Nine Lives - by PM2K

[PM2K]

Another blast from the past... typed back in 1999, retyped and posted elsewhere in 2007. Back again.

Nine Lives - by PM2K

"C'mon, you goddamned cat.... where are you?"
Donna curses in the darkness, her head clouded by a day's supply of Beefeater's and the suffocating blanket of the steamy summer night. She barely hears the incessant whine of mosquitoes, muted through the intoxicated blood which roars in her ears.
Her anger grows as she slashes the flashlight beam through the thick undergrowth of the forest, which borders the campground. The moonlight provides little helpful illumination among that tangle of vegetation.
Sweat trickles in a steady stream down Donna's spine, and her bare skin glistens from its sticky film. Pausing in her patrol, the short haired brunette pries her white T-shirt off of her chest in an effort to get some cooler air between the fabric and herself, but to no avail. The humidity is just too intense to make any difference.
Cursing again, Donna lets go, and the hem of the fabric falls limply to its mid-torso length. She places her hands on her shapely hips, and feels the wetness of her denim cutoffs, soaked by the moisture dragged out of her body by the sultry night air. The skin tight fabric clings damply to her, and she finds herself squirming uncomfortably against the sensation.
God.... I can't stand this! Donna grits her teeth to keep from screaming in frustration. This has truly been the vacation from hell...
Somewhere behind her sat the trailer they have been staying in these past two weeks, one hobbled to become a permanent residence of this campground, really just a patch of open area surrounded by a thick wall of trees. It would be a great way for them to get to know each other, Perry had told her. A golden opportunity for them to work out any misgivings his young daughter Sally had about their relationship. A way to iron out the kinks before what they had between them became more permanent.

Donna had worked as Perry's office manager for five years now, and since day one heard him talk about his summer camp, where he and his wife honeymooned. Annual excursions to it were part of cherished family tradition, one which the couple were thrilled to introduce their one and only child to, a place which was their sanctuary from the world.
When he was widowed far too young, his wife the victim of a hit and run driver, all that kept him going was the love of his daughter and that camp. It took Donna nearly two years to work her way into Perry's life, and to be finally invited to take part in this intimate pilgrimage gave her a great feeling of victory.
This lasted until she laid eyes on it.

It took a tremendous effort of will to choke down her disappointment. From the way Perry described it, she had pictured a summer home, something worthy of the owner of the state's top construction firm. She did not expect a tin can roughly the size of a common pop up camper.
"Sometimes, simpler is better," he had said while they were unpacking. "It reminds me of my roots, back when Dad started everything from the ground up. You know he taught me how to clean my first fish right by that rock?"
Donna nodded, while struggling to keep her composure. The trailer reminded her of her roots, too.... something she always strove to forget.
Throughout the trip, Sally kept staring at her suspiciously. The six-year-old resembles her late mother, right down to the blue eyes and long blonde hair, braided neatly behind her back. It was no secret she really didn't like Donna, this new woman in her dad's life, but she did promise him she'd try to get along, at least for the next couple of weeks.
The feeling is mutual for Donna, who could be civil to the girl for short spans of time, but considers her both a nuisance and an obstacle to any long range plans she has for Perry. But he did make one thing clear. Nothing on this earth is more important to him than his daughter's happiness. Nothing. This included his own.
So this is as much a litmus test as it is a vacation. Spending two weeks sealed together in a tiny box, it is a trial by fire to see if this could be made to work.
Surprisingly, it had, and Donna managed to keep a happy face on, even if it had to be bolstered with liberal doses of gin from time to time.
Then, two days ago, the call. A few quick comments into his cell phone, and Perry rushed about, grim faced. A major disaster had occurred at one of his construction sites, something he needed to supervise directly. Would you two be okay alone while I handle this? Back in a couple of days! Love you! and he was gone.
There they were, Donna and Sally, watching Perry's truck vanish down the dirt road. Just the two of them. And Jo-Jo.

They never did get along.
It had been hate at first sight the day the cat and Donna laid eyes on each other, the evening Perry brought her home to dinner that first time, to formally introduce her to his daughter.
According to Perry, a week after her mother had been buried, Sally was getting ready to go to sleep when she heard a faint noise outside. Looking out her second story bedroom window, she noticed a small kitten which had somehow made its way onto the narrow cement sill. Cold and hungry, the tiny clump of fur sprang into the girl's arms the moment she opened the window, as if it had always belonged there, and began to purr loudly.
The little black cat has remained Sally's loyal companion since. The two were inseparable, with the creature even sharing her bed.
But for some reason, the cat disliked Donna with a demonic intensity. It went out of its way to torment her, always hissing, clawing and biting at every opportunity, and always when there were no witnesses to testify to it. Even with the evidence scratched into her arms and legs, Donna suspected neither Perry nor Sally really believed her about how malicious the assaults were, how calculated.
Afterwards, it would curl up in Sally's lap, purring happily, and then when no one was looking shoot Donna a look so cold it made her shudder despite herself.

"I didn't have the heart to say no to her," Perry had told Donna one evening. She had brought up the subject of the cat after the little beast had clawed her viciously across the arm, the latest in a seemingly endless stream of attacks, and was hoping to sweet talk him into getting rid of it.
"She had just lost her mom... I mean, Sally was there, walking with her when Marion...." He choked up at the memory, and the topic was closed.

Now here she is, stuck alone with a six-year-old and a psychotic feline in a trailer standing in the middle of nowhere, with only the gin bottle to offer comfort. Things rapidly went downhill as tempers and temperatures soared, and on more than one occasion she had to resist the urge to crack the kid across the mouth as she kept whining and whining about when her father was coming back, and that damn cat keeps getting in the way, always underfoot inside this goddamn sweatbox of a sardine can and biting and clawing and...
Then this evening Sally walked up to her and asked where Jo-Jo was. Did she run off? Is she going to be okay out there alone in the woods? Where is she? Where's Daddy? Will he help find Jo-Jo? I can't sleep without Jo-Jo? Where will she sleep? Where's Jo-Jo? I want....

"Oh, to fuck with your stupid cat!"
The words spurt past Donna's lips before she knew what was happening, and strike Sally as harsh as a slap. Flinching, the girl whimpers, and retreats into the corner, drawing her legs tightly to herself. Chin resting on her knees, she sniffles quietly, her liquid eyes staring with a mix of hurt and accusation.
Damn.... Donna bites her lower lip. Her stomach roils, full of ice, and for a moment she fears she will vomit up a day's worth of gin slings in front of the girl. Wouldn't that make a great impression on the father of the child she is supposedly looking after? The same man she is planning on marrying.
Steady, girl.... steady... she says to herself. With a great effort, Donna manages to scrape up what she thought of as a friendly smile towards Sally, who's timid response to it shows the attempt isn't overly successful.
"I'm sorry, honey," she says. "I'm sure Jo-Jo is just fine..."
'But.... but...." Sally whimpers, her lower lip trembling.
Donna sighs mightily, trying to blow out her simmering frustration. Perry wouldn't be back to the campsite until the next day, and his daughter shows all the signs of making every one of those moments between now and then an unbearable experience.
For a moment, Donna is tempted to walk out right now and never return, but deep down she knew that really wasn't an option. Why couldn't the brat be happy sleeping with a teddy bear, instead of that miserable....
Forcing yet another semi-friendly look on her face, she nods in the direction of Sally, slips on a pair of flip flops and grabs the flashlight resting in the center of the folding table. To her amazement, she manages to do this without swaying too badly.
"Okay, Sally sweetie, you wait here...." Donna says, slightly slurring her speech as she exits the trailer. She tries to ignore the way the child flinches at her efforts to sound cheerful. "I'll find Jo-Jo...."

That was an hour ago.
Now, Donna stands alone in the dark, feeling sick from the relentless effects of gin and humidity, looking for a miserable animal which could be standing right in front of her for all she knows, just out of reach of the flashlight beam...
She starts at the sound which rumbles from the edge of the forest. A meowing, perhaps? Maybe. Slowly, she moves the flashlight in a slow arc, scanning the underbrush at the border of the campground for any hint of the feline.
"Jo-Jo? Is that you?" Donna whispers, her eyes narrowing.
The flash of eyes glaring from the darkness startles her, and she stumbles back several steps. Frowning, she spots the head of Jo-Jo peering out of the brush.
"There you are, you miserable cat..." Donna says, smiling grimly. "If I had my way, I'd make you regret all nine of your lives...."
The cat hisses at her, then vanishes into a thick growth of ferns. Donna growls under her breath, then dashes into the woods after the cat.

The forest slashes at her from a thousand directions, clawing at her skin as she plunges through the greenery. The ground is uneven, and more than once Donna stumbles, falling headlong into the ground. Soon, every part of her is becoming battered and bruised, while just out of reach is the cat, hissing and spitting at her, dodging her lunges with the agility of a ninja.
Donna, dizzy and sick from the humidity, the effort and the alcohol sloshing inside her feels her anger growing. She stumbles again, her foot painfully striking an exposed tree root. Snarling, she swings the flashlight around, and gasps as Jo-Jo looms large in the beam, her eyes flaming, and lunges at her....
Donna screams as claws slash her hand, making her drop the light, which shatters when it strikes something sharp embedded in the soil....

A scream... an impact... a headlight shatters.... a woman with a small child in hand goes down before the bumper of the pickup truck....

Enough moonlight filters through the ceiling of treetops for her to make out the form of the cat as it bounds away.
"You.... you fucking cat!" she stammers, voice choked with rage. "Oh, you are so dead...."
Donna winces as she feels blood trickling down her wrist, and the sting of the sweat which dribbles into the wounds. That goddamn cat....

She grips the wheel tightly, not daring to slow down or even look back, in case someone is watching... Did I do it? the driver thinks.... did I get them both?

"Perfect.... just perfect..."
Donna looks around at the gloom closing in on her. The lights from the trailer have vanished, and she begins to feel apprehension building within her. She is beginning to wonder if she could find her way back without a flashlight. Under the moon, the forest looks the same in all directions, and despite the heat of the night, she feels a cold chill run down her spine.
"Oh, crap...." Donna says quietly to herself, then hears a familiar hiss. Her blood chills. Looking around, she spots Jo-Jo, her eyes glinting. The creature was waiting for her... no, worse, it had doubled back to torment her some more, like some vengeful demon...
She shakes her head. No.... that is stupid... It is a cat.... just a stupid cat.
Jo-Jo hisses again, and melts away out of sight into the brush. Donna curses under her breath, and moves forward in pursuit.
A sudden flare of pain flashes from her right ankle, the result of claws raking their way across her flesh, and she has to bite her lip hard to keep the scream from escaping. Looking down, she catches a glimpse of the cat, which dashes away, meowing in defiance.

Something snaps within Donna.... something dark and oily... Fueled by rage and frustration and alcohol, she charges forth, ignoring the branches which whip her bloody as she surges after the animal, which manages to stay in sight and out of reach at the same time.
Now focused totally on the cat, Donna loses all sense of direction. The woods swirl around her, blurring into a near solid mass of barbs and sharp entanglements, and at the center of it all is Jo-Jo, who leaps and dances in front of her, never allowing her to get close enough to...
Suddenly, the cat stops running, and stares at her, eyes glinting brightly. For a moment, Donna has the hope the little beast has tired of the game, and leans forwards to try and scoop her up, but mere inches from her fingertips, the cat lashes out again, striking her right palm.
Yelling, she pulls her hand back, and in frustration watches as the cat hops deftly up the trunk of a gnarled tree, then scampers across a short branch, which stretches outwards, away from Donna.
Slowly straightening up, her eyes widen in surprise, and she feels herself smile for the first time all evening. The branch is only about chest high, and maybe five feet long. Jo-Jo crouches near the tip of it, hissing at her.
"Gotcha, you miserable...." Donna says, stepping forward....

The ground suddenly slopes away, and the truck hurtles over the edge of the abandoned quarry. It seems bottomless in the dark, and only the splash indicates its destination. Donna stares for a moment into the night, then turns and....

The embankment she stumbles down had been invisible in the darkness, and she braces herself for the impact. Instead of a bone jarring thud, Donna feels the ground melt beneath her as she is driven past her knees in the wet earth. It flows greedily to seal up the holes her feet and legs make, securing her tightly in its mass.
Donna's eyes adjust, and she sees the silvery glitter of a shallow stream, which trickles quietly an arms length away. Its waters blend seamlessly into the wide swath of mud she now finds herself stuck in.
Donna frowns, and looks up. The branch she had been walking towards hangs a couple of feet above her, just out of reach. Sitting atop it, silhouetted by the moon peeking through the tree tops, is Jo-Jo.
"You furry fuck.... you're feeling pretty smug right now, aren't you?" she hisses at the cat. Jo-Jo watches her silently, her golden eyes burning intensely.
"When I get out of here...."
Donna grits her teeth and concentrates on pulling her left leg out of the dark, gritty mud. She grunts in exertion, and strains hard, yet her limb remains firmly locked into place. The brunette scowls, feeling hot sweat streaming down her face and body as it is drawn out of her skin by her efforts. Pulling harder, she shift her weight to her right leg to try and gain some sort of leverage, then gasps as the earth squirms beneath her foot, greedily sucking down the limb to mid-thigh.
Struggling, arms wind milling, Donna fights to right herself, and succeeds, but only by driving her left leg deeper into the slimy muck. In no time, the frayed edges of her cut off shorts lick the mud's surface, and she wiggles against the sensation on her flesh as the fabric rapidly sops up the clammy wetness.
Looking down, Donna stares at the mud, as if willing herself to see her trapped feet. She wiggles her toes and stretches her arches, thinking maybe if I can loosen the muck I can free them... But her movements instead cause them to slip in deeper... her feet now point downward like arrows, and she is startled to find nothing but shifting mud beneath them.
Donna gasps as she slips suddenly downward, her groin pressing hard against the soft slurry, which gently cups her hips even as it begins to slide over them. She shudders from the sensation of wet denim plastered against her bare skin, then stares incredulous at how the muck quivers and wobbles in response to her movements, sending out gentle waves which ripple in all directions.
What the hell have I gotten myself into? she thinks. Then an image pops into her head, a scene from an old horror movie she watched as a kid.... at first so ludicrous she nearly laughs out loud, but as her hips ease out of sight into the thick gritty mass, it became less so...
.... could I be in....

"Quicksand..." Donna says it out loud. "Oh, Christ...."
Twisting around, she looks frantically for something... anything... to grab onto, knowing if such a thing existed, she would have seized it by now. The muck quietly rolls up over the top of her shorts to swallow the rest of her pelvis and surround her waist, and she cringes as it nuzzles her bare navel.
Oh no..... no, no, no, no, NO! This is not happening! Donna's mind shrieks, on the knife edge of blind panic. Struggling desperately against the steady suction of the quicksand bog, she thrashes in a vain effort to break its tight grip on her form, but her actions instead seem to whet its appetite, and in a span of a few moments her ribs glide under, one by one.
Somehow in her losing battle to remain afloat, Donna manages to sink both of her arms past the elbows into the thick mass in a last effort to push herself out. Now they too are stuck fast, and all she can do is whimper as the cool mud oozes under her shirt to cradle her breasts, flowing to fill the space between them.
"Oh God! Help me! Please! Someone.... help meeee!"
Donna cries out, even as she knows there is no one around to hear her. No one except that damn cat... who has not moved a muscle during this entire time. She remains still atop the branch, a miniature panther coldly regarding its prey.
The muddy quicksand swallows her breasts with a satisfied soft burbling sound, and laps over her shoulders. When the mud encircles her neck Donna finds it hard to breathe under its relentless pressure, yet still manages near the end to snarl at Jo-Jo, tears of frustration and terror rolling down her cheeks.
"You.... you fucker...." she sobs in the direction of the yellow eyes staring down at her, settling chin deep as her ears fill. The cat keeps staring at her, and as the wet earth rises over over her mouth Donna gets the impression the little beast is purring, although there is no possible way for her to know...
The muck oozes into her nose to seal off her access to air, and Donna's eyes bulge, her last breath reduces to filthy gurgles as she slips under, her face melting into the quicksand's gently heaving surface....

Sally wakes with a start, and rubs her eyes. The young girl had stayed up as long as she could after Donna left her alone in the camp to look for Jo-Jo... she had promised to herself she wouldn't sleep until her cat was safely back, but she just couldn't keep her eyes open. She had dozed off, curled up in the same corner she had backed into after being shouted at by....
There. That sound again. That familiar sound which had earlier stirred her from slumber.
Sally gets to her feet and quickly scampers over to the screen door. Outside, meowing and scratching at the wire mesh, was a small black cat.
"Jo-Jo! Oh, Jo-Jo...." she chirps happily, and lets the animal in. The cat quickly enters, and bounds into Sally's waiting arms. She rubs herself against the girl's cheek, and purrs loudly.
The camp cell phone rings, and she answers it quickly. Her father's voice, coming through strong despite the static, saying he'll be there within the hour. Sally responds happily, then frowns when Dad asks to speak to Donna.
"She's not here...." the girl replies, balancing the small phone while snuggling with Jo-Jo. "She went out to look for...." She pauses again, listening to the concern in the voice. "No, Daddy.... I don't know where she is.... but I'm not alone. I got Jo-Jo with me."
The cat gently strokes Sally's blonde hair, brushing it away from her face, just like the way Mom.... She sighs. She never told Daddy this, but sometimes, late at night, whenever she closed her eyes to go to sleep, and Jo-Jo plays with her hair like this... sometimes, she pretends Mommy is still with them...
"Let's wait up for Daddy, okay Jo-Jo?" she says, a sparkle to her voice. The cat looks at the girl in a loving yet familiar way, then lolls her head against her cheek, purring happily.

[water_bug_62208]

Ah, yes, I recall reading this story before sometime back. It was a cool classic then and is quite the classic now. Thanks for sharing!

[Theog]

That's a cool story PM2K, nice one!!!

[PM2K]

Thanks all!

[YerKiddin]

Fun story! (and I love revenge from the grave stuff!) Thanks for resurrecting it!