Last Licks

I lived with an Old One who had many-many cats, he thought. Could the She live here with many-many Old Ones?

He had no answer. You could never tell what those two-leggity types got up to.

Now he didn’t just smell Old Ones, he heard them . . . and saw them, too. They sat in chairs and couches in a large room. Some even sat on chairs that rolled! Many of them were females, making cooing noises and reaching out to him. One even got up from a chair and tottered toward him, trying to pick him up.

When he lived with the Old One and all the cats, some of them would fawn and let themselves be petted to get more food. Shadow never sank so low, no matter how hungry he felt. Not that petting was a bad thing. He quite liked it when Sunny stroked his fur. But these grabbing hands . . . Shadow ducked and dodged, finding himself beside one of those chairs with big wheels. A bony, gnarled hand landed on his back. He almost flew into the air, darting away and then skidding to a stop under one of the strange chairs with wheels.

He shuddered a little, trying to get his fur to lie flat again. And then the chair began to move. Crouching low, he slunk along with it, peeking skittishly forward, back, and side to side through the wires of the big wheels. Nervous as he was, he couldn’t control his tail. It kept lashing around as if it had a mind of its own—putting itself in danger from the rolling wheels and passing feet.

His mobile piece of cover moved into another room, small and rather crowded. Now there were feet standing all around him.

That was bad enough. But then Shadow had to swallow a real yowl of fright, sinking down to cling to the floor below him. That just meant he felt the vibrations even more strongly.

Shadow knew he’d gone faster, riding with Sunny and even the Old One. On the way to this place, crouched in the back of the Old One’s truck, he’d felt the wind from their motion ruffling his fur. No, moving wasn’t the problem. It was the fact that a whole room full of people had suddenly decided to move upward like a bird.

18

It wasn’t right. Rooms were supposed to keep still. That’s the way it had been for all of Shadow’s life up to this point. If rooms could suddenly start slowly jumping up, what next? Would houses decide to roam around? The whole idea wasn’t good. In fact, it was deeply disturbing.

That was why Shadow lay low, trying to dig his claws into the floor of this moving room, desperate to hold on, especially when it gave a little leap upward and then settled back.

He was so focused on holding tight that he almost missed it when the room stopped moving. Then the door opened and everyone began to leave, including the wheeled chair he’d sheltered under. Shadow had to scramble to keep up.

The chair made a right turn and then went straight for a while. That made it easy to travel along beneath the seat, but Shadow had a hard time getting an idea of where they were going. A pair of legs blocked most of his view to the front. Then the chair made another turn, and Shadow was struck by loud noise—and by the overpowering scent of dozens of Old Ones. It was enough to make him stagger, and when he recovered, he found himself back in the open again. His moving hiding place had rolled on without him.

He found himself standing in a large open area, surrounded by all those Old Ones he’d smelled seated on chairs or those weird rolling chairs. They had all been watching a gigantic picture box where the noise came from. But now the older humans nearby noticed him and began to coo and reach toward him, just like in the other room. Shadow had to dash around as all those hands, bony or plump, crooked or odd-smelling, thrust themselves at him.

As he tried to avoid those clutching fingers, he felt trapped in a nightmare, like the dream he’d had where big angry dogs appeared whichever way he turned. Shadow could feel his heart thudding in his chest as he ducked, darted, and squirmed.

If this keeps up, there’s going to be blood, he thought.

To make it worse, he suddenly got a whiff of the She he sought. But it was just the memory of her presence, coming from a blanket on one of the Old Ones’ laps.

He finally got away from the hands and ran in terror, not even watching where he was going, just making his legs move as fast as they possibly could. Shadow finally stopped, panting, beside a big metal box with wheels.