Barge leapt, bringing her katana down in a vertical arc. The world slowed as her blade descended. But, in an instant, Gouger was no longer there. Barge’s blade shattered on the pavement, sending shards in all directions. A glittering fragment grew in Barge’s field of view—
To say that Barge’s life had changed recently was not sufficient. She had spent her early life on the Strait of Georgia, blissfully catching mice in piles of wood waste as they floated up and down the lower Fraser delta, Howe Sound, and in and out of Boundary Bay.
Barge’s routine was simple. Her floating home would dock. Piles of wood waste would be dumped on top, and she would chase mice for hours or days until the next docking, where the woody debris would be removed. The people knew her, and they looked out for her. At every stop, before the big machines did their job, a person would call out, “Hey Barge Cat, heads up!” or “Barge Cat, we’re unloading now!” Before long, she was known simply as Barge.
But the men in bright black coats had changed all that. The last time her barge docked, it was cleaned off, and several people climbed down inside it. Soon after, the dock was crowded with people in bright coats, with flashing lights on big red trucks, small white trucks, and other cars. Barge had never seen so many people so excited. The first people were pulled out of the barge, lifeless and limp. Barge was distracted by the smell from below when she was wrapped in a heavy coat. She squirmed and fought, but the coat was too tough to claw through.
The big red truck brought Barge to a solid brown building that would be her home for many months. Of course, she escaped as soon as the truck’s door opened, but this building was the only one in this insanely crowded area that wasn’t already occupied by another cat.
Except for Red. Barge had never known a cat like Red before. Every other cat Barge had known had protected their territory, but otherwise kept to themselves as they hunted and managed to survive. Red lived in a soft bed, ate soft food from a shiny steel dish, and relieved himself in a box of soft sand. The people refilled Red’s food dish and emptied his sandbox three times a day.
It became obvious why the people had brought Barge here on the first day, when she saw a mouse. Barge tensed, gauged the mouse’s speed and direction, and pounced. As she walked to a sheltered corner to eat her catch, she saw that Red hadn’t stirred from his bed. He had grown old and soft, dependent on the people. Was he still capable of hunting?
After several days of mousing while Red lazed on his bed, Barge decided to make a statement. She walked over to Red’s throne and dropped her latest catch in front of him.
Red snorted. “Do you think me incapable of providing for myself?”
Barge answered by glancing at Red’s food dish.
He snorted again. “I have earned the right of repose. I have ruled this roost since your mother was a suckling kitten. If I wanted to…”
Red’s eyes focused over Barge’s shoulder. His muscles tensed.
She didn’t even see him move before feeling the disturbance in the air as he shot past her. When she turned, Red was near the far wall, a fat mouse in his jaws. He padded back and dropped it in front of her.
“How…?” she began.
“I may be old,” Red replied, “But I’m not dead yet.” He sat on his bed, ignoring the mouse. “I’ve been watching you closely. You’re wild. You’re untrained. But you’re fast, and your instincts are strong.” He leaned forward. “You may be just what we need.”
“We?”
What Barge needed now was to stop bleeding into her eye. The sword fragment had come within millimeters of blinding her. With a contemptuous laugh, Gouger had run from the warehouse.
Barge licked her paw and ran it over the wound. Damn, that hurt! It didn’t hurt as badly as some of Red’s blows during her training, but she could not continue to fight in this condition. She looked at the mess on the warehouse floor. Her sword was gone.
It was a day of retreat. But she would return…
Afterword
I wrote this story one afternoon in 2019 in response to a visual writing prompt on a website where I used to contribute before the admins made it clear that they had no interest in moderating hateful content. The prompt was an image of two cats fighting with Japanese swords.
The incident that took Barge off of her floating home is based on a real incident that happened in New Westminster, BC, in 2003. A barge was docked for repairs. After being at sea and up and down the Fraser river for months, rust and biological activity had consumed the oxygen in the large interior space that provided the barge’s buoyancy. A worker climbed down into the interior and collapsed from oxygen deprivation. Three other workers climbed down to rescue him, and also collapsed. When emergency services arrived, the situation was confused. One firefighter slipped on the ladder and fell to the bottom. He survived. The barge company workers did not. This incident exemplified why rescuers never enter a scene until they verify that it’s safe, or that they have the required protective equipment to enter it safely.
Copyright 2019 by Violet Beckingham, all rights reserved
I Am Violet 