“Doctor, what’s wrong with my husband? Why haven’t you given him anything?” asks a woman at the side of a man who is on the bed.
“We don’t know what’s going on, Mrs. Sinder. We’re still running tests on him. We have something to give him ease the pain: Morphine.”
The doctor goes to the patient’s side to insert an IV into his right arm but looks disturbed about his arm, “Mrs. Sinder, do you have any pets at home?”
“No. There’s a neighborhood cat that always comes to our place,” she said, sniffling thinking about earlier that day. “That same cat was in our yard dead when I came out to see what the fuss was about. He said that something wrong with the cat and he broke his neck. Why?”
The doctor lifts up the arm for her to see: two puncture like holes, with the surrounding skin bruising. “Anything else happened?” asks the doctor, worrisome.
“He came back into the house to have his morning cup of coffee as always before he goes to work. He’s a construction worker. And when he was about to head out the door, he collapsed. He never said anything about those puncture wounds,” said Mrs. Sinder, with a look of confusion and worry.
“Mrs. Sinder, I have no clue what your husband has but this at least narrows down our ideas of what it could possibly be,” said the doctor, with confidence.
Mrs. Sinder nods. Her husband, Benny Sinder, had been brought into St. Mary’s Hospital that morning with a mysterious illness. And now no one knows if he’s going to survive it.
The doctor steps outside the quarantined room and approaches the nurses’ desk, “Cindy, have someone from the lab go down to the Sinder’s house on Charles Street and pick up a dead cat from their yard. I want test results from that cat.”
While picking up the phone, one of the nurses said, “Yes, Doctor Bourne.”
He doesn’t know what’s going on but he has a hunch on something concerning about yesterday afternoon.
Dr. Hiyozaki looks at the files of the patients, police reports, and the reports that the science facility had wrote about their test subjects. She doesn’t understand how these things came be so… so…
Whatever it is, it’s rather disturbing, she thought. Now she turns to the information about the cat that had bitten a current patient, Benny Sinder at his front yard just this morning. She has a theory of what had happened to the cat based on some of the information that she had accumulated from the tests that she and her team had performed.
She turns on her tape recorder, “March 4, 2015. A neighborhood cat brought to my attention through colleague, Dr. Bourne, who bitten one of the patients being treated at St. Mary’s Hospital at this time. Name unknown, last known address unknown, age unknown, and estimated weight unknown at this present time.”
An orange and white tabby cat wanders around the neighborhood looking for something to snack on. Despite it being a neighborhood stray. And rummaging around in trashcans for tossed food, it is a fairly good-sized cat and healthy. It doesn’t look skinny or mangy or the skin mangling. It has always looked for food on the neighbors’ porches, so he went up to a porch. There on the porch eating whatever the person or couple had put out for the tabby the night before, is something that is very large.
The cat, being very disappointed at whatever this thing, hissed and growled. The thing turned around and looks at the cat. Its eyes glowed re; drool came at the edges of the mouth; its head and face looking triangular; its teeth at the front are pointed. It made a sound that seems to be coming from deep inside the chest.
The cat jumps at the black thing of the night and lands on it neck biting, scratching, gnawing, growling, and hissing. The thing made a louder sound in pain and grabs the cat with what appears to be a clawed paw of a rat and tosses the cat into the yard. The cat lies there at the spot of the yard, meowing, as the thing goes past him.