Overview
Family with cats moves from {California?} to midwest. Observe strange
goings-on. Live in old, spooky house across from derelict factory.
Late at night see signs of surreptitious activity inside factory.
Cats form bonds with local cats {and dogs?}. Humans investigate, learn
background of dark activities, make ineffectual attempts to interfere
with dark activities. Humans find themselves in trouble, are rescued
by family cats and feline{/canine?} allies.
NOTE: This is going to be very quick and dirty. There will be
misspellings, and there will be grammatical errors. My goal is
to have 50,000 words written in 30 days so I'm going to crank
content now, edit it later.
When you find spelling or grammar errors, please ignore them. If
you spot sections where continuity is lacking, conversations
where you can't follow who is saying what, or anything that just
makes you stop and say "WTF?", please let me know.
For anyone who doesn't have it already, my e-mail address is
dan@catfolks.net
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Chapter 1: Arrival
Chuck and Brenda didn't mind the drive. Moving themselves and
their belongings from southern California to the Midwest was
something of an adventure, and only mildly a pain in the butt.
The cats, on the other hand, were severely displeased. Occasional
trips to the vet couldn't be avoided, but spending 4 days in a
van, on the road, without their comfortable furniture? This was
just too much inconvenience to accept quietly.
The cats had everything they needed - food, water, a litter box,
shade, comfortable soft things to lie on - but they did not like
being cooped up in the van. Even Harri Roadcat, who had previously
travelled all over the country in an 18-wheeler with his male
human, had had enough of riding in the rental box truck.
What the cats couldn't understand was the magnitude of the uncertainty
faving all of them. Moving all that distance was a big enough
change. Doing so without ever having seen the house they rented
was a scary proposition even for the humans.
Chuck and Brenda had both held decent jobs in California. Neither
of them were especially well paid, but with both of their salaries
they were able to pay the rent and make the car payments. When
Chuck's employer started making changes that would inevitably
lead to unhappy customers and less revenue, both Chuck and Brenda
decided that a change was in order. Since they had both been longing
for some time to escape from the madness that is southern California,
Chuck's offer of employment had the appearance of a sign from the gods.
The offer was accepted, the contents of the house were boxed up, a big
truck was rented and loaded, and Chuck, Brenda, and six pampered cats
started rolling towards the Midwest.
On the fourth day of travel, the adventurers arrived in Wintour, Iowa,
population 1224. Chuck unfolded the letter he had received from
their new landlord and checked the directions to their new house.
After a couple of turns off the main highway they pulled up in front
of 744 Broad Street. The house didn't look too bad for a building that
was over 100 years old. Nothing appeared to be falling off, the paint
was in good shape, and the front porch was only a little warped.
Chuck backed the truck up to the door of the garage then
joined Brenda on the front porch. Brenda found the key under the mat,
where the landlord had said it would be, and she led the way into the
house.
The ground floor was almost as large as the home they had been
renting in California. The living room had plenty of room for
their meager furniture, the kitchen had enough counter and
cupboard space for their goods, and the downstairs bathroom
was acceptable. Upstairs they found a master bedroom that was
half again as large as the one they had left behind in California,
with a large walk-in closet. The second and third bedrooms were
smaller than the master, but since they would be serving as an office
and a computer room that was perfectly ok. Everything was in good repair
but the squeaky floor and stairs were testament to the age of the
house. The plumbing worked, the hot water faucet delivered hot
water with only a little knocking noise, and the heater came right
on when Chuck dialed the thermostat to a comfortable setting.
It was well into the evening by the time they finished their walk-through.
Having found no real problems, Chuck called the landlord to check
in and to confirm that they were ready to move in and hadn't found
anything needing repair. Since neither of them felt like starting
to move the really heavy stuff, Chuck just unloaded a few essentials -
sleeping bags, a couple boxes of clothes, toilet paper and paper
towels, cat food, litter, and litter boxes - while Brenda backed
the van into the garage. Since the garage had a door opening
directly into the kitchen, they planned on letting the cats leave
the van and explore the house on their schedule. Once the van was
in place, Brenda closed the garage door, opened the van's side door,
and propped the kitchen door open. With several litter boxes
around the house, the cats would be safe exploring the house when
they were comfortable doing so. This would also be less traumatic
than pulling the cats from their hiding places in the van, stuffing
them into carriers, and otherwise increasing their already high
stress level.
Chuck set up the cat's food and water dishes in the upstairs
bathroom. He figured that once they started unpacking the truck
in earnest it would be a lot easier on everyone if the cats were
upstairs with the stairway door closed.
Once the immediate necessities were handled and the cat's avenue
into the house had been propped open, Chuck called the town's
only pizza place. The youngster taking their order made Chuck
repeat his address several times and expressed skepticism that
Chuck's order was for real, but the order was eventually placed.
About 30 minutes later Brenda answered a knock at the door and
paid the delivery person. The pizza delivery person, a pimple-
faced youth in his mid to late teens, asked "How long have you
folks been living here?". When Brenda answered that they had
just moved in less than an hour ago the boy replied with a
simple "Oh". Brenda wondered, though, why his tone of voice
made it sound like he was offering sympathy?
Chuck and Brenda sat on the living room floor, leaning back
against the hearth in front of the fireplace, and opened the
pizza. Just a minute or two after the box was opened they
received their first kitty visit. They barely saw a
streak of grey flash from the garage door to the living room,
then heard a "thump" as their youngest and boldest kitten,
Ranger, landed on the mantle above their heads. He sniffed
fragrant steam rising from the pizza, then jumped down onto
Chuck's shoulder. "Hungry, Rangemaster? Here, have some
sausage." Ranger sniffed the piece of sausage Chuck offered,
licked it a couple times, then jumped down. He walked over
to Brenda, sat in her lap, then snatched a piece of
sausage off the slice of pizza in her hand.
"That's my little baby boy. Want some pepperoni too?" When
Brenda offered Ranger a slice of pepperoni he just sniffed
it and licked it. Chuck observed "If it's offered to him
he doesn't want it. He only wants it if he can steal it.
What a cat!"
Their next feline visitor was Samuel. Samuel Redcat, a four
year old orange tabby boy with white feet and chest, was
the most timid of the bunch. Chuck usually described him
as a gentle soul, but privately labeled Sammy as a wimp.
He was the most muscular of the six cats, but he was also
the least likely to get into a fight with anyone or investigate
anything exciting. Sammy came sniffing through the living
room, stopped briefly to sniff the pizza, then continued
investigating. He amused both humans when he began "pop-catting".
Since Sammy is something of a wimp, he startles easily. When
he encounters something he doesn't expect he springs straight
up about six inches and backwards a foot or two. He does this
without appearing to tense his muscles or prepare for the
jump, he just pops up and back. Hence, "pop-catting".
After deciding the pizza wasn't of interest, Sammy continued
to expore the house. When he drew close to the door to the
basement he started sniffing the air intently and crept
towards the door. He would get a few inches away from the
door then popcat back. He would then approach the door again,
get a few inches away, and popcat. This cycle repeated a few
times, then Sammy hissed at the door and warily returned to
Chuck and Brenda for some petting.
Chuck asked "What do you suppose is up with silly and that door?"
"Maybe he smells mice or something. Oh god, let it not be
rats! I hate rats."
"Don't worry, honey, whatever it is the kitties will take care
of it. Just let Amelia down there and any critters not an
official part of the family will be gone in minutes."
"I sure hope so. I will NOT deal with rats! Say,
did you notice how the pizza kid was acting? Did he seem to
be uptight?"
"Yeah, he did. But then, he was delivering a pizza to total
strangers late at night. I'm sure that crimes against pizza
delivery kids isn't nonexistent even out here in the boonies."
"Yeah, maybe. Even so, I'll be glad when the come comes up
tomorrow and we can take a good look around in the daylight."
Chapter 2: Inspection
The next morning dawned clear and cold. The chilly February air
was well below the freezing point but the furnace in the old
house had kept everyone comfortable. When the humans woke
they found that they gained additional heat sources during the
night. Ranger was curled up at Chuck's head, Harri was asleep
on his chest, and Amelia was pressing against his knees. Cleopatra
was draped across Brenda's head, Tabitha was pressed under her
left armpit, and Sammy under her right armpit.
Chuck got up first and dished out six bowls of cat food, then
ran fresh water into the water bowls. He dug a box of Pop-Tarts
out of the kitchen box and brought a packet of the pastries
in to Brenda. Brenda was in the process of disentangling herself
from her feline hot water bottles when Chuck handed her
breakfast.
"Well, sweetie, the heater works, the plumbing works, and no
rats showed up during the night. We're off to a great start!"
"Enough with the rat comments! It's not funny. Let's go out
and look around before we do anything else. I don't know about
you but I don't think I'm going to bother taking a shower since
I'm going to get sweaty again when we empty the truck."
"Works for me. I know I'm going to sweat like a pig. It's cold
outside but some of those boxes are heavy. You want to bring the
camera, and I'll grab the camcorder?"
Chuck and Brenda both bundled up in heavy jeans and jackets
(cold-weather clothes they had purchased in California just
to be prepared for midwest weather) and pulled on warm caps.
Stepping out into the front porch Chuck gazed appreciatively
at the big maple tree in the front yard, then saw the property
across the street from them.
Wintour Manufacturing was established in the mid 19th century
and manufactured farm implements. This was an excellent time
to be in the farm implement business. Cyrus McCormick had
been in business just a few years, and Allis Chalmers and John
Deere were just opening their doors. Wintour Mfg had an
advantage - their primary market was central Iowa, and central
Iowa was not especially well-served by rail lines. Farmers
could order product from the Illinois- and Wisconsin-based
companies, but getting that product delivered to the wind-
swept prairie farms was problematic. Wintour solved this by
manufacturing farm implements right in the heart of central
Iowa. A small factory was built and the production line
ran at capacity. The factory was enlarged and in a matter of
months was running at capacity again. A much larger factory
was built beside the existing one and Wintour Mfg was finally
able to produce their product fast enough to keep up with
orders.
It was in the company's 6th year of business that disaster
struck. The railroads added new stations in Knoxville and
Waterloo, and enterprising teamsters in those towns started
regular freight runs from the new stations to neighboring
towns. This made it possible for central Iowa farmers to
finally plows from John Deere, combines from McCormick, and
seed from suppliers in Illinois. Since the big-name
manufacturers had established their businesses in transportation
hubs right from the beginning, they were able to quickly build
efficient supply and distribution channels. They were able
to build their products at a lower cost than could Wintour, so
their products were less expensive. Farmers always have of
necessity been conscious of expenses, so Wintour's sales
quickly declined. By the end of their 6th year, Wintour
Manufacturing shut down their factory and dismissed all
of their employees. The company's founder, Rutherford
McAllen, fell immediately into financial ruin and a few
days later was found hanging from the rafters of his
old office.
In the following years a few small businesses tried to
make a name for themselves after purchasing or leasing the
old Wintour Mfg property, but every business that
established operation on the grounds of the manufacturing
plant failed. It seemed to local residents that the
land itself be haunted.
This was the sight that greeted Chuck and Brenda as they
stepped onto their front porch. A large, 150 year old
factory with faded brick buildings and two half-crumbled
brick smokestacks was the view outside their front
window. The doors were boarded over, the boards covered
with graffiti, and the lower rows of windows were mostly
broken. The entire property had at one time been surrounded
by a chain link fence but so much of the fence had been
vandalized that it no longer presented a barrier to entry.
"Oh, Chuck - that's awful. We can't live that huge mess
right across the street from us. That's the ugliest thing
I've seen in years. It looks like we're in the slums of
Chicago."
"Yeah, it sucks, but we can adjust. We can plant some nice
tall bushes along the front of the lot, and some flowers
right in front of the window where we can look at them
instead of the factory. Besides, maybe you can do some
community organizing and arrange for local businesses
to pay for some paint and stuff and clean it up. The
whole town must want to get that eye-sore cleaned up."
Brenda let out a big sigh. "I suppose so. But it just
feels so - wrong. Something's not right with that place
and it makes me feel really uneasy."
"How about this - how about we give it a try, see how
this place works for us, see if it works out. If
something comes up and we can't live here, we can
then start looking for a better place. Do you think
we could maybe give it three months? Then move if it isn't
working by the end of three months?"
"I suppose so. But you had better listen to me if I
tell you I feel something bad. You know perfectly
well that I can sense those sorts of things. You could
to if you weren't so darned practical and scientific.
You've got to learn some time that science has it
limits."
"Ok, it's a deal. I'll listen to you if you tell me
that something's wrong, and I'll even have a try at
listening to my unscientific side once in a while."
"Ok. Now let's get the boxes out of the truck."
Chapter 3: Adjustment
A solid day of hard work managed to get all of Chuck and
Brenda's belongings out of the truck and into the house.
They finished the day with furniture in the living room
and dining room, a bed and dressers in the bedroom, and
dishes in the kitchen cabinets. Dinner was another pizza
call, this time eaten at the dining room table. After
dinner and before showering, Chuck decided to finally
explore the basement. He turned on the light switch
and carefully opened the basement stair door, careful to
prevent any kitties from sneaking past him. His concern on
that last point was needless, though. Four of the six cats
were sitting in the living room, staring intently at the
basement door. None of them showed the least interest in
joining Chuck in his exploration. They appeared instead to
be watching, guarding against instrusion from below.
From the top of the stairs Chuck could see that the basement
walls were rough brick and appeared to have had water
problems. The stairs were roughly built, creaked and
shifted under Chuck's feet, and had a handrail on only
one side. When Chuck reached the bottom he saw that the
light, a bare bulb dangling from the ceiling, lit only a
small portion of the basement. A pile of firewood in the
corner was covered with cobwebs. Crudely built shelves
under the stairs contained jars of unidentifiable dark
masses. Broken fishing poles tangled with ancient
monofilament blocked most of the farthest, darkest
corner. Lead and copper pipes ran through the overhead
spaces along with wires, cables and air ducts. A large clay
pipe ran from below the first-floor bathroom to the
western-most wall with another running down an inner-wall
space, joining into a pipe tee. A fairly new furnace was
approximately centered on the basement floor.
Chuck hadn't found their flashlights when they were unpacking,
so he didn't go far from the light bulb. The air temperature
on the first floor had been comfortably in the mid-60s. At the
base of the stairs the temperature was still close to that. But
just two paces from the bottom of the stairs the temperature
seemed to drop sharply. Chuck would have sworn that he could
see his breath. He didn't see any evidence of rats of other
vermin, so he quickly returned to the ground floor.