| 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-
| Rate this story on a scale from 1-5 where 5 is best. |
Please take a minute and give the author some feedback on this story, it will be greatly appreciated. You can use the Writing category in our Discussion Forums
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.
|
|