Last Licks

18

It wasn’t right. Rooms were supposed to keep still. That’s the way it had been for all of Shadow’s life up to this point. If rooms could suddenly start slowly jumping up, what next? Would houses decide to roam around? The whole idea wasn’t good. In fact, it was deeply disturbing.

That was why Shadow lay low, trying to dig his claws into the floor of this moving room, desperate to hold on, especially when it gave a little leap upward and then settled back.

He was so focused on holding tight that he almost missed it when the room stopped moving. Then the door opened and everyone began to leave, including the wheeled chair he’d sheltered under. Shadow had to scramble to keep up.

The chair made a right turn and then went straight for a while. That made it easy to travel along beneath the seat, but Shadow had a hard time getting an idea of where they were going. A pair of legs blocked most of his view to the front. Then the chair made another turn, and Shadow was struck by loud noise—and by the overpowering scent of dozens of Old Ones. It was enough to make him stagger, and when he recovered, he found himself back in the open again. His moving hiding place had rolled on without him.

He found himself standing in a large open area, surrounded by all those Old Ones he’d smelled seated on chairs or those weird rolling chairs. They had all been watching a gigantic picture box where the noise came from. But now the older humans nearby noticed him and began to coo and reach toward him, just like in the other room. Shadow had to dash around as all those hands, bony or plump, crooked or odd-smelling, thrust themselves at him.

As he tried to avoid those clutching fingers, he felt trapped in a nightmare, like the dream he’d had where big angry dogs appeared whichever way he turned. Shadow could feel his heart thudding in his chest as he ducked, darted, and squirmed.

If this keeps up, there’s going to be blood, he thought.

To make it worse, he suddenly got a whiff of the She he sought. But it was just the memory of her presence, coming from a blanket on one of the Old Ones’ laps.

He finally got away from the hands and ran in terror, not even watching where he was going, just making his legs move as fast as they possibly could. Shadow finally stopped, panting, beside a big metal box with wheels.

It almost seems as it everything in this place has wheels on it, he thought. When he went to explore this new thing, he found that it wasn’t solid. One side stood open, and shelves rose up above him. No, actually, they were trays that slid along metal supports along the sides. As he peered in the dimness, he could see all sorts of shapes piled on the trays. He also got a strong whiff of many-many different kinds of food, old food, food that had once been hot and now had cooled.

Shadow heard feet coming toward him and scrambled onto the bottommost tray. It wasn’t easy, because the tray had a plate, and cups, and other things on it. But he managed, holding still as the feet appeared in front of him and scraping noises came from above—another tray going onto another shelf. Then the whole big box began to move.

Better to ride than run around with all those old two-legs grabbing for you, Shadow decided. He kept still even as the box rolled into another room that started to move. This time it started falling down very slowly. Shadow wasn’t sure he liked this any better than flying, but he tried to be philosophical about it. The last time things had turned out all right. Nothing bad had actually happened.

But as soon as the door opened and they were out of that room, Shadow jumped out of the box. He’d had enough of being trapped in places and forced to go one way or another. Even if more ancient hands came after him, he’d face them on his own four feet.

Maybe the smell of all that food rising around him had clogged his nose, because he wasn’t even aware of the other cat nearby until his gaze was filled with the sight of a pair of beautiful green eyes surrounded by patches of brown and black fur. They were nose to nose. He inhaled. It was She!

For a brief, wonderful moment, she rubbed her face along the side of his. Then she romped past him, running down the long hallway. Shadow turned to follow, racing in pursuit.

*

After finishing their meal, Sunny and Will came out of the coffee shop and walked down the side corridor until they were almost to the nurses’ station.

Sunny heard her name called, and turned to see her dad coming down the main hallway, waving. “How did everything turn out?” Mike asked as he reached them.

“Luke’s in the sheriff’s office, telling them everything that happened,” Will reported. “They’ve already sent the bottle of tonic to the state police lab in Augusta.”

Sunny filled in the details of their meetings with Ollie and Dr. Reese. “So now we’re waiting on Sheriff Nesbit,” she concluded. “Will was told to wait here and report to the sheriff when he arrives. I guess Nesbit wants to powwow with Dr. Reese and probably with Ollie as well.”

Mike nodded. “Probably trying to figure how to manage the news—and keep your name out of it,” he told Will.

“What else is new?” Sunny asked. “So we had ourselves some lunch and thought we’d visit with Ollie awhile more.”

“That was my plan,” Mike said. “You know, Ollie’s not all bad when you spend some time with him. Maybe he grows on you.”

Sunny resisted making a crack about any of the long list of things that grew on people. “Maybe it helps that he’s not paying your salary,” she suggested to her dad.

Mike chuckled and allowed as how that might be so. Ahead of them, they saw Camille the aide stepping into Room 114 carrying a bedpan.

“Might as well wait here for a few minutes,” Will said. “My police instincts say it’s going to be pretty unpleasant in there for a little while.”

They were all so busy glancing down the hall and joking that they didn’t see the disturbance approaching behind them down the hallway until a white, black, and ginger streak zipped past their shins, heading in the direction Ollie’s room.

“Portia?” Sunny said, doing a double take. Then came a gray streak that was all too familiar. “Shadow!” She broke into run after them, thinking, What are you doing here, you crazy cat? To make matters worse, up ahead she spotted Dr. Gavrik stomping down the hall. The doctor disliked the official therapy animals. How would she react to a strange cat on the premises?

Gavrik turned into Room 114, and to Sunny’s horror, so did Portia, hotly pursued by Shadow. A second later, all hell broke loose.

*

Shadow dashed after the She as she led him a merry chase, zigzagging down long expanses of corridor, using pieces of furniture and even people as obstacles for him. Sometimes he nearly pounced on her, but she always managed to evade him. Other times, he held himself back, just so he could admire her running form and drink in the fragrance wafting back from her. When he did that, the She would glance back over her shoulder with challenging eyes and slow her own pace so that he’d come closer, closer . . . and then she’d take off running again, leaving that intoxicating scent in her wake.

He didn’t know how long the game went on. The corridors seemed to pass in a golden glow. Then the She charged into one of the rooms. Shadow followed, detecting familiar smells. Was that Sunny he scented?

He almost stopped to investigate, but the thrill of the chase urged him onward. The She was in a small room now. Surely he could catch her in there!

She vanished behind a curtain, and suddenly Shadow heard harsh words, the sound of a thud, and a cry of pain from the She. The golden glow evaporated as Shadow ducked under the curtain. The She lay crumpled on the floor, whimpering. Over her stood a human female with hate radiating from her like a choking, black stink. On the bed lay a familiar two-leg, one who came around the house sometimes. Shadow had named him the One Who Hollers from the way he acted around Sunny.

But the human wasn’t hollering now. He just stared as the Dark One pushed away another female in a white coat while drawing back her leg for another kick at the She.

Not with me here, Shadow thought. With a rumbling battle cry coming from deep in his throat, he leaped to the attack, claws flashing.

The Dark One drew back with a cry as he raked his way along her ankle. Then she turned to aim a kick at him. He jumped out of the way, riposting with an attack on her other foot. The She rose up, angry, and tried to join in. But she moved clumsily, favoring one side.

Snarling, the Dark One ignored them, swinging to attack White Coat, who made a lot of noise. Not a wise choice, turning her back on Shadow. He launched an attack from the rear, this time slashing the human up behind the knee. Reflexively, the Dark One kicked backward, and Shadow caught a glancing blow. He flew back to land in a heap, knocked onto his side. Quickly, he scrambled to his feet and shook himself. Good. She hadn’t hurt him.

But the brief distraction allowed the Dark One to close in on him. She limped slightly, but that wouldn’t stop her from another kick . . .

Then, with a loud rattle, curtains suddenly swept open.

*

The billowing fabric in Room 114 blocked the view, but Sunny clearly heard Dr. Gavrik shouting, “What are you doing here?” The noises of feline and human anger and pain pretty much filled in the rest of the picture for Sunny’s imagination. How often had she heard Dr. Gavrik crabbing about the waste of resources the facility’s therapy animals represented? The notoriously nasty doctor wouldn’t have much patience for a pair of them playing around underfoot. From the sound of shoe striking flesh, Gavrik had given one of the cats a painful welcome.

Was that Shadow?

Sunny had no idea how her cat had turned up here—had he somehow hitched a ride with Mike?—and now he’d followed his nose and hooked up with Portia, his dream girl. But Shadow wasn’t a therapy animal trained to get along with all kinds of people. If Dr. Gavrik attacked, Shadow would strike back. Sunny finished her sprint, rushing into the room, yanking the curtain aside. Dr. Gavrik was fighting, all right, but with Camille, trying to get a hypodermic needle out of her hand. The aide staggered with one leg drawn back, facing Shadow. She looked like a soccer player poised to score a goal—but with a gray furry body instead of a ball.

On the bed, Ollie Barnstable lay blinking his eyes as if trying to decide whether he was awake or still asleep. One arm lay out of the covers, an alcohol swab on his forearm. The cats must have come flying in to interrupt the doctor just as she was sterilizing the site to draw blood.

“Camille!” Sunny called sharply, trying to draw the woman back from kicking Shadow. “What are you—”

“Watch out for the needle!” Dr. Gavrik called, even as Camille flung her off to crash into a visitor’s chair.

As if in response, Camille changed her grip from the three-finger hold for an injection to gripping the barrel of the hypodermic in her fist, stabbing at Sunny.

“Hey! A little help here!” Sunny yelled in Will’s direction as she quickly back-pedaled.

But that help came from an unlikely source. Portia launched herself in a clumsy attack, her claws catching uselessly in the leg of Camille’s surgical blues. But Shadow, more practiced at street fighting, hurtled himself onto the back of the aide’s leg. She stumbled, off balance, her stab at Sunny falling short.

Now Will and Mike came into the room. “What’s going on here?” Will demanded in his best cop voice.

“That one was trying to inject the patient!” Dr. Gavrik struggled upright. “She could kill him!”

Will tried to grab Camille’s wrist, but the girl was strong, tearing free. Portia made plaintive noises, her claws apparently caught in the blue cloth, dragging behind Camille.

Shadow gathered himself for another charge, a low, unpleasant growl coming out of him.

Sunny’s voice didn’t sound much more civilized as she spoke through gritted teeth. “Give it up, Camille.”

Instead, the aide charged for the door, ready to stab Sunny or go right through her.

Shadow went for Camille’s leg again, and Sunny went for her face, landing a solid punch on the aide’s cheek. It left Sunny’s hand numb, but Camille spun around, the needle flying from her hand.

Mike came forward to grab it, but Will waved him off. “We need her fingerprints on it!”

He had a job subduing the furious woman. She fought him all the way while he got her arms behind her, pinning her to Mr. Vernon’s empty bed as he put a pair of handcuffs on her wrists.

“Camille.” Sunny tried to rub some life back into her numbed hand. “Why?” She wasn’t asking about the attack on Ollie, or even on her. Obviously they had caught an angel of death, the cause of the bump in mortality statistics . . . and Gardner’s killer.

“Why?” Camille snarled, glaring over her shoulder. “Haven’t you seen this place? They charge four hundred bucks a day to hold a bed for somebody. I don’t make that much in a week—and that’s before taxes. I’d have been better off finding a job with a landscaping company. The work is just as back-breaking, but there I might get appreciated.”

She heaved herself upright. “I put myself into debt, training for this job. Thought I’d be helping folks and moving up from minimum wage. Instead, the pay’s lousy, and the work is worse. Still, I stuck with it. I could put up with people puking on me or wiping their butts. It was the eyes I couldn’t take—having them look right through me. They thought I was invisible? Fine. I’d make them disappear. Who’d notice a couple of extra strokes around here? Especially at night, when everyone has twenty people to take care of.”

“An air embolism in the artery,” Dr. Gavrik said. “It would seem very much like a stroke.”

“Yeah, you didn’t catch it, did you, Doctor?” Camille made a mockery of the title. “It was one thing, getting my own back on the nasty old ladies, but Scatterwell, he was evil.” She turned to Ollie. “And he made all the trouble, bringing the cops in. He knew something, was gonna to talk with the sheriff. I had to go for him—had to shut him up.”

Hearing a gasp behind her, Sunny turned to see Rafe Warner and Frank Nesbit staring into the room.

“Did you guys hear that?” she demanded. “I’d call that a pretty explicit confession.”