DANGER LOOMS
I ran out of my room heading to my parents’ room. Therein, I saw an incredibly shocking scene. My parents had been bludgeoned to death. There was dried and splattered blood all over the place, and judging from the expression on my parents’ faces, they suffered excruciating pain until the end. I froze up for about ten minutes; I felt like I could not control any of my muscles. Then, control gradually returned, wherein, I slowly approached my parents’ bed, leaped on it and then stood between them.
“Mom, dad, please Wake up. I know this is a night terror, but please, no more, I cannot take any more of this. I want both of you to wake me up from my horrible night terror. I apologize for being a naughty kitty and for disobeying you. If you wake up I promise to be the best son in the whole wide world.” Still, there was no response. I embraced my parents, begged them to awaken for the following hour, all to no avail.
At 11:15 P.M., I found myself smeared in dried blood. I used my parents’ restroom to clean up. I had to call the police. I believed that the letter that I found in my room could be was connected to what had ensued. Perhaps, it would be a clue as to exactly who brutally murdered my beloved parents. Believe me my blood was boiling. I was ready to bite and rip apart all guilty parties. I had no forgiveness in me.
I leaped off my parents' bed, head facing down. A new feeling hit me like a ton of bricks. I fell into a deep depression, knowing very well that even if I discovered who murdered my parents it would not bring them back, nor any amount of crying. As soon as I entered my room, the first thing I did was approach the letter, and then snatched it. Following a long pause, I began to read it.
Dear Jason:
You have committed a fatal error. By helping Natasha escape from us, she is now turning over the names of our brethren to the authorities. You should have minded your own business. It is too late! You seemed to have forgotten that this is a high-class apartment complex, with cameras in numerous strategic places including the halls of every single floor. Furthermore, we had a camera system installed in our apartment.
We know where you live, where you were born, and who your parents WERE. What happened to your parents is only the beginning. We are going to make sure that you suffer immensely. Our foot soldiers really enjoy doing what they do. As for you, keep your head up. You do not know when the Boogeyman is going to get you.
Jason, you do not seem to understand that we are running a very lucrative operation, and we will never allow a lone kitty to stop us. We can be sophisticated if need be. By holding this letter for more than 30 seconds, you have activated a self-destruct sequence. Speaking quite bluntly, this letter will self-destruct in 30 seconds. It will be to your benefit if you let go of it immediately. P.S. we cover all bases.
Worst of Regards,
From Your Most Dangerous Enemies
I dropped the letter not because I believed the warning at the end but because I was terrified of being on a hit list. As soon as I recomposed my thoughts and then reached to pick up the letter, it began to self-destruct, dissolving into a black powdery substance. They were telling the truth; as such, I was now in a state of incredible fear and anxiety. So much so, I ran to the restroom and did my thing. Thereafter, I washed, dried up, and then exited the restroom.
I had to call the police. I pressed 911 on my mobile then waited anxiously for the dispatcher to answer. "Hello, Penny emergency dispatcher, how may I help you?"
"Umm, ma'am, someone or some people have brutally murdered my parents. Please send the police over as fast as possible. I don't know if the murderers are coming back or not."
"Honey, please give me your complete address and tell me if you’re the only person in your home."
"Ma'am, I live in the Garrison Apartments number three Building, in apartment number 105, please hurry, I'm really scared!"
"Honey, I've already dispatched a couple of patrol cars to your apartment building. Are you a little boy? You sound quite young."
"Ma'am, I'm a young cat."
"Oh, honey, and what’s your name please?"
"My name is Jason Abbott my deceased parents are Drs. William and Marcia Abbott. We are originally from Dark City, Nebraska. My parents came here to retire. I'm going to miss them very much."
"Honey, if you need to speak to someone I can send a social worker over to your home. How does that sound?"
"No thanks, that's all right. I can take care of myself."
Penny Police arrived a few minutes later. Three police cars parked in front of our building. Then, a large dark van from the Crime Scene Unite (CSU) arrived. I buzzed them in and then opened the door of our apartment. Ten police officers, three of which were from the CSU entered my apartment. I stood clear of them waiting for their questions. I understood that I would either be a person of interest or an outright suspect, never mind my small size or young age. From the police's perspective and that of the Garrisons’ this kind of a brutal murder is bad for the peaceful image and reputation of Penny, Pennsylvania.
A tall, broad-shouldered black-haired police officer instructed the others around him as what to do; they addressed him as Chief Barry. Then, he turned to look at me, manifesting a semi-aggressive expression, and then pausing for a moment. "You're Jason Abbot?" I nodded yes. "Okay, son, I'm going to have to ask you some questions, some of which are sensitive. But I want you to remember this, the more you help us the more likely it’ll be that we can apprehend any and all guilty parties involved in this heinous act.”
"Okay, Chief Barry, how can I help you?"
"Well, do you know anyone who had a grudge against your parents?" I could not tell him about Natasha. Opening up this Pandora box would have placed her in danger, and I did not want to be in a witness protection program for the rest of my life. It would be the first for any kitty.
"Chief Barry, my parents came to Penny, Pennsylvania to retire. As far as I know they don't have any enemies, and that goes for me too."
Chief Barry drilled me, making certain that I was not the perpetrator. When he realized that, I was one hundred percent innocent of any wrongdoing the topic at hand changed. "Jason, you're a minor. It means you cannot live alone in this apartment. More so, this is now a crime scene. No one will be allowed in this room for three days."
"Wait a minute! Where am I supposed to live?" As I was about to explode in a fit of anger none other than Mr. Garrison made his presence, felt. He stood in the doorway, knowing very well that my apartment was now blocked off because it was a crime scene."
"Chief Barry? I am Mike Garrison one of the owners of the apartment complex. Jason can live in an apartment number 112, free rent; this apartment is fully furnished. Jason's a good kitty, the tenants in the building and others who live in this apartment complex have told me good things about him, in particular his neighbours."
"Mr. Garrison, have there recently been any trespassers roaming the Garrison Apartment Complex, or are you aware of any violent tenants or employees in any of your buildings.
"Chief Barry, your guess is as good as mine. We have cameras placed in strategic locations throughout the complex and on the floors of every building. Have a police officer follow me. I will give him or her, a copy of on-goings herein. There is one odd thing though, the tenants who lived in apartment number 112 left without notice. They still have six months left on their lease."
"Mr. Garrison, that’s quite odd, and under the circumstances we must investigate the matter."
"The main office is in building number ten. Therein, you will find what you need. I have already notified security and other personnel to help you in whichever way needed. I’ll work very fast with the police force in order to solve this horrible murder case once and for all.”
“Chief Barry for how long, will my home be off limits?”
“Jason you’ll be home in three days. We are going to work on this case very fast. The Pennsylvania State Police have been called in to aid us.”
I said goodbye to Chief Barry. Thereafter, Mr. Garrison told me to follow him to apartment number 112. Although I was relieved at having a temporary home, the memory of my parents’ death and the irony of living in apartment number 112 were troubling to say the least. “Mr. Garrison thanks a lot for allowing me to live in this apartment free of charge and without any strings attached.”
“Jason, now that we’re alone, I’m going to tell you exactly what strings are attached with to generosity. First, you will leave your legal apartment within thirty days. Second, this includes the State of Pennsylvania. Third, you will not tell anyone about the murder in the Garrison Apartments. This is a multi-million dollar establishment, the last thing we need is bad publicity. Many of our tenants are wealthy retirees. Lastly, your exit from Pennsylvania is permanent. Failing to abide by these stringent rules will result in serious consequences. Now, have I made myself clear?
“Yes Mr. Garrison, I really understand what’s going on here. I’ll be out of here within thirty days, guaranteed.”
Mr. Garrison left the apartment, closing the door behind him. A moment later, I realized that I had to do something very important before he left the building. I opened the door and then called out, “Mr. Garrison, my paw print won’t work on the scanner for this room. I need to have my paws scanned and the imprints entered into the data base of my new lock.”
“Don’t worry about it, Jason, everything has been prepared. Either of your paws can unlock your new apartment door.” It seemed quite odd. How could he have already done that? Mr. Garrison had prepared in advance, as though he expected this to happen. I sensed that he might have been muddled in this murder affair. I had to keep a head’s up as long as I lived in the apartment complex. I had thirty days to leave. This was more than enough time to attend my parents’ funeral services, acquire my share of the will, which was one hundred percent minus taxes and accountant’s fees.
The night of my parents' death was the most difficult in my entire life. I held my feelings in check for as long as I could. However, as soon as I closed the door I ran to a nearby sofa and then leaped onto it. I must've cried for a whole hour, hoping that it was all a dream and that somehow when I awakened my parents would be in the kitchen waiting for me sit at the dining table before eating breakfast. Unfortunately, the truth of it all sunk in following my crying binge.
I sunk into a stupor, feeling bummed out to the bone. I could not smile, laugh, or even pretend to be happy. Although I was going to inherit a large sum of money, and I could then move out west or even to Hawaii, these marvels could not take away my pain and agony. I walked to the bedroom then paused at the entrance. In my state of mind, I found it quite difficult to decide which bed to sleep in. I decided to sleep in the bed nearer to me. I closed my eyes, instantly falling asleep. Expectedly, I had multiple dreams my parents were in every single one of them. All were of good times until the end of the dream that is when I remembered they were brutally murdered.
I awakened at 10:00 A.M. the following morning. My throat felt very dry. Therefore, I went to the kitchen and drank a hefty quantity of water, thereby rehydrating myself. I returned to the bedroom and then leaped onto my bed. I sat there for several hours, falling asleep once again. For the following three days, I felt like a catatonic zombie, unable to focus my attention on anything for more than a short burst without remembering what had happened to my parents. Thus far, this had been the biggest trial and tribulation of my life. It would have been awful enough if only one of my parents had died of natural causes, in a caring environment. No, unfortunately, I had to deal with a brutal double murder.
At 10:45 A.M. at the three-day mark, I was lying in bed drowning in my own self-pity and sorrow when I heard a knock on my door. I was dazed it took six knocks to get me out of bed and to clear my senses. “Hey, Jason, it’s me Jack, the maintenance man. You can go back to your apartment, the cops have gone and I received an okay from Mr. Garrison.”
I leaped out of bed and then ran to the door. After opening it, I saw Jack standing a few feet away, smiling at me; I could not help but notice his chunky cheeks. Jack was a very nice man, significantly overweight but not quite obese, a single operate in his mid-fifties not very good looking, and with no apparent prospects for marriage.
“Hey, Jack thanks a million! Now I can return to Home Sweet Home. Apartment number 112 is very nice, but it is not home. You know how it is.” Jack nodded his head indicating an affirmative response. “I guess I only have twenty seven days left in this place. Henceforth, I must leave the complex and Pennsylvania for good. I am not sure about where I am going to move to, I was kind of thinking about going out west or perhaps Hawaii, easier said than done. Jack, do you have any viable suggestions?”
“Well, Jason, I know for a fact that you’re well off, just living in this building attests to it. With that in mind, and your single status and youth, go up north to Washington State or Oregon. I am originally from Seattle. I think you will like the climate, topography, and people. They are somewhat liberal and laid back. If you need any more help on this matter just give me a call. I know you have my number. In addition, if you do decide to move to Washington State or Oregon, I have many friends and relatives there. I will make sure someone helps you find a good home and take you around town. Jason, sorry, but I have to go fix a shower Fawcett. Have a nice one buddy.”
I froze still, unable to absorb the good news. It took roughly half an hour for me to recompose myself and be able to move. I exited apartment number 112 and then headed to back to my real apartment. As soon as I entered my apartment, I could not help but notice the multitude of scents emanating from it. I opened one window in the living room and in each bedroom. Then I opened the apartment door. My intent was to flush out the multitude of scents.
An hour later, I closed all of the windows and my apartment door. I was now by myself, wondering about my next move. It was easier to hypothesize while I was in apartment number 112, but now I was back home and did not have any excuses for any delays. I needed to get some fresh air therefore, it was imperative that I take a long walk. I exited my apartment, the building, and then the apartment complex.
As soon as I was out of sight of the apartment complex, I felt a sigh of relief. I entered Dawson Street and headed north. This is a particularly racist neighbourhood, wherein people of colour, are not tolerated. The neighbourhood folks refer to this procedure 'A Necessary Security Measure' (ANSM).
The sun was scorching hot, staring at everything that its powerful rays hit encompassing the entire horizon. As soon as I reached the intersection of Dawson and Dill Street, I stopped walking and then studied the area intently. I had reached the northern perimeter of Penny, Pennsylvania. Before my eyes was a road that led to the highway, on my left and right were a series of speckled stores and restaurants.
I pondered about going left or right, under the scorching sun. However, just before I could make up my mind I took notice of a black Sedan slowly approaching my position. It was coming from my left. Initially, I did not think much of it because I was standing next to a red traffic light. However, as the black Sedan continued approaching my position it slowed down. My feline senses were warning me of impending dangers. What, I asked myself, who in their right mind would want to harm a lone kitty like me?
As soon as the sedan was about twenty feet away from me, I noticed that one of the passengers lowered the window on my side. Instantly, I noticed a hairy arm aiming a sawed-off shotgun in my general direction. I did a quick cursory check of my surroundings. To my utter surprise and horror, there were no other people around. I hit the deck fast. Thank goodness, as soon as the black Sedan was parallel to my position I heard the thundering sound of sirens coming from several directions. The driver of the black Sedan floored the gas pedal. Afterward it was apparent that the sirens were from ambulances on the highway. There may have been an accident on the highway or they were heading to another town. I pooped and peed on the grass. Lo and behold, the owner of the property, you guessed it ... a short, old, overweight, racist-looking, greasy-haired loser, rushed out of his home carrying a sawed-off shotgun sized me up and then started to shout at me.
"Kitty, I said Kitty, get off my 'F' property! How dare you poop and pee on my lawn. I did not move up to Pennsylvania from Arkansas because I wanted to see a cat poop and pee on my lawn. You better leave right now, kitty." The man then pointed his sawed-off shotgun at my face. "Kitty, I mean it, I'm going to count to three, and if you're not gone by then, well, I'll shoot you dead." Frankly, I was not sure if the old man could count to three, but I was not taking any chances.
I could not move; I was crouched. A big poop was hanging from my butt. For some reason it did not want to drop onto the grass. I did not want to walk around with a poop dangling from my bottom. However, just when I thought the worst was over two ugly-looking bloodhounds came running out of the man's garage. As soon as they were standing beside the man, I knew things had turned from terrible to excruciatingly terrible.
"Pa, come on, shoot that ugly little kitty between the eyes," said one of the bloodhounds. "No, pa, spit on him and then let him go, we're not killers," said the other bloodhound.
"Maybe we should have us a necktie party (a lynching), said their father." Being a rich boy I did not understand what they meant by a necktie party, and it showed on my face. "Kitty, how about we lynch you? We will tell the police that you trespassed on our property and then threatened to kill me. My two boys will attest to that, even under oath."
"All right, gramps! You want me to leave, I'll leave right now." Something unexpected happened. As soon as I took my first step away from gramps, the giant poop fell onto the grass. Immediately, a torrent of hatred and aggression ensued.
"What the hell! Kitty, you are dead meat. Shooting you would be too quick and easy. Boys, chase this kitty down and then tear him apart, imagine he is a fox. You know what I'm talking about." I did not know what to do. Even my fight or flight instincts were in disarray. I was a town-cat, lost much of the instinctive lion in me; for a moment, I paused. Then, I remembered what I had seen on animal television programs. I ran like crazy. However, initially, I almost ran myself to death, in a literal sense.
Instead of retracing my steps back to the Garrison Apartments the sheer shock and terror of having, a couple of grown, feeble-minded southern bloodhounds chasing me down confused me. I ran straight into traffic. With cars heading east and west (left and right of my position), I inadvertently caused a multi-vehicle crash. Worse yet, there were witnesses; with today's technology I assumed that at least one person filmed the spectacle. Nevertheless, I eventually turned back then ran towards Dawson Street.
Meanwhile, the bloodhounds were on my tail. I ran and ran and ran as fast as I could, glancing back every-so-often, hoping that my pursuers would somehow stop running and return to their pa. No, after running six blocks I developed cramps. By the eighth block, I became nauseous. Meanwhile, the bloodhounds were closing in on me. Finally, hidden instinct took over; I spotted a very beautiful Basswood tree, quite unusual in a residential area. As expected, there were no other trees of its kind in sight.
I ran to the tree using whatever reserves of energy I was able to muster. I scaled it and then rested on a branch. The bloodhounds were crazily barking, baying, and shouting insults at me. Just as I thought that things could not get any worse, I realized that I had screwed up big times; I felt like a real-life nincompoop. An elderly woman came out of the mansion beside the tree and then spoke to the bloodhounds.
"Hey guys, how's your pa doing?" She spoke with a southern drawl, and she knew my pursuers too. "Aunt Agnes, see that cat up there, he did something very naughty on our grass. Pa told us to rip him apart." The elderly woman stared me down and then made a shooting gesture with her hand. Then, she winked and smiled at the bloodhounds. I knew exactly what she was going to do get a firearm and then shoot me dead. I could not allow that to happen.
Suddenly, I found myself loaded with adrenaline, so much so, I felt like a miniature super lion. As soon as the woman was out of sight, I targeted the alpha bloodhound, an ugly worthless dog that had nothing to do in life but be a daddy's boy and pick on innocent cats like me.
I readied myself and then pounced on the bloodhound with full strength and force. Catching him off guard, I landed on his neck, thereby gaining a priceless advantage. I dug into his flesh with my dagger-like claws and bit his right ear as hard as I could. Within ten seconds, the bloodhound was on the ground crying his brains out. I released by bite and grip then struck him on the side with much force, rendering him unconscious. This strike was literally an anti-recidivism strike. My intent was to prevent him from ever chasing a cat again.
The other bloodhound turned and fled the scene so fast I had no time to chase him. I leaped off the unconscious bloodhound. However, just then, the elderly woman was coming out of her house holding a .45 Calibre firearm in her left hand. As soon as she pointed the gun at me, I shifted my eyes to study the area. I leaped onto the Basswood tree grasping a thin branch and then swinging onto the roof of the old woman's house. As soon as I was securely on the roof, the elderly woman began to fire at me. Instantly, I took several steps away from her line of fire.
I walked to the other side of the roof and then searched for Dawson Street. Upon finding it I leaped onto a nearby tree, descended it and then began to run back home. Unfortunately, I was only able to run a couple of blocks before having severe abdominal aches. I slowed down, entering a park. I looked behind me before collapsing into a congregation of large plants. I lied down for roughly fifteen minutes before getting up. Time passed quickly. It was 4:15 P.M. and the sun's rays were already beginning to weaken.
However, the incredible mental stress of the ordeal, the unnatural adrenaline rush, the physical confrontation, and especially my running-under-the-influence-of-fear took a lot out of me, rejuvenating a strong feeling of nausea. It did not take long for me to start dry heaving, then vomiting. Following this, I walked over to a nearby drinking fountain, had my fill, washed my body, and then continued on home. Seeing no pursuers, I took my time, enjoying the beautiful serene scenery.
As soon as I found myself standing in front of my apartment building, I could not help but blow a kiss to it. Home Sweet Home is what I felt. Thereafter, I would be more cautious while taking a walk. There are cat-loving humans out there, others are neutral, but some can be quite cruel and sinister. Perhaps it is envy; most cats are very cute, cuddly, and beautiful regardless of breed and gender, and we have extraordinary athletic and fighting skills.
I entered the building then casually walked to my apartment. When I reached the apartment door, I placed my right paw on the scanner, upon hearing a beep I opened the door and entered. I closed the door behind me then headed to my room. I leaped onto my bed, closed my eyes, instantly falling asleep.
I awakened from loud knocks on my door. The sudden rude awakening interrupted a dream therefore; it took me about thirty seconds to recompose myself. Nevertheless, the thundering knocks continued. Annoyed, I ran to the door and opened it. Unfortunately, there was no one in sight. I was not sure if it was a practical joke or perhaps the person had inadvertently knocked on the wrong door. It was not until I stepped on a piece of paper that things began to come into place.
Taking a closer look at the piece of paper, I noticed that it was a letter addressed to me. I carefully picked up the letter and then entered my apartment, making certain that I closed the door behind me. I walked to the nearest sofa chair and then leaped onto it. I had a feeling that this letter contained some very terrible news.
The Robert Kale Probate Estate Firm
Penny, Pennsylvania
USA
(555) 876-4445
Dear Jason W. Abbott:
You are not a legal beneficiary or recipient of any portion of the inheritance of Drs. William and Marcia Abbott. You are neither a consanguine nor a legal dependent of the afore-said persons. Neither of the deceased persons had declared you, Jason W. Abbott, a beneficiary or recipient of any of their fiduciary or property holdings on paper or through an alternative legally accepted method, Jason W. Abbott is entitled to $0.00 in fiduciary payments and no land or property titles.
Best of Wishes,
Robert F. Kale, J.D.
Wait a minute! What is going on here? This cannot be! I demand my money, and I am not taking no for an answer. Unfortunately, it was too late to call the law firm. It had to be a major typo. My parents must have left me a considerable amount of money. They were generous throughout their lives.
I spent the remainder of the night pacing the hall back and forth until I could no longer do so. I ended up going to bed at 1:00 A.M. I came to my senses the following day. Yelling and screaming at a representative of the law firm would get me nowhere. I had to find an attorney who would be able to get me my rightful share of the loot. After all, I was there only child. I wanted the entire lion’s share, after taxes and legal and other bills of course.
As the days and nights passed, I could think about nothing but my money. Judging from what I knew about my parents and the value of their assets I was to inherit at least several million dollars. Money that is all I wanted. At the ten-day mark, I decided that I would begin searching for a probate attorney the following day. Shockingly, I had not even begun to search for another domicile.