Catboy - Eric Walters [3]
“The guy who owns this place must love cats,” I said.
“I don’t know if he cares about them one way or another. It isn’t like they’re pets.”
“Then what are they, guard cats?” I asked.
Simon laughed. “You are one funny guy. They live here. They’re wild cats. It isn’t like he owns them or anything.”
“They live here by themselves? What do they eat?”
“I guess they catch things. You know, mice, birds, rats.”
“There are rats here?”
“We’re in the middle of the city. There are rats everywhere,” he said. “They make their homes in abandoned cars too.”
I pictured them nesting in the cushions and padding of a car. It would actually be a pretty comfortable place to live—if you were a rat.
“There are skunks and raccoons here as well,” Simon said.
“Are you putting me on?”
“The city is full of animals,” he said. “Go out late at night. My parents see raccoons all the time when they come home late from cleaning. Wild animals live in the parks and ravines. I’ve heard squirrels and raccoons get into people’s attics and live there sometimes. There are animals everywhere.”
“It’s hard to believe.”
“Why not? There are lots of things for animals to eat in the city. I’ve seen cats eating garbage off the streets. Sometimes kids even throw them food from their lunches.”
If I hadn’t eaten all of my lunch, I would have done that now.
“What about the winter?” I asked. “How do the cats survive?”
“They survive like all the other animals do. They have fur coats and they stay in their nests, or whatever you call a place where a cat goes.”
“I think it’s called a den or a lair,” I said.
Simon slumped down, resting his back against a car. I did the same. It got us out of the sun, but, more importantly, it made us less visible if a security guard walked by. I looked around anxiously. There was nobody here but us.
A couple more cats appeared. They ambled out of the wreckage like they didn’t have a care in the world. And then a fluffy white cat appeared. All four of her paws were black, so it looked as if she was wearing boots or socks. Four kittens trailed behind her. One of the other cats came over, and the kittens rubbed against it as it started to lick them. Then, out of nowhere, a piece of brick bounced in front of the cats and almost hit them before smashing against a car. The cats scattered, disappearing into the junk.
Two
I jumped to my feet and spun around. There were three guys—older, high-school aged—standing there. Judging from their expressions, they were as surprised that we were there as we were by their sudden appearance.
“What are you doing?” I demanded before I thought through what I was saying.
There was a slight delay before the first one spoke. “What do you think we’re doing?” he snapped.
“You could have hit one of the cats!”
“That was the idea!” snarled the biggest of the three boys.
The other two boys were holding rocks, but he wasn’t. That meant he was the one who had tossed the brick.
“You could have hurt them, or even killed one,” I said.
“I didn’t, but maybe our next shot will be better,” he said.
Suddenly one of the other boys pulled back his arm and threw a rock. I ducked, but it soared over our heads, narrowly missed a cat and hit the trunk of a car with a thud.
“Stop it!” I screamed. “You shouldn’t be throwing rocks at the cats!”
“Who should we be throwing rocks at?” the big kid asked, but it wasn’t really a question. It was a threat.
“Leave the cats alone,” I said, my voice cracking over the last word.
The three of them laughed. Not the response I was hoping for.
“Maybe we should be throwing the rocks at something that’s easier to hit,” the big guy said.
I looked around for someone to help us, but we were alone.
“Come on,” Simon hissed. “Let’s get out of here.”
I ignored him. “Just leave the cats alone,” I said again. It was more a plea than an order.
“What’s it to you?” the big guy asked. Obviously he was their leader and spokesperson.
“They didn’t do anything to you. They’re just cats,” I