The Case of the Vampire Cat by John R. Erickson Page A

was blown. Smoke and fire and flames filled the control room, and my whole life had come down to two words: Fresh air!

    I staggered and stumbled through the darkness, ran into water pipes and conked my head on floor joists and cinder-block piers, fought my way through the green poisonous air, until at last I reached the escape hatch and tumbled out into the sweet cold air of night.
    Gasping for breath, I looked around and saw Mary D standing a few feet away. She was licking her paw. “I should have known that you and Leroy wouldn’t get along.”
    â€œLeroy!” I gasped. “You mean he has a name?”
    â€œOh sure. We share the place. He stays on his side and I stay on mine. He’s okay with cats but you must have said something that really hurt his feelings. I mean, he’s never done this before.”
    â€œI didn’t say anything. I was having this dream, see, and I thought . . . never mind, it’s too complicated. The bottom line is that I punched him.”
    She stared at me and shook her head. “Uh, uh, uh. You should never punch Leroy.”
    â€œI realize that.”
    â€œI wish you hadn’t done it.”
    I pushed myself up on all fours. “Well, I kind of regret it myself, and I’m sorry you didn’t tell me that I was moving into a den of skunks.”
    â€œLeroy’s the only one and he’s really a nice guy.”
    â€œI noticed.”
    â€œYou just can’t punch him around.”
    â€œHey, it was an accident, and could we change the subject? Such as, what do we do now?”
    She cranked up her purring machine and started rubbing on me again. “Well, I’m afraid we’ve lost the house. This has never happened to me before and . . .”
    Suddenly, her eyes turned into flaming circles of fire. She humped her back and started hissing, like a . . . I don’t know what. A cobra, I guess, a hissing, angry cobra that had gone insane. And she drew back her right paw and aimed a handful of sharp claws at my nose.
    Lucky for me, I saw it coming and used my lightning-fast reflexes to dodge the punch, other­wise . . . hmmm, otherwise our friendship might have ended there, and she might have . . .
    Anyways, she humped up and hissed and threw a wild punch, and then she started screeching at me.
    â€œYou bozo, I offered to help you and took you in to save your stupid skin, and look what you’ve done!”
    â€œIt was an accident.”
    â€œAccident! Is that all you can say? You found the only skunk within five miles of here and punched him out!”
    â€œI was dreaming.”
    â€œDreaming! Is that all you can say? You’ve ruined my friendship with Leroy!”
    â€œI thought he was a bird dog.”
    â€œBird dog! Is that all you can say?”
    â€œWhat do you want me to say?”
    â€œI want you to say . . .” Suddenly her screech changed into a moan, and she burst out crying again. “I want you to take me away from here! My home is wrecked. It’s all I had to show for two long lonely years. I have no place to hide. The coyotes will eat me. Oh Homer, take me away from here!”
    â€œMy name is Hank, actually.”
    Her head came up, and once again her eyes were aflame. “Do I care what your name is? You’ve ruined my life, you clam-brain, and now you’d better get me out of here!”
    â€œDon’t screech at me.”
    â€œI’ll screech at you! I’ll tear out your eyeballs!”
    â€œOkay, screech all you want.”
    She went back to tears. “Is that all you can say? I’ve just lost my home and now you ask me to screech about it? What kind of heartless brute are you?”
    Oh boy. I walked a few steps away and waited for her to get control of herself. At last she did. She came up behind me.
    â€œHomer, our situation is serious. We’ll be sitting ducks for the predators if we stay here.”
    â€œI agree. If you can get us out of these