ESCAPING TO CANADA
I was sitting on a sofa in the living room, wallowing in my own self-pity when I was suddenly catapulted out of my sofa. Someone was pounding on the door. At first, I thought it was a practical joke. However, who would do such a thing to me, a single cat who had never bothered anyone in his entire life? As soon as I descended unto the carpet, I cautiously approached the apartment door, stealthily leaped onto the door handle and stood on my hind legs.
I waited attentively for the pounding to stop, but it did not. In fact, the person pounding on the door spoke, “Open the ‘F’ door! This is the INS! If you’re inside and you don’t open the door, you are breaking the law.”
Who the ‘F’ is the INS? I wondered. Could it be a practical joke, or perhaps a mistake? I continued to wait attentively for another minute before realizing that the person behind the door was not going to leave. I had four options, stay put, open the door, call the apartment complex administration and/or the police.
What the heck, I took a good look in the peephole. Lo and behold, a man in uniform was standing barely a foot from the door. He looked legitimate, gray-haired, suit and tie, and a serious expression on his face. I opened the door and then leaped onto the carpet, took several steps back and then said ‘come in’.
In came a short, chubby middle-aged man, un-smiling and to the point. “Are you Jason Abbott?” I nodded yes. You need to pay attention to what I have to say. More so, you will not tell anyone that I saw you, that I was here, or that you’ve ever seen me before, got it?” I nodded yes.
“Jason, you see this folder I’m holding (rhetorical question). This is your immigration status file. This is Deportation Order #223456-ABR. This is for your deportation from the United States. You must leave the country within seventy-two hours. However, you are going to get an additional twenty hours because I am going to tell my supervisor that you were not in. Tomorrow, the big boys and women will come in full force. Your countdown will start tomorrow whether you’re here or not.”
I puffed out my chest and then glared at the man. “Sir, who are you? Do you know that I am an American citizen? I was born in this country. Deportation does not apply to me. Now, please go back to your supervisor and tell him that a terrible mistake had been made.”
“My name is Officer Donald Flynn. I work for I guess you do not know what INS stands for it stands for the Immigration and Naturalization Service. Jason, you are lucky I am one of those cat-loving humans otherwise; you would be in a paddy wagon ready for deportation.
Jason, first, you were not born in the U.S. Second, your parents never had you naturalized. Third, you entered this country illegally. In other words, you don’t know who you really are.”
“No way, that’s one hundred percent impossible. Come on, you’re making some kind of a mistake here.”
“No, Jason, I’m not. You were born in a rocky, semi-arid region of the high Andes above the tree zone, in Argentina to a species of endangered savage animals. Your step had you illegally smuggled out of Argentina, final destination the U.S. That is why you do not really have any memories of your biological parents. Your step parents probably made up some a about you being abandoned by your parents, but that’s a lie.”
“Wait a minute, Officer Flynn, why has this order been given right now, I mean, the timing is unusual?”
“Jason, your parents had stipulated this in their will. They did not want anyone else to adopt you. I guess they were possessive or something of the sort. Our government considers you a ‘Savage Animal’. INS wants to deport you back to Argentina, and the Government of Argentina is demanding your return immediately. Simply put, you’re an illegal alien.”
I could not believe this. Every time I think that I have hit the bottom of the pit something else, more horrendous happens. I read the deportation order in front of Officer Flynn. It was straightforward and to the point. “Officer Flynn, do you think I have any chance, even a slim one, of appealing this case. I love this country very much, my allegiance is only to America, and I’d love to stay here, please help me.”
“Jason, I can’t help you. There is too much pressure on our government to deport you back to Argentina. Remember, I have granted you a twenty-four hour bonus. My recommendation to you is sleep well tonight, wake up early, clean up, eat well, and take whatever money you can with you.
Jason, I advise you to leave the eastern U.S. and to never go back to the Midwest, change your name and identity, don’t make any waves, stay cool and out of trouble.
Jason, if by chance you are cornered by the authorities, do not show any signs of aggression or hostility, otherwise, there is a possibility that you will be shot and killed on the spot. The officers in your pursuit will say they were defending themselves against a ‘Savage Animal’, and that lethal force was justifiable. Hardly anyone will shed a tear for you. Even animal protection organizations will be limited in their protests.”
"Officer Flynn thanks for the heads-up. The only sane thing for me to do is leave early tomorrow morning, perhaps before sunset. Do you think it'll be safe to leave by bus?"
"Jason although I can't guarantee what is or what isn’t safe if I was you I'd leave by bus. It is best not to go by plane.
I insisted that Officer Flynn empty out my kitchen closet and eat and whatever he wanted. I had to give him something for the heads-up. Officer Flynn left my apartment roughly two hours later. Nervousness and anxiety overtook me. I ran to my restroom leaped onto the toilet and then vomited my brains out. Although I had until early the next morning, it was a shocker indeed.
Once again, it was horrible news. Worse yet, I knew that I could never return home to Nebraska. In addition, just when Pennsylvania was becoming my home, I find out that I must leave. There was a fear within me, a logical kind of a fear, telling me that if I ever became a fugitive I would have to leave the U.S. In this case scenario, I would have two options, Mexico or Canada. Considering I was raised an Anglophone and I look like a European-stock animal, Canada would be my first choice.
At 5:00 A.M. the following day, I ate a wholesome breakfast, drank plenty of liquids and then watched some television. By 6:00 A.M., I knew that it was all over. INS would likely be coming by early in the morning, perhaps at 7:00 A.M., thinking that I would still be sound asleep.
I looked at my apartment one last time before leaving. It was a very sad moment for me. Thank goodness, I had money and my parent's credit card number and password. I figured there would be a delay in terminating the account. I took advantage of the situation.
I exited Garrison Apartment building number three sad and anxious. As soon as I left the apartment complex, I heard the sound of sirens from about a mile north of my position. I froze still, unable to move any of my muscles for about a minute, and shockingly I was standing in the middle of the road. When all returned to normal I counselled myself; "Jason, you can't freeze up, every time you hear sirens. If you do, the escape is over."
I continued walking to the Penny Bus Depot located a mile west of the Garrison Apartments. Every-so-often, a car would pass me. I made certain not to draw any attention. When I was a block from the bus depot, I noticed a police car approaching my position. I saw it with the corner of my eye. My muscles started twitching then they became heavy. I told myself that being a scared-cat was counter-productive. Thankfully, I took my own advice. As soon as the police car was within spitting distance of me, I gave a straight face, not even glancing at it. The driver continued onward. If I had looked at the car just once, the officer would have become suspicious; a lone kitty walking around at dawn's early light.
I continued walking until I reached the bus depot. I made a slow calculated three hundred and sixty degree turn, studying the area around me quite intently. I understood that until I left Pennsylvania I had to be extra careful and alert. Upon entering the bus depot, I felt a sudden rush of relief. I read the directional signs to aid me in my search for the ticket booths. Thankfully, I was able to locate a sign that indicated the ticket booths were to my left.
On my way there, I saw people scattered amongst the seats, some appeared happy and jolly, others tired and gaunt. The latter were likely passersby waiting for their connecting bus. I on the other hand was in a pre-fugitive state. An overhead clock indicated that it was 6:45 A.M. I was thankful to have evaded INS.
Continuing on, I spotted the ticket booths, located near the restrooms and a Deli. Under normal circumstances, the scent of meat, fries, and Ketchup would be nothing short of hypnotic, not this time. My flight and survival instinct was predominant.
I stopped a couple of feet before the ticket booth line. An important facet of my escape was not been studied thoroughly. Nor did I make up my mind about its answer. Exactly where would, I escape to?
The voice of a woman interrupted my concentration. Following the origin of the voice, I discovered it was a ticket booth attendant. Although there were five booths in all it was still relatively early in the morning. I approached ticket booth number three. I was, bedazzled by how beautiful the ticket booth attendant was. She was of college age, probably working for a few months to earn some tuition, books, and rent money. I had no problem with that.
This beauty had long jet-black hair, cat green eyes, and freckles scattered on her face, neck, forearms, and hands. She smiled at me, tilted her head like a cat, and then spoke.
“Honey, are you here by yourself?” I answered yes. “Where exactly are you going?” Now that was a truly shocking question. I had no idea where. I could feel my pulse and blood pressure steadily rise. I shifted my eyes from right to left. Thankfully, I spotted a large map of North America. The word that stuck in my mind was foreign I did not even know how to pronounce it. However, I knew that it was in Canada.
“Madam, umm, I’m going to visit my grandparents in Canada. I do not know how to pronounce the name of the place. It begins with the letter ‘Q’. “
“Oh, I know where that’s at. However, there are two of them. Do you want to go to the Province of Quebec or Quebec City?”
“Umm, madam, which one’s more English?”
“Oh, honey, you want to go to Montreal. Honey, do you want a one-way or a round trip ticket?”
“One way please, to Montreal.”
“Okay, honey. Guess what, this is your lucky day. Today happens to be Cat Day at Stallion Bus Lines. Cats can travel anywhere in North America free. The deal ends at midnight in the time zone wherein the cat is. You still have a good number of hours left. But there’s one catch, paying customers always have priority unless you’re already on the bus.”
“Wow that sounds really nice! Stallion Bus Lines is the absolute best. Madam, please give me my ticket.”
The ticket booth attendant walked around the counter and then handed me a miniature version of the ticket. I thanked her and then placed the ticket in my haversack. As soon as I turned and started to walk away the ticket booth attendant called out to me. “Honey, the bus will leave at 8:00 A.M. at gate number twelve. Enjoy your trip, thank you for being ever so kind, and hope to see you soon. Do not forget to tell people about Stallion Bus Lines.
I walked to gate number twelve and then leaped onto the seat closest to the exit door leading to the bus. I closed my eyes to rest I was awakened by the rugged voice of a stern-looking man. As soon as I was able to rub the crust out of my eyes, I focused on the source of the rugged voice. It was none other than the bus driver, a tall, chubby, middle-aged moustached man. As expected, he was wearing a Stallion Bus Lines uniform.
Including the driver and me there were ten people boarding the bus. I took one last look at the Penny Bus Depot before exiting the building, wherein I had to stand at the back of the line. The bus driver removed a stub from each ticket he was given. When my turn came he did the same thing, then he saluted me. He was not a bad person after all. I guess you cannot judge a book by its cover.
After all of the passengers and bus driver were in the bus a man boarded the bus at the last minute. All of the passengers were adults. I recognized them from the bus depot, except for the mysterious eleventh passenger. There was something unusual about this man he wore a dark hat and shades. That is not all he kept his head down and then sat down fast. He studied all of the passengers, then turned his head, and briefly looked at me. Something was telling me that this man was quite unusual. My instincts were warning me about this person. My focus had been diverted to the beautiful scenery. It would be the last time that I would ever see Penny, Pennsylvania. The most dreaded moment would soon occur when I left the U.S. forever.
I did not know what to expect of Canada. None of my friends knew anything about this geographically large country. There was no heading back. Canada would have to become my new country. Getting through the port of entry would be a challenge. Indeed, I would need to use an alias, a reason for visiting Canada, and I had to tell the port of entry officer that I was born in the U.S.
In addition, away we went, leaving the bus depot and heading for Ford Street. The bus driver drove at a steady pace, as expected he obeyed all traffic laws. A few minutes later, we entered I-778 North. It was now official; I was leaving Pennsylvania and never coming back. Although Pennsylvania was not my home state, I had some memories therein. However, that I was most fond of Nebraska. All I had now were memories.
We drove until 9:00 P.M., making four stops on the way. We were now in southern New York. Several of the passengers disembarked from the bus. “Ladies and gentlemen, there will be a thirty minute break in Sparta, New York. The bus will be leaving at exactly 9:30 P.M. Please make sure that you are standing at gate number seven at least 5 minutes before the scheduled departure. My name is Albert Langley, and it has been my pleasure servicing you on behalf of Stallion Bus Lines. Sparta is my hometown. This is the end of the line for me. I have a two week vacation that begins tomorrow.”
All of the remaining passengers including yours truly disembarked from the bus. I guess we all needed to stretch out a bit. I counted six passengers including myself. I noticed that the peculiar man was still travelling with us. However, by then I had gotten accustomed to him.
I entered the Sparta Bus Depot and then headed straight to the restroom. Therein, I did what I needed to do, and then washed my face and paws. Upon leaving the restroom, I noticed a pretzel stand. I walked over to the stand and then made eye contact with a young man who kept looking at his Watch. “Sir, you look like you’re in a hurry. What’s more, is everything all right?”
“Kitty, thanks for caring so much about me. My shift ends at 10:00 P.M. This large tray containing soft doughy pretzels is still relatively full. I don’t know what to do with it?”
“Listen, lay it down on the floor and I’ll eat whatever I can. More so, give me a stack of those cold cuts and some milk.”
“Thanks, you’ve taken a large load off my chest.” The young man happily placed the tray on the floor.
Knowing that the food I ate contained much salt I headed straight to the nearest water fountain, leaped onto it and then drank my fill. I was delighted. An overhead clock indicated that it was 9:28 P.M. Yikes, I said to myself.
I ran to gate number seven, just in time. I was the last passenger to get on the bus. Our new bus driver was an overweight middle-aged woman. She had a plain face, and wore the standard company uniform. “Kitty, may I see your ticket please?” I showed her my ticket and then walked to the back of the bus wherein I leaped on a random seat. There were now only four people on the bus. Well, I figured that meant better quality sleep time. Furthermore, if I had to use the restroom there probably would not be a line of any sort to wait in.
What followed was a total blank. In fact, I do not remember the moment I closed my eyes and went to sleep. However, when I did awaken, the bus was not moving. More so, the engine was not running but the lights were on. I rubbed crust out from around my eyes, shook my head, and then craned my neck. Something was terribly wrong. The scent of blood and death engulfed the entire bus. Looking around me, I noticed the corpses of all of the passengers, and the bus driver too. Surprisingly, there were ten of them. I had slept through a boarding; I was out cold for an extended period.
I leaped onto the floor of the bus and then walked to the front. Someone from amongst the original passengers was missing. I carefully studied each passenger. I discovered that the missing person was in fact the last person who boarded the bus in Sparta. I knew something was peculiar about him. Everyone on the bus except for me, and the mysterious person had been executed. In addition, from the way it looked execution style. I was shocked tremendously. Why would anyone on this entire planet, human or animal, commit such a heinous act? Even if one of the victims were very evil, it would be wrong to try to convict him or her without full due process of law, and what about the other passengers. Why did the killer not shoot me? I found it hard to believe that the killer would not do me in just because I was a cat. Most humans would kill a cat before killing one of their own.
Pondering about the circumstances, I realized something quite peculiar. I seemed to have passed out shortly after boarding the bus. It was not sleeping gas it must have been the free soft pretzels, the milk, and the cold cuts, very convenient, indeed. I exited the restroom and right there before my eyes were free pretzels. In addition, come to think of it, I did not pay for the milk or the cold cuts. Now, everything was starting to fall into place.
Someone was trying to frame me for this heinous crime. Perhaps that is why the bus lights were still on. More so, the high beams were on. I decided to exit the bus and take off as fast as I could. However, as soon as I reached the door I noticed a piece of paper taped to the steps. Observing the piece of paper intently, I discovered that it was a note. Naturally, my suspicious feline instincts took over. I gently pulled the piece of paper from the step ensuring that it was not torn or ripped. Then, I read it.
Dear Jason Abbott:
You are now a cat on the run. How were the free pretzels, the cold cuts and the milk? Did you feel groggy afterward, or did everything go blank? Your paw prints, bits of hair, and saliva have been placed in strategically important areas, in order to incriminate you for this heinous crime. When the CSU arrive, they are going to discover that a cat was involved in the massacre. Do not try to clean it up, because by the time you read a letter New York State Police will likely be on their way. Apparently, someone made an anonymous call concerning a massacre that occurred on Bus number 3345. GPS will take care of the rest.
Jason, remember you are going to pay dearly for stealing Natasha from us. She was the biggest moneymaker of them all. You can never return to the U.S. Just in case you think that you will be in the clear if you get away, remember, Sparta Bus Depot has cameras installed throughout its facility. More so, your image will be plastered throughout the country. This is the last letter that we will ever send you. Understand that if you tell anyone about us, we will literally destroy you. In addition, as always, this letter will self-destruct in thirty seconds.
Worst of Regards,
Your Worst Enemies
The mob was intent on evicting me from the U.S. Thank goodness they did not know about my illegal status in the country. Otherwise, they would likely have made an anonymous phone call to the INS, wherein, an unsympathetic officer would have busted me at an earlier date.
I had blood splatter on all of my paws. The blowflies had already converged upon the cadavers. The killer was not acting alone. Considering we were out in the middle of nowhere, on a semi-dark road, an escape ride had to have been nearby. Every detail of the crime thoroughly, and calculated even the timing of my going unconscious. In addition, the letter's self-destruct sequence, it was something that sophisticated spies use.
As I was pondering about this topic, the faint sound of sirens interrupted my concentration. Lo and behold, roughly a hundred yards away was a long street. I did not notice it earlier because my focus was on happenings in the bus. There was some lighting on this street. However, more worry-some was the presence of four police cars travelling at high speed, sirens blasting away, and lights flashing. Suddenly, the vehicles stopped. Gosh, a dusty makeshift road connected the street to our road. The police were heading towards the bus.
I did several three hundred and sixty degree turns clockwise and then counter-clockwise. I was utterly shocked and confused. Where could I go? As the police vehicles were fast approaching the bus, my powerful feline instinct for survival took over.
I spotted a boulder surrounded by shrubs. For now, making a run for it would likely be suicidal. I assumed that someone would hear or see me. I ran to the back of the boulder and then cropped up my ears, craned my neck, and peaked at what would ensue. As soon as the police cars arrived at the scene, I heard the faint sound of more sirens. The media would no doubt sensationalize this story, calling it a horrific mass murder committed by a heinous person/s.
Shortly thereafter, the area was flooded with local and state police. I stayed put for my own safety. Still yet, a dozen FBI agents arrived at the scene about an hour later. I had one incredible worry on my mind, hoping that no one at the scene would think of it. The last thing I needed was sniffer dogs or bloodhounds. In that case, I would have to leave the area, dodging bullets and outrunning canines.
A tall, large boned, blond haired woman from The FBI Behavioural Science Unit exited the bus and then stood in place for roughly a half a minute. Meanwhile, everyone on the scene converged upon her. They waited attentively for her to speak.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m FBI Agent Carol Black. I am from The Behavioural Science Unit (BSU). As you all know, what ensued in this bus is a heinous mass murder, the likes of which I do not see too often. CSU has informed us that there were likely two assailants involved in the murders. There had to be a driver. As you can all clearly see, this area is semi-barren with nowhere to hide even a mass murderer would not be stupid enough to not plan a fast escape.
One of the assailants was a man who we believe may have been the last person to board the bus at the Sparta Bus Depot. Video surveillance shows that he was wearing an old-style hat, shades, and an overcoat. Using hindsight, it was a conspicuous act. However, under the circumstances, drivers do not expect acts of murder on their bus.
The other assailant is believed to be a wild or savage-like cat. Let me make this clear, this is not a domesticated, feral, or your everyday homeless cat. It is wild, perhaps a Bobcat, or some other related species of cat. We must assume that both assailants are extremely dangerous and will readily use whatever force to prevent arrest.
CSU has taken numerous samples of hair, skin, and nails to a lab in Burlington, Vermont. Because this is an extraordinary matter, technicians will work round-the-clock to get their results. A short while ago I was asked if there was any chance of one of the assailants still being in the area. No, I really do not think so. As for the numerous incriminating samples they left behind, I think it was because of an unforeseen interruption. Remember, someone made an anonymous phone call to the police describing what had ensued here. How this person knew is a mystery.”
Someone within the congregation waved his hand indicating a question. Agent Black nodded her head in approval. “Agent Black, are special bloodhounds going to be used in this case?”
“Yes Officer Davies, they’re on their way, likely to arrive at the scene in fifteen minutes. We want to comb this entire area for more evidence. Perhaps in their haste they dropped an incriminating article. There is another thing; our specially trained bloodhounds can follow a scent emanating from a vehicle. I am not saying that we are going to track these killers all the way to Los Angeles or anything like that. However, we might discover the direction the assailants escaped. Sorry people I have to phone my supervisor. The people of Vermont will demand someone’s head for this heinous act.”
It was a no brainer; I had to get the living daylights out of that entire area otherwise the bloodhounds would shred me into pieces, all to the delight and enthusiasm of the nearby crowd. A so-called wild cat like me would not stand a chance in a court of law anywhere in the country. This heinous crime demanded a serious investigation and a very stiff penalty to all guilty parties. On this count, I wholeheartedly agreed with the justice system and the Citizens of the United States of America. However, what I did not agree to was a modern day cat hunt. There would be no due process of law, nor would I expect my defence attorney to believe me if I said I was innocent of any wrongdoing. My entire story was very strange, indeed. Anyway, I was not taking any chances.
I searched diligently for the best route out of the area. Unfortunately, if the bloodhounds were to be unleashed I would have to be at least ten miles away and moving at incredible speed, and that is not all, I’d have to be in a town or a city. Vast open, semi-barren areas will not do. I brainstormed again, this time concentrating on an unexpected move. Eureka! I found the solution. I noticed that every single vehicle approached my position from the parallel Street. I had not seen a single vehicle coming in either direction on our road. This was a long, semi-dead road. No one would expect me to continue on it.
It sounded good for a moment or two, but then whom was I kidding? The bloodhounds could catch me. Do not get me wrong, cats are very fast runners. However, our endurance level literally pales in comparison to tracking dogs. What could I do?
Sniffer dogs, that is it, I will destroy my natural odour by engulfing myself in the odours of others. If I could just slither my way into the bus, well, I will smother my entire body with the blood and odours of several of the cadavers. I know it sounds weird, but try to see the situation from my perspective. You see, I knew you would agree with me.
Judging from the stars and the brightness of the moon, I had roughly an hour of darkness left. Thankfully, most of the law enforcement personnel had left the area. No one in his or her right mind would even contemplate a suspect’s return to the scene of the crime, at least not this early into the investigation.
Then, I noticed a van driving on the street parallel to us. I cropped up my ears; my worst nightmare had come true. I could hear the faint barking of bloodhounds. Immediately, I slithered towards the bus. A lone, overweight police officer was ‘guarding’ the bus. However, for now he was enjoying his coffee and donut snack. I continued my stealthy approach until I was roughly ten feet from the bus. The police officer was barely a foot away from me, engulfed into his snack I was able to leap into the bus through an open window.
Upon landing in the bus, I got straight down to business. I walked to the front, leaped onto the nearest cadaver and then smothered myself in his blood. I repeated this process repeatedly until I was certain my plan had worked, and I must say it was just in time. The driver parked the van on the other side of the bus as soon as I leaped out of the bus. When my paws hit the pavement, I ran into the semi-barren area. Keeping low but continuing to trot into my safety zone I stopped dead cold as soon as I was roughly a hundred yards away. I turned and then tuned in to what was going on. Thank goodness, no one suspected anything. Four bloodhounds sniffed and sniffed then they ran around the bus in circles until their Handler ordered them to stop.
“Hey, guys, can’t you pick up a trail? You are the best bloodhounds the FBI has ever had. Come on, what’s the problem?”
The bloodhounds lowered their heads out of overwhelming shame. Only one of them was courageous enough to approach the handler. “Officer Thomas, listen, I think the assailants outsmarted us. An unusual chemical is blocking our ability to track. In addition, one or more of the assailants had multiple scents smothered on his entire body. I think this person is the cat. More than likely, the human used the chemical blocker. We know for a fact that there were at least two assailants; these guys were professional killers, specifically the hallmarks of career Professional hit-men.”
I really hated the stench of rotten flesh and dried up blood. Please understand that it was a matter of survival. I decided to maintain my position of one hundred yards into the semi-arid area, continue walking due north on the same road.
Just as I was beginning to leave the area, I heard a conversation between a police officer sitting in her car and the dispatcher. "Officer Peggy, this is dispatcher Annette speaking. The pickup crew will arrive at the scene of the crime in roughly ten minutes. They'll pick up the bodies and then take them back to the morgue."
"Dispatcher Annette thanks for the heads up. We are all done here anyway. We are going to spread yellow DO NOT ENTER tape across the peripheral of the area. Officer Dollard will guard the area for the following eight hours. Thereafter, a different officer will be assigned for each subsequent eight hour shift."