Cat Calling

I opened the door and found that I had entered my bedroom again. Clothes were spilling out of my half-closed dresser drawers. A boot was holding the closet door open. A precarious stack of books next to my bed supported a half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Grape this time.

In truth, it looked like someone had ransacked the place looking for drugs or money. It was my room, so I knew there were no drugs. All of my money had gone into my collection of computer gaming equipment.

The desk was the only part of the room that looked in order. A big monitor, tower humming with extra fans to keep the processor and video cards cool, and colored LED lights keeping it looking even cooler.

My phone was plugged into the charger and sat next to my pillow. I noticed it because it was ringing again. Caller Unknown. Maybe it was just a robocall about a Marriot cruise?

I answered. “If you want to see your cat again, go through the secret passage under the desk.”

“What?” I didn’t recognize the voice. It sounded like a man or someone with a lower tone of voice. “Who is this?”

“Did you understand what I told you?” The voice didn’t sound upset, just checking to see if I had heard the instructions.

“I heard you, but this is…” The guy on the other end had already hung up.

I glanced at the screen of the phone and saw the charge was still yellow. I needed to leave it plugged in. I tossed it back on the bed and turned to my desk.

The save screen for Blood Panther VII rotated on the screen beckoning me to sit down and lose myself in another world. But that is how this all started. Not the video game, but getting lost in another world.

“There isn’t a secret passage under my desk,” I said. No one answered me. I lived here alone.

When I hadn’t seen my cat for a day I put up flyers. It felt like days ago when the calls had started coming. That was when things got strange.

I got down on my hands and knees and looked under the desk. It looked like a desk next to a wall.

“Crap, there is nothing here.” I started to get up and banged my head on the keyboard tray. That was when I saw it.

The floor under my desk was different. The cheap carpet had been pulled away from the wall. I grabbed the edge and it revealed a trap door. I found a metal ring and pulled it open.

The air felt cool coming up out of the dark passage. Rungs of a ladder led down. If this led to the apartment below mine, the old lady there would probably call the cops. Getting arrested didn’t seem that bad right now. At least it would get me out of this mess.

I looked back at my room. I didn’t care much for grape jelly. Otherwise, I might have paused to finish the sandwich. I lowered myself into the passage.

At the bottom and in the dark I felt around. There was a door. I found a knob.

I opened the door and found I had entered my bedroom again. I looked back into the dark passage I had come from. Then back to my room. Clothes on the floor. A stack of books leaning for support against the closed closet door. A boot in the center of my rumpled bed next to a plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Was that apricot this time? Even worse.

It still held the look of a crime scene. But it was pretty much the way I lived. My computer sat as before. Humming with cooling and glimmering with lighting that were even cooler. The screen saver for Euro Truck Simulator spun there, beckoning to relax on a long drive across the continent. If I only had the time. I loved Euro Truck Simulator.

My phone rang.

I searched for it and found it under my gym back plugged into the charger. I answered and a woman’s voice said, “If you cat want back, go out bathroom window.” Then she just hung up.

I entered the bathroom but didn’t look around. There was nothing in here anyone wants described. The bathroom window looked out on the fire escape. I opened it and climbed out.

I stood up and found I had entered my bedroom again. My therapist said these dreams were my minds way of dealing with the stress of my life. That if I could find the source of my stress they would go away.

Right now, the source of my stress was my missing cat. If my therapist was right, I just needed to find her. But unless she was going to come back to my apartment on her own, I would not be able to. Every time I tried to follow the instructions I got nowhere.

My room was a mess. The closet stood wide open with clothes in a large mass in its opening. A pile of books sat in the middle of my bed with a boot sticking out like the limb of someone crushed by a literary avalanche. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich was on a napkin in the middle of the floor.

Correction. It was a peanut butter and honey sandwich. I grabbed it and finished it in three bites. If only there were something to drink.

My phone rang. I found it plugged in on my desk. The screen of my computer showed a demo of a first-person shooter game as I answered.

“Meow.”

I tried to say something but the peanut butter was stuck to the roof of my mouth.

“Meow.”

My cat was on the phone.

I managed to swallow painfully. “Tiger, baby, where are you?” I asked. I knew it was a stupid question as soon as I said it. Like she was going to be able to tell me.

“There is a hole in the wall under your bed. Crawl through it if you want to find your cat.” It sounded like a child was reading the words to me.

“What…” but the line was dead. I got down on my belly and looked into the debris that occupied the space under my bed. Was that a breeze I felt from under there?