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Margaret L. Carter

Short Stories
- Prowler

Prowler (41 ratings)
         by Margaret L. Carter
Page 4 of 4

   She sniffed it, meowing in displeasure. Emily, who had relaxed for a second, tightened her mental grip. The animal batted the key several times with a paw but resisted the command to pick it up. Her teeth scraped uncomfortably on the smooth metal, and the taste revolted her. After several minutes of silent exertion, with ears pricked for any sound of movement in the upstairs bedrooms, Emily persuaded the cat to nip the handle of the key between her teeth and carry it across the floor.
   At first Emily planned to have her messenger jump up to an open window, walk around to the cellar, and drop the key in to her. The kitchen window was shut, though, and Emily feared the cat might break free of her control if she tried to make the animal explore the ground floor in search of an escape route.
   Instead, she coaxed the cat to drag the key toward the basement door. With dainty taps of her paw, the cat pushed the key toward the crack under the door. Would it fit? Emily held her breath until she sensed the key sliding through the gap. A muffled clink reached her ears. Opening her eyes, she strained to see the top of the steps from the bed.
   Hopeless, of course, much too dark. Releasing her psychic hold on the cat, she stumbled toward the stairs, leaning on the moist wall and waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. She half-crawled up the steps and ran her fingers over the topmost one. After an interminable search through the layer of grime, she touched the scrap of metal. She fumbled for it -- and knocked it onto the floor below the stairs.
   She pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. Stop that, don't give up! Able to discern vague shapes by now, she scurried down the steps and crawled on hands and knees to grope for the key. An occasional querulous meow from the kitchen punctuated the search. Oh, be quiet, please, for God's sake!
   At last her hand closed around the key. Clutching it so hard that it hurt her palm, she climbed to the door again. Her hand shook while inserting the key in the lock, but she managed not to drop it this time.
   The door groaned as she pushed it open. Holding her breath, she listened for noises from above. Nothing. She breathed a prayer of thanks and slipped into the kitchen. The cat rubbed her ankles, as if recognizing her. Emily bent to stroke the coarse fur. Sorry I can't take you home, puss.
   The cat meowed again. "Hush," Emily whispered. Moonlight filtering through the window showed a cupboard on the wall. She opened it and discovered the remains of the hard cheddar the men had been feeding her. Since cats relished milk, perhaps they liked cheese, too. She broke off a chunk and tossed it to the floor. The cat responded with another meow, then began nibbling the cheese.
   Tiptoeing across the room, Emily heard creaks and mutters from upstairs. She quickened her pace, sure that the men could hear the squeak of every floorboard.
   She'd almost reached the front door when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Panting more from terror than exertion, she ran her hands over the walls near the door in search of the key. She almost laughed aloud when her fingers accidentally brushed across the keyhole and found the key in it. Just as she turned it and twisted the knob, Bert came lumbering into the room.
   "How the devil --? Oh, no, you don't, girl!" He lunged for her as she pulled the door open. His hand fastened on her wrist. Above, she heard confused mutters from Ralph and George. They'd be down here any minute.
   In a desperate spasm, she cast her mind into the cat. She felt her body slump in Bert's grasp just before she merged with the animal's consciousness. The cat dashed from the kitchen and sprang at Bert. A hissing, spitting creature landed on his head, and claws raked his face. Screaming, Bert let go of Emily, who wrenched free of the cat's mind and ran into the street.
   She kept running, shrieking like a wildcat herself, until she staggered into the path of a policeman patrolling his beat. She collapsed in his arms, sobbing out her name and her father's name, until her voice gave out. As the bobby lifted her in his arms, she spared a thought for her animal savior. Far in the distance, she sensed the clean, fierce hunger of the cat, freely prowling the night.
-end-




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Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2001 Margaret L. Carter, sffworld.com. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the author. The author has submitted the work in accordance with and in agreement with the following Submission Guidelines.

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