Adam Drake - Blackout

The man entered the room and kicked the spinning rock light to the side. Its dim illumination cast him almost completely in shadow, and his eyes flickered like hateful jewels.

I stood but my old body defied me one last fight and I sagged backward. My hand landed in my satchel and that’s when I touched the knitting bag’s clasp.

What happened next was nothing short of miraculous.

A cat leapt from the knitting bag and it was unlike any I had seen previously. It was a mottled gray color and absolutely huge. One instance the bag was open and the next a cat the size of a small horse stood in the space between myself and the man in black.

The gigantic cat arched its back, long fur standing on end, and hissed so loud the sound shook the house.

Stunned, the man in black froze, eyes wide in shock. He fired his pistol, and I flinched at the sound. The man backpedaled and raced back down the hallway.

The cat ran after him, or so it tried. Due to its size and the slippery nature of the floor, the giant cat slid into the door frame, cracking it. A painting flew from the wall with the impact.

I heard the man keening with fear as he fled, neither yelling nor screaming but a sound of utter terror.

The cat’s claws scrapped at the floor as it scrambled to get proper purchase and give pursuit. It soon vanished from sight thudding against a wall out in the hall.

I gathered my wits, hurried to the closet and pulled out the rifle. In the kitchen I heard the back door being flung open with a load crash. I hobbled into the hallway, my side hurting from my fall.

I saw the open back door and the blackness of night beyond it. The huge cat stood at the edge of the door hissing into the night but it would not step over into the back yard. The man had fled.

Once I made it to the kitchen I headed for the open door. The large feline whirled around and hissed at me. I froze. Had the beast become so fired up from the attack that it might hurt me?

I realized the meaning of its consternation. The one true limit of these cats was that if summoned from within a building or domicile, they were then bound to that place. This cat could not go outside. Had it been summoned outside there would have been no such limitation and I do not doubt it would still be chasing after the petrified man.

And since going outside was not an option it could not protect me if I left. Which is why it now refused to let me pass. Touched as I was by its sentiments I found myself a little annoyed. I had looked forward to firing a shot at the black hearted cretin who defiled my home and tried to murder me in my sleep.

The cat paced back and forth at the open door, agitated. I took the moment to touch several rock lights and assess my situation.

I was safe now, at least for the moment. Whoever had broken in would not be foolish enough to return. I was wide awake, armed and angry. And now accompanied by my horse sized guardian I doubted another attempt would be made on me that night.

To the cat I said, “I’d like to shut that door. It’s letting in a draft.”

The giant feline paused and regarded me. With a swish of its long bushy tail, the door slammed shut and the dead bolt slide into place, locked.

I then realized that it had been shot when the man fired the pistol. “Are you all right? I thought he might have hit you.” I saw no obvious wounds and it did not act as if it hurt.

The large animal began to wretch as if to cough up a fur-ball. And for a cat that size it would have been quite the sight. Instead something small fell from its mouth to clatter on the floor. With a cloth from the kitchen I picked it up. A small caliber bullet, and still perfectly formed. Almost as if it had been absorbed intact.

I looked to the cat in amazement. It stared back with rainbow eyes then resumed its march back and forth.

I thought it wise to avoid the windows for the rest of the night on the off chance the man may try to shoot at me from the dark. Paranoia, I know. But considering someone just tried to kill me I allowed for the safe guard.

Snatching my pistol off the kitchen table I went into the sitting room which I kept it in complete dark. I sat in the big easy chair in the far corner. From here I would detect if the intruder returned. And I’d be ready.

The cat paced up and down the hallway, making stressful warbling noises. Soon, it calmed a little and padded over. The large feline flopped onto the rug at my feet and stretched out.

I contemplated going up the lane to the Elderbright’s residence, who had a phone, to call the Constabulary. But that would have required me getting dressed and stumbling around the dark with a potential murderer skulking in the trees. And I did not think my new friend would have any of that nonsense.

With the loaded rifle across my lap I fought against my tired body and waited for the morning sun.

I woke to the sound of knocking at my front door.

Bleary-eyed I looked around the room. My large guardian was gone. Apparently satisfied that my safety was not in question it had returned to the knitting bag. I stood with an audible creak from my bones and waddled to the front door. With the rifle at the ready, I opened it.

Fairfax was standing there, smiling and holding a tin of biscuits. The smile vanished when he saw my state and the rifle in my hands.

“By the Gods, Mayra! What happened? Are you all right?”

I waved a dismissive hand, but was still touched by his concern. “Nothing an old woman like me couldn’t handle, along with the help of an immense cat.”

At his confused expression I chuckled. “I’m okay, Fairfax, I promise.”

As I told him what happened his face became more and more grim. When I finished Fairfax did not match my gaze. This appeared to affect him more than it did me.

He said, “You should have called the Constabulary. I would have come right away.”

“Agreed. But I had little choice now didn’t I? Come now, let’s go inside and I can put on proper detective clothing. Morning wear doesn’t help with interrogations.”

While I dressed in the bedroom, Fairfax paced around the house, checking and rechecking the latches on the windows and grumbling to himself. He even walked the perimeter of the yard looking at every leaf and blade of grass.

Once I was ready I emerged with my satchel over a shoulder and met him outside.

“Let us check the woods further back,” Fairfax said. “He may have left tracks or something of note.”

I would have pointed out such an effort was useless but acquiesced. He was upset he had not been present to protect me. For that I could entertain a short jaunt through the woods. “Very, well, Constable,” I said with a smile. “Lead the way.”

My property bordered a nature preserve which was a polite way to describe land that no one wanted to buy. Thick with trees and underbrush it had thwarted my last adventurous attempts to hike through it. Instead, I went to the park a few minutes away. This time the forest did not yield its secrets any easier than before.

After several minutes I lost my patience. “Fairfax, I do not think we will find anything in this mess. Let us return.”

“Just a little further,” Fairfax said, soldiering on. It was as if the branches and brambles did not exist to him, pushing through relentlessly. I wondered if I should be concerned. Was this more than hurt pride?

Fairfax stopped and crouched. “There,” he said in a hushed voice. “Up ahead. Do you see?”

I tottered up beside him and put a hand on his broad shoulder to steady myself on the uneven ground. Looking where he pointed I saw a cave or entranceway in a hillside.

“Let us take a closer look,” Fairfax said and moved forward, pistol in hand.