“Huh?” Jamie asked himself, confused. “So if Jelly came in second, then that means—”
“—Yes,” Remy jumped in the air with extreme excitement. “Yes. We won.”
“What?” Jamie stomped his foot to the floor. “That’s not right, Jelly won that!”
Gunnar took Bisoubisou from the handler and held her up. “Attention, people. The winner of USARIC’s Star Cat Project… from the Russian Federation, I give you… Bisoubisou Gagarin!”
The crowd cheered politely but were undoubtedly disappointed.
A thousand lights shone on Bisoubisou and Remy as the celebrations took place.
Deflated and exhausted, Jamie slumped to his knees and accepted the noise of failure into his head. After a few seconds, the adulation for his opponent dampened in his ears and left a permanent scar on his brain.
The crowd escaped from the gantry and flooded the stage, all vying to be the first to pet and congratulate the winner.
Emily jumped onto the stage and made a beeline for Jamie. “Oh, poppet. Come here.”
She scooped him up in her arms and hugged him. He went limp and buried his crying face on her shoulder. “It’s not fair, they tried to hurt them.”
“I know, poppet,” she whispered, “If I had known, I would never have let her take part.”
“I want Jelly,” he sobbed, looking up at Jelly in Lindsey’s arms.
“Not yet, Jamie,” Lindsey said, “We need to make sure she’s okay, and we’ll get her back to you.”
Jamie looked at the crowds surrounding the winner. Remy looked very happy with himself as Dreenagh pushed her wrist into his face and asked him some questions.
His parents looked even happier, proud of their son and his cat.
Of course, Bisoubisou was the center of attention.
A tear rolled down Jamie’s cheek. A rousing experience of failure, and one he’d likely never forget till the day he died.
“I want to go home,” Jamie cried into his mother’s comforting arms, “I don’t like it here—”
“Meoowwwwwww.”
Jamie was interrupted by Bisoubisou lashing out at the crowd from out of nowhere.
Everyone turned to the cat and gasped.
Bisoubisou threw her paws out and chewed at the infinity claw on her right paw, whining and growling.
“Oh, god,” her handler looked at her paw and turned to Gunnar. “She’s bleeding. We need to get her to medical, right now.”
Confused, the crowd stepped back. The cameras on Bisoubisou pointed at her, showing her turmoil and sheer agony on the mega-screen.
“Everybody get back. Now.” Gunnar waved the crowd away. The place fell silent.
Bisoubisou wailed in horror as her fangs dug into the metal, trying to wrench the godforsaken device away from her claws.
Her handler darted off toward the back of the stage, leaving a worried crowd wondering what had happened. Spots of blood lined the stage floor as she carried the injured cat away.
Jamie saw the frantic handler kicked through the stage door, screaming for help…
The handler barged through another door leading to a backstage medical room.
“Where’s Wool? We need her, fast.”
Wool ar-Ban, an Iranian lady dressed in a lab coat and glasses, jumped out from behind her desk and joined the handler.
“I’m here, what’s wrong?”
She took a look at the ailing gray cat in the handler’s arms.
“Oh, no. Quick, over here. Lay her on the bed,” Wool said, pressing her finger into her ear. “I need surgery down here, stat. Medicians on standby please attend.”
The handler lay her down on her side and burst into tears. “She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?”
“Please, move out of the way. We need some space,” Wool held up Bisoubisou’s right arm and nearly lost her temper. “Don’t tell me. That stupid combat stuff?”
The handler folded her arms and hugged herself in floods of tears. “Yes.”
“Honestly, I told them not to infuriate the cats. But would they listen? No.”
She reached into her inner pocket and pulled out a small syringe.
Two medicians ran through the door and sprung into actions. One of them pushed an ECG monitor on a trolley over to the bed. She unpacked two pads and fired up the machine.
“Her heart’s climbing out of her throat,” the other medician said, “Checking pulse.”
“One-fifty over one,” said the first medician as Wool injected the cat with her syringe. “One fifty-two, one fifty-three…”
“Three emm-gee,” Wool tried to keep her composure as she watched Bisoubisou’s monitor. Her heart was near exploding. She turned to the battered infinity claw and prised it away with her fingers as carefully as she could. It unfastened in Wool’s hand.
“Ugh, got it.”
She passed the infinity claw to Bisoubisou’s handler. “Please, Wool, tell me she’s going to be okay?”
“Stop talking, you stupid woman,” Wool fanned the cat’s claws apart. “She’s lost a lot of blood. Please, let us work.”
Bisoubisou’s head hit the side of the bed’s surface. A rope of saliva collected out and bled along her cheek.
“God, no,” Wool said, “She’s going into septic shock.”
The heart rate sped up on the screen.
“Laceration at oh-one-five,” Wool prodded Bisoubisou’s stomach and felt along her chest, keeping an eye on the screen. The cat’s tongue slipped out from her mouth and hung down her face.
“God, no, no,” the first medician said, “She’s gone into shock.”
“Another at oh-two-six, and five-oh-three.”
“Morphine, Doctor?” asked one of the medicians as Wool rubbed her face in a frantic attempt to save the cat’s life.
“No,” Wool said, “She’s had enough—”
Bisoubisou croaked and let out a fountain of vomit. Her right paw had swelled up beyond recognition. Her rightmost claw lilted and threatened to come free.
Her breathing gradually slowed down to nothing.
A clump of fur fell off her chest as she exhaled for the final time.
“It’s the claw,” Wool thumped the table and held her fist to her mouth, trying not to emote. “Nu-huh, no.”
Bisoubisou flatlined.
Wool closed her eyes and took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to cry. She wanted to kill someone for what had happened to the beautiful Russian Blue cat laying before her.
The constant beep signaling the cat’s death was the only thing anyone could hear.
“You call it,” Wool said, looking away.
“Four-fifteen,” the first medician set Bisoubisou’s lifeless paw on the bed. “Wool?”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she kept looking away, silently cursing the day she signed on to the project.
“Wool?” the first medician asked. “Would you like me to notify the bereaved?”
“No, it’s okay.” She looked at her colleague and blinked. “I’ll do it. This is all my damn fault anyway.”
“But didn’t she pass the assessment?” the first medician asked.
“Doesn’t matter if she did or didn’t,” the second medician said, “It doesn’t test for allergies to company product.”
The handler cried in the corner, regretting her involvement in the proceedings.
“Oh, stop crying,” Wool thumped her desk and took no pity on the woman. “You’re just the lackey. You didn’t do anything wrong, so shut up and stop crying. Go back out on stage and look pretty.”
Jamie and Emily sat in the back of the limousine en route to their hotel.
Jelly rested in her carry case between them taking a well-earned nap. She’d survived the day very well. Much like the limousine’s engine, her purring rumbled away from within now that she was on her way home.