"It was a dark and stormy night and I realized I was being followed."
Claire laid the manuscript aside and took her glasses off. There was no need to read further. This writer would never be published. She couldn't concentrate, anyway. Claire rested her head against the over-stuffed chair in her office and closed her eyes. It had been a long day - a long month. Hell, it had been a long year. She hadn't read anything that excited her in months. But then she hadn't been excited about anything in her life. At first she was convinced the literary agency was just not attracting talent anymore, but she knew now that it was something more personal. Whatever it was, Arden had noticed too.
He had been more than a boss - he'd been her lover for five years, and her mentor for three before that. She could see him withdrawing, though - more every day. They didn't really talk, nothing that wasn't routine and even that was tinged with criticism. She thought about his comment on the drive to work this very morning.
"You are not going to forget to call the carpet cleaners again, are you? Do I have to take care of everything?"
She hadn't answered. What could she say? If she reacted, he would only accuse her of being melodramatic again. It hadn't been much to ask -- a simple phone call; but even that seemed like too much these days.
In the beginning she had loved having a man who was so together. He took care of her; he took care of everything. Arden was too perfect, from the meticulously tailored suits to the impeccably appointed apartment. The spotless white rug said it all. Claire had been his shining protégé and he used to love to show her off. But that was before she began to slip. Now he found fault in everything she did. They were still together, sharing meals and his bed, but she knew Arden was looking for a way out.
Claire had to admit it; she was no good to anyone, anymore. She couldn't sleep at night for the bizarre thoughts floating around in her head, and during the day, she felt like a zombie. She was tired of it all - too tired to make the effort now. She was even getting lax about grooming. She hadn't noticed it until Arden said something.
"What's with the hair, Claire," he had ask earlier in the week, "and look at the circles under your eyes. Are you feeling ill?"
Claire had glimpsed in the mirror and saw what her lover saw: a faded flower. Arden's comment had been a thinly veiled warning, and Claire knew it.
It wasn't that she hadn't tried. No one knew what an effort it had been the last few months just to get up in the morning to go to work. More was becoming impossible, even when she saw disgust in Arden's eyes. She was a burden now. He'd resented it when she wouldn't buy a car to replace the Buick after the accident, but she'd needed the insurance money to pay off other debts. He was tired of taking up the slack for a lover who was becoming an embarrassment. It was only a matter of time.
It wasn't even that she cared that much for Arden. She quit caring about him when she quit caring about herself. But Claire needed the job, as well as a place to live. She didn't even have transportation without him. If she lost Arden, her life would be ruined. Arden was a practical man and he didn't like complications. She'd seen unproductive employees dismissed without mercy. He wouldn't keep a former lover around just because they had history together. She was free falling and it was becoming obvious to everyone.
It wasn't her fault, though. It was hard to put her finger on it, but things were getting weird. Once last week in the middle of the night Claire thought she had it figured out - but not quite. The whole of it was just out of reach. It was as if she had stumbled onto the source of evil in the world, and someone didn't like it. Someone didn't want her to know the truth and was deliberately messing with her mind. But it was all so impossible; like the cat thing. Arden's calico cat had taken to staring at Claire anytime they were in the same room. The cat's eyes were magnetic and it was hard to not stare back. Even when Claire looked away, she could feel the cat's eyes. That night she realized the devious feline was evil incarnate, but somehow the cat had Arden fooled. Claire knew, though, and that was the trouble. She had seen the truth in the cat's eyes and the truth was a dangerous thing to know. Claire had almost heard the cat telling her to "leave or die."
In the morning she had tried to shake off the craziness. It was just too far-fetched. There were manuscripts to read and a job to keep as long as she could. When the thoughts returned the next night at bedtime, she had tried sleeping pills, but even chemicals couldn't stop the suspicions. Claire lay next to Arden with her eyes open. She tried to push the thoughts away, but she couldn't and they always led her back to the same fear. She woke Arden at 3 AM to tell him about the cat, but he dismissed her worry and rolled over. She begged him to at least lock the cat in the other room so she could sleep, but he wouldn't hear of it. He'd said, "Don't be crazy, Claire. Sleep on the couch in the living room if Muffin bothers you. Maybe we'll all get some rest." By dawn of that sleepless night, Claire knew where she stood with Arden, and she began to worry that he might be in league with the cat. Perhaps the cat didn't have him fooled at all. Maybe Arden was evil, too.
She knew it sounded crazy and she wasn't about to talk about it at work or to anyone. She couldn't give Arden any more fuel to get rid of her. Claire needed time to find another place to live - another job - another life. But how could she when she could barely drag herself around the life she already had? The only sleep Claire had gotten in the last week was a quick nap now and then in her office chair.
Claire opened her eyes and glanced at her watch when she heard the tap on the door. It was Arden, an hour before they were both scheduled to meet with a new client. He smiled as he stepped into her office, but she knew that smile. It was the one he used when he had something to sell. She had feared things were coming to a head that morning. It wasn't just that he was miffed about the carpet cleaners. Yesterday she had also forgotten to relay a message from Murray, and now they had an unhappy author the agency's most prolific. Things were piling up.
She put her glasses on and smiled. "Hi Honey." She hoped Arden had not noticed that she'd been asleep. "What brings you here so early?"
"I thought maybe we needed to talk," he said avoiding her eyes. He went to the bookcase behind her and slid out a book. "I bet you have nearly every Nancy Drew Mystery ever published, don't you?"
"Most of them," she said. "What's up, Arden. You aren't interested in my collection."
"I guess I just don't know how to say what I have to say, and I'm stalling." Arden's smile had vanished.
At least he was being honest, Claire thought. She hadn't expected it so soon, though. She needed more time, but this was the beginning of the end. Arden was going to dump her; she read it in his eyes. His eyes -- Claire had never noticed it before. They were the same green as the cat's eyes.
"Spit it out before you choke on it," she said, unable to keep up the pretence.
"I guess we both know things haven't been good between us for quite a while." Arden sat in the chair in front of her desk and looked straight at her. " I don't know what's happening with you, Claire, but I can't stand by and watch you self-destruct."
"So that's it?" Claire jumped to her feet. "Just like that I'm dismissed from your life - from the life we shared?"
"No, that is not what I'm saying -- that's not what I mean at all." Arden stood up and reached out to her, but she backed away.
"Don't touch me, you bastard."
"You need help, Claire. You are letting yourself go to hell. Look at you. You hair is a mess. I'm not even sure you bathe regularly anymore. Your work is - well, you aren't working -- not enough that anyone can tell. You are not prepared for meetings and everyone is tired of carrying you -- I'm tired of making excuses for you. You have been acting crazy, Claire. You need help and you better get or it is all over."
It was just too much. She wasn't going to stick around a minute longer. "To hell with you and your agency," Claire shouted as she opened the filing cabinet. She grabbed her purse from the top drawer and started for the door. "To hell with your cat, too."
Claire had walked a mile down Commerce Street before she had any idea where she was going or what she was going to do. There weren't many options. She had enough money to last maybe two weeks in a hotel - tops -- and only then if she ate just once a day. But what else could she do? She had no car; her family was all on the East coast. They hadn't approved of her living with Arden and she couldn't face the humiliation even if they let her come home, which was doubtful. Her father had been trying to get her younger brother out of the house for years. She couldn't think of a single friend who wasn't Arden's friend first.
She checked into the first place she came to - a cheap motel on Commerce with tacky plastic flowers in the planter next to the tiny office. The room was worse and Claire's first thought was what Arden would think of her staying in such a shabby place. She sat on the bed and ran her fingers over the frayed green bedspread then looked into the mirror over the dresser. Arden was right. She was a mess; and she looked more at home here than in Arden's fine apartment. Claire wanted to cry but a laugh came out instead, and she couldn't seem to stop. It was all so ludicrous. How had this happened? Just a year ago she and Arden were happy - they even talked about marriage. Now look at her - and all because of a damn cat. That cat was evil.
Claire didn't know what to do next. She wasn't hungry, though she hadn't eaten since supper the night before. She was tired from walking, but there would be no sleeping - not with what she had to think through. She didn't want to think, though; that only made matters worse. Claire needed to zone out for a while to restore some sense of balance. Then she would be ready to think sensibly. She switched on the television and lay back on the bed.
An old Star Trek was on the tube on a sci-fi cable channel. Perfect. She'd seen them all and could often repeat the dialogue along with the actors. She needed something familiar and predictable, and James T. Kirk was that, if anything.
There was something odd about this episode, though. Was it possible that she had missed one? Parts of it seemed familiar, but the story line was confused. And then it happened. Captain Kirk looked straight at her and said, "the cat must die." It was incredible, but there it was. Claire hadn't imagined it or dreamed it. She was wide-awake. She heard the words and saw Kirk speak them as clear as anything in life.
Claire turned the set off and paced the room trying to find a rational explanation for what had just happened. She entertained the idea for a moment that she was going insane. But this wasn't an imagined happening; not just a thought or a fear. Claire saw it and heard it. This was something real.
It wasn't as if nothing like this had ever happened before. Lots of people hear things - see things. They just aren't believed. People call them mentally ill and lock them up in insane asylums. And evil continues. Claire's own mother was diagnosed with schizophrenia when she started communicating with aliens. Everyone thought she was crazy and Claire's father had her put away for over a year. When they had drugged her long enough, her mother said it all seemed like a dream. I guess they convinced her she'd been crazy, too. She was never the same after that, though. The life had gone out of her. Evil had won.
Claire turned the television on again. Star Trek was over and a movie was on now. It was some sort of hostage movie. A space ship was evidently being hijacked. A man with the power to blow up a whole planet was in control. Claire didn't want to watch it for fear another message would come, but she had to. The action was intense and the violence, graphic, but no one spoke to her directly. They didn't have to. One of the characters was named Claire. She was innocent and in constant peril, while the fate of her home planet depended on the courage she could summon. To make certain the message was not lost, the evil man who had hijacked the space ship had green cat-eyes. Claire wondered if the show was on anyone else's television set, or just the set in this one tacky motel room. But it didn't really matter. The message was for her.
Claire could see that her life was not going to get better until she had done what she was supposed to. She never would have considered it if the universe had not gotten her attention. When your world falls apart you are ready to listen. It all made an odd sort of sense. Claire had been right about the cat. That realization brought a sense of justification, and she was relieved that it hadn't all been her imagination. The cat was, indeed, evil and the cause of all of her problems - and it held the key to every other evil in the world. Everything was clear now. She hadn't stumbled onto the source of evil; she had been directed there. For some inexplicable reason, Claire had been chosen to rid the world of evil. The message had been clear enough. She had to kill the cat or evil would continue.
She had problems of her own, though. Claire had two weeks between her and the streets. The fates had given her a time limit to save the world. It wasn't fair. Why should she be singled out for this responsibility? Everyone else got to go merrily on their way, living their lives. But there was no fighting it. Fair or not, Claire was going to have to kill Arden's cat.
It wasn't going to be easy. She couldn't count on anyone to help or even to understand. She would end up in the loony bin like her mother if she told anyone.
That night was horrible. Alone in the dark and frightened with only the light of the neon sign coming through the window, Claire was relentlessly confronted by her fears. They were almost tangible: shadows on the walls and eerie sounds. Were the sounds coming from the next room or were they in the room with her? She tried turning on the light, but it made her feel exposed and Claire needed to hide. She trembled with fear and prayed for morning. When the strain of the last few days caught up with her, she finally lost consciousness, but the hijackers eyes - those cat eyes -- followed into her dreams.
Claire woke at six the next morning, exhausted and feeling as though she had been chased all night. She walked across the street to a little diner to get a cup of coffee and to think. It was difficult to collect her thoughts through a throbbing headache, but she formulated a plan. She would take a taxi to Arden's to do the deed. If anyone saw her, she would say she was collecting some clothes. It needed to be done, anyway. She would lock the cat in the bathroom and drown the wretched thing in the bathtub. She could put the body in a pillow slip and take it with her. No one would be the wiser. Cats disappear every day. There would be no body, no blood in Arden's apartment. She would have done what she had been commissioned to do. Then the fates would give her back her life. They would have to. The person who got rid of evil would have to be rewarded.
She waited until she was sure Arden was at work then looked around the room for a phone book. She found it under the Gideon Bible in the top drawer of the dresser and looked up the number for Yellow Cab. A taxi honked outside her door in less than 5 minutes. It was letting her out in front of Arden's apartment in another 10.
"Wait here," she told the driver. "It won't take me long. I just have to grab some clothes." It would be worth the extra fare to get out of there quickly when she had done what she came to do.
Claire let herself in and began to walk through the apartment calling the cat's name. "Muffin, Muffin -- here kitty kitty."
She was startled when the cat appeared suddenly above her on the banister.
"There you are kitty," she said in a shaky voice that could not have fooled evil incarnate. "Come here, Muffin -- here kitty kitty."
The cat backed away as Claire approached, and stayed just out of reach as she followed it from room to room. This wasn't supposed to be the way it worked. The cat would not be herded into the bathroom, but instead, detoured into the kitchen. It jumped up on the counter when Claire lunged at it and then onto the refrigerator. Muffin looked down at her with those evil eyes. The cat was playing with her and was able to escape capture with apparent ease while Claire knocked over a canister of flour trying to catch it, and then a Boston fern on a plant stand. Finally Claire had the cat confined to the kitchen and dining area by closing the doors to the other rooms. Once she almost got it by grabbing its tail and hanging on. The cat bit Claire on the arm, drawing blood, and scratched her cheek before it pulled away.
There would be no way to hold the cat long enough to drown it, she could see that now. Claire grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer. Arden always kept them razor sharp. The next time they made contact, Claire would be armed, too. She lunged again and again at the cat making a mess of the kitchen as she knocked over more canisters, spreading coffee beans over the tile floor. The cat raced into the formal dining room and jumped on top of the table. Claire leaped with outstretched hand and stabbed at the cat. The crystal centerpiece was the only casualty. It was no use. They could go around the table forever and the cat would always be a few steps ahead. Claire knew there was no hope of killing it - no hope of ridding the world of evil. She had failed.
She sank to her knees on the white carpet. Her life was ruined as her mother's had been. Only Claire didn't have a husband to pick up the pieces. She had no one. Claire looked at the knife. She looked at the cat watching her through the legs of the chair from the other side of the table. Then she looked at her wrists. She began to laugh at the irony of it all. There would be blood on Arden's white carpet after all.
The End
This short story was an entry in a "Write Off". The challenge was to write a short story containing these elements:
"It was a dark and stormy night,"
Someone who laughs too much or inappropriately
A calico cat
Star Trek's Captain James T. Kirk
Teen mystery sleuth Nancy Drew
Communication through eye contact
A Hijacking
NOTE: I'm happy to report that I won the Editors Award with this story