Chapter 7
I began to limp down the empty, lifeless city street, carefully following the trail of faint, dried blood. I hoped that I would find the source very soon, as I began to grow exhausted, and the struggle to walk did not help me with this. The silence of the city was something I had quickly grown accustomed to. Any other time in my life I would have hummed or sang or even talked to myself to rid myself of the bland, almost ominous silence, but I had no urge to. Instead, I listened to the gusty wind singing its song of cold through the air as it darted through the few trees the city possessed.
A short while later, I began to hear it; it was a faint, quiet sound that echoed into oblivion, that one would never notice had they not been so used to the silence. It was a soft cry of anguish, of pain. I knew it had to be related to the blood stains, and so I attempted to limp faster and faster towards the sound, unsure of what I might find.
The blood stains persisted, as did the cries. It was an inhuman wailing, one I could barely stand to hear. My heart pounded, a bit afraid of the uncanny sound. The fact that the sun had begun to set at a rapid pace did not help to ease my nerves. I continued to limp, my legs burning and my body aching from exhaustion. Each moment the cries grew louder and seemed more real, and I knew I was getting closer to the source.
The blood stains seemed to be much more vivid the more I traveled, indicating that I was soon to find their source. Soon, the sound was pounding in my ears, assaulting my emotions and sanity. Limping faster, I came across a dark, narrow alleyway that led onto the street I stood on. The noise was obviously being produced from inside it. Carefully I made my way towards it, sneakily peering into it and hoping that whatever was in there would cause no harm to me.
When I peered inside, my eyes were met with the sea blue eyes of a common house cat, screeching and wailing in utter pain and terror. It looked so small, so pitiable, it lay on its side; its back leg was a mangled, bloody mess, no doubt caused by the tiger. The cat was lucky to have escaped the larger predatory feline.
Before I had time to think I rushed into the alleyway, observing the wound. It seemed to have pierced the skin and rending the muscle in a horrible way. I gagged a bit, but I knew I had to do something. The cat cried out, twitching in shock on the cold asphalt.
I leaned into the small cat, hoping that I could calm it down before I attempted to do something with it. I whispered in the darkness of the night, “There, there, it’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you,” in the calmest, sweetest voice I could muster in my nervousness. It was the same voice I used to calm my son, and somehow the cat seemed to understand. It could not understand my words, but it could understand my tone.
The cat stopped twitching for a moment, relaxing a bit. I was able to pick the animal up and cradle it under my right arm. It did not seem to trust me, but it likely understood that, if it was going to die anyway, what’s wrong with taking the risk?
I had to stop and think for a moment. I recalled a nearby hospital. If my memory was correct, there was a hospital just a few blocks from where I was. Grasping my cane tightly, I set off to find the hospital, hoping that my search would not be in vain.
The night sky became a deep, regal purple as it became littered with the white specks known as stars and faraway planets. The cat continued crying out, but it was now only out of pain, rather than fear. As I navigated the city streets, the cat grew colder, leaking crimson blood from its leg onto the front of my new suit jacket.
Finally, after minutes of searching, I found it. It was a huge, pristine, white building illuminated from the lights inside. I assumed that they had been on since last humans occupied it, and it seemed welcoming, or at least as welcoming as a hospital could be.
Lucky for me, the huge glass automatic door was unlocked and still functioning. The two glass panes separated from each other as I stepped up to them, allowing us to enter. As we did, the sterile scent teased my nose. I dashed through the halls, running into the first room with a bed that I came across. I quickly set the cat down onto the bed, the blood seeping out of the wound and staining the white sheets.
It cried out to me, and I responded with a harsh, “I’m trying, I’m trying, goddammit!” At the time, I was too preoccupied to question why I was speaking to the cat.
I took down the medical kit from a nearby cabinet and pried it open. I fished out a bottle of disinfectant, unscrewing the lid.
“Look, I’m sorry. You’re just going to have to deal with the pain for a moment, alright?”
I held the cat still, liberally spraying the medicine into the open wound. The cat screeched and howled in pure agony, attempting to attack me a few times in the adrenaline-induced terror. As soon as the cat calmed down, I was able to remove the large clumps of matted fur and dangling skin so that I could wrap the leg in a white bandage, hopefully allowing the wound to seal and allowing for a good recovery. It had lost so much blood, I wasn’t sure if my efforts would be in vain or not.
As the cat stopped screaming, I slumped down in a chair in front of the hospital bed, letting out a huge sigh. It was the first time that day I was actually able to rest and recount the events of the day.
“Nasty hangover, tiger attack, saved a cat. Nasty hangover, tiger attack, saved a cat. Nasty hangover, tiger attack, saved a cat.”
I smiled wider and wider the more I said it. I began to wonder if today would have been as action packed if humans still existed. I closed my eyes, thinking of a time when life was still normal.
My first waking thought would be that the alarm’s blaring had gone on far longer than usual. I would stuff my head under the pillow, moaning. Allie would let out a giggle, turning it off. She would then say, “Oh stop complaining! It’s not my fault I’m a normal, productive member of society with a well-paying consistent salary! We can’t all sleep in all day and work when we choose to.”
I would then laugh to myself, eventually forcing myself out of bed. I would immediately go off to work on my beloved novel.
I had written many before, mainly realistic-fiction novels. This one, however, was to be different. It revolved around a young man who grew up feeling neglected by his odd mother. His wife forces him to see her in the hospital, as she is now dying of old age. He reluctantly goes, as the old, dying woman confesses that she was only hard on him because she had faith in him, because he actually had the soul of a dragon, like her. The story would then consist of the man harnessing his powers to save a fantastic world that he descended from. It was definitely different from my usual work that I was well-received for, but I knew I had to change it at some point. After all, that was probably the most exciting thing that could have happened to me back then. If only I knew I’d be getting into fights with starving tigers someday.
I examined the cat for the first time that night. It was a white cat with huge, sparkling blue eyes, reminiscent of the clearest blue sea. It had odd black markings that covered its underbelly and went up the sides into a sort of spike. It reminded me much of a rose’s thorns, actually.
I closed my eyes, listening to the loud, thankful purring that the cat made, almost sounding like a “thank you” in its own words. My vision went blank as the feeling in my body disappeared. I fell asleep, my last thought being that I would name the cat Thorn.