A Black Catastrophe
Halloween was over a week ago, so Dr. Areli Black was startled when she saw the hand sticking out of a tiny window in the brick wall of the building where she worked. Startled, but not surprised.
“Darn kids,” she muttered, stalking up to the hand. Every time someone quit or was fired, which happened often in her line of work, whatever rookies were then hired always managed to get together and pull some sort of prank.
Black prodded the fingers in preparation for yanking the arm out of the window – when she presented her boss with evidence of the joke, surely justice would be done. But when she grasped the hand and felt it to be not rubber but very much alive, it grasped her back. Now she could not let go.
“You kids have no idea what you’re getting into!” she managed to spout off, that is, before the brick wall popped inward and another rose out of a slot in the ground to replace it.
As Black fell against the bricks, before the new wall replaced the spot of the old she was able to catch a glimpse of the room she was now in, its walls bright white in the morning sun. Then everything was black as tar, and she felt the hand let go and pull away. Puffing, Black ran her hands along the wall, which she now deemed to be plastic, and eventually found the edges of it. There was no sound, apart from her. She was alone with the fake.
Dr. Black straightened her dress, felt her heels to make sure they weren’t broken, and stood up, determined to find a way out of the room. Then the lights came on – white and blinding. She sat on the plastic wall, and while her eyes blinked rapidly to adjust she saw a door open and a bunch of small shapes pour through. Her eyes cleared.
“Cats?” Black snorted, standing up again, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” But it was true. The room was now filled with black cats, all in various typical cat postures – such as washing their fur, stretching, or sitting primly with their tails curled across their paws. All except one, that is. This cat, which Black deemed to be some sort of leader or spokesperson – well, spokescat, she supposed – hopped onto a chair the felines had somehow brought with them into the room, and cleared its throat.
“Dr. Black,” the cat began, “I’m sorry for the inconvenience this may cause you, but the next phase of our project requires a human body. I’m sure you understand – you’ll be paid handsomely for your trouble. That is, when we have used you to take control of the government. Now, if you please, step with us into the lab so we can begin.” The cat watched Black for a moment, then began to wash its paws.
Black pushed a few bobby pins that had fallen out back into her thin blonde hair, “Well, I, um…” She trailed off sheepishly and stared at the wall containing the door the cats had come through, “Sorry – it looked so real I almost forgot!”
The wall began to rise, not unlike a garage door, revealing the director and sound crew.
“Cut, cut!” The director was waving his arms, his frizzy hair flying around with reckless abandon, “Come on Liz,” he shouted at her, “you’ve seen these cats a million times already – and we’ve cut this scene a million times already. I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to work with the cats today, so please, try to get it right next time!”