Catstruck

By Debbie Manber Kupfer, Stephanie Barr, Marlena Frank and 9 more

"Perhaps one reason we are fascinated by cats is because such a small animal can contain so much independence, dignity, and freedom of spirit." Lloyd Alexander

Delve into the world of all things feline in this anthology of tales of whimsy, courage and wonder.

All proceeds will go to Tenth Life Cat Rescue a wonderful shelter that saves stray cats and kittens in the St. Louis area, prioritizing those with special needs.

This anthology includes stories and poetry from:
Debbie Manber Kupfer
Stephanie Barr
Jen Ponce

Marlena Frank
Indigo Leigh
Henry Herz
Holly Hook

V.M. Sang

Diana Dawn

Mackenzie Flohr

Kressel Housman

Jamie Glaser

• Language: English
• Publisher: Debbie Manber Kupfer
• Release date: Oct 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201888183

Debbie Manber Kupfer

Debbie grew up in the UK in the East London suburb of Barking. She has lived in Israel, New York and North Carolina and somehow ended up in St. Louis, where she works as a writer and freelance puzzle constructor of word puzzles and logic problems. She lives with her husband, two children and a very opinionated feline. She believes that with enough tea and dark chocolate you can achieve anything!

Book preview

CATSTRUCK!

A Charity Anthology

Edited by Debbie Manber Kupfer

All proceeds go to Tenth Life Cat Rescue

Catstruck! is a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons living or deceased is purely coincidental.

Kitty Dreams © Debbie Manber Kupfer 

The First Time © Jen Ponce 

Cat © Jamie Glaser 

Walls © Holly Hook 

I Win © Jamie Glaser 

The Hunt © V.M. Sang 

Kwende © Kressel Housman 

Frisky Blue © Indigo Leigh 

Falling © Jamie Glaser 

Protector of Dreams © Marlena Frank 

Old Bag of Bones © Jamie Glaser 

Cat Fancy That © Diana Dawn 

Purr © Jamie Glaser   

Caleb the Courageous © Henry Herz 

A Cat Named Rosie © Mackenzie Flohr 

Griddlebone © Debbie Manber Kupfer 

Cats © Stephanie Barr 

The Emperor’s Companion © Stephanie Barr 

Code Name: Whiskers © Debbie Manber Kupfer 

Independently published

All rights reserved.

Cover created by Giusy D'Anna

Anthology edited by Debbie Manber Kupfer

Project conceived by Stephanie Barr

All proceeds go to Tenth Life Cat Rescue

To all the wonderful cats and kittens

that make our lives complete.

C:\Users\cicic\AppData\Local\Microsoft\Windows\INetCache\IE\E0HUWEUR\paw-prints-heart-black[1].jpg

Table of Contents

ABOUT THE CHARITY

KITTY DREAMS  Debbie Manber Kupfer

THE FIRST TIME  Jen Ponce

CAT Jamie Glaser

WALLS  Holly Hook

I WIN  Jamie Glaser

THE HUNT  V.M. Sang

KWENDE  Kressel Housman

FRISKY BLUE  Indigo Leigh

FALLING  Jamie Glaser

PROTECTOR OF DREAMS  Marlena Frank

OLD BAG OF BONES  Jamie Glaser

CAT FANCY THAT  Diana Dawn

PURR  Jamie Glaser

CALEB THE COURAGEOUS  Henry Herz

A CAT NAMED ROSIE Mackenzie Flohr

GRIDDLEBONE Debbie Manber Kupfer

Cats  Stephanie Barr

THE EMPEROR'S COMPANION  Stephanie Barr

CODE NAME: WHISKERS  Debbie Manber Kupfer

ABOUT THE CHARITY

Thank you for purchasing Catstruck! All money raised from sales of this book will be donated to Tenth Life Cat Rescue in St. Louis, Missouri.

Tenth Life is a wonderful shelter that rescues stray cats and focuses on those with special needs.

To learn more about them or make a donation visit their website at  www.tenthlife.org

C:\Users\cicic\AppData\Local\Microsoft\Windows\INetCache\IE\5A5CQTEL\paw-prints-1369754041WaV[1].jpg

KITTY DREAMS

Debbie Manber Kupfer

––––––––

My cat is sleeping.

I watch her eyelids flicker.

What is she dreaming?

C:\Users\cicic\AppData\Local\Microsoft\Windows\INetCache\IE\E0HUWEUR\16156_sethdd_a-cat-sleeping[1].jpg

THE FIRST TIME

Jen Ponce

––––––––

C:\Users\cicic\AppData\Local\Microsoft\Windows\INetCache\IE\5A5CQTEL\cat-1287594_640[1].png

Chapter One

The first time she saw the cat, she thought she was hallucinating. She hadn’t seen anything living in so long. Too long. The world had dried up like a tumbleweed and was just waiting for her to catch a clue. 

She didn’t know why she continued to look for food, for people. The invasion had taken everything, destroyed everything.

Almost everything, she amended. If the cat was real.

With a sigh of relief, she let her overladen backpack drop to her feet, then dug through it for the two cans of cat food she’d found a town back. When food was scarce, food was food, though she hadn’t gotten desperate enough to try it. Yet. 

She opened one of the cans and clicked her tongue, her heart beating entirely too hard for her to deny this was important.

Kitty? Here, kitty.

A rumble in the distance drew her eyes. The storm that had been chasing her all morning was catching up. Once it hit, it would soak the area for hours if not days. The weather hadn’t been the same since the last ship disappeared. She’d need to get somewhere safe and soon.

A soft meow made her jump. She hadn’t heard the noise of another living thing for months.

Hey, kitty. I’m nice. I promise. And I have food, she said, pushing the open tin toward the sleek black animal that appeared through a hole in a wall. It wasn’t emaciated. Hell, it looked better fed than she was. Were there living things here?

A louder, closer rumble made her skin crawl. One glance at the horizon and she saw the flares of light in the roiling black clouds. It was going to be a really bad one. If she didn’t find a safe place ...

Hey, she said, distracted by the cat’s soft head bump against her elbow. She reached out slowly, cautiously, and let it sniff her fingers before daring to scratch it under the chin. Oh, you are adorable. Her voice was raspy from disuse and it shook a little from the emotion that welled as suddenly as the storm. Can I pick you up? We need to get inside. 

When she reached for it, it hopped down and trotted a couple feet away before turning back to meow at her.

Did it want her to follow?

Well, what the hell? 

She scooped up the cat food and shouldered her pack with a groan. Lead on, McDuff.

The cat made a disgusted sound, or so she imagined. 

Pinky? she asked as she followed the cat. It went around the wall instead of darting under, something she was grateful for. She doubted she could scale the brick wall. Not with her pack. Panther? Frisky?

The cat’s tail twitched. Amusement? Annoyance? She vowed not to annoy it. She hadn’t realized how miserably lonely she’d been until she saw the lovely little animal. The thought of it running off made her want to cry and she fought off those ridiculous tears as she trailed the cat. 

There were signs the townspeople had tried to fight off the invaders. Sandbags, furniture, cars were piled up in semi-circles around the outside of a tall, sand-colored building. The windows had been boarded up and reinforced. Shell casings littered the ground.

The cat meowed. It stood in front of a small cat door inexplicably installed in the bigger door.

Seconds later, a lock on the inside of the door rattled.

The cat food tin fell from her nerveless fingers as the door swung open.

C:\Users\cicic\AppData\Local\Microsoft\Windows\INetCache\IE\BU1N3R1G\d32x05e-8620c210-4e41-44a3-a5b3-9c8271b692bd[1].jpg

Chapter Two

The pistol in his hand felt heavy and got heavier when he saw the woman at the bottom of the stairs. A woman. A human. A living, breathing human.

He thought he was the only one left.

For too long they just stared at each other, then the rumble of thunder knocked him out of his surprise. Come in, he croaked. His cat wound around his ankles, purring. Come in, he repeated when she didn’t move. I’m not ... I’m not a creeper.

You have a gun. Why? Her voice sounded as raspy as his. How long had it been since she’d seen anyone? Were they the last people on Earth?

He looked down at the weapon in his hand, its weight accusatory. I— He couldn’t tell her he’d been holding the gun to the underside of his chin just minutes ago. The only thing that had stayed his finger on the trigger was Whiskey. Who would feed him when he was gone? 

Okay, he would feed him. His body. For a while, until he rotted. But after. Who would care for Whiskey after?

As the days passed, as time stretched inconsiderately ahead without end but also without relief, without hope, the idea of ending his own limping, pained existence had grown stronger until it was the only thing in his head. 

I’ll get a drink of water, then kill myself.

I’ll kill myself before I go to sleep tonight.

I’ll sit up on the roof and that way my body will fall to the ground. Splat. 

When she smiled, a tired, dusty, but hopeful smile, it chased away everything else. I have a rope in my bag, she said.

He nodded. She knew.

Come in, please.

The storm—

It’s safe here. Lightning rods. Everything’s grounded. I, uh. Yeah. Please, he said, the plea in his voice verging on desperate. Hell, not verging. Was. Please come in.

Okay.

As dusty as she was, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Not romance-wise but humanity-wise. There was noise here not made by him or Whiskey. There was breath. There was life.

He’d begun to think he might be a ghost in this graveyard of a world. She changed everything.

I’m Jack.

Annie.

The most beautiful name in the world. Annie, this is Whiskey. I think he, uh, he saved my life.

She squatted to pet the cat then let herself fall on her ass. This pack is heavy.

Whiskey purred loudly and butted her hand. 

He likes you.

I had cat food, she said. I dropped it. When you. Opened the door. Shit.

It’s all right. He’ll go out and eat it.

The storm.

Right. He stood there feeling dumb as he nodded his head, then finally said, Right. I’ll go get it. The storm.

The wind had picked up in the short time he’d been inside and he got a face full of dirt when he darted down the steps to save the food. Cat food. He hadn’t seen a tin of food like this in ... how long?

A crack of thunder reminded him it was unwise to stay outside. With one last worried look at the storm, he dashed back up the stairs and slammed the door behind him. Two months ago, a storm had rolled through so hard he’d been certain the building would come down around his ears. For a guy who ideated about suicide several times a day, he sure had been scared.

Now, though. Now he had someone to live for.

Hell. Now he had someone to lose.

C:\Users\cicic\AppData\Local\Microsoft\Windows\INetCache\IE\BU1N3R1G\d32x05e-8620c210-4e41-44a3-a5b3-9c8271b692bd[1].jpg

Chapter Three

Are you hungry? he asked when he came back inside, all earnest smiles and nerves. She was nervous too. It was just so weird to be around a living, breathing person again. She’d fantasized about it for so long and now here she was with Jack.

Jack and Whiskey.

The cat purred in her lap and she stroked his soft fur, murmuring sweet nothings to him. Sensory overload, that might explain the slight headache that wrapped her head in a band of iron. Would it tighten or loosen? She had medicine in her pack, but she didn’t want to disturb the kitty. Not yet. 

Jack was cooking something on a small camp stove that he’d placed on a protected window ledge. The wind howled through the boarded-up windows and rattled the frames. Rain pelted them but despite the fury outside, they were dry. Warm. Safe? She felt safe. 

Jack had kept up a steady stream of conversation as he heated slices of canned ham with pineapple. It smelled amazing. She hadn’t cooked anything for so long, she wasn’t sure what to expect but her stomach growled as if it knew. When the invasion happened, fire had given humanity away and despite watching the ships disappear into the heavens, she hadn’t gotten over her fear.

It tickled against her brain even now, adding to the slow tightening of the band around her head. She told herself they were safe. They were okay. Even if they still lurked in the sky above, they wouldn’t be able to detect anything amidst the wind and rain.

Right?

Something of her fear must have shown on her face because he said, I’ve been cooking for weeks now.

She nodded, then dug through a side pocket to get the pill bottle. She unscrewed the cap on her water bottle and swallowed three tablets. 

You okay?

Yeah.

He beamed at her, then used his spatula to slide the ham on slices of thick, white sourdough.

Bread? she asked, wonder in her voice.

It’s really sour, but yeah. I found several bags of flour three months ago. Found this book about wild yeast bread and had to try it. It’s pretty good. I mean. I think?

Bread. She gazed at the plate, salivating, then picked up a slice and lifted it to her lips. The smell made her woozy with hunger and when she bit into it ... flavor exploded in her mouth. Hot and yeasty. Salty. Sweet. 

So good, she moaned, then stared at him, embarrassed, only to see him bob his head enthusiastically. 

Right? It was worth the danger, the first time I turned on the camp stove. He took a breath. Are there others?

He was a trembling, over-aired balloon and her answer a sharp, gleaming needle.

Oh, he said. He stared down at his feet. Oh.

His shoulders had caved in on themselves and it was her fault. She wanted desperately to inflate them again. Just because I haven’t seen anyone doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone. I found you. Whiskey meowed and she impulsively kissed him on his furry head. You too.

Right. You’re right. If there’s two of us, there’s more.

They both looked up at the crack of sound overhead. It was so loud, the walls shuddered and dust filtered onto the floor. That’s not good.

It’ll be fine. It does that when it’s particularly close.

She wasn’t so sure but decided to trust him for now. He’d obviously been living here for quite a while. He’d made it almost homey, what with the bed tucked into the corner of one room, cheery bedclothes, and window dressings that hid the boards and sheet metal. There were many bookcases, each shelf laden with reading material. 

He’d settled in here. To live?

She remembered the gun in his hand. The despair in his expression.

Maybe he’d just been trying to convince himself one way or the other. And it looked like the other had almost won.

C:\Users\cicic\AppData\Local\Microsoft\Windows\INetCache\IE\BU1N3R1G\d32x05e-8620c210-4e41-44a3-a5b3-9c8271b692bd[1].jpg

Chapter Four

He didn’t usually keep the lantern on past dark. There were solar lights he’d found that he’d draped around the room. It didn’t give him enough light to read by but it kept him from feeling like he was sleeping in a tomb. 

Tonight, he wanted to see her face clearly. He wanted to watch her stroke Whiskey and smile and take breaths and move. He wanted to see the life on her, to drink it in. And yeah, he was half afraid she’d disappear in the darkness and he’d wake up alone once more.

Please don’t let that happen.

So I started walking. I couldn’t stay there. Not after they destroyed everything. She’d been telling him about her travels, about moving from town to town trying to find food, water, safety. Safety from them at first, then the storms they left behind. I couldn’t believe everyone was dead, you know? I always walked into town sure I’d find someone and every time I didn’t ... She trailed off and he knew she was thinking of the rope she had in her bag. 

Her rope. His gun. 

How many others had taken that way out? He didn’t blame them. How could he? But how many had slipped quietly into death after believing they were all alone? 

He reached out and took her hand. Gently, but it took it. Thank you for not giving up.

Thunder boomed overhead, so loudly he missed what she said. She leaned in close and he felt the warmth of her words on his ear. Thank you for sticking around for me to find.

Her fingers curled around his and she leaned her cheek on his shoulder. He thought about protesting. His shoulders were bony, he hadn’t been eating a lot, worried about Whiskey, worried about the food running out, worried about ... well, everything.

They talked until the lantern flickered and he apologetically doused the guttering flame. Along the walls, plastic dragonflies and butterflies twinkled pink and green and blue and yellow. Sorry, he said.

It’s beautiful, she said.

His body would have lain here rotting under those lights. Had he put the gun to his head yesterday, she would have found him there, face partially eaten by Whiskey, maybe. He could have destroyed someone he’d never met and didn’t know existed.

Hey, it’s okay, she said and he realized he was crying. He’d done it a lot since the end of the world, but this was the first time he had someone to hold his hand and wipe the tears away. She even told him everything would be okay and as he relaxed into her sympathy, he realized he believed her.

You saved my life, he murmured as Whiskey curled up between them and sleep stole over them both.

I think we saved each other, came the soft reply.

C:\Users\cicic\AppData\Local\Microsoft\Windows\INetCache\IE\BU1N3R1G\d32x05e-8620c210-4e41-44a3-a5b3-9c8271b692bd[1].jpg

Chapter Five

The storm lasted five days. Annie was grateful for the work Jack had put into his home. He’d sealed the windows so only a minimal bit of water leaked in. One of the windows lost a board, but he had planks stacked in the basement to replace it.

She liked it here.

He felt safe here.

But if they’d found each other, it meant there were others out there, surely. Others just waiting to be found.

The thought of others gnawed at her as they picked their way around the storm-whipped town. Junk had blown into the street. Windows not already sacrificed to the wind-gods had been busted out. Branches littered roadways. 

Whiskey trotted along with them as Jack showed her around town, excitedly pointing out spots of interest.

There’s where I found Whiskey. He was trying to bite into a package of jerky. When they slowed near a church, half its roof missing, two walls caved in, he said, There were a bunch of people hiding inside when ... you know. I dragged them out and buried them. Had to do it with a backhoe, but I said some words over them.

Her gaze went to the large mound of earth in a field to the south and quickly moved away. She’d left her town to escape the memories. He stayed despite them. Did she have the right to ask him to leave?

How could they not?

At the far edge of town, he showed her a cute little house. It was yellow, though the paint had been chewed up by the storms. The chimney was busted, bricks scattered across the roof and in the bushes below. There wasn’t any window glass left, but someone—Jack—had boarded them up. This was my place. Before.

It’s cute.

He nodded, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. Thanks. It was ... we thought it was too small when ... uh Ruby was born. But she, uh. His voice shook. She put a hand on his arm while he stood with his head bowed.

How could she ask him to leave?

Why would he want to stay?

I wanted to live here but with the storms, it was too dangerous. His eyes were bright as he stared hard at the hand-painted flowers on the fence. Tulips, roses, marigolds. Love. Whiskey likes it. Don’t ya boy? He knelt to hide the tears but she didn’t begrudge him any of it. To lose a child in all of this? She couldn’t imagine. She’d lost enough to feel the pain of the invasion and she knew no good came from comparing wounds, but a child?

The teddy bear in the corner on his bedstand. The dragonfly lights. The pink, frilly pillowcase amongst the solid blue ones.

Ruby. His daughter.

There are fish in the pond, he said. I spend a few hours there every week trying to catch something fresh. There’s a lot of gear at the shop on Spool. The one I showed you?

We should leave, she said.

He gazed at her, his thumb still cocked over his shoulder in the direction of the lake. What?

She hated that she’d blurted it out like that, but now that it was out ... There might be more people. We need to find them. We have to find them.

His smile was frozen on his face. I can’t leave.

Whiskey meowed. Annie gazed down at him and he stared back, his big orange eyes unblinking. Accusing? Or was her guilt putting things where they didn’t belong? Okay, she said.

Are you ... leaving?

She thought of all the dusty roads she’d walked since watching her world implode and knew she wouldn’t survive much longer alone. No. I can’t leave either.

He nodded and they walked back home in silence, Annie keeping her