The Cat's Paw
Published on June 9, 2024
What an obnoxious building. Its inky paneling seemed to feed on the nearby buildings neon glow, with only a few pulsating lights near its crown to suggest it may be connatural. It hissed at passersby, as wind cut through the panels. Waiting in its maw - her client’s underling.
A slitted look from the woman was all she had before the sidewalk crowd engulfed her. The driver leaned back against the passenger door, flicking at a crumb on her left lapel and idly thinking of the passenger. The woman looked sartorially sleek, but her personality screamed of something jagged. It was best to let her open her own door, thought the driver. Two clacks were all the warning before the assistant was upon her. She turned on her heel, rounding on the driver’s door. She heard the click of the handle. A quick glance back saw the shadow of a sneer, maybe a smile, it was hard to say. She clambered behind the wheel, unknowing if she had made the right choice.
Adjusting the rear view monitor, she threw out a casual “where are we off to?”
An austere “Hyssop avenue, the sage building” answered. The passenger bristled, seemingly expectant. She knew when her conversation was unwanted. Eyes warmed her neck, but she just flicked on the blinker, then peeled out of the spot. The eyes dropped. The driver waited, before checking the rear view. The corporate woman was unwaveringly staring at her tablet. In one hand, a pen, the other, a silver collar.
The collar reflected the passing neon. Even while working, it seemed the customer couldn’t keep her fingers from fiddling with it. She absentmindedly stroked the edge, leaving a swath of sticky crimson on the surface. She lapped at her thumb, her strokes on the tablet unerring. The driver’s eyes returned to the road. They were nearing the destination, and malaise was digging under her lapels and into her skin. A piercing stare touched her nape. She parked.
“Wait here” came a curt command as the assistant exited. The collar was twirling on her left index finger. An ugly feeling boiled up in the driver, as she bared her teeth in a customer-pleasing smile.
“Yes ma’am” she purred. The assistant disappeared into the building.
Of what the driver could make out in the dark, the colorful buildings felt like an artifice. The car's windows were deeply tinted, yet it felt as if every eye that turned to the car locked eyes with her. It was probably the cover of the night sky and her natural distrust that made her feel that way, she reasoned. She forced her shoulders down with a drawn out exhale.
She turned toward the green building. The building was plain, but she felt it deserved her gaze. She noted the varying people entering the building as she tried to control her breathing. They were all holding those collars. None discrete about it. She turned away.
A rap to the back window startled her out of her reverie. The customer was back. Unlocking the doors, she tried to conceal her unease, putting on a facsimile of her previous self.
First entered a crate, then the assistant. She drew her eyes up in the mirror, to find the woman already making eye contact. She looked a bit like a hunter. And what did that make her? With averted eyes, the driver maneuvered back onto the road. She was burning from the inside out.
The steady tap on the tablet resumed, along with a faint whirring from the crate. Curiosity drew her eyes to the mirror. It was hard to make much out, but there was certainly movement.
A gasping, mechanical cry freed itself from the crate. The assistant didn’t falter. The whirring increased in volume. She could hear her pulse. She could feel it where her fingers clawed at the steering wheel. She thought about a blood stained tongue lapping at her pulse point. Claws digging into the hollow of her-
A horn cut through the litany, the car swerving to avoid a collision. The whirring ceased. She whispered an apology. It hung in the air. She could not look at the mirror’s reflection.
A single click was heard before a pained mewl rang out. Hungry eyes locked with hers. Her quiet pants were punctuated by a gurgling sound coming from the cage. The sounds were building. She was scared of the crescendo. The car lurched to a stop in front of the stygian high rise.
“G-get out” she gasped. The woman hummed in acknowledgement and gathered her things. The gurgling expired. The door clicked closed, leaving only the heaves of the driver.