is the cat stance,” he said, throwing his weight onto his back leg.

“Cats don't stand on two legs,” I commented.

“Yeah, but the back legs are where the power is,” replied Kris. “The back legs give the purchase. The front ones do the damage.”

Kris punched a quick onetwo, then swiftly kicked the air, missing me by a whisker.

“I hate this,” I said.

“What are you worrying about?” said Kris. “You don't have to do a thing.”

“I hate that, too,” I replied.

“See, when a cat fights,” said Kris, “every ounce of its strength is concentrated on the point of impact.”

“I'm not listening,” I replied.

“Mind and body are one,” said Kris.

“Kris,” I said, “he's going to kill you.”

“Shut up, will you?” said Kris.

It was the first sign that Kris was more nervous than he was letting on. I let it go. Up ahead, a bright halo of orange light gave the first indication of the nightmarket. As we moved forward, gradually, like the morning sun, a glowing dome appeared above the other buildings. My heart leaped as I saw a row of trucks stretching off into the distance. Despite Kris's warnings, I found myself running towards them, desperately searching till I found the beast which had carried my cat away.

Kris was right. The cab was empty. Feela was inside the market and, if we were unlucky, already sold.

Chapter Twelve

It was a typical nightmarket, a horrible place, full of obsessed people with euro signs in their eyes. The main dome was divided into twenty or so circular carousels, with a giant screen above them all, and individual screens beside each presentation spot. Eye-bots were everywhere, like giant, silent bluebottle flies. One even came to meet us and stared for a moment with its blank white eye, as if we were up for sale as well.

We moved through the market, eyes peeled for the man who'd stolen Feela. But most of the men there were truckers, and it was hard to tell one from the other.

And then we saw him. He was emerging from the dealer's area with another man in tow. My heart skipped a beat as I saw the pet carrier hanging from his hairy fist.

Kris was over like a shot, puffed up like a swan, barring the way.

“Is he trying to sell you that cat?” asked Kris.

Finn and his customer stopped in their tracks.

“Because it's not his cat to sell,” said Kris.

“It's
my
cat!” I cried, catching up.

“He's a thief,” added Kris.

“OK, son, that'll do,” said Finn.

“I'll fight you for it,” said Kris.

Finn laughed.

“Come on, big man,” said Kris. “I'll fight you for it.”

Finn stopped laughing.

“Get out of here,” he said.

“What's the matter?” said Kris. “Scared of fighting a kid?”

“I
will
fight you if you don't shut up,” said Finn.

“Yeah, that's what I want,” said Kris. “You and me, outside now.”

Finn turned to his companion. “Sorry about this, Des,” he said. “Picked these kids up earlier, they got sight of the cat, and … well, you know what kids are like these days.”

“Crazy,” said Finn's companion.

“I'm waiting, big man,” said Kris.

“You're embarrassing yourself, kid,” replied Finn.

“What d'you say, scab?” asked Kris.

Finn's manner changed. His eyes set like stone. “What d'you call me?” he asked.

“What you are,” replied Kris. “A scab.”

“Get outside,” said Finn.

Finn pushed Kris roughly towards the exit. Kris shook himself away and sauntered ahead, still playing it cool, though by now I knew what a false front this was. Finn was angry now, very angry, and my fears were growing. But Feela was still dangling from his grasp, and I had no choice but to follow and hope with all my heart that by some miracle we would get her back.

The two of them squared up in the car park. Kris's eyes closed. He breathed slow and deep, as if summoning up some mystic force. His hands circled one another, rehearsing.

Finn lowered the pet carrier to the ground then straightened up to his full height. He looked more massive than ever, knotted muscles gleaming in the artificial light. With the trace of a smile on his lips, he beckoned Kris on with both hands.

Kris went into one of his stances. He moved forward one, two steps, then took up another stance. Another step, and he was almost within Finn's reach.

Finn waited for Kris to make the first move.

Then, quite suddenly, Kris's whole manner seemed to change.

His pose disintegrated.

His shoulders slouched.

His arms dropped to his sides.

He trotted forward like an innocent pony.

“Sorry, mate,” he said.

With that, Kris whipped a stun-stem out of his belt, jabbed it into Finn's chest and sent him crashing to the ground like a sack of spuds.

“Quick,” he said to me. “Get Feela.”

I was still too amazed to move.

“Come on,” said Kris. “Before he wakes up.”

I grabbed the pet carrier while Kris fitted the stun-stem back into his belt.

“Where d'you get that thing from?” I asked.

“Same place I got the key,” said Kris. “Come on.”

Kris made a beeline across the car park towards Finn's truck. Before I could raise a word of protest, he was climbing up into the cab.

“Come on!” he yelled.

“You can't drive that!” I cried.

No sooner had the words escaped my mouth than the truck hummed into life.

“For God's sake!” yelled Kris. “Get in!”

There was no choice for me. I climbed aboard. Kris pulled open the carrier, checked Feela was still in there, then set off, weaving a crooked line towards the exit road.

“Are you sure you know how to drive this?” I asked.

“Been driving trucks since I was nine,” replied Kris. “Then again, I wasn't brought up on the marina.”

“Don't start that,” I replied.

We pulled on to the quadway. Kris moved up through the gears and swung into the fast lane.

“This is stupid,” I said.

“You got a better way to get to the ferry?” asked Kris.

“Kris, we won't get to the ferry!” I replied. “As soon as Finn wakes up he'll call the traffic police! Then they'll know we're on the run!”

“We'll outrun them,” said Kris.

“Don't be so stupid!” I cried.

“I got Feela back, didn't I?” said Kris.

“Yes, and now we're going to lose her forever!” I cried.

Kris stabbed at the buttons on the navigator. “We'll take the next junction,” he said. “They'll never find us if we're off the quadway.”

“I can use a navigator,” I said. “Let me do something.”

Kris ignored me. “That's funny,” he said. “It's giving me a No Entry.”

“Maybe the road's closed,” I suggested.

“I can see from here it isn't,” said Kris.

“It wouldn't say it for no reason,” I replied.

“Nah, the firm's probably reprogrammed it,” said Kris. “Maybe they don't let him use toll roads or something.”

“It doesn't look like a toll road,” I said.

“Soon find out,” said Kris. With that, he pulled into the exit lane. We left the quadway and hit an old A-road. I relaxed a little, unhooked the lid of the carrier, and peered inside.

Feela was awake. Her beautiful head turned up towards me, and she let out a little plaintive mew. The poor thing was still groggy, and rocked a little as she tried to rouse herself up. I stroked her head softly and whispered a few words of comfort. She settled back down and I closed the lid.

“Feela's waking up,” I said.

“That's funny,” said Kris. “I'm going to sleep.”

“You'd better pull over then,” I suggested.

“No way,” said Kris. “We're going all the way to the ferry. Tonight.”

No sooner had Kris uttered these words than there was the most terrifying metallic shriek. We both jerked forward in our seats as the truck suddenly decelerated and Feela's carrier smashed into the front of the cab. The shrieking continued till we came to a dead halt.

“Shit,” said Kris.

I ripped open Feela's carrier and saw to my relief that she was still in one piece. It was only then I realized that we were inside some kind of tunnel, with bricks looming up outside the window.

“What happened?” I gasped.

“Don't understand it,” said Kris. “There was loads of room under that bridge.”

“But Kris,” I said, “the back of the truck's higher than the cab.”

“That's true,” said Kris.

“What are we going to do now?” I asked.

“I dunno about you,” said Kris, “but I'm going to get some sleep.”

Chapter Thirteen

We stood before the Chestnuts Guest House and pondered the options.