Grayson looked through the night vision goggles and scanned the trailer again. The structure sagged and slumped against the fetid swamp like some thirst-dead creature, crumpled and rictus moments before it reached the water hole. And everywhere surrounding the rank husk were cats. Mangy, filthy and loud, teeming through the trailer and its surrounding like maggots. Their target shuffled onto the rickety porch and began the tedious process of feeding the cats again. She was gaunt and pale and broken. Stringy gray hair fell down to her slumped shoulder. She moved with practiced deliberation, like someone that had been doing this for years, though she had only been here a couple days.

"Got a lock on the baby-raper," Grayson said.

Jess sighed, "Do you have to keep calling her that? We don't know why she's here…"

"But we do know she's here, don't we? Cunt gave up her chance to a fucking respectful moniker the moment her bony ass landed in Cat Shit County."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Taking the goggles herself, Jess looked over the moss-caked log the trio had chosen as cover. Coffin seemed unconcerned and didn't deign to even look. He simple continued to lay on his back looking at the stars with his cigarette and shogun aimed straight up. Something like a cricket chirped in a droning cadence. Jess came back down.

"Are the cats screws?"

"No," Coffin's voice scratched out. "Too many. Thems the shackles. They'll go git a screw and delay us if they can, but they ain't much on their own."

"But there's a hell of a alot of them."

"Then it’s a good thing we brought scatter shot, eh? And watch yer fuckin' mouth or you'll jinx the whole crash, got it?"

Stretching her neck, Jess turned to look at Coffin, "You can't really be that superstitious with this job, can you?"

Coffin sat up and rattled a few hacking coughs into the sleeve of his jacket, "You kiddin'?…"

A soft scratch announced a new arrival and they all turned to look on top of the log, on which sat a large orange tom cat.

"Meow?"

As Coffin leveled the shotgun less that a yard from the cat, a humourless grin etched into his face, "Fuckin' novices."