The Throwback Chronicles: Lost and Found

By Tom Roth

On the world of Katera, a young boy will struggle against injustice towards his people. Faced with either slavery or death at the hands of their oppressors, follow Whitestripe and his band of friends as they attempt to change the world, and save their people from a cycle of destruction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 18, 2017
• ISBN: 9781365900969

Book preview

The Throwback Chronicles: Lost and Found

The Throwback Chronicles

Book One: Lost and Found

By Tom Roth

Prologue

Hurry, hurry! Move it! the doctor screamed as he and his team rushed a gurney through the crowded hallway of the local hospital to intensive care.

The woman on it had shining black hair and her face was contorted in pain as she held back a scream before being sedated. The birth should have been simple, but there were complications that now endangered the life of both the woman and her baby.

As they rushed into the empty E.R. room, the doctor separated himself from his assistants. He made his way over to the main control panel set besides the bed and waved his hand over the keys, causing it to flicker to life and project a 3-D image of the woman as she was lifted from the Gurney onto the bed.

What’s going on? the man mumbled to himself as he changed the view to X-Ray and restrained a gasp.

the baby was actually clawing at the inside of the womb and causing the internal bleeding that now threatened both it and its mother life.

We need to do an emergency Cesarean section now! he yelled, moving to another panel, causing two small robotic arms to descend from the ceiling.

As the doctor began to prepare for his work he called out to one of his assistants, Get the woman’s husband, she may not make it through this, He held no illusions for what the likely results of this would be, he considered it lucky if he could even save the child at this point with how far her heart rate and blood pressure were dropping.

Carefully he cut into the poor girl, glancing at the X-Ray to make sure not to hit any vital organs or the baby itself in his haste. As soon as he finished, he gave a nod and his other assistant reached in to pull out the baby. However, as she approached, she froze, staring down in shock and took a hesitant step back.

Now what? the doctor growled in frustration as he swiftly moved over to his assistance’s side, just as the woman’s husband was led in. The poor man rushing to his wife’s side as her vitals fell.

The doctor found himself rooted in place as he spied the little creature inside the woman. It was definitely humanoid, but the little thing had a thin covering of fur that was drenched in blood, along with a tail, paws, and a muzzle. Its ears were on the top of its head and it had a tiny claw on each of its fingers, which explained what had caused the mortal wounds on its poor mother.

On the planet of Katera, these creatures were not uncommon, about one cub in every thousand births. They were known as throwbacks, curious oddities in the katerans' evolution from felines. The average kateran only carried feline like eyes from their heritage. Throwbacks carried fully mutated genes which caused a regression in their D.N.A. patterns. Although they were capable of being just as intelligent as normal katerans, most throwbacks were treated like nothing more than simple animals.

Many of the feline like children were collared at birth. The collar was designed to interrupt the electrical impulses in the brain, hindering cognitive thought and reducing the throwbacks too little more than an animal’s intellect.

The doctor reached in and lifted the baby out, letting out a weak sigh as he did so; the damage was too severe too heal, even with their most advanced technology he could already see that it was far too late. She would likely only have a few moments left to live.

I’m sorry he told the father, as he began to take the small cub out of the room. He was halted by an iron grip on his arm however. The doctor turning and coming face to face with the grieving man.

Don’t collar that thing. I’ll take care of it myself," the man hissed as his gaze drifted down to look at the kitten in the doctor’s arms. His eyes smoldered with rage and loss as he released the doctor’s limb moved back to his wife’s side.

The doctor glanced down at the small cub as it lay sleeping in his arms and whispered,

Will you thank me for this… or curse me?

Chapter One

Get up Runt.

The drunken voice of the little black and white cat boy's father, Jeric, echoed through the small rundown kitchen to the rest of the house. The small throwback's eyes opened slowly. He was greeted with the same depressing sight he saw every day, that of a horribly dilapidated room. The ceiling and walls were falling apart with paint chipping and wallpaper peeling while garbage littered the floors. This was the scene for the entire house. The look of the house mirrored its poorest inhabitant as well. Little Whitestripe looked like he hadn't had a bath in weeks. His normally glossy black and white fur was dull and matted with dirt, grime, and what looked like dried blood.

Four years had passed since that day. Any love Jeric felt towards the small cat boy had long ago withered and died. His mind blamed the innocent kitten for the loss of his wife and any other misfortune that befell him. Jeric’s rancor towards the child had simply grown to new extremes over the short years; it was only a matter of time before he would kill the small boy.

I said get up, you little shit, Jeric yelled, this time accompanied by his heavy footfalls.

Whitestripe woke up all at once upon hearing his father's footsteps. If he wasn't up on his feet by the time his 'father' got here, he knew what would happen. His bruises showed for it. Unfortunately, though, he was just a tad too slow and as he was beginning to stand Jeric appeared at the doorway. His shadow was thin and unimposing, falling over the awakening child. The gaunt man advanced. He pulled back his leg and delivered a swift, brutal, kick. The sound of leather striking fur and flesh echoed through the room as his shoe collided with the small boy's chest sending him careening back into a wall, the breath knocked out of him. Jeric approached his fallen son and nudged him with his shoe, making make sure he was still conscious.

Well you little rat, what do you have to say for yourself? The drunken man glared on as Whitestripe stared down at the ground, holding back tears.

The small throwback boy was used to this type of treatment, having received it all his life.  It didn't make it any easier to deal with, though. In fact, the child had begun to believe that he could hear a voice in the back of his mind, whispering to him, mere hints and suggestions on how to deal with Jeric and anyone else who tried to hurt him. Whitestripe ignored the voice, but as things grew worse for the cat boy it seemed to get just a tad louder and more forceful.

Nothing sir, I'm sorry, Whitestripe whispered, his eyes now tightly shut in fear of being struck again.

He forced the whispering down again and to his relief no second blow fell as Jeric gave a satisfied grunt.

Get this shit hole cleaned up while I'm gone you little beast, understand?

Without waiting for an answer, Jeric soon left the house for another day of sorting trash at the landfill. Whitestripe gave a small sigh of relief as the man left, glancing around and shrugging. There wasn't any point in trying to clean this hell hole and what little work he could accomplish would simply be destroyed by Jeric when he returned home. He slowly got to his feet, rubbing his chest where he had been kicked. He’d gotten lucky, despite the pain he wouldn’t have a bruise to add to his little collection of injuries hidden beneath his pelt.

Breakfast time, he announced eagerly before rushing off to the kitchen to see what he could scrounge up.

Luckily for him, the kitchen was one of the less trashed areas of the house, but there still wasn't very much food to be found. After nearly a half hour, most of which was spent simply trying to pull open a large rusty refrigerator door and searching through the barren shelves of the pantry, he found an old box of cereal and a carton of unspoiled milk.

Guess it's my lucky day, Whitestripe whispered to himself as he shoved a large wooden chair over to the table.

Unfortunately, his head barely cleared the top of the low end of the chair, forcing the resourceful boy to skillfully scale up while burdened with both the milk and the cereal. Once he was finally situated the little cat grinned eagerly at his meager breakfast. This was nearly a feast compared to his usual meals at Jeric’s feet.

About halfway through his meal, the kitten encountered a bit of trouble. A sudden bang against the front doorway rocked through the house. When he ran into the hall, he was greeted with the sight of not his father, but of another throwback. Whitestripe stared at the cat with a dumbstruck look on his muzzle. He’d seen other throwbacks of course, through the window of his home when they were out on walks with their owners, but never this close. Those cats had never looked this intelligent, conscious.  They all had the same dopey, blank looks on their faces. Sure they might have looked happy, but behind their eyes, it didn’t look like anyone was home. That, more than anything else, had terrified him. He didn’t ever want to be like that and it terrified him to think of what could possibly do that to a person.

This cat before him though; his eyes were filled with fire, with a burning passion and intelligence.

The throwback was easily about a foot taller than Whitestripe, standing at about four feet tall and he looked to be around twelve or thirteen years old. His fur shone in the meager light, a bright blazing orange with night black stripes slicing through it along his arms legs and face. He also wore a pair of blue shorts, and a spotless sleeveless vest, the same shade as his stripes. His most striking features were the twin hook swords strung across his back in a makeshift harness. The blades reflected the light from them; they looked like they had just been forged, not an ounce of dust or dirt on them, just like their owner.

Hey there kitty don't mind me, just go back to whatever you were doing before, the unwelcome guest said, as he silently slid the front door shut.

Those words earned a growl from the little cub. This was his house, no matter how horrible it was, and he wasn’t going to be told how to act by a total stranger.

Why should I listen to you? You’re not the boss of me, Whitestripe hissed angrily.

That earned a surprised look from the stranger, but it quickly turned to eagerness.

Hey you don't have a collar, the tiger striped cat said excitedly.

Whitestripe’s hand went self-consciously to his throat, a startled expression on his face.

Ya I know, he whispered, before quickly changing the subject, so who the heck are you anyway?

That question earned a wide smile from the throwback as he held out his hand casually, as if he had known this cat his whole life, rather than having just recently broken into his home.

Call me Sparky, nice to meet ya kitty cat, he said as the other feline shyly took his hand and slowly returned the smile.

Whitestripe couldn’t figure out why, but something in about him seemed trust worthy; that he could be a friend.

I'm Whitestripe, he said.

The younger cat boy slowly released the other boy’s hand before adding meekly, so….ah…what exactly are you doing here?

Sparky laughed awkwardly as he noticed that he was breaking and entering. This lasted only a moment before he regained his composure and nodded to the door.

Some stupid coot out there thought he could catch me, he laughed as he spoke. He was so out of shape, I left him in my dust.

Whitestripe smiled slightly and crossed his arms, finding himself relaxing more and more in this throwback’s presence.

You still didn’t say why you came here, he said, deadpan, as Sparky rubbed the back of his neck, smiling at the younger cat before him.

Alright, alright, maybe there were a few more guys too he muttered grumpily, and I ducked in here to make sure they didn’t get me.

Whitestripe burst out laughing at the sullen way Sparky said that, like a child who was just told he couldn’t do something.

See was that so hard? the young black and white throwback teased, earning a glare from his elder. Apparently, it was.

Sparky slowly regarded the disaster area that was the living room, his nose wrinkling slightly from the horrid smells that wafted up from the piles of garbage scattered across the room.

So… nice place you have here, the tiger like throwback murmured as he regarded the room warily.

Part of him wasn’t sure if a few of those piles wouldn’t try and devour him. He’d been around the block more than once, but he’d never seen anything as bad as this. It looked like a small war had been fought throughout the house. Sparky’s eyes slowly slid back from the garbage dump of a room and regarded Whitestripe for a moment. His mind took in everything about the cat, how thin he was, the horrid state of his fur and the fact he actually seemed capable of thinking for himself. Most katerans took good care of their throwbacks, treating them like beloved pets if this boy could think for himself. Why hadn’t he tried to escape? Whitestripe was a puzzle to Sparky, one that the older boy planned to crack.

Whitestripe blushed and rubbed the back of his head as he saw Sparky look at the