Karen Anne Golden - The Cats That 05 - The Cats that Watched the Woods by Karen Anne Golden Page A
Authors: Karen Anne Golden
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now was give her something for the pain. If she awakened by the next morning, he’d figure out what to do then.
He was sure about one thing. He wasn’t going to seek outside help for two reasons: One—that short drug dealer was bound to come back and get the Oxy. Two—he was not giving up his location to the authorities. He’d get rid of the dealer first, and worry about the second later.
“Waugh,” the larger Siamese cried.
The man grunted. He opened the carrier gate, but the two cats stayed inside and refused to come out. That was okay. He needed to give the woman something for pain, and he didn’t want them in the way.
He reached inside his camouflaged shirt and pulled out a syringe. He needed to inject the drug in her hip. He gently rolled her on her side. She moaned in pain. From his back pocket, he pulled out his folding hunter’s knife and cut a slit in her jeans. He then used several alcohol pads to sterilize his hands.
Tearing the plastic wrapper off the syringe, he stuck it in the glass ampoule, measured the required dose of morphine, and stuck the needle in her hip. She was so petite, he was afraid to give her much. The narcotic would help ease her pain. She needed to sleep to heal her injuries. He moved her back on her back and vowed to check on her later. He couldn’t stay with her. He had too many fish to fry before he’d come back.
When the man left the room and closed the door, Scout and Abra leapt out. They cautiously circled the room, then jumped on the bed. Abra began licking Katherine’s face. Scout stood tall and paced back-and-forth at the end of the bed, waiting to do ferocious battle with anyone who tried to hurt Katherine. She loved her human as much as she did her sister, her littermate Abra. Although the man from the woods smelled terrible, Scout sensed he was trying to help them. It was the other man the Siamese had to worry about.
Chapter Eight
Katherine thought she heard Abra whisper something in her ear. The cat’s whiskers tickled when she brushed against her face. But cats can’t talk, Katherine rationalized.
She lapsed into a dream about an event that happened in another place and time—before she rescued Abra from the cruel magician. Scout and Abra had been stage performers in the Catskills, working for Harry’s Hocus-Pocus act, before Katherine provided their forever home. Now an image nagged at her subconscious, something about when Abra was stolen. But I wasn’t there , Katherine thought. No one knows what happened to Abra but Abra herself.
“I can tell you,” the cat said. “Raw.”
The cat’s voice in the dream trailed off. Katherine woke up and glanced around the room. She weakly tried to get up, but felt as if iron weights were holding her down. It was night, and the room was pitch-dark. She could hear the cicadas’ keening whine rise, subside, and then fall silent. She heard a movement in the far corner—a rustling sound. Then a shape slowly approached the bed. A giant crow landed and perched on the footboard. It shrieked, “Caw!”
I must be out of my mind, Katherine thought. I’m dead or dying. I hurt all over. What’s happening to me? She heard a distorted grumbling. It was a hoarse male voice.
Katherine opened her eyes for a split second, then quickly closed them. The huge man was standing, leaning over, looking at her. His face was terribly disfigured. The entire left side of his face was a mass of scars; his left eye was missing. She cringed and tried to move.
He mumbled something and then held a bottle of water to her lips. She took several sips and wanted more, but he took it away from her.
“Want Jake,” she managed to say, before lapsing into another dream.
Chapter Nine
Stevie Sanders turned into the lane that led to Townsend’s house, rounded a curve, and nearly hit a disheveled woman limping toward him. She was flailing her arms wildly. He jammed on the brakes and the woman collapsed in front of his truck.
Getting out,
He was sure about one thing. He wasn’t going to seek outside help for two reasons: One—that short drug dealer was bound to come back and get the Oxy. Two—he was not giving up his location to the authorities. He’d get rid of the dealer first, and worry about the second later.
“Waugh,” the larger Siamese cried.
The man grunted. He opened the carrier gate, but the two cats stayed inside and refused to come out. That was okay. He needed to give the woman something for pain, and he didn’t want them in the way.
He reached inside his camouflaged shirt and pulled out a syringe. He needed to inject the drug in her hip. He gently rolled her on her side. She moaned in pain. From his back pocket, he pulled out his folding hunter’s knife and cut a slit in her jeans. He then used several alcohol pads to sterilize his hands.
Tearing the plastic wrapper off the syringe, he stuck it in the glass ampoule, measured the required dose of morphine, and stuck the needle in her hip. She was so petite, he was afraid to give her much. The narcotic would help ease her pain. She needed to sleep to heal her injuries. He moved her back on her back and vowed to check on her later. He couldn’t stay with her. He had too many fish to fry before he’d come back.
When the man left the room and closed the door, Scout and Abra leapt out. They cautiously circled the room, then jumped on the bed. Abra began licking Katherine’s face. Scout stood tall and paced back-and-forth at the end of the bed, waiting to do ferocious battle with anyone who tried to hurt Katherine. She loved her human as much as she did her sister, her littermate Abra. Although the man from the woods smelled terrible, Scout sensed he was trying to help them. It was the other man the Siamese had to worry about.
Chapter Eight
Katherine thought she heard Abra whisper something in her ear. The cat’s whiskers tickled when she brushed against her face. But cats can’t talk, Katherine rationalized.
She lapsed into a dream about an event that happened in another place and time—before she rescued Abra from the cruel magician. Scout and Abra had been stage performers in the Catskills, working for Harry’s Hocus-Pocus act, before Katherine provided their forever home. Now an image nagged at her subconscious, something about when Abra was stolen. But I wasn’t there , Katherine thought. No one knows what happened to Abra but Abra herself.
“I can tell you,” the cat said. “Raw.”
The cat’s voice in the dream trailed off. Katherine woke up and glanced around the room. She weakly tried to get up, but felt as if iron weights were holding her down. It was night, and the room was pitch-dark. She could hear the cicadas’ keening whine rise, subside, and then fall silent. She heard a movement in the far corner—a rustling sound. Then a shape slowly approached the bed. A giant crow landed and perched on the footboard. It shrieked, “Caw!”
I must be out of my mind, Katherine thought. I’m dead or dying. I hurt all over. What’s happening to me? She heard a distorted grumbling. It was a hoarse male voice.
Katherine opened her eyes for a split second, then quickly closed them. The huge man was standing, leaning over, looking at her. His face was terribly disfigured. The entire left side of his face was a mass of scars; his left eye was missing. She cringed and tried to move.
He mumbled something and then held a bottle of water to her lips. She took several sips and wanted more, but he took it away from her.
“Want Jake,” she managed to say, before lapsing into another dream.
Chapter Nine
Stevie Sanders turned into the lane that led to Townsend’s house, rounded a curve, and nearly hit a disheveled woman limping toward him. She was flailing her arms wildly. He jammed on the brakes and the woman collapsed in front of his truck.
Getting out,
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