“So, forty-eight there, and twenty-two in the first set,” she recorded the number on her forearm with her lit-up digit, “That’s exactly thirty missing subjects.”
“They’re out in the wild,” Oxade said. “They’ll never survive on their own. If they don’t starve, the freeway will take care of them.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Nutrene caught the tardy pace of the workers removing the cages to the second compound, “Hey, get moving. I want them bundled up and stored. Faster.”
She returned to the console and pressed her forearm to the glass panel, “These aren’t your ordinary, everyday subjects. We need those missing thirty accounted for, dead or alive. Preferably dead.”
“Why, what’s wrong with them?”
Nutrene closed her eyes and ignored the question outright. The panel absorbed the ink from her forearm and fed it onto the screen, “We’re leaving in a week’s time.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“We need to find the escapees and bring them back.”
“Why? What’s wrong with them?”
An elderly man named Glenn Logan enjoyed a bottle of Rollneck Kojak beer on the porch of his bungalow. He’d been drinking for a few hours by now. The effects of the alcohol kicked in a while ago.
The full moon hung in the air along with the stench of hops from his umpteenth bottle of beer.
There weren’t many cars at this time of night. The occasional lorry passed by. On the rare occasion an Individimedia GPS failed to work, he’d have lost drivers knock on his door asking for directions to Houston. Or the nearest gas station.
Tonight, something caught his eye in the middle of the road.
“Huh? Wassat?” he tried to focus on the thing fifty feet from his porch, “Is th-that roadkill or somethin’?”
He staggered to his feet and tipped the remainder of the bottle into his mouth. Nary a drop produced, he threw the glass in the direction of the thing lying in the middle of the road.
“Gaw, nuthin’ but damn roadkill,” he burped and wiped the end of his sleeve across his wet lips.
The thing shifted around and slapped its tail to the ground.
Little did Glenn know that the animal in the road was an Egyptian Mau. The moon bounced off its pupils and projected a sliver of green light at Glenn.
The Mau whined and continued to slap her tail against the tarmac.
“Hey, you,” Glen shouted at her and took hold of the porch railing for balance, “Get off the highway. Y’all gonna get yersel’ killed.”
“Muuhhh…” Mau murmured as a white light enveloped her face. A pair of headlamps from an approaching car folded over the bump in the road.
“What the hell?” Glenn blinked a few times at the oncoming car, “Oh Jeez, no. Hey, you. Pussycat, get off the road.”
“Grrr….” Mau returned to the surrounding trees and licked her paw.
The headlamps belonged to a purple SUV which sped along the freeway. The driver blared his horn, trying to coax the cat off the road.
Glenn looked left and then right. The Egyptian Mau was ten seconds away from getting mauled by the tires of the SUV.
“Hey, cat. Move it.”
Mau pressed her front paws to the tarmac and lifted her behind into the air, determined to take the SUV head-on, “Meeooowww…”
BEEEEEEEP!
The driver slammed on the brakes, throwing the car to a screaming stop inches away from the Mau’s nose.
“What the heck is goin’ on around here?”
The lone driver kicked his door open and planted his feet on the ground. He looked over the roof his car and spotted Glenn watching the scene from his porch.
“Hey, mister. Is this your cat?”
“Nu-huh”, Glenn shook his head in a fit of inebriation, “She ain’t mine.”
The driver turned to Mau and tried to shift her away with his boot, “Go on, get outta the way, you dirty little varmint—”
A cacophony of violent “meows” whirled around the driver’s head. They appeared to be coming from the trees.
“Huh?”
One by one, a variety of felines trundled out from behind the trees and made their way onto the road.
Mau extended her claws and scraped them along the road, gearing up to attack.
“Grrrr…”
“What in the hell is going on here?” The driver stood still on the road as the cats swarmed toward him like an angry and fluffy virus, “No, no. Y’all stay away from me, ya hear?”
“Screeeeeeech,” The Mau launched into the air with her paws out. She buried her claws through his shirt and clung as hard as she could, kicking and gnashing away at his face.
“Ahh, gerrof me!”
The cats meowed as they swarmed the still-running car. Two white American bobtails bolted into the driver’s side. The remainder hopped through the window and swarmed around the interior of the car.
Glenn squeezed his eyes shut in disbelief. He looked at the half-full bottle of beer in his hand, “Jeez, I drink too much.”
The driver did his best to fight off the Mau but it was no use. His behind slammed against the car as she ravaged his face, “Roowwaaarrrr!”
VROOM! VROOM!
One of the white Bobtails pressed her front paws on the gas pedal, forcing the car to shunt forward.
“Meow,” Mau climbed onto the driver’s seat, leaving its previous occupant screaming on the road.
She ran the side of her head along the stick shift, signaling three of her tribe to push it into first gear.
The car jolted forward once again.
“My car. They’re taking my damn car,” the driver pushed himself to his knees, “Someone call the cops.”
An intense whirlwind of squealing and meowing came from inside the car as it rolled forward.
Mau wrapped her claws around the sticky steering wheel. She meowed at the two white bobtails to apply the gas. Two silver Siamese cats joined them and threw their weight onto the pedal.
The car bolted along the road as Mau held the steering wheel in still, “Meeeooow…”
The car picked up speed and threatened to veer off the path. Fur spat into the air as the wind rolled through the opened passenger window.
Trying to stave off the effects of drunkenness, Glenn stepped down his porch and made his way over to the driver, “Jeez, did you see that?”
“Of course I saw them,” the driver picked himself off his knees and cupped his bleeding eyes, “Call the police. They’ve taken my car.”
Glenn threw his left arm into the air and pulled his sleeve back. He spoke into his Individimedia ink, “Hello? P-Police?”
The ink swirled around to reveal STPD – South Texas Police Department.
“Thank you for contacting the STPD,” a friendly voice came from the pinpricks in his wrist, “Your call is important to us. Please wait while we find you an agent.”
The purple SUV’s rear lights shot off the road and into the fields in the distance.
The driver brushed himself down and pushed Glenn by the shoulder, “Why didn’t you stop them?”
“Why didn’t you s-stop them—?”
“—This is the STPD. How may I direct your call?”
“Ah, I, uh—” Glenn swallowed and waded around on the spot, “P-Police?”
“Yes, caller. This is the STPD connecting on your Individimedia channel.”
SCH-PRRAANNGG!
The SUV crashed against a giant tree. A cloud of smoke billowed out from under the battered hood. The left indicator blinked on and off as the cats made their escape.