*
“You’ve got mail.”
The pre-recorded voice of my email program woke me from my slumber. It was dark, the only illumination was the light from the monitor. I shifted in the chair to get a better view of the email window; I squinted at the bright screen. Spam. I closed the browser and opened my work folder. I needed to find out just how much work I got done before I blacked out. In my expert opinion, I had done enough work for two days and could devote my time to cleaning up my mess.
The corpse was stiff and wouldn’t fit into the duffle bag. It wasn’t a problem, just a nuisance. I was able to convince my reflection to move the body to my SUV. After a bit of readjustment, things were ready and I was off. My destination was an abandoned warehouse deep in the ghetto of this worthless city.
Homeless degenerates spotted the wasteland. Gangs roamed the night acting like they owned it. How little they knew we only let them out of sheer apathy. None of them cared about my lone vehicle slowly making its way down the streets. Why would they, it’s not the first time they’ve seen it, and it most definitely won’t be the last.
As I stopped the car and stared at the rusted bay door bathed in the light from my headlights, I mused about the eventual outcome. I was being watched. Who or what it was was of no consequence to me. Underneath my seat I found my gun. It may seem a bit strange that someone like me needs such a thing, but some things are best left unexplained.
By the time I had opened the mangled door next to the bay, I’d lost count of just how many eyes were on me. Corpse draped over shoulder, gun in hand, eyes aglow in the darkness, it was a bit comical to think about. Within the darkness of the warehouse the watchers’ eyes became apparent. Pinpoints of a pale reflective yellow, the reverberation of their breathing, there were countless of them. Cats. Of all the things that could frighten me, cats had to be the one.
Deep down at the lowest basement level was the incinerator. The flue has long since degraded beyond usability. Which was fine because that kept the smell within the confines of the warehouse. My only problem was the horde of cats filling every shadow of the building. Their pale eyes watching my every move, their harmonized purrs resonating in the air. It was so stifling, so overbearing, that I couldn’t make it.
My mind spun with fear and confusion; I could feel them closing in. I searched and searched for some sort of reflective surface, but found no solace. I ran, the only thing on my mind was escape. An act that turned out to be ultimately futile. I couldn’t find the exit. In this place I knew so well, I was lost.
I was frantic. The ever present eyes watching my every move, judging my worth. I had long since abandoned the corpse. I broke through a door finding a mass of glowing eyes staring back at me. “Go away!” I cried, tears of fear flowing down my cheeks. The gun shook violently in my hand; I was unable to pull the trigger.
Somehow, instead of going up, I’d been going deeper and deeper into the sub-basements. Child like laughter echoed within the damp pipe filled hallway. In the distance a puddle splashed upwards. Knowing that she was there only made my anxiety worse. It was like she was guiding the cats.
The hours of madness are cursing me. Breaking me, bonding me. That day comes again and again and with it the same fear and anguish.
