Children of Bast, Page 2

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know. It’s been two years. How long you gonna grieve? Adele and I were like family long before you came into the picture, Gaylord, so I think I have a right to hear what happened.”

  I looked away. He was right, but just thinking about Adele always brought me to tears and talking about her was almost impossible. I watched him sitting in front of me, a grizzled old wise amait with a stare that always made me feel guilty without knowing what I’d done. He was the abaa' and agdaad I ever knew; we’d become close since Adele brought me to him when I first hit the streets for his wisdom and guidance so my kith brain wouldn’t get me into trouble.

  Maybe I should talk about it, I thought, and close that part of my life.

  “How much time you got, Chubby?”

  “All the time in the world.”

  I sighed and twitched my ears but didn’t say anything for a long time. Cars swished by, streetlights popped on and a cool breeze slid under the shack that used to be a small store. Chubby said the bašar who ran it were okay and gave him fresh liver almost every day. Someone abandoned it and left it to rot after the bašar died, Chubby said. They boarded up the windows and doors long ago, and all the paint had flaked to the ground. They nailed the back door shut, but over the years, the nails pulled loose and the door rattled in the wind.

  We went inside once and found only empty, dusty rooms that made Chubby sad. He lived under the shack because it was near places to get food, and because he was a softhearted old tom, he kept watch over the place in honor of the bašar who had fed him.

  “Okay, let me start at the beginning, before I knew Adele and you. Let me go back and explain how I came to be this ragged alley amait you see before you.”

  He smiled. “Fantastic.” His voice was old and scratchy, but his purr rivaled the cars whizzing by.

  Chapter 2

  The cat is the only animal which accepts the comforts but rejects the bondage of domesticity. Georges Louis Leclerc de Buffon

 

  Although my beautiful orange tabby maama never knew about nibiit until we got to the seminary, she soon became a heavy drinker, a lush, in fact. Our captors, or owners if you wish…God, how I hate that word, owner. No one owns me now or ever will again. We were captives.”

  I glanced at Chubby who was laughing his tail off. “Go ahead, laugh,” I said. “You’re lucky you’ve never been captured.”

  He stopped laughing and said, “And never will be. Feral and free start with the same sound.”

  So does old fart, I thought, but he did have a way with words.

  “Okay. Our captors were young college students who’d picked us up somewhere in the Clowder of Bašar. You know, where tall buildings are crowded and cars run like rivers. I’ve heard them call it Sheekaga, or something like that. I’d been a kith when we got there and was too young to remember where maama and I came from. Lucky we were adopted together.

  Now, to be fair to our captors, Harriett and Ned weren’t bad bašar. They petted us and brushed us and cuddled us, stuffed us with food, and gave us a warm place to sleep that was lamis like my maama’s faraawi. And after laying on their laps until A'maar Aw'aat, they’d gave us their sofa to sleep on. But, we had no freedom, and we had to use a litter box to whiz and dump. A litter box. Ever use one?

  “Heard of ‘em. Sounds disgusting.”

  “Well, I’m here to tell you they smell worse than disgusting.”

  Their apartment was okay: a place for food where they ate and we ate, a place where the sofa was, a sleeping den and a place for their litter box, only it wasn’t like ours and smelled a lot better. Bašar have to have so much to live, Chubby. They’re so complicated. Not like us amai: All we need is a nook somewhere to sleep in, a place to dig holes and a few mice or rats to eat. So much easier, hey.

  Anyway, they had some skimpy cloth on the floor, a dark color, and it smelled bad, but I could never separate the smells. Except, someone smoked, I think, and dropped ashes on the floor. How can they smoke, Chubby? I’m gone when they make el nar from a little stick.

  The cloth was stiff and rough. It gave the whole place a stale, unfriendly feel, nothing cheerful. We were closed in. Nowhere to walk or run. Yeah, we played and rolled around together, but we slammed into the cold, hard walls all the time and about knocked our brains out. I was sure there was more to life, somewhere.

  Until I escaped, I’d never breathed fresh air, touched grass or dirt or felt a breeze. Warm light came through a small window above the sofa where we all huddled until it left us.

  But, on the outside, wow! Sunlight everywhere; even on cloudy days it’s warm, including in the Season of Emergence when it’s cold and we get deep snow.

  Now, Maama wasn’t bothered by the whole setup. After tasting her first nibiit, she didn’t care about anything but the next sip. Our captors drank a lot of nibiit, too. They had it every day but were careless about leaving it sit around in glasses where Maama could get to it. Of course, they didn’t know Maama was gulping it down. They probably thought amai didn’t like nibiit.

  My sister, Lamis, and I tried some nibiit once, and gagged all over the cloth on the floor. It tasted bad. I can’t describe it, really. It burned all the way down, and it was sour and made our tongues dry and bitter. How Maama could slurp the stuff, we never learned. I think it might have killed her because in the Season of Emergence before I escaped, we found her dead on the sofa one morning, curled up like she was sleeping, contented.

  Our light went out that day. Our beautiful, fluffy maama was all we had, Chubby, even though a lot of times she was passed out. But, she was our maama, and we loved her. Harriet found us that morning sitting by Maama, and she petted us and said she was so sorry. We never knew what happened to her body. It just disappeared.

  So, I decided then and there I was breaking out. I begged Lamis to come with me, but she was afraid. She said she liked it there and being the only amait around after I left, she’d have it all. I was kind of surprised by her attitude; I wasn’t aware she was so greedy. She is beautiful, though. She’s the image of Maama except for black around her right eye, a gift from one of our abb, Maama told us. Anyway, Maama died in proyet when it was cold like ice, and snow was deep. Wow. I just realized that was two proyets ago. A lot’s happened since she died.

  I escaped in early shemu on a warm day filled with sunshine. Harriett was cleaning their apartment, and when she opened the front door to put a rug out, I made a dash for the opening and was gone. I ran like I’d been scalded. Harriett screamed and ran after me, calling my name, but I was too wild with joy to notice.

  New smells flooded my nose. I opened my mouth and tasted them. Some were sour like that nibiit Maama drank, and others were choking like the smell of a skunk I met once and will tell you about later. But the smell of rot seemed to be everywhere. Have you ever noticed that? After a while you get used to it and don’t notice as much, but all the smells around us seem to float on a cushion of rot. Maybe it’s because we’re amai that we can detect such stink, but it made me cough and sneeze at first. Still does sometimes.

  Noise battered my ears and made them ache and throb. I’ve learned to put up with it, but street noise like cars, horns, and sirens, whatever, make me bonkers.

  Anyway, something soft and green tickled my paws, and when I was far enough away from Harriet, I stopped and buried my nose in it and found it smelled fresh. I took a bite. Sweet but kinda bitter. After bit, I puked green all over the sidewalk and felt wonderful. I still heard Harriet screaming for me, so I ran.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Chubby giggled again like he had a feather poked up his ass.

  “What now?” I asked

  “Aw, just enjoying your first experience with grass, is all. It’s our stomach medicine.”

  “Yeah, well, I know now. But, that day I was new to the world. I’d just been born.”

  “By the way, I know what you mean about stink and noise, and you’re right: it’s because we’re amai and our
noses are very good and our hearing’s almost as good as a kilaab, if they’d only stop barking for a while. You’re an amazing storyteller, Gaylord. Please continue.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  You’ll love this. I ran right off a curb just as a car zipped by and bent my whiskers flat against my face. Go ahead and laugh, you idiot, but I did not have to beh yeh for the rest of the day.

  I sucked in air like mad and shook like a constipated kilaab; I thought I might die. I hunkered down behind a bush and gawked around while I waited to die, which I didn’t, obviously, so I calmed down and started to wander around and see where I was because I didn’t know where I was, hey, and I thought it wise to find out.

  My captors lived in what I learned later was married student housing, long rows of attached dinky apartments cobbled together from bricks, with two steps up to the front doors. The main campus of the university was across the street, and I saw bushes and trees on the other side with a mass of cars parked behind them. If I was going to see anything and make sure I was far enough away so Harriett couldn’t find me, I had to cross that street.

  Well, the curb was still there, and I felt sure whatever blew by me would come again. Remember, I didn’t know it was a curb or a car; I just knew that I almost died and, somehow, I had to cross the street, even though I didn’t know it was a street, then. I sat and gazed at the strange, scary place I wanted to get to with its sprawling buildings and herds of bašar walking everywhere like they were late. I actually considered turning myself in and settling on the sofa for a nap, but I shook my head and was sane again.

  As you already guessed, traffic was choked and creeping. I crouched and waited, pinching my eyes closed so as not to cry from the fumes. My nose was raw, and I was almost deaf from the constant roaring of cars and trucks, and their blaring horns. After what seemed like forever, the cars stopped and I bolted across as fast as I could run.

  Streaking along the sidewalk dodging bašar feet, I must have looked like an araanib hopping with an amait on its tail. I headed for an alley I saw and barely ducked some ugly-looking mollie bašar who reached for me and yelled, “Isn’t he adorable?”

  Of course, she was right about me being adorable, but I was not about to be caught. I bolted so fast I became a smudge tearing away from her and leaving her screaming and clomping after me. In seconds I reached the alley and let its darkness swallow me.

  I crouched behind a garbage can to catch my breath and think about what I was doing. Yeah, I was free but I was like a kith out there. I knew nothing about being outside, Chubby, nothing. Where would I sleep? How could I feed myself? What about other amai and strange animals and kalb? I’d only seen kalb from the apartment window and heard them bark, but I didn’t even know how they smelled. They could be on me before I knew. In a few minutes, I took off running toward some tall buildings where I could see more alleys that looked like good hiding places.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Tender footed gib. Sheesh!” Chubby said.

  “I am not a gib. Do you mind if I continue?”

  “By all means. You had me at your drunken maama.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Tail high, I found another alley. I stopped and wandered slowly along a brick wall until I got to a place that was very dark, but horrible smells, sharp and stinging like the coffee Harriet made every morning, bit my nose. I was surrounded on both sides by walls of blocks; it reminded me of their apartment, with a rotten stink like the garbage in their kitchen. It gave me the willies, but I also felt safe.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  “You landed in the alley behind the dining hall,” Chubby said, chuckling. “Been there a million times.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t know that then. All I knew was I felt safe, away from bašar who wanted to grab me.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  It occurred to me again that I had either done the best thing by running away, or the stupidest. I missed my sofa. I ate when I was hungry, but now I didn’t know where to find food. I was warm in their apartment; in the alley I was cold. At home I purred and snuggled on a lap while they watched TV. In that alley I was free but definitely not comfortable.

  At the end of the alley I could see an open space where several huge dumpsters stood in a row. Remember now, I did not know they were garbage bins, but later learned to depend on them for food, if that’s what you want to call it. Jumping in and out of them were amai that freaked me out.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Chubby asked, “Why? You’re an amait. It shoulda been like a homecoming.” He yawned and gave me a puzzled stare.

  “Gotta remember, Old Tom, the only amai I’d ever been around were Maama and Lamis, my sister. I’d watched a few through the window, but that’s all. At the dumpsters I saw many, a clowder, no less, of wild, untamed amai. I couldn’t believe it. I found myself hunkering lower and lower in the shadows.”

  That’s when I saw Adele for the first time, sauntering across the entrance to the alley. My maama told me about our goddess, Bast, and how beautiful she was, being the ideal for all amai. When I saw Adele, I thought Bast had returned. She was so beautiful. White faraawi flecked with black, sparkling green eyes, a round face and big sexy ears—she was perfect. Remember her tail? ”

  Chubby said in a choked voice, “Hey, you don’t have to go through that and start me cryin’. I loved her, too, Gaylord.”

  “I know. Sorry, but even now she stands in front of me, smiling and peeking at me as she washes a paw.”

  I stopped talking and crawled out from under the shack, stretched and yawned. The dirt path between the shack and the street had some soft places where I dug a hole to beh yeh in. As I went back I saw Chubby returning from doing the same. He was just nestling himself into a faraawi ball again when I crawled under and settled beside him.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  I instantly focused on her. Yeah, I know I’m not telling you a thing, but, Chubby, I never was and I never have been taken by any amait like I was with Adele. My maama was gorgeous until she let herself go for the nibiit, and Lamis is…well, she’s my sister. She’s beautiful like Maama was, but Adele stunned me. I could not help myself. I sidled up to her and said, “Eih axbar?” Yeah, it was a stupid thing to say but I was totally tongue-tied. I still feel stupid telling you about it.

  “Kwayyis,” she said. “You’re new here.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Sydney,” I blurted out. I was not about to give her my bašar name, which I always thought sounded stupid.

  She moved closer to me. Her scent was fresh spring zahra, like that patch with all the burrs where they’re building a high-rise by the lake. I took a chance and licked her ear, and to my delight she licked me back. She rubbed my head and neck; she felt like Harriet’s faraawi coat I loved to snuggle in. And, she sang a soft purr; she woke up purring and fell asleep purring. I don’t remember her ever quitting.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Chubby sobbed.

  “I’m so sorry, Chubby, but I get carried away when I talk about her now. She was my reason for living.” Tears filled my eyes, too.

  Chubby said, “I understand. I know how you loved her. I do understand.” I licked his face.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Adele leaned back and looked me over. “Mmmm! Well, Sydney, where have you been all my life?” She nuzzled under my chin. “Love your soft black fawaari. Feels like araanib.” Twisting her head around my tail, she hummed, “Ooo! Love your tail: straight and strong and tall. You could whip someone with that thing.” She wasn’t shy, as you know. Sexy. Down right sexy.

  She stared at me and smiled. “But, it’s your face that lights my fire. Those huge coppery eyes shining like suns. Where are you from, Bombay?”

  “What’s Bombay?” I couldn’t talk. I didn’t know what I was, where I was, or why. I was completely screwed up, Chubby. My throat closed down. No one had ever said things like that to me. I was bewitched. I really didn’t understand what she was talking about, but I liked it. I was also s
cared to death. Amai can’t blush but I think I did.

  “Uh, I don’t know what to say,” I managed in a feeble tone. “I just escape from a seminary.” I was so pathetic, Chubby.

  “A what?”

  “A seminary, a place where they train people to honor something. I don’t know what, and I really don’t understand what they do.”

  “Weird.”

  “Yeah. They dress up in robes and stuff and then lay odd-looking things on a table in front eikonigow.”

  “Any way we can make something of that?”

  “I don’t know what you mean?”

  “As you know, we were worshipped as gods once.”

  “Worshipped: I don’t know worshipped.” If you’d heard me, Chubby, you’d still be laughing.

  “Worshipped. Never heard that word before?”

  “No.”

  “It means they bowed down to us, on their knees. Don’t you see? As dim as they are, we could pretend were are gods and goddesses and scare them into doing things for us, like feed us.”

  “Oh, they did that anyway. I got fed all the time. But I don’t think they’re dumb enough to fall for us being gods.”

  “Maybe not, but the food would be good.

  “Yeah, if you like that slimy stuff.”

  “I actually like it. I get a meal out of the trash, after it rots for a while. You got this food free, fresh and no hassle.”

  “Yeah. Were you a house amait?” She ignored me.

  “Listen, Sydney, maybe we could go visit.”

  “You’d be captured, not let run free, stepped on and petted all the time.”

  “And your point is?”

  “You want to be captured?”

  “Well, it gets rough out here, know what I mean? Some easy food and a soft sofa? Yeah.” She looked at me closely and then licked my ear. “This is your first time outside, isn’t it?”

  All I could do was spray.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Chubby rolled over on his back and belly-laughed so hard I feared for his life.

  “What? You scabby, scaly old mouser. You’ve never sprayed around some gorgeous amait like Adele?

  “Yes,” he managed amid his guffaws, “but the way you tell it, it’s hilarious. I can just picture it.” He was off again to cackle heaven, still on his back flailing his feet like some capsized crab.