Gilgamesh sat bolt upright, eyes wide and shocked. Then he seemed to recollect himself, and he swatted at a nonexistent bee, chased his tail in a circle, and ran off around the corner of the house.
“You nearly got him that time,” Alyson said. “That line about being from Procyon blew his mind.”
“Next time we tie him to a chair and hang a naked light bulb over his head,” Freddie said.
After school Monday, Freddie stopped off at the public library and did a little research. They kept files of the daily newspapers there, and Freddie spent several hours checking through the papers for the last several months for mentions of flying saucers or anything else unusual.
That evening, in Alyson’s room, Freddie said, “Let’s skip the French vocabulary for a while. When did you get Gilgamesh?”
Alyson had George on her lap; the placid Siamese lay like a dead weight except for his low-grade purr. Alyson said, “Three weeks ago. Gil just wandered into the kitchen, and we thought he was a stray—I mean, he couldn’t have belonged to anybody, because he was so dirty and thin, and anyway, he didn’t have a collar.”
“Three weeks ago,” Freddie said. “What day, exactly?” She frowned, thinking back. “Mmm … it was a Tuesday. Three weeks ago tomorrow, then.”
“That figures,” Freddie said. “Alyson, do you know what happened the day before Gilgamesh just walked into your life?”
She stared wonderingly at him for a moment, then something lit in her eyes. “That was the night the sky was so loud!”
“Yes,” said Freddie.
Alyson sat up on the bed, shedding both George and the books from her lap in her excitement. “And then that Tuesday we asked Mr. Newcomb in science class what had caused it, and he just said a lot of weird stuff that didn’t mean anything, remember? Like he really didn’t know, but he was a teacher, and he thought he had to be able to explain everything.”
“Right,” said Freddie. “An unexplainable scientific phenomenon in the skies, and the next day Gilgamesh just happened to show up on your doorstep. I’ll bet there were flying saucers that night, too, only nobody saw them.”
George sleepily climbed back onto the bed and settled down in Alyson’s lap again. She idly scratched his ear, and he licked her hand, then closed his eyes and went to sleep again.
“You think it was flying saucers that made all those weird noises in the sky?” Alyson asked.
“Sure,” he said. “Probably. Especially if that was the night before Gilgamesh got here. I wonder what his mission is?”
“What?” said Alyson.
“I wonder why he’s here, on Earth. Do you think they’re really planning to invade us?”
“Who?” she asked. “You mean people from flying saucers? Oh, Freddie, cool it. I mean a joke’s a joke, and Gilgamesh is pretty creepy, but he’s only a little black-and-white cat. He’s not some invader from Mars!”
“Arcturus,” Freddie said. “Or maybe it’s really Procyon; maybe that’s why he was so startled when I said that yesterday.”
“Freddie! He’s a cat!”’ “You think so?” Freddie asked. “Let me show you something about your innocent little stray cat.”
He got off the bed and silently went to the door of the bedroom. Grasping the knob gently, he suddenly threw the door open wide.
Standing right outside the door was Gilgamesh. The black-and-white cat leaped backward, then quickly recovered himself and walked calmly into the room, as though he had just been on his way in when the door opened. But Freddie saw that his tail was fully bushed out.
“You still think he’s a cat?” Freddie asked.
“Freddie, he’s just a little weird, that’s all—”
“Weird? This cat’s so weird he’s probably got seven hearts and an extra brain in his back! Alyson, this is no ordinary cat!”
Gilgamesh jumped up on the bed, studied how George was lying, and arranged himself in a comparable position next to Alyson. She petted him for a moment, and he began to purr his odd high-pitched purr.
“You think he’s just a cat?” Freddie asked. “He sounds like a cricket.”
“Freddie, are you serious?” Alyson said. Freddie nodded. He’d done his research at the library, and he was sure something strange was going on.
“Well, then,” said Alyson. “I know what we can do. We’ll take him to my brother and see if he’s really a cat or not.”
“Your brother? But he’s a chiropractor.”
Alyson smiled. “But he has an X-ray machine. We’ll see if Gilgamesh really has those extra hearts and all.”
On her lap, George continued to purr. Next to her, Gilgamesh seemed to have developed a tic in the side of his face, but he continued to lie still.
Alyson’s brother, the chiropractor, had his office in the Watsonville Shopping Center, next door to the Watsonville Bowling Alley. His receptionist told them to wait in the anteroom, the doctor would be with them in a moment.
Alyson and Freddie sat down on a black sofa, with the carrying case between them. From inside the case came pitiful mews and occasional thrashings about. From inside the office came sounds of pitiful cries and the high notes of Beethoven’s Fifth. Somebody made a strike next door; the carrying case flew a foot into the air. Freddie transferred it to his lap and held it steady.
A young man with longish brown hair and a white jacket opened the door.
“Hey sister, hi Freddie. What’s happening?”
Alyson pointed to the carrying case. “This is the patient I told you about, Bob.”
“Okay. Let’s go in and take a look.”
He opened the case. Gilgamesh had curled himself into a tight ball of fur, his face pressed against the corner. When the doctor lifted him out, Freddie saw that the cat’s eyes were clenched shut.
“I’ve never seen him so terrified,” Alyson said. “Weird, freaky, yes, but never this scared.”
“I still don’t understand why you didn’t take him to a vet if you think he’s sick,” her brother said.
Alyson grinned ingratiatingly. “You’re cheaper.”
“Hmpf.”
All this time the doctor had been holding the rigid Gilgamesh in the air. As soon as he put him down on the examining table, the cat opened his eyes to twice their normal size, shot a bushy tail straight up, and dashed under the table. He cowered there, face between paws. Alyson’s brother crawled under the table, but the cat scrambled to the opposite side of the room and hid behind a rubber plant. Two green eyes peeked through the leaves.
“I think stronger measures are indicated,” the doctor said. He opened a drawer and removed a hypodermic needle and a small glass bottle.
Freddie and Alyson approached the rubber plant from each end, then grabbed.
Freddie lifted the cat onto the examining table. Gilgamesh froze, every muscle rigid—but his eyes darted dramatically around the room, looking for escape.
The doctor gave him the shot, and within seconds he was a boneless pussycat who submitted docilely to the indignities of being X-rayed in eight different positions.
Ten minutes later Alyson’s brother announced the results—no abnormalities; Gilgamesh was a perfectly healthy cat.
“Does he have any extra hearts?” Alyson said. “Anything funny about his back?”
“He’s completely normal,” said her brother. “Doesn’t even have any extra toes.” He saw the worried expression on her face. “Wasn’t that what you wanted to find out?”
“Sure,” said Alyson. “Thanks a lot. I’m really relieved.”
“Me, too,” said Freddie. “Very.”
Neither of them looked it.
“Lousy job,” said Gilgamesh.
They turned to look at him, mouths open. The cat’s mouth was closed. He was vibrating like a lawn mower again, purring softly.
Freddie looked at the doctor. “Did someone just say something?”