Рита Браун - Nine Lives To Die

Aroused at the talk of food, Pewter chirped, “I’ll go with you, Murph. It’s not so cold up there in the hayloft, especially if we wait in a hollowed-out hay bale.”

“I’ll come, too,” Tucker said, headed out the kitchen animal door.

The two cats hurried after her, the door flap slapping as they bolted through.

“What’s gotten into them?” Harry wondered.

“You never know.” Fair smiled. “Predators work harder in winter. A lot of wildlife moves around. And that was probably a hungry coyote.”

——

That hungry coyote loped down from the timber, across the back pastures, as the cats watched through the slightly opened upper hayloft doors.

“He’s headed our way,” Pewter called down to Tucker.

“Okay.” Tucker pressed against the huge ground-level doors, listening.

Odin covered a lot of ground at an easy gait, reaching the outside of the barn within minutes of the cats spying him at the back open meadow. He quickly gobbled up the rice, then lay down to chew the delicious steak bones.

Mrs. Murphy looked down at him. “Odin, what’s this talk of danger? Whatever is going on up there?”

He swallowed before answering, “Two humans moved down from the top of the ridge. Their faces were wrapped up. One had a full pullover mask on, with eyeholes and a slit for the mouth. The other had a scarf across her face. I’m sure it was a her. Smelled like a female.”

“How’d the other one smell?” asked Tucker from behind the door.

“The wind shifted; plus, I wasn’t close. One thing’s for sure, I don’t trust either of them. I thought they might have guns and take a shot at me. So I don’t know how the one with the mask smelled.”

“How did they move?” Pewter asked. “Old, young? Damaged?”

Looking up at Pewter, Odin shook himself for a moment. “They moved like two cold humans struggling in the snow. Slipping and sliding, but no one was stooped. I don’t think they were really young, though. And another thing, one had binoculars around her neck.”

“Why did you call out danger?” Mrs. Murphy wondered.

“Because they were watching down here. Not moving. Watching like a predator.”

“And they came down from the ridge?” Tucker wanted to make sure she understood.

“Yes. That’s difficult for humans, impaired as they are,” Odin remarked. “Going down in bad footing is harder than going up. That’s why I called out to you. They want something here.”

The three domesticated animals were silent for a moment, then Pewter called down, “Were they by the uprooted tree?”

“They weren’t far from it. I didn’t follow them back up because I wanted food. But I’d be careful.”

“Did they see you?” Tucker inquired.

Odin laughed. “Of course not. I can be six feet from a human if the cover is good. They haven’t a clue.”

“When the weather is better, do you see a lot of humans on the ridge or walking paths down the side of the mountains?” Pewter asked.

“Not much. Most humans walk on the Appalachian Trail. They don’t wander onto private lands, and we steer clear of them. If hikers see us, you know they’ll call other humans and some of those humans might come to shoot us or trap us. We stay away.” Odin polished off the one bone, picked up the other.

“So these two know the trails and probably not just down to our farm,” Mrs. Murphy said. “Odin, did you see any guns?”

“No, just the binoculars,” he said, crunching another bone in his powerful jaws.

Cletus Thompson awoke early on the last day of the old year. He tended the fire, petted his dog, opened a can of spaghetti that had been in the Christmas basket from the church and ate that. A cup of hot coffee helped warm him up from the inside out. As his stove was gas and he paid the bill, no matter what, he always could make hot coffee. Sometimes he might scrounge up the money by shoveling a driveway or taking on other odd jobs that the convenience store owner allowed him to do. Cletus’s neighbors sometimes helped, but an alcoholic loses friends as trees drop leaves in the fall. Even if the drinker does not cause scenes or turn nasty, the inevitable unreliability destroys friendships. Still, Cletus was always loyal and good to The Terminator, ancient as the creature was. Even if Cletus didn’t eat, his dog did.

Despite the years of alcohol abuse, the former math teacher had a strong constitution. Had he not, he would have been dead long ago.

He felt in his bones more snow was on its way, so he thought he’d dig out his driveway in advance. Whatever came down would still need to be removed, but this would make that future task easier. Coat and gloves on, cap, too, he opened his front door.

“What the—” He walked over to Flo’s car.

She was asleep inside, with her dog, Buster, in her lap.

Rapping on the window, he startled her. She sat up straight, staring up at Cletus doing the tapping. Buster barked.

“Flo, are you all right?”

She rolled down her window. “I was so tired I fell asleep.”

“Come on in the house. It’s warmer than out here, and I have a pot of coffee on the stove. Bring the dog. My fellow sleeps most of the time.”

“Okay.”

“Unlock the door.” He turned his back on her, knowing that would do the trick.

Sure enough, she stepped outside, her dog in her arms, following him into his house. Flo hated to be left behind.

After using the bathroom and brushing her teeth (as she carried a small bag with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and some aspirin in it), she joined her unruffled host in his kitchen.

“Sit down,” he said kindly. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Sugar.”

Two heaping teaspoons dumped into the liquid pleased Flo, who gulped it right down.

“Flo, all I have to eat are some canned goods the church left me. In fact, it was brought over by Harry and Susan, my old students. You remember them?”

“They left me things, too,” she said, wrinkling her nose. The warm coffee felt wonderful. “Your house is warmer than mine.”

“In winter, I mostly sit in the kitchen or by the fireplace. No reason to run up the bill. It’s warm in the kitchen. I don’t need much.” Once he thought she might be relaxed, he got to the point. “What brings you out here?”

“I’ve been avoiding Esther.” She breathed deeply a few times. “I’m afraid of my sister. She wants to kill me.”

“Esther?” Cletus was taking all this in with a grain of salt.

“She’s not the same person you knew when you all taught together. Oh, Esther was always looking for the main chance, I can tell you that, but she kept on track.”

“Why ever would Esther want to kill you? I would think she’s happy. Married. Enough money to live good in retirement.”

“Ha!” came the derisive response. “She tells people I’m the one with mental problems, but it’s her. She was jealous of the fact that I was more popular than she was when we were kids, and then when she fell in love with Al Toth that took her right round the bend. It was all she could think about, talk about. Esther was always trying to get me to help her attract men, especially Al.”

“Well”—Cletus paused—“I knew, of course, that Esther was wild about him. We all did, but she didn’t run her mouth. Naturally, she would to you, you’re her sister. She got him in the end.”