Hespetha: A Feline Tale

Things never really seemed important, until now. I led a rather idyllic life, for what this world had become and considering, what I had become. To explain this, I should start at the beginning.

I was born in a janitor's closet at Acacia Genetics Laboratories, Inc., amongst cleaning supplies. I can see in your eyes and by the way you shrink away from me, you've already formulated an opinion of me. Sadly, I can't blame you, but it does explain why I look the way I do.

My mother was a lab cat, yes. The tag on her plastic collar identified her as such; Specimen #381-CF: Genetic Alterations. She told me all that she had to endure as a kitten, barely weaned and sold to AGL along with her litter-mates by the kid who owned her, looking to make a buck. Separated from her litter-mates, never to see them again, there came the poking and prodding, samplings of her tissue, blood, urine and feces. She was placed in a large cage, where she was fed well. Her playtime came late at night, when all the lab personnel had left and the small cleaning crew came on shift. They knew it was against policy to remove any of the animals from their cages, but mother was cute. She was a tiny little fluff of calico, brown, black and a reddish orange covered her back to an underbelly of white. She would mewl pathetically, little paws stretched through the gaps in the cage until finally a young Hispanic woman took her out. She was made a fuss over by the three women that the team consisted of, given nibbles from their lunches, and a wad of paper her first play toy. After an hour of this, the woman would slip her back into the cage. Worn out from her playtime and with a belly full of chicken, she would curl up and sleep.

The injections began when she came into her first heat. The artificial inseminations began on her second heat, conception was attained. The people of AGL, Inc. would never know the outcome, for it was during her pregnancy that it all came to a destructive end.

Mother could never explain to me what really happened, she really didn't know. All that she could tell me was that there was such a roar of loud noise, a shaking that turned her cage over onto the floor, jarring the cage door open. In her fear, she took flight amongst the chaos of running lab personnel and other animals set free when their cages met the same fate as her own. She found sanctuary in that open door to the janitor's closet, crouched between two industrial buckets, hissing and trembling. There was a moment when a large dog found his way in there too. He fled when Mother hurled herself at him, spitting and clawing his sensitive nose, unwilling to share her space with something so nocuous.

When things settled down and became quiet she ventured out, her nature of curiosity demanding it. All the people were gone, save a few that met their demise from falling debris or a run-in with a lab animal attuned with fear and confusion. One poor fellow had his throat ripped out, no doubt the work of the dog Mother had ejected from her newfound home. What became of that dog and the other lab animals was unknown.

Further investigation by her keen nose led her to the small room where the supplies of pet foods were kept. How honorable of these humans to have purchased the best quality dry food money could buy. There was enough there to keep Mother fed until she could find a way out of the building. With all reserve strength she could muster, she managed to tip over the twenty-five pound bag of Dr. Blasko's Cat Chow. It was already open so she was able to eat until she was full.

Her next ranging would be in search of water. Prowling close to the walls, tail sticking straight up, she wandered through the lab, once encountering a small group of white lab mice huddled in a tipped-over wastebasket.

She fought her feline urges to just rip the little beady-eyed rodents apart, since water was more important at this juncture. She would keep them in mind though, for the time when she tired of Dr. Blasko's, if they were still around then.

The sound of trickling water caught her attention. It came from the top of one of the worktables four feet above her. Hunching down, preparing her hindquarters with a little dance, she sprung up to the counter top. Mother's ears hadn't betrayed her; a stainless steel sink was built into the counter top. It hadn't been turned off properly and a thin stream of water ran from the arching silver faucet. Her throat aching from thirst, she cocked her head to lap at the trickle. It was cold and refreshing, but was somewhat of a nuisance to lap at while getting a measure of the water up her nose. Mother was smart for one as young and untrained as she was, but maybe some of those painful injections had given her rational thought. A Petrie dish sitting in the bottom of the small sink gave her an idea.

Dropping down into the cool metal sink, she pushed the dish (fortunately, free of whatever it was they put in them) with one paw until it was beneath the miniature waterfall. When it filled, the overflow spilled out and ran down the sloping bottom to the drain. This kept it from filling the sink. Now she would always have a place to drink.

Proud, sated, tired and heavy with her pregnancy, she returned to the closet. She made herself a nest of clean mop heads, felt the stirrings of her unborn young and curled up to sleep.

Three weeks later, the first twinges of her womb contracting alarmed her. It was too soon! She didn't know how she knew this, but her instincts told her she still had two more weeks to go. Mother meowed loudly when the first kitten was pushed out into the world. It wasn't a kitten, though. It was a shapeless blob that writhed beneath her tail for a couple of minutes before going still. Panting, Mother pushed the abomination back away from her with her hind feet, appalled by what she had birthed. Two more hard contractions gave two more of the same results, each looking only a bit more like a kitten, but deformed enough to expire shortly, much to Mother's relief. I was the last born, small and struggling for breath, until she had licked the membrane away from my face. Her happiness of having one normal kitten was evident by her deep, warm purring. My own instincts allowed me to find her teat, and I contently suckled her warm milk that was full of the nutrients I needed to grow stronger. I would mainly survive due to the fact there were no litter-mates to compete with. I nursed while Mother licked my reddish brown fur.

I was named Hespetha, after my Mother's mother. Mother's name was Dianah. As soon as she had regained her energy from the birthing, she removed me from the janitor's closet, wanting to get as far away from the three misbegotten things that lay buried under stacks of paper towels she had knocked down from a shelf. Carrying me gently by my scruff, she wandered through the halls and corridors of AGL, not wanting to get too far away from the food and water source until I was weaned. Then she would seek a way out of the building entirely.

I was growing fast, faster then Mother expected. By the time I was a month old, I was almost as big as she was. It was after that first month I started experiencing a rather annoying itching between the toes of my forepaws. I chewed and licked until they were almost denuded of any fur. We both started getting troubled when my toes began to lengthen. I was soon able to flex them and curl them with an opposing thumb, even to the point where I could pick small items up. It had to be something the scientist had either injected Mother with or the insemination. We didn't know for sure, but who would we question if we could?

In five months, I was three times bigger than Mother and other changes were taking place within me. Many of them were painful. I cried until my eyes watered and I was racked with sobs, another new thing for me. Mother did her best to comfort me, licking my face and purring until I would fall into a troubled sleep. It was then that I started to dream, or what I thought were dreams. I saw in these dreams, people walking around in rubble, most had a look on their faces of stunned disbelief. Many were in the last throes of death, covered with sores, skin sloughing away from their bodies. I could hear their thoughts. "Why has this happened?", "Where is my husband/wife/child/mommy/daddy?", "What are we going to do now?" I would whimper, struggling to push those thoughts away, thrashing in my sleep until Mother had to move away from me to keep from being hurt. Those dreams nearly drove me insane with their own insanity.

Mother finally came to the conclusion that it was time to move out of the labs. I figured out the way the elevators worked, but the main power was off. The diffused lighting kept alive by the back-up generator would soon be gone. I was big enough now, though, to push open the stairway doors by standing upright and pushing the bar that released the latch. With some substantial pushing, I was able to open the heavy metal doors wide enough for the two of us to slip through before they shut behind us with a loud clang. We were on the ninth floor and explored each floor down to the ground level, finding only the same chaotic mess on each. Each had its own measure of death. In one office, we found a man who had ended his own life with a gun, still clenched with a death grip in one hand. Could things have gotten that bad to drive a man to commit suicide? We were soon to find out as I pushed open the final door, the door that led the way to a whole new madness. It seems that my dreams were filled with the truth of what I saw. But, I bore you now. I have rambled on long enough. Time for this kitty to be on her way.

Hmm? What's that? Where can I be found? Where most cats in this forsaken city can be found, in the alleys. If you care to venture into my domain, I will gladly tell you more of my story.

***********************

Mother and I had been out foraging for our next meal. Against my better instincts, we had taken separate paths to increase our chances of finding something worth eating that wasn't tainted. I made it a point not to range too far away from Mother.

It was Mother's yowls that brought me streaking in a flash of reddish-brown fur into the alley behind the burned out grocery store. Five mangy dogs were circling around Mother who was barely moving, but still stoically hissing and spitting at her attackers.

I barreled into their midst, sending the curs flying with surprised yelps. The foolish canines thought their numbers could best me. The largest dog had barely reached my shoulders with the top of his head. They were surprised by my quick reactions and the strength a balled up fist could deal them. Even more surprised when I would grab one of them by a tail or scruff and hurl them into the last remaining visages of the store's walls.

With my tail slashing violently, I stood protectively next to Mother's body. I was one pissed off kitty and the junk yard dogs had found that out as I exalted with a yowl. They ran off yipping and whimpering, tails tucked beneath their bellies like the cowards they were.

How dare these mongrels consider my mother a target for venting their inadequacies to survive on what little means that was left to any of us! We're all in the same boat. Drowning beneath the layer of nuclear silt that casts its forever glowing aura of green on everything. Humans thought they could control it in the same manner they thought to control their dabbling in genetic reconstruction. I was one of the results of that and had seen more of that last night.

I was hidden away in one of the dumpsters outside of the Eternal Night Tavern, one of the few establishments that had succeeded in thriving in Acacia. I was doing my nightly search for some of the half way decent food they had a tendency to throw away. Mother was easy enough to feed, but I was another story. My appetite growing with my size. I scowled at the way they throw away food while so many in Acacia go hungry.

I heard voices in the alley, angry voices that soon turned to quiet. I dared to peek out from beneath the semi-closed lid of the dumpster. Several people laid on the ground, unmoving, presumably dead, save one man. Beyond the odors of the dumpster, my nostrils detected the smell I had become so familiar with. It was the scent of one similar to me, yet not. He seemed bewildered, as if he had just come upon the carnage that laid scattered like the other debris that made up the ghetto alleys. The blood that spattered him bespoke that he had been a part of it. I cannot say for sure, since I had only seen the aftermath.

The thoughts of last night dissipated as my anger lessened and I turn my attention to Mother. I could tell she fought valiantly, tufts of dog fur caught in her sheathed claws and more from the corner of her blood soaked muzzle. Tears sprang to my eyes with the sorrow I felt as I gently turned her body. Her entrails spilled out in a steaming mass from the large wound in her stomach. She cried out in pain, a cry that shall forever haunt me. My throat locked up, holding back the howl of my utter despair and grief. I tried desperately to push her innards back inside her furry belly, to no avail. All I could do now was afford her my comfort, taking her into my long fingered hands and caress her blood matted body, licking the top of her head, ignoring the fur that stuck to my rough tongue. I had arrived too late for her and knew she was now dying within my arms.

From her dying mouth, she uttered her love for me, calling me her darling Hespetha. I don't know how long I held her, there behind the rows of battered trashcans overflowing with their contents, and cried. I cried until I seemed devoid of any further tears. It was time now to put Mother to rest.

I salvaged a woman's cast off blouse, wrapping her gently and reverently in the soiled bit of cloth that became more soiled with her cooling blood. I would find a place to bury her. I would not leave her here to be fed upon by the vermin that would reappear once I departed. She was my Mother, she deserved better than that for loving the mutant kitten I was.

Standing upright with Mother cradled in my arms, as I was now able to do with the further mutation of my body, I edged my way through the shadows with caution. There were others similar to me about, but those not careful were hunted down and killed for being abominations. I had not lived a year in the ghetto alleys without learning something and stealth was one of those things I learned early on.

How long I had traipsed throughout Acacia was beyond me. I had lost caring about time, caring for nothing other then to place Mother's stiffening body to rest. She was my major loss and, with her death, my only contact with what was real and what I was once was. I knew what I once was, a kitten that was altered beyond all imaginings of what was normal. Turning into something that was a configuration of feline and superhuman in steady leaps and bounds as I grew. I was two years old now, I think.

The days and months were totally lost to Mother and I, as we strove to survive in this Post-Cataclysmic city. It was probably tougher on Mother than me. She being the former part of myself, less capable of defending herself from the other scourge. I, in turn, had grown to be a force to be reckoned with. I was bigger then any dog in Acacia, but there were now things bigger then me roaming these parts. This, more or less, made me the primary gatherer of sustenance while Mother remained hidden in the abandoned basement of an old Mom and Pop shop.

I had adapted well to my new capabilities, able to carry a pack gleaned from the store upstairs and a container that was red plastic with a funneled cap. I have no idea what it was used for, but it served me well enough to carry fresh water in. I would go out nightly, when I was likely not to be seen by human eyes. Anything else gave me wide berth because of my imposing size when I scavenged for food.

I stood between two buildings that were barely big enough to accommodate my size, still cradling Mother in my arms. My criss-crossing wanderings had led me down to the southeastern portion of Acacia. Through a blur of frustrated tears, I noticed something different just beyond a row of burnt out town homes. Swiping at my eyes with the back of one furry hand, I saw a halo of light that was golden, not the sickening green that came with the morning sun. It had a healthy look about it.

Looking around, testing the air with a keen nose, I concluded it was safe enough to venture forth to investigate. I felt so obvious having to walk upright. I feared going down on all fours to carry my small burden in my mouth, but I feared more of dropping the cold body of Mother. So, in long ungainly looking strides, I advanced between the row of homes, stepping into a wash of gold light.

Before me was the most beautiful building I had ever encountered in all of Acacia. But, then again, I had never ranged this far away from our sanctuary of the store's basement. The stones of the wall surrounding it seemed so pure and untainted by the devastation. How this place had escaped the ravages that claimed the rest of the city was beyond my comprehension.

The walls held within their confines something so marvelously alive. I could hear the songs of birds, picked up the scents of what could only be fresh air, flowers and trees. These new scents sent a shiver of anticipation through my body. I could feel the fur along my spine prickle with the sensation.

Coming up to a gate of wrought iron, I placed a hand around the cool metal, giving it a shake to see if it would open and open it did, much to my amazement. I stepped into what I was sure a magical place. Soft grass beneath my feet, tickled with life. A faint but welcoming breeze ruffled the fur over my body. Just being in this place made me feel better, healthier and more robust.

Yes, this was a place Mother would have loved, and it would now be her eternal resting-place. I wandered further into this sanctuary, an oasis amid the chaotic desert of Acacia. The joyful splashing of water from a large fountain in the heart of this place was where I made my decision to bury Mother. Laying her blouse shrouded body down, I hooked a long claw under a flat tile of shale that was a part of the walkway. Beneath it was dark rich soil, soft enough that it didn't take me long to dig out a shallow grave. It saddened me that I only had that lady's blouse to bury her in, leaving me wishing I had found something more suitable. I think that it wouldn’t have mattered that much, considering I had found Heaven for the cat that had loved me so much.

My tears showered down on the dark soil, darkening it further, as I pushed it over that small bundle, patting it down firmly then placing the shale back on top. The soil that was left over, I sifted about the spaces between all the other tiles. On the tile I had place over Mother, I scratched into it with one claw, DIANAH.

Mother had been so proud of me when I had learned how to read and write in such a short period of time. Even though she had no idea of what it was I was learning, I had picked it all up from the books I had found. I, myself, couldn't comprehend how it was that I could do such a task, it just seemed normal to me, like breathing.

As I brushed away shale dust from the tile, I felt an overwhelming weariness. Probably a combination of grief and the fact that I had not slept in quite some time. I stretched my body in a long languorous stretch, unsheathing my claws, now a lethal two inches long. Laying next to Mother's grave, I curled up into a ball of reddish brown fur, my tail resting across my nose. Drawing in a deep cleansing breath of untainted oxygen, I fell into a deep slumber. A sleep that, again, gave way to dreams I couldn't understand.