Andrew Mackay - Infinity Claws

Wool ar-Ban, an Iranian lady dressed in a lab coat and glasses, jumped out from behind her desk and joined the handler.

“I’m here, what’s wrong?”

She took a look at the ailing gray cat in the handler’s arms.

“Oh, no. Quick, over here. Lay her on the bed,” Wool said, pressing her finger into her ear. “I need surgery down here, stat. Medicians on standby please attend.”

The handler lay her down on her side and burst into tears. “She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?”

“Please, move out of the way. We need some space,” Wool held up Bisoubisou’s right arm and nearly lost her temper. “Don’t tell me. That stupid combat stuff?”

The handler folded her arms and hugged herself in floods of tears. “Yes.”

“Honestly, I told them not to infuriate the cats. But would they listen? No.”

She reached into her inner pocket and pulled out a small syringe.

Two medicians ran through the door and sprung into actions. One of them pushed an ECG monitor on a trolley over to the bed. She unpacked two pads and fired up the machine.

“Her heart’s climbing out of her throat,” the other medician said, “Checking pulse.”

“One-fifty over one,” said the first medician as Wool injected the cat with her syringe. “One fifty-two, one fifty-three…”

“Three emm-gee,” Wool tried to keep her composure as she watched Bisoubisou’s monitor. Her heart was near exploding. She turned to the battered infinity claw and prised it away with her fingers as carefully as she could. It unfastened in Wool’s hand.

“Ugh, got it.”

She passed the infinity claw to Bisoubisou’s handler. “Please, Wool, tell me she’s going to be okay?”

“Stop talking, you stupid woman,” Wool fanned the cat’s claws apart. “She’s lost a lot of blood. Please, let us work.”

Bisoubisou’s head hit the side of the bed’s surface. A rope of saliva collected out and bled along her cheek.

“God, no,” Wool said, “She’s going into septic shock.”

The heart rate sped up on the screen.

“Laceration at oh-one-five,” Wool prodded Bisoubisou’s stomach and felt along her chest, keeping an eye on the screen. The cat’s tongue slipped out from her mouth and hung down her face.

“God, no, no,” the first medician said, “She’s gone into shock.”

“Another at oh-two-six, and five-oh-three.”

“Morphine, Doctor?” asked one of the medicians as Wool rubbed her face in a frantic attempt to save the cat’s life.

“No,” Wool said, “She’s had enough—”

Bisoubisou croaked and let out a fountain of vomit. Her right paw had swelled up beyond recognition. Her rightmost claw lilted and threatened to come free.

Her breathing gradually slowed down to nothing.

A clump of fur fell off her chest as she exhaled for the final time.

“It’s the claw,” Wool thumped the table and held her fist to her mouth, trying not to emote. “Nu-huh, no.”

Bisoubisou flatlined.

Wool closed her eyes and took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to cry. She wanted to kill someone for what had happened to the beautiful Russian Blue cat laying before her.

The constant beep signaling the cat’s death was the only thing anyone could hear.

“You call it,” Wool said, looking away.

“Four-fifteen,” the first medician set Bisoubisou’s lifeless paw on the bed. “Wool?”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she kept looking away, silently cursing the day she signed on to the project.

“Wool?” the first medician asked. “Would you like me to notify the bereaved?”

“No, it’s okay.” She looked at her colleague and blinked. “I’ll do it. This is all my damn fault anyway.”

“But didn’t she pass the assessment?” the first medician asked.

“Doesn’t matter if she did or didn’t,” the second medician said, “It doesn’t test for allergies to company product.”

The handler cried in the corner, regretting her involvement in the proceedings.

“Oh, stop crying,” Wool thumped her desk and took no pity on the woman. “You’re just the lackey. You didn’t do anything wrong, so shut up and stop crying. Go back out on stage and look pretty.”

Jamie and Emily sat in the back of the limousine en route to their hotel.

Jelly rested in her carry case between them taking a well-earned nap. She’d survived the day very well. Much like the limousine’s engine, her purring rumbled away from within now that she was on her way home.

Jamie stared out of the window.

The beach front at Cape Claudius whizzed by. Children and their families enjoyed the sun and ocean, offering him a glimpse of what life might have been like had he been born in South Texas.

A giant rig loomed in the background. It would house the spacecraft someday soon and lunch it into the stars.

Alas, the Anderson family would never be involved. Jamie bit his lip and sat back in his seat.

“I’m glad we’re going home, mom.”

“Yes, poppet,” Emily looked at Jelly through the bars of the cage. “Perhaps it’s better this way—”

The driver’s forearm started ringing. He lifted it to his face and took the call as quietly as possible.

“She did well, though, didn’t she?”

Emily didn’t say anything. She felt sorry for her son, but they’d achieved more in the past few months than most ever did in their entire lifetimes.

“Yes, poppet,” she whispered. “Jelly did very—”

The car screeched to a halt, kicking dust into the air. The traffic from behind slammed their brakes and blared their horns.

Jelly’s cage slipped forward. Jamie caught it in his hands before it fell to the foot well.

“What are you doing?”

Emily held her hands out and pressed the back of the driver’s seat, shielding herself from colliding with it. “What’s going on?”

The driver looked over his chair and threw the stick in reverse.

“I’ve just had an update,” he said, “We’re heading back to the arena…”

“What?” Jamie asked. “Why?”

“Actually, we’re heading to USARIC, not the arena.”

“What?” Emily asked. Why?”

“Something has happened,” the driver performed a hasty three-point turn in the middle of the road, angering a lot of the neighboring drivers. “USARIC want to talk to you very urgently.”

Emily, Jamie, and the caged Jelly found themselves in USARIC’s main conference room.

They’d been hurried into the building via the back entrance to avoid the crowds milling around the front.

The Gagarin family had won the trials. As far as they were concerned, Bisoubisou was recuperating with Wool ar-Ban and her team.

Emily caught sight of the attention Remy and his family received as they drove past. No one was any the wiser to the clandestine meeting that took place between USARIC and the Anderson family.

Maar Sheck and Dimitri Vasilov were in attendance, along with Tripp Healy and Wool ar-Ban.

They updated Emily on the events that had taken place after the finals were finished. It came a complete shock, and didn’t go down very well with either her or her son.

“How did it happen? Emily asked.

Wool sat up in her chair with a degree of solemnity. “A combination of her injuries and a reaction to the utility that was strapped to her paw. Essentially, it culminated in progressive organ failure and she went into cardiac arrest. She wouldn’t have felt anything. It all happened so fast.”

Emily exhaled and looked at her lap. She felt disgusted with herself. “It was Jelly’s fault, wasn’t it?”

“Oh no, no,” Wool said, “Jelly had nothing to do with—”

“—we saw it with our own eyes,” Emily interrupted. “You made them fight. We saw Jelly injure her. She can’t have helped.”