March 12th, 2007

2

Rita Emerson drove at a brisk 15 miles per hour down State road 85 with about 30 cats riding shotgun. Oscar and the other anointed sat in the passenger’s seat while Miss T sat under the back window watching the highway fly past them in a blur. On both sides of the road was thick woodlands and shallow sandy soil with patches of poorly mowed grass. The sun was starting to rise, but it was still dark, and the small sliver of sun that came over the horizon cast the road in an ominous shadow.

Up ahead two bright headlights filled the car, momentarily blinding Miss T and causing Rita to drift dangerously into the center of the road. The driver swerved, honked, and raised a middle finger as it went around the silver Sedan. Rita jerked the wheel back and pulled the car into the lane once again. The hackles on the back of Miss T’s neck raised and she flitted her tail in an effort to alleviate her anxiety. Already she was not allowed to sit in the front seat, and now the bright scary lights and noises made it more obvious she was not going to be part of mother’s grand celebration. Though she should count herself lucky, many of the others had not been chosen to come in the car, and her place, even if it was in the back seat, was still worthy of some admiration.

Another blast of light flashed the car, this time rather than jerk the wheel to the right, Rita jerked to the left, once again drifting back into the lane filled with oncoming traffic. Another pair of headlights shone ahead, accompanied by a low honking horn. This horn was deeper, more robust than the others, and it quickly became apparent that a Semi-Truck was barreling towards them. The truck tried to stop, and it tried to swerve around her, but that only caused the truck to tilt, then topple, as it crashed into Rita and her coven.

The car spun out. Miss T’s vision blurred. She was thrown from her perch above the backseat and into the gulf of loyal cats below. Screeching, and growling followed the broken hum of the cars engine. The blinker was on and a small plume of smoke was rising from the dented hood. The airbags had gone off, but not for the passenger seat as Oscar and his followers were not heavy enough to trigger the seats safety mechanism and the cats that once made up the most trusted of Rita Emerson’s cult of personality, were now huddled together into a lifeless pile on the floor.

When Mother regained concioussness and saw what had happened, an alarm went off in her head. Miss T felt the anger rise in her once again, she felt her mother’s pain, she felt the loss of her companions. Her family.

Rita let out a low gurgling sound that emanated from the bottom of her throat, a sound that caused Miss T and the others to writhe with anger and anxiety.

Rita pushed open the car door and stumbled to her feet. A small trickle of blood ran down her cheek, but other than that there was no indication she had been hurt. Rita always walked with a limp, and she always lumbered about slowly, gingerly. Her legs—a mix of varicose veins and cellulite—carried her to the overturned semi-truck. Miss T and the others who survived the accident got out of the car and followed her to the bad man, to the person who hurt them.

There were only about a dozen of them left, most of which were injured in some way, but just as their mother pushed through the pain, they did too, they used it to make them stronger. The pain made them angrier, more willing to lash out.

Rita pulled open the door to the semi-truck with great difficulty, requiring help from Miss T and a few others who bit into her robe and pulled her back. When they finally got the door open, Rita patted Miss T on the head and she felt a burst of warmth flow through her body. She had felt love before, felt the gentle touch of her owners hand, but never like this, never had there been such a strong sense of accomplishment, of appreciation.

“Please Help…” came the voice from inside the cabin.

Miss T saw a man with a dark moustache and a pained look in his eyes. He was strapped into the seat and his legs had been pinned by the in crushed door.

“Help…” he croaked again.

Rita did not answer, instead she watched him with her head tilted to the side slightly. The others of her coven, all did the same. Staring down at the man with dilated eyes, and heads slightly tilted in curiosity.

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“Call an ambulance please.” Said the voice again, this time it was stronger, but more frantic too, like it was using the last of its life to form the words.

Rita reached for the cellphone in the pocket of her robe, which she wore over an oversized moo moo T shirt that said ‘Love’ on the chest. For a second, it seemed like she was actually going to call the police, but instead of dialing 911 she called a different number.

“Hello? Rita? Is that you? Where are you?” the voice was low and gravelly, and even a little scared.

“Please Help me, there’s been an accident!” shouted the man inside the semi-truck cabin.

“6!” Rita shouted as if it was meant to be the word quiet. “Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive those who sinned against us.” She said as if it was supposed to make everyone calmer.

The man in truck cabin started crying. And the man on the phone started yelling. Both stimuli made Miss T anxious, both inputs, looped through the filter of their great mother, made her angry. Made her hungry. The remaining disciples of Rita climbed down into the truck cabin and feasted on the supper given by the great provider. The man screamed as they devoured him, he tried to pry himself free.

The man on the phone shouted something, but Miss T did not hear. She heard only her mother’s voice singing gently in her head. “Father, hallowed be your name. 5! Your name. Come. Come.”

Miss T stopped feasting, and looked up at her mother, at the old woman holding the phone and smiling a stained toothy grin. Miss T was enthralled by her mother, she was like the moon or the sun, only it didn’t hurt to look at, it felt amazing, it felt a like a warmth emanating from your eye and coursing through your whole body.

Rita held out her arms, and at once Miss T knew she wanted her to come. Come. Come. Hallowed by your name. this was her moment, her moment to finally be her mother’s favorite. Miss T climbed out of the cabin and hopped into her mother’s arms. There the light was the warmest, the soul and the body were as one. Close enough to phone once again, Miss T heard the voice from the other side. The voice of the bad man of all bad men. The one who mother wanted most of all. His face. His flesh. His eyes. Oh, his eyes would be tasty.

“Rita, just tell me what you want.”

Rita’s eyes lit up. Finally, a question she could answer in plain English. “Everyone who sins against us. Your. Your. 4! Your. Father. Kingdom come. Come! 3!”

“You want me? Fine. I’ll come. I’ll come, you crazy bitch. But when I find you I’m not just gonna have you committed again. This time I’m gonna fucking kill you. You hear me you fucking psycho? I’LL FU—"

Rita dropped the phone, and when it hit the dashboard the battery popped out and the call disconnected. But she had heard enough. The bad man was coming. He was coming home at last.

Rita smiled like a crescent moon, stroking Miss T behind the ears. Miss T purred. Oh how wonderful it was to be loved by mother, to feel her touch.

There was a sound behind her, and Miss T craned her neck to see what it was. The sound of rubber crunching gravel and the slight squeak of brakes. Then another sound, car doors opening and the dinging of the open-door warning alarm.

“Hello, is everyone okay? Honey, call 911.”

“Already on it dear.”

The voices startled Rita, and by extension Miss T. Before they could stop to investigate the new arrivals, Rita and her Coven ran into the woods beside the road. As they Ran Miss T heard some more shouting, and a few minutes later heard the wail of a siren in the distance, but by then they were deep into the woods, walking along a small access trail that hunters used during deer season.

Mother was bubbling with excitement, and Miss T, still in her mother’s arms felt her emotions like the waves lapping against the shores of her mind. There was a crash of joy, of anger, of catharsis. He was coming. The bad man was coming. Oh, how mother longed to feast on the bad man.

Her mother began to sing again, a beautiful and sad song, a song that warmed her mind like a bowl of fresh cream.

There was a rustling in the bushes beside them. Miss T squirmed in her mother’s arms trying to see what it was. Out of the woods, came a large Panther with ashy blonde fur with slight black accents, and an extra tuft of fur around its jowls. It was easily ten times the size of Miss T, and she instantly felt a shock of fear at the sight of the predator. She leapt out of her mother’s arms and hid behind her legs.

The panther strode closer to them, and Rita held out her hand and stroked it behind the ears. The panther began to walk circles around their new mother, purring and kneading the sand happily. Miss T had retreated to a safe distance, though the other members of the coven did not. The others began to sing too, the panther and the smaller cats all mewed and chittered along with their mother.

Miss T suddenly felt on the outside again. For a brief moment she had been her mother’s favorite, but now she was back to her place on the edge of the pack. She had shown fear, and she had lacked faith in mother to protect her, and that was why she was no longer in the inner circle. And as Miss T moved to get closer to her mother again, she sang a slightly different song than the others, a song that longed for a home she once knew, and a mother that truly loved her.