Helen balanced her grocery bags as she shut her car door and headed up the path to her second-story apartment.
She glanced over her shoulder, then double-checked to make sure that the contents of her shopping bags were well-concealed. Helen had never been an athletic person, and the fact that she’d be turning seventy next month also didn’t give her much of an advantage, but she still did her best and shuffled down the path and up her apartment stairs as quickly as she could with her bag of contraband.
With shaky hands, huffing a bit from her hurried flight, she found her apartment keys and undid the lock. Once inside she flipped the lights on and sagged against the door, catching her breath. She then walked into the small kitchen and began putting her groceries away, pulling out her incriminating purchase last – a box of canned cat food.
As soon as she opened a can, she heard the soft padding of tiny feet across the linoleum floor; and she smiled as she was greeted by the fat brown tabby she had recently named Sullivan.
“Hello to you too, Sully,” she said as she set his food down on the floor in front of him, “it’s good to see you’re feeling better.”
Helen knew pets weren’t allowed at the apartment – they never had been, not for the nearly fifteen years she’d lived there. But she simply couldn’t have left Sullivan lying in the street, when she’d found him three nights ago, limping on a wounded paw. He was old and bedraggled, so she knew he’d probably be put to sleep if she brought him to the Humane Society. So she’d taken him in, cleaned his wounds, and he’d curled up next to her that night.
She knew it was breaking the rules, but it wasn’t like Sullivan was causing any harm. He was fat, toothless, and even declawed – a practice that she didn’t agree with, knowing it was inhumane to declaw a cat, but at least she wouldn’t have to worry about him scratching the cabinets. He didn’t even meow; just purred his heart out when he curled up beside her on the couch, a welcome and comforting sound in her lonely apartment.
She couldn’t have let the poor thing fend for himself – especially with that wild animal on the loose.
Whether it was a coyote, a mountain lion, or even a bear, nobody knew; but there was some creature coming down from the hills at night and tearing people’s pets and livestock to pieces. According to the news, not even people were safe outdoors at night – much less a little old cat like Sullivan.
“You just need to stay out of sight,” she said to the cat as she heated up a microwave dinner for herself, “that new manager lady is a bitch; she’d never let me keep you here. No matter that I’ve been here almost as long as she’s been alive.”
Once her dinner was heated, Helen carried it over to the couch. She flipped the T.V. on to a rerun of Diagnosis Murder, and Sullivan joined her on the couch, revving up his purr as he settled in beside her. Helen smiled as she scratched him behind the ears. Maybe he couldn’t understand her when she talked, or follow along when she watched her shows, but still; it was nice to have some company.
(((0)))
Helen walked up to the office that morning, her rent check clutched in one hand.
She hoped it would be Jerome, the nice young black man, who would be stationed in the office that day – not that mean new manager lady. Helen had disliked Kristen McLaine from the first day she met her. She was a sour-faced brunette thirty-something with a bad attitude and even worse fashion sense. The old manager, Cindy, had been a lovely woman who had known Helen for nearly as long as she’d lived there. Helen never had to worry about being a few days late on rent when Cindy had been around. If she dared to be late when Kristen was around, she was sure she’d be evicted.
She quickened her pace, ready to get this over with and get back to the safety of her apartment, sidestepping a red stain on the sidewalk. The stain was all that was left from a dead raccoon that had been left there earlier that month, another victim of that wild, rampaging, mystery animal. The poor creature had been eviscerated, its remaining guts laid out red and glistening across the pavement. Helen had nearly fainted when she’d come across it on her way to get her mail.
She shook the disturbing memory from her mind as she reached the office. She stepped into the hallway and peeked her head around the corner. To her relief, Jerome was there, and he flashed her a friendly smile as she entered the office. Unfortunately, he was helping another young couple who sat on the other side of his desk.
“I can take you over here,” said a curt voice from the other end of the office, and Helen’s heart sank as she saw Kristen waving her over.
She trudged across the office, head down as she meekly handed her check over to Kristen. The younger woman didn’t even look up at her as she took the check, only acknowledging her after she had looked it over.
“Mrs. Olsen?” she asked, “Apartment 208 B?”
“Yes,” Helen replied, more than a little offended. Jerome would have known who she was without having to confirm it.
Without explanation, Kristen dug through a file on her desk and handed Helen a slip of blue paper.
“What’s this?” Helen asked, struggling to read the small print without her glasses.
“A notice,” Kristen replied, eyes still glued to her computer screen as she typed away at something, “you have three days to get rid of the cat.”
Helen’s heart began to gallop in her chest. She felt her mouth go dry, but managed to swallow back her panic enough to speak.
“What do you mean?”
Kristen met her eye for the first time and raised an eyebrow at her.
“I saw it in your window yesterday,” she explained, “there are no pets allowed on the premises. Our pet policy is clearly stated in the lease.”
“But, but I –“
“You have three days to have the animal removed, or we will be calling Animal Control,” Kristen said, no emotion in her voice as she continued to type.
Helen felt tears welling in her eyes, and she turned to leave.
She wasn’t about to give that bitch the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
(((0)))
It was in the wee hours of the morning on the third day that Helen sat on her couch, still watching late night shows with Sullivan as the cat lay contentedly beside her.
She had tried to a place to take him the last two days. She didn’t know anybody who would be able to take a cat, so she had called every shelter in the city asking if any would be able to promise her that he’d be safe in their care. She’d gotten the same reply from all of them; Sullivan was an old cat and would be hard to adopt, so they couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t be put to sleep. Helen could feel her heart breaking at the thought of sending Sully to such a place, which was why she’d spent this last night soaking up every last moment with him, gently stroking his soft fur and feeling the warmth of his round body against hers as he purred happily beside her.
It was near sunrise when she began to nod off, slipping into a light slumber – a light slumber that was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a scream.
It wasn’t a human scream; instead, it was the distinct, growling screech of a cat in distress.
Helen hurried to her window, throwing back the curtains and gasping as she saw, in the low light of dawn, the strange and horrifying scene below her.
She recognized the cat; it was the scraggly brown tomcat she would often see attacking any neighborhood cats that wandered too close to his turf behind the dumpsters. He was behind the dumpsters now, but not on the ground; instead, he was being held aloft, crushed between the hairy claws of some creature.
The creature was like nothing Helen had ever seen. It was like a hideous dog, with a long, dark snout full of fangs, and a head of shaggy black fur. Its whole body was covered in the same black fur, but it stood upright on two legs, well over six feet tall. The unfortunate cat clasped between its claws was held there for only a moment before the creature opened its gaping mouth and shoved the cat in whole.
Helen turned away from the window and covered her mouth just as the creature’s jaws clamped down and the poor cat’s screams ceased. She turned back slowly, peering through her fingers like she was watching a scary movie.
The creature was still there, licking its chops as it swallowed down the last of its prey.
Then, something even stranger happened.
The creature shuddered, as though in pain, then fell to the ground. It began to shake, and then to shrink. Its long limbs shortened, its gnarled claws shrinking away, its snout condensing until it disappeared completely. The black fur receded, revealing pinkish-white skin; and there behind the dumpsters, where moments before had stood a monster, now lay a naked woman.
Helen snapped into action, grabbing a blanket off the back of her couch and running to the door. She hurried down the flight of stairs and made her way as quickly as she could to the dumpsters out back. She carefully picked her way behind the dumpsters, gravel and broken bits of glass crunching under her house shoes.
“Honey? Can you hear me?” she called as the woman came into view, her body curled in a fetal position and her dark hair covering her face.
Helen knelt down beside the woman, her joints creaking as she through the blanket over the woman’s body and gently shook her shoulders.
“Can you hear me, hon?” she repeated. The woman stirred, and Helen brushed the woman’s hair out of her face – and gasped.
The woman staring back at her, mouth stained red with cat’s blood – was Kristen.
“Oh, no,” Kristen said, sitting up and pulling the blanket tight around herself, “this wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“I’d say so,” Helen said, her eyes wide in disbelief. Kristen took a long, deep breath and asked,
“How much did you see, exactly?”
“I saw you eat a cat.”
Kristen shut her eyes, a pained expression crossing her face.
“Shit,” she said.
“Well, are you hurt?” Helen asked, offering her a hand. Kristen took it and shakily got to her feet.
“I’m fine,” she said. Helen nodded, still not quite believing what she was seeing.
“I guess this explains all those dead animals, doesn’t it?” she said. Kristen sighed.
“Yep,” she replied, “I can assure you, I won’t be coming this close to the apartments again. And if you could refrain from saying anything about this, I would appreciate it.”
Helen nodded.
“Of course, dear,” she said, “and I suppose we could make an exception about my cat as well, couldn’t we?”
Kristen wiped the blood off the back of her mouth and for the first time, Helen saw the ghost of a smile play across her lips. She let out a sigh, and her tense shoulders relaxed a bit.
“Yes, Mrs. Olsen,” she replied, “we can certainly make an exception about your cat.”