118 A Cat Ragout? (1/2)

Li Yang was jerked awake by loud, insistent knocking on the door to their room. He looked at Jake and saw Jake was awake, too.

The knocking stopped. They heard footsteps moving away from their door, accompanied by the clatter of a metal trolley. Li Yang checked his watch and saw he'd forgotten to wind it up the previous evening: it had stopped at a quarter to six.

Jake was looking at his watch too, and he said:

”That must be breakfast. They said they'd deliver it between nine and ten.”

”What time have you got? My watch has stopped.”

”Twenty to nine. Hey, you should get an automatic watch, like mine. There's a small weight inside that moves and winds it up when you move your hand. All you have to do is wear the watch, it's always wound up.”

”I've never heard of a watch like that.”

”Now you have. I'll snag one for you when I see it.”

”Thanks.”

The English breakfast turned out to consist of four slices of white toast smeared with orange marmalade, and a mug of weak tea. The marmalade consisted of jelly and sugar and a bunch of chemical additives for that genuine, sun-ripened orange taste. The only thing it shared with a real orange was the color.

They wolfed it down in record time anyway: it was ages since they'd had any toast. It was a nice change from the MREs.

”And to think I used to sneer at people eating Wonder Bread,” sighed Jake, putting the last piece of toast into his mouth.

There was a new, gentler knock on their door. It opened, and Harper put his head inside.

”Good morning,” he said sternly. ”We are going to gather downstairs, by the reception, at ten thirty. I'll raise the subject of this disgraceful breakfast with Jordan at that time. In the meantime, eat one of your ready meals. We have a long way to go today, and we won't be stopping half as often as we did yesterday.”

”Why are you calling the breakfast disgraceful?” asked Li Yang. ”I enjoyed it.”

”You would,” Harper said, before he could stop himself. ”But we were told we'd get an English breakfast. An English breakfast includes eggs and bacon and sausages. Sometimes broiled kidneys and kippers, too. Remember: ten thirty downstairs, by the reception. Make sure you're there on time.”

And he left, his face grave with all that responsibility resting on his capable shoulders.

Jake and Li Yang lazed around for a few minutes, talking of this and that. Then they took turns in the bathroom, and were unpleasantly reminded that hot water was available only between eight and nine. They both cut their bathroom visits short, and treated themselves to the MREs in their backpacks: every member of the group was allowed to keep ten rations for their personal use. The cartons with the communal food were transported on Bobby's rickshaw.

They heard the raised voices before they'd finished descending the stairs. When they got to the reception area, they found out that there was a major fight, the mother of all fights in fact, going on between Harper and Charlene.

The fight had been caused by Jimmy the cat. Harper had forbidden Charlene to take it along. So Charlene mixed some sleeping pill powder into Jimmy's food on the eve of their departure, and stowed the cat away in her backpack.

Jimmy had received a nearly lethal dose, and fell into a deep coma from which he emerged only that morning. Greatly invigorated by his thirty-six hour rest and freaked out by the chemicals still present in its brain, it escaped its confinement, scratched Charlene, scratched and bit Harper, and disappeared into the labyrinth of empty ground-floor rooms.

Harper's friend Jordan had managed to calm down the warring siblings by the time Li Yang and Jake joined them. They had stopped shouting and screaming at each other, and were exchanging insults in a thoroughly civilized manner.

”You're a birdbrain,” Harper was telling his sister. ”I told you all the reasons why you can't take the cat a hundred times.”

”They were the reasons of a stupid asshole,” Charlene said. ”I don't take no advice from stupid assholes.”

”You don't?”

”I don't.”

”Then you can stay. I'm not taking you to Jimmy's farm. Jesus, Charlene, my guy's name is Jimmy, just like that fucking cat's.”

”I told you I can call him something else.”

”That cat isn't coming with us. You have a choice: come with us, or stay with the cat. It's your call.”

”I can't abandon Jimmy like that,” said Charlene, and Li Yang was amazed to see a tear roll down her cheek. ”I just can't.”

”I can take care of the cat,” said Jordan.

Harper very nearly jumped with joy.

”You can? Jordan! Thank you so much.”

”Why would you want my cat?” asked Charlene suspiciously.

”We're starting to see rats around. They're hard to deal with when you can't just call a service to do the job. I could use a sharp cat, and this cat looked pretty sharp to me.”

”You can say that again,” agreed Harper. He raised his scratched hand to his mouth, and gave it a tentative suck.

”So my cat will be like a hotel employee?” said Charlene. ”You'll feed him and give him a place to sleep and take care of him?”

”Absolutely,” Jordan said, hooding his eyes. He sounded very solemn.

At this point, Bobby and Olga showed up. They both seemed unhappy about something and threw meaningful glances in Harper's direction. Harper became uncomfortable. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and put his elbows on the reception counter and rubbed his face while Charlene concluded negotiations concerning the cat's future life and career prospects. When she'd finished, Harper said: