Chapter 6
Muse woke to bright sunlight and the half-whispered conversation of Contempt and Watch.
"…might never come," Contempt was saying, "and I am not sitting on my haunches in this salty desert for much longer. I'm missing out on my cream at D'Angelos and the sardines at the fish market and the sunny spot I sleep in on the edge of the sidewalk."
"You are, after all, by the ocean," said Watch drily, "so there's hardly going to be a shortage of fish."
"You want me to swim?" howled Contempt. "No, I mean fish from the restaurants. I mean city fish, to eat in dry alleys. I mean lazy days on the harbor pier by people where food is a meow away, not food I'd have to work to catch."
"You find life too luxuriant for your own good," said Watch.
"Well at least I find life. You could use a little indulgence yourself, instead of always looking for a way to sit in the shadows and stare at some dead or sleeping thing."
Watch's eyes turned to Muse as the mention of sleep and he seemed surprised to see her awake. Her waking thoughts had been peaceful yet; the innocence of her kittenhood was still retained in her first moments of wakefulness.
We're going to start walking soon. It was a guess, not an order. Muse blinked the sleep from her eyes.
"Right," said Contempt. "We might as well. At least when a train does come, we'll be that much further, and if it doesn't, then we'll be on our way back home anyway." She sighed. "I'd hate to think this was all a waste of time." Contempt became very business-like, surveying the direction of the tracks and estimating the mileage back to the city, and how long the journey would take if they walked the whole way. She squinted at the sky and predicted the weather, the time, whether they would find food, at what intervals they would rest, and so on, eventually recalculating the mileage and changing her mind about her weather predictions. Watch was not listening to her at all. Muse listened to her chatter but wondered how she herself could really summon the strength to walk all the way back to the city now that the seed of hope had been planted that she was finally free of it. She had dreamed of the country again while she had slept, the same recurring dream of lush forests and green, green meadows, and mountains. The dreams almost felt like memories, they were so vivid.
Contempt stopped in mid-sentence as a train whistle tooted in the distance. "There! There!" she cried excitedly as a faraway train rolled over the tracks heading towards them, moving swiftly. The whistle trilled through the air again, louder as it got closer. The cats leapt to their feet as the train began to draw closer, appearing larger and larger, as it began to bear down.
But it's going so fast, said Muse, aghast.
The train tore past them, car after car whipping by in an endless chain; a blur. Contempt yelled something at the other two but the words were torn from her mouth, buffeted and lost in the deafening rumble and clank of the wheels. She frantically gestured at the train, still yelling, while Watch hopped anxiously from foot to foot. Words were useless; it was too loud.
Suddenly Muse remembered that up the tracks about a half mile, near the place they had jumped off the night before, there was a sharp bend. The train, last night, had to slow down to safely make the turn. It had come to a brief stop, after slowing on the turn, while the train operator had changed compartments. But even if it hadn't stopped, it had slowed enough that the cats could have jumped off anyway. This train, on the same set of tracks, was going to have to slow down on the bend in a matter of a minute, even if it had no plans to stop. But if the cats were to use the slowing as their chance to jump aboard, they were going to have to get to the bend before the last car of the train passed them.
The curve! The train is going to have to slow down at that curve!
Contempt looked at Muse, her eyes widening as she suddenly remembered what Muse was referring to. She yelled something again but it was impossible to hear her. We need to run! Muse cried urgently. We have to get there while the train is still going around the bend!
Suddenly the caboose swiftly passed them, and the train was past.
The deafening clanking faded into a rumble, which faded into dwindling thrum.
"Can you hear me now?" asked Contempt hoarsely, her voice raw from yelling, as the last pieces of gravel, kicked up from the power of the train's engine, settled down on the still-vibrating tracks. "Good. We need to get to that bend and wait for our next chance. Watch, you—"
Watch was lying in a heap on the ground. Contempt shrieked and batted him with her paws. "Watch! Get up! We're losing time! We need to make it to the bend! There could be another train any moment!"
Watch groaned and his eyelids fluttered. Oh no, said Muse, taking a step away from him, it's because I shouted. The train was so loud, and I shouted so loud, and Watch.… Oh no, oh Contempt, I think I killed him.
Fear clawed its way through her belly as she backed another step away from the crumpled heap that was Watch. Tears, which she'd never before experienced, sprang to her eyes as the horror of what she had done to her friend began to sink in. Terror-stricken, and desperately ashamed of herself, she backed another step away, trying to offer as much space between her and the unfortunate cat as an apology. In the midst of her shame and fear, a little flare of anger at herself uncoiled inside of her – why was she different in a way that could hurt this dark creature, who already was so hurt? She backed away until she was huddled in a clump of dune grasses.
"You didn't kill me," grunted Watch, as he struggled to his feet. "I think you pierced my brain, but you didn't kill me." He stood carefully, shook his head once, and a tiny stream of blood trickled out of one ear. Muse gasped, horrified.
I'm so sorry, she said in a small voice. Oh Watch, I'm so sorry. I'm a freak. I'm…
He turned his steady gaze on her as the blood rolled down the side of his face and dripped to the ground. Contempt gently licked around his ear, cleaning him, and he closed his eyes.
"Muse," he said gravely, with his eyes closed, as Contempt carefully cleaned him. "Do not ever say that. Not to me." He took a deep, shuddering breath and opened his eyes, and looked straight at the young cat. "Not to me."
They stared at each other, and Muse felt the full weight of his burden. She nodded, just once. An unspoken understanding passed between them.