Catboy - Eric Walters [41]
Twenty-Four
We stood in the alley beside the junkyard. The place where Mr. Singh had told me we should wait. There was a small army of us. Hopefully a small army would be enough people. There was Dr. Reynolds and my mother, of course, but we had other help. I’d brought the United Nations along—Simon, Devon, Mohammad, Rupinder, Alexander and Jaime. Maybe brought wasn’t the right word. I couldn’t have kept them away if I had tried. They wanted to help the cats as much as I did.
Dr. Reynolds had also brought along some people from the Feral Cat Association. One of them, Doris, I’d met before. The other four—two older men, a woman about my mother’s age and a guy in his teens—were very friendly, talkative and excited to be there. They all really wanted to help.
Dr. Reynolds had also brought an array of equipment. He had the traps as well as fifty cages to transfer the cats to after we had trapped them. He’d also brought along thick work gloves for everybody, a couple of big nets and medication to tranquilize the trapped cats that got too wild, so they wouldn’t hurt themselves. He also had four long poles. At the end of two of them were snares—loops that could fit around a cat’s neck and drag it out. On the end of the other two were hypodermic needles so they could be tranquilized and then removed. It felt like we were going on a safari.
Now all we needed was a way inside the junkyard. We couldn’t go in the front gates. Two days ago they’d installed security cameras to watch all the vehicles coming and going. There was no way we could get all these people, the equipment and the vans in without being seen. But Mr. Singh had told me he’d find a way for us to get in.
“Mr. Singh will let us in soon,” I said. I’d said it loud enough for those around me to hear but also to reassure myself. I figured he was going to cut a small opening in the fence for us to climb through.
I knew I wasn’t the only person who was getting antsy. I’d overheard snippets of conversation. People were nervous about going into the yard and doing this, especially since I’d told them what Mr. Singh had said— the new owner was going to contact the police and charge anybody who trespassed on the property.
Strangely, though, I think people were more nervous that we wouldn’t be able to move the cats. It would be awful if all these people and the equipment we’d assembled weren’t able to get inside. But that wouldn’t happen. I knew I could count on Mr. Singh, unless something had happened.
What if the boss had showed up, or they put on extra guards or additional security cameras? I hadn’t been inside the yard for two days—aside from the security cameras being in place, there was too much work going on inside for me to visit. Maybe they had moved more quickly than we expected and had already removed the cars from the colony’s area. But Mr. Singh would have let me know if that had happened, if he had known how to get in touch with me. If it all happened last night or this morning, he wouldn’t have had any way to tell me.
An engine started on the other side of the fence. I was right, they were moving the wrecks today. There was an enormous crash and a section of the fence exploded, splintering and flying into the air in a cloud of dust, dirt and debris. Out of the cloud emerged a gray forklift with Mr. Singh at the controls! And on top of his brilliant red turban sat a large yellow hard hat.
The machine rumbled into the alley and came to a stop. Mr. Singh looked around, trying to see through the cloud of dust that surrounded him. I jumped up and ran over, and the rest of the crowd followed.
“That is some cool ride,” Simon yelled.
“It is not a BMW, but it is pretty fancy,” Mr. Singh joked. “Is this hole big enough?”
“ I should be able to squeeze my van through,” Dr. Reynolds said.
“Oh, no need for squeezing. I will make it bigger.”
“Please, don’t go to any trouble. It should be okay,” Dr. Reynolds said.
“It is no trouble, sir,” Mr. Singh said. “Have any of you ever driven a forklift through a fence?”
I thought