Cat's Cradle Read Online Free PDF

dispatcher said. “Ten-thirty-five from Ruger nine.”
    Dan switched his radio to tach and to hell with the constitutionality of it all. “Go, Nine.”
    “I just found Mary Louise Turner and Billy Mack Evans out near Whispering Creek, on the old Hogg Road. Both of them naked. They’re in Mr. Evans’ car. Both of them are dead. Tore up real bad. Blood everywhere and the bodies have been eaten on. You copy this, Sheriff?”
    “Ten-four,” Dan radioed. “I’m rolling now. Stay with it, Nine.”
    Sergeant Langway met the sheriff’s eyes. “Going to be a long night, Dan.”
    “Yeah,” Dan replied.
    * * *
    None of the cops, county or state, or any of the doctors, nurses, or medics, had ever seen anything like what had been done to the young couple. After the initial viewing, Doctor Goodson had ordered the cops away from the mangled, eaten bodies and blood-splattered car. The medical people, all sworn to silence by the state police, viewed the carnage under harsh light from portable spotlights set up by the state police.
    Dan had given his tersely worded orders to his people; “Keep a tight lid on this. No press. None at all! Anybody leaks this, I’ll have his or her ass, roasted and served up. Understood?”
    They all understood, knowing full well that Sheriff Garrett meant every word of it.
    “Look,” Doctor Goodson said to Quinn, pointing. “See where the flesh had begun to age around the bites?”
    “Stopping the aging process at the moment of death,” Quinn said.
    “Yes. And the bites are both human and animal-like. We have, at least, a madman loose.”
    “Madwoman,” Dan said, peering over the doctor’s shoulders. He wore a mask and gloves. “Maybe.”
    Goodson looked around. “Why do you say that, Sheriff?”
    “By the size of the human bites. A small mouth did that. And those are not animal-like tracks. They’re paw prints from a cat.”
    Goodson looked again. “You’re right,” he conceded. “Very observant, Sheriff.”
    “Yeah,” Dan said drily. “A madwoman with a killer house-cat.”
    * * *
    “Did you know, my good fellow,” Carl’s roommate at the university said, “that in ancient Egypt, there once existed a secret religion who believed in cat people?”
    Without looking up from his books, Carl said, “If you call me ’your good fellow’ one more time, I’m going to jack your jaw, Mike.”
    “My word, you certainly are testy this evening.”
    “Busy, buddy, busy.”
    “You do recall the line about all work and no play, et cetera and so forth?”
    “Mike, you’re going to get your lazy ass tossed out of school if you don’t start bearing down. And you’d better damn well start realizing that.”
    “As Ol’ William once wrote: ’It maketh not a damn to me’.”
    Carl laughed at his friend. Built exactly like his father, Carl leaned back, away from the desk full of books, and stretched. Lean and lanky, the young man pushed back a lock of thick, unruly hair and rubbed his tired eyes.
    The last paragraph on the many-times-photocopied page caught his eyes. He leaned closer and read: The rash of murders that to this day remain unsolved in St. Louis held more than one macabre note. In addition to the human teeth marks there were found other marks that at first were dismissed as rat bites. Experts later testified the bites were made by a cat. The same cat had gnawed on all the bodies, as had the same small person. The human bites are thought to be female.
    He looked at Mike. “What was that you said about cat people?”
    “Ahh! Got your attention, didn’t I? O-ye-of-little-confidence-in-your-ol’-buddy’s academic abilities.”
    “I have confidence in your abilities as a bullshitter,” Carl said. “Besides, I thought those people worshipped Ra?”
    “No, you heathen. Ra was a sun god of Heliopolis. A hawk-headed man. This was a very small group of men and women. No more than a couple of thousand at the most. The high priests and priestesses were thought, so it is