CHAPTER SEVEN

It is the busy-time, and the platform is crowded. Little Cat sits behind the barrier, watching the two-legs, marking where the food is dropped and kicked and stepped on. She is hungry, but her belly doesn’t hurt the way it used to. Katherine’s food is good, and she hopes that more will come. But for now, the busy-time leavings will have to do, unless Candlewax brings her something. He is by the stairs, the tray of candles on his chest.

A snarl and a hiss. She looks up. From a two-leg’s arms, nose wrinkled back, ears flattened, another cat challenges her. It has a band around its neck, with a strap that the two-legs holds in one hand.

“Osiris, calm down. Shh, now, it’s almost over. We’re almost there.” The two-legs runs her hand down the other cat’s head, scratches it behind the ears, but it pays no attention. It’s wriggling and pushing with its back legs, struggling to get loose and down. Little Cat stands, her claws half out, back rising and tail fluffing. She snarls and yowls – this is her place.

The cat digs its claws into the arm of the two-legs and hauls itself free.

 “Ow, Osiris – no! Come back here! Somebody, grab the leash!”

Osiris leaps toward Little Cat, landing just in front of the barrier. He is big, much bigger than her. His fur is sleek and black and clean, and his muscles are firm and before she can back away, he’s through the barrier and on her, slashing and snarling.

She twists and turns under him, wanting only to get away, run from him, for she is no match for him.

“Come here!” The two-legs’ voice is close by, but Little Cat pays no attention. She squalls as the bigger cat’s claws dig into her side and he’s pulled backward. As his weight leaves her, she scrabbles to get her feet under her, and she’s off the platform, soaring into the noisy-dark. She hits the ground hard, the shock jarring her shoulders, but she doesn’t stop – he’s right behind her, and dimly she can hear the two-legs yelling, but all she wants is to find a hole and lose him. Past the wide space she flies, legs bunching and stretching, whiskers and ears flat to her head, past the pool of water. She darts around the big concrete pillars separating the tracks, and past the pile of rotten wood that marks the end of the dark places she knows.

The tunnel narrows, and she streaks along between the rails, leaping from one set of tracks to the other as an earth-shaker ear-breaker light shines and the scream of the thing fills her head. She keeps running, and when it’s past she can hear the thud of Osiris’ feet behind her. Past the signal lights, and she’s breathing hard but she pushes harder. He’s catching up, snarling at her as she passes the double lights, and the tunnel widens even further, with openings on both sides, the rails suddenly multiplying.

At the side, near one of the openings, she sees a ledge. She jumps the rails and leaps. It’s just wide enough. As she turns, another earth-shaker ear-breaker screams by, and she huddles down, eyes tight shut, claws dug into the dirt on the ledge. Once it’s past, Little Cat listens, scents the air, then jumps to the hard-packed ground.

She can’t smell it. There is the metal stink of the trains and the rails, new scents she’s never smelled before, the ever-present reek of the water that drips constantly, but no fresh cat-scent. She can smell where he was, on the other side of the rails, but the scent just disappears, as he seems to have. There is no scent of fresh meat, so the earth-shaker didn’t get him.

It’s too puzzling for her – she is in the deep dark, he has gone, and she wants to go back to her place on the platform. This is too dangerous for her, and if he is around, she doesn’t want to meet him.

She turns and starts back to the light.

* * * * * *

Little Cat crawls out of her hidey-hole, stretches and sits by the iron post. It is the end of the busy-time, so she will wait and watch until the crowds are gone. She is still shaken from the chase during the last busy-time, the scratches in her side hurt and she will take no chances that another cat will be here. When the two-legs are gone, and she is sure she’s safe she will look for Candlewax.  The rush and bustle of the crowds is dying down as a female two-legs, carrying bags, sees her.

“What a cute little cat,” she says. Little Cat draws away, back toward her hidey-hole. The two-legs laughs and moves toward the bench near the big open space beyond the stairs. She sits and puts the bag on the ground.

Player Man is touching his black and white box and making his noises. The female two-legs gets up, walks over to him and drops clinking things in his hat. Player Man puts his box away as he talks to her. He takes the hat and empties it into his pockets and smiles. The train roars into the station. The two-legs and Player Man hurry onto it, but she has left the bag by the bench.

Little Cat sits patiently, waiting. As the crowds thin, she sees Candlewax at the far end of the platform, beyond the bench the two-legs sat on, beyond the big open space. He doesn’t have the tray around his neck. Before she can move toward him, Affa, Big and Chilly clatter down the stairs. “Think the dog’ll be any good?” asks Affa, dancing around as he always does.

“Dunno. Man said it was a trained attack dog. That’s what I want.” replies Big.

Little Cat hears Candlewax whoop. She edges out onto the platform. There he is, waving the bag the female two-legs had left on the platform earlier. What will he do with it?

“Hey – look at this!” Candlewax calls. His voice is full of pleased excitement, like a kitten who’s caught her first mouse. Little Cat edges away from the post. His excitement feels good to her. “Can I score or can I score?”

“Hey, man, let’s see that.” Chilly reaches out and grabs the bag from Candlewax, fingers the sides. “Good quality leather. Might be some good stuff in it.”

 “Hey!” Candlewax reaches for the bag as Big takes it and looks through it.

“You got this for us, right, man? Hey – you gotta prove yourself.”

Candlewax shakes his head and opens his mouth as he looks from Chilly to Big to Affa then closes it again. He turns away, his body sagging.

Big hauls out some cloth and waves it at Candlewax. “Good stuff if you like nighties, You into women’s nighties?”

“Hey, that – I - I didn’t know what was in it, okay? I just took it. How was I supposed to know it wasn’t her purse?”  Candlewax’s voice is hard and high. His arms are out and his hands are half-closed. He is angry at them, she realizes. She’s never seen him angry before and she draws back a bit.

Big holds the cloth up against Candlewax’s face. “Oh, man, you look so good in that.” He laughs, pats Candlewax on the cheek. “The color is so you.”

Chilly and Affa laugh, and pull more cloth out of the bag. Little Cat edges back toward the post. The voices are laughing and joking but underneath is a hard edge that says they want to hurt.

Candlewax pushes the cloth away. His mouth is turned down, the lips pressed tightly together, and his face is dark with anger. He steps away from Big.

Affa holds a tiny piece of cloth against Candlewax’s chest. “My, my, boss man, that goes real good with your brown coat. You should wear it.” He doubles over with laughter, tosses the cloth toward Candlewax, who bats at it. The scrap flutters down into the pit where the trains move.

“Shoulda put it on him, Affa, for real,” says Big. The laughter is out of his voice. He sounds grumpy and on edge. “If this is all he can do for us.”

Little Cat doesn’t like the feel of his voice, and she takes a step or two toward the barrier. There may be a fight, and the hard shoes will hurt her ribs, knock her around the platform.

“What d’ya mean?” asks Candlewax. Little Cat edges forward, then back. The anger in her friend’s voice is as sharp as Big’s, and she is afraid.

“You want in the Nightside, you gotta do better than bringin’ us nightgowns and bras. You wanna impress me, bring me something I can sell on the street.” He shoves Candlewax, who staggers back a step. Little Cat’s fur begins to rise as Big goes on. “You think we’re grade school kids, rippin’ off freaks for their welfare money, rollin’ drunks for spare change? You think that, eh, Candlewuss?”

Candlewax’s voice sounds like knives. “I didn’t –  that’s not –”  He stops, looks again from one face to another. “What the hell you want, asshole?” He pulls the cloth off his neck and grabs the bag from Big. “Check this out. Look. You want money, here. All here in this little pocket.” He pulls his hand out of the bag, and waves it around, the pieces of paper fluttering.

Big grabs the hand and pulls the paper away from Candlewax. “Nothing worth talking about. Not even a hundred dollars. It’s crap, Candlewuss.” He pushes the bag into Candlewax’s chest and it drops to the ground. Big stalks away, kicking the bag off the platform.

Candlewax turns away, but Chilly grabs him. “Easy, easy, my man. Don’t let Big get you. He worried right now. Temper’s up.”

Candlewax pulls away from Chilly and slams up the stairs.

“Chilly! Affa! You comin’ to see this dog with me or what?” The two look up the stairs after Candlewax, then hurry down the platform to Big.

Little Cat moves back to her hidey-hole and curls up. There is too much danger to risk looking for food now. Perhaps Katherine will come.