Running On Empty

APOCALYPSE MEOW (Write to Rank 2023 Round 8)

"Uh-huh. This place has been under siege by them."

"Makes sense. Some of those forgotten gods and goddesses call out for their old familiars and representatives when they wake up. They can be pretty codependent."

"Understood. Now, I want you to examine something else." I carried the skull up front. "I saw the—the psychic residue hovering up here, by this cabinet."

A big glass case sat in the lobby near the chairs, where I assumed people waited with their pets. It was full of stuff that science-minded people and little kids and the generally morbid would find interesting: parasites in jars, animal teeth, old surgical instruments, that kind of thing.

And skulls. Probably a dozen of them: bird skulls, dog skulls, some sort of herbivore—maybe a deer—and, of course, cat skulls.

"See any you like?" I asked.

Bob's eye-lights rolled. "The cat in the middle, next to the owl skull. That's your veterinarian's new friend. Maybe he's taking revenge for all the neutering she's done."

"Wow," said a voice from behind me. "I hope no one snuck anything into my coffee, because that looks like a talking human skull."

I jumped about a foot. "Stars and stones, woman! You need a collar with a bell, Doc."

Dana grinned. Despite her words, she didn't seem shocked at hearing Bob speak. "I hear that a lot. So what's with the skull? The cat skull, I mean."

I raised an eyebrow. "You aren't fazed by much, are you?"

"I'm a vet." She went to the cabinet and looked in at the bones. "We just got that one a few weeks ago, from a research lab. I...moonlight there sometimes."

"How old is it?"

"Old." She chuckled.  "I was told a few hundred years, but I gather from poor Yorick there that it's even older."

"My name," said the skull, "is Bob. And that cranium in there is at least 6000 years old. Don't people use carbon dating anymore?"

Her eyes danced. "Damn, that looks so real."

"What?" I asked.

"Real—really creepy. So, are we saying our mischievous ghost is a cat god looking for its body?"

"Smart and hot," Bob whispered to me. "Better do a good job for this one, boss. You might get lucky out of it."

"Ixnay, Bob." I stuck the skull back in my pocket. "Well, Dana, I hate to break it to you and Bastet, but its body is long gone." I pondered for a moment. "Best I can do is try to banish it."

The vet's mouth flew open, and she laughed. "Wait! I know where we can find a body!"

I had to laugh as well. "Are you asking me out?"

* * *

"The lab is working on cloning," Dana explained as she drove. "Cloning pets, to be specific, for rich people. But they have some other projects too."

"That's kind of—ack! Be careful!"

Dana's car was an old Subaru, and she drove it like a race car. The streets were abnormally quiet, even for this late at night, so it shouldn't have mattered. Except for the cats.

I had the cat skull cushioned carefully in another pocket, and it continued attracting felines even at our ludicrous speed. They kept darting in and out of the shadows from between parked cars and alleyways, and Dana swerved and veered, zigzagging all over the road to avoid them.