The Orange Tabby

Henry doesn’t remember how he ended up here, walking in a forest at night, without a phone or anything. Being led by an orange tabby cat, with the sense he should follow it. He was going somewhere; he knew that much. Where or why, he has no clue only that he needs to get there, urgently.

He scans his surroundings, pine trees stretching over him menacing, their branches giving off shadows that resemble hands reaching out. No moon in sight, but the shining stars in the midnight blue sky, with enough light that he's not walking blindly in the dark. And able to see the cat clearly to notice the whites of his paws and chest leading to his under belly, his dark orange stripes on his body and around his face. The cat is not his; he knows that too, he also knows it's a boy cat. The forest and the orange tabby are not familiar to him.

The cat struts ahead, his movements fluid and dainty, as cats are, with an air of superiority and in no hurry. His orange tail is down, swaying back and forth. Henry wonders if he died or is hallucinating to be expecting a cat to rescue him out of the forest. He tries to rack his brain for information, but comes up blank, can't even remember when the cat first appeared. He blows out a sigh, running his hands through his hair, glancing around him. Henry shakes his head, chuckling to himself, wondering why he's still following this cat. As if he's in a child's fairy tale, on a quest to save the world. He stops, turning back around-

Stop.

Henry spins around, searching, but finds no one. He cast his eyes down, blue eyes staring back at him. The orange tabby tilts his head, unblinking, the black pupils thin vertical lines. Henry frowns, squinting back up into the forest. He heard someone; it was male's voice, it sounded close by. The person said stop.

"Hello? Anyone there?" Henry asked, walking past the tabby. "Can you help me? I'm lost."

Yes. I can help if you follow me.

Henry doesn't need to look back to know who’s talking to him. His stomach drops, his blood turns to ice, and his heart speeds up. He closes his eyes, telling himself he's not crazy. That this must be a dream. Yes, surely a dream, or he had too much to drink and passed out. Except he's never been a big drinker, or does drugs, besides eating a few laced brownies as a teen.

Are you going to stand there all night, or do you want me to lead you out of here?

Henry gets the overwhelming feeling he should keep following the cat. But why? He holds in the urge to shout, to burst out laughing, and slap himself. He's gone crazy, or maybe he was already crazy. Either way, he decides that if he is crazy, or this is a dream, he might as well follow the orange cat. The orange talking cat. Before he turns around, Henry inhales, clenching his hands, his feet scraping the dirt as he turns.

Two sets of glowing eyes stare back at him. The cat is sitting on his hind legs, his head still tilted, unblinking. An irrational sense of fear and danger hits Henry straight in the chest. Henry feels as if his soul is on display, being judged by a cat that doesn't blink, unnaturally still. Henry shifts from foot to foot, unable to tear his eyes away, the tabby's own sucking him in. The blue glowing eyes unnerve Henry, causing him to take a step back, but then tells himself that it's normal. The darkness makes it seem like they're glowing, but it's just the light reflecting on them, because the cat is a nocturnal animal. Nothing creepy about that. Yet, the feeling doesn't leave him, and he doesn't understand why he has the feeling.

The tabby gets up, blinks once, twitches his nose and makes his way towards Henry, who is holding his breath, still as a statue. The cat rubs against Henry's leg, from his head to his tail. His tail wraps around Henry's ankle before letting go. He glides past Henry, staring straight ahead.

Follow me.

Henry unlocks his muscles and follows the cat, shaking his head for being freaked out by a damn cat. But, he keeps his distance between them, half of his brain telling him the cat is dangerous and the other half, that the cat is helping him. If only he knew how he got here and why. Henry rubs his temple, a headache coming on. Great, he thinks, what else could go wrong? Passing by a tree, he stretches his arm, knocking on wood. At least it's not cold, wearing only jean pants and a t-shirt. He frowns, realizing he should be, it was autumn.

Henry stops in his tracks, eyes wide as he remembers something. It was autumn; the leaves should be shades of brown, orange, and red, not green. He looks around him, seeing green everywhere. The leaves, bushes, and grass. The air is warm and filled with fragrance from flowers that have bloomed too. It's springtime here. Something else, he realized, spinning back to the cat. He wasn't talking out loud. The cat was talking in his head telepathically. Henry groans, shooting pain exploding in his head. He shuts his eyes, pressing his hands to his forehead.

Don't stop. Keep walking.

Henry opens one eye. The cat is watching him, unblinking, the pupils of his eyes becoming thinner against the sparkling blue. His left ear twitches, turns his head and continues. Henry goes after him, the heel of his palm on his forehead, pressing down. Henry squints in the forest, keeping his eyes down. It's darker in this part of the forest, he could barely see the trees. Nothing more than tall dark shapes. He glances at the cat. The urge to run from it still yells at him.

"Where are you taking me?" Henry asks.

The cat keeps walking, not acknowledging Henry as he steps over a twig. Henry watches his tail flicking back and forth, getting distracted. Does it matter, as long as he gets out? Goes home, to his one bedroom, small, expensive apartment in New York City. Noise from all directions, honking and shouting in the streets below, footsteps above him, and the muffle sounds from his neighbor’s next door. To walk down the corner of his street, avoiding getting trampled by a hoard of people in a hurry, oblivious to others around them, their mind set on arriving at their destination. To wait in a line in a coffee shop to buy an eight-dollar cup of coffee. All he wants is to go home, to the city that he loves.

Henry halts, his heart increasing. He lives in New York. In the city, miles from a forest. Something shouts at him to run from the cat. The cat will only lead him to danger. The pain comes back, hitting him like a boulder.

We're almost there. Don't stop now.

Henry clutches his head, almost collapsing from the pain. He gazes up; the cat sitting and staring at him again, his tail curling around his legs, lifting and falling. His yellow eyes unblinking. Doesn't his eyes ever blink, Henry wonders? They just stare at him, through him, luring him. The cat sits up, studying Henry, before he bolts.

His shape disappearing in the shadows. Something compels Henry to run after the tabby. The cat will bring him back home, he's sure of that. He runs after it, before a feeling tells him not to. Henry screams, standing still, looking between where the cat went and behind him. Henry doesn't know what to do, who to trust, where he is. He knows nothing. He just wants to leave this place. Henry burst out laughing suddenly, running his hands through his hair and tugging them. He's insane, that's it, none of this is real, it's all his imagination. He's in a coma, this is a dream, he's high, imagining this all.

Follow me. I will lead you to safety.

Henry twists his head to see the cat walking away from him, his orange tail swaying. Henry numbly goes after him. He follows a few feet, narrowing his eyes to see the ground in front of him. He trips on a rock, catching himself on a tree. Henry rights himself, and stares into the dark. He gasps, realizing the forest has not just become darker to see from the trees blocking out the sky, but that the forest is darker. The green from the leaves is the color of ebony, the trunks are blending from brown to charcoal, the brown dirt grows darker. And they changed not only the color, the forest is morphing into an empty pitch black space.

Follow me.

The cat is standing in the middle of the darkness, the orange and cream color of his fur sticking out, calling Henry with his eyes. Henry's feet inches forward, his left hand drops to his side, but stops. He steps back, his face pale, the sound of blood pumping in his ears. He bumps into the tree, gripping the trunk, his chest rising and falling. The cat walks forward, his eyes burning through Henry.

Henry turns away, running. He looks back to see two pairs of yellow eyes chasings him. Yellow eyes that were blue. The cat had blue eyes. The pupils are gone too, only yellow glowing eyes.

Henry pumps his legs faster, twisting his head back every often, dread washing over him. The tabby chases after him, paws pushing him forward, his movements agile. Henry trips over his feet, hitting the ground hard, his right shoulder taking the blunt. He lifts his head, watching behind him as the orange and white of the fur turn jet-black, his limbs disappearing, losing the cat shape of his body. Transforming into a shadow, growing and becoming solid. But the eyes stay the same glowing yellow. Unblinking. Holding Henry in place.

Henry shakes his head, breaking the hold on him, and scrambles to his feet. Eyes darting around, he watched in horror as the forest transformed into an abyss. Henry screams, but they get swollen up into nothingness. He looks over his shoulder in time to see the shadow reaching out, scratching Henry's left leg.

Henry falls over, crawling to his hand and knees, getting up. He runs faster and faster, not looking back anymore. He could feel the shadow on his hills, he could feel the intensity of his eyes locked on him. Henry is in an abyss, running with nowhere to hide and no way out. Tears fall down his face, mixing with his sweat, his legs burning, panting for air, shouting that he wants to go home.

The shadow lashes out, shedding his shirt, and nothing else, missing him. Henry loses his balance, though, falling over again. He keeps falling and falling and falling, darkness all around him, yellow eyes glaring down at him.

Henry wakes, taking a sharp intake of breath, jolting up. A car horn blares in the street below him. Henry gasps, rubbing his face with shaking, clammy hands. He glances around him, running his hands through his sheets, gaining comfort, and slows his accelerated heart rate. He breathes through his nose heavily, searching for the shadow or cat in his bedroom. Morning light coming through his curtains banishes the shadows, easing the nerves in Henry. With his adrenaline slowed down, he finally notices the stinging pain in his left calf. He pulls his sheet away, twisting his leg over to see three deep scratches.

****

There is an orange tabby cat with blue eyes that turn yellow. He lives in people's dreams, in their nightmares. Leading them deeper into a forest to kill them. A way to survive him is not to look into his eyes, which is how he tricks people, or a fast runner.