Chapter 1
Chapter 10
The Value of a $5 Bill
If anyone had looked out the window this beautiful sunny day, they would have seen a crazed man running barefoot as hard as he could with a black cat perched on his shoulder. It was a comical scene for all, with the cat’s tail flying in the wind riding a madman wearing only jeans and a tee-shirt.
“Okay, I did not see this coming,” Nikola said aloud. Leaning out the bathroom window, he thought he might have a shot, but killing the occupant would not bring him any closer to the cat. I found him once, I will find him again.
He went through the apartment and grabbed anything that could tell him who Jerry was. Nikola thought it was time he better leave. With a quick peek out the front door, he left the apartment. There had not been a stir from any neighbor. Most likely, they didn’t want to get involved. Either way, he slid down the stairs to his Camry.
After firing up his car, Nikola glanced at his visage in the rear-view mirror, and said aloud to no one in particular, “Okay, Mr. Jerry Lobell, you won this first round, but there will soon be a second round.”
Nikola pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to his hotel room to conduct research. He needed to know more about his target as he proved more resistant than expected. This lack of planning would not happen again, but how should one factor the cat into this scenario?
Jerry’s heart was pounding louder than Niagara Falls when he stopped to catch his breath. Winded, exhausted and fresh out of any adrenaline, he flopped to the ground. Although he considered the cat might jump off and run away, he didn’t think so. Or at least, he hoped he would stay.
Not only did the cat stay, he opened his golden eye even wider and kneaded Jerry’s chest. It almost made him feel better.
Juno helped Jerry calm down and to regain his energy, but he could not do anything for his lacerated feet or the scratches on his shoulder.
Jerry was thankful the cat stayed with him and didn’t become skittish and run away. Hell, if anyone was skittish it was me. Running barefoot across a field was not the smartest thing to do.
Jerry inventoried the situation and concluded the smart thing to do was to get the hell out of there. But first, he had to take care of his bare feet that were profusely bleeding. Tearing his tee-shirt off, Jerry dabbed at the cat scratches on his shoulder and was most happy to have them instead of a bullet. He tore the tee-shirt in half and wrapped it around his feet and tied them off with the sleeves.
Feeling better stamina-wise after the cat’s kneading, but hurting like hell from his cuts, Jerry had some vague clue where he was. There was no sign yet of any pursuit, so maybe the killer had given up. Yeah right, Jerry thought, and I am carrying a distant relative of Yoda. He thought cutting across the adjacent fields was the escape route. This time, he hoped the cat would follow, or hell, take the lead, but at least he was not perching on his shoulder again.
Jerry looked at the cat and said, “Are you ready?” He swore the cat replied, “Let’s go!”
So, off they went. It wasn’t the yellow brick road, but it would take them somewhere, alive. After a couple hours of excruciating pain in his feet, Jerry trudged through a line of trees in the field to a rather busy street.
Thinking it looked familiar, he turned right on the sidewalk and hobbled down the street. People passing by noticed the ragged, bloody man limping down their nice sidewalk with a cat alongside. It wasn’t the nicest image.
“Get a job!” Jerry heard, leaving bloody smears as he shuffled down the sidewalk.
Jerry thought he heard shouts from passing cars, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognized what was being said. After a couple hours of struggling, walking through wild fields, he was at least thankful to be on a hot, smooth sidewalk.
Although the cat stayed by his side the entire trip, there was little she could do. Somehow, she knew certain things were within her power, but healing a body was beyond this power. Maybe it was a skill from long ago, now hidden or lost, but Juno could not conjure it.
Jerry staggered the last few steps and grabbed a signal pole at a busy intersection. In the back of his fogged mind, he thought it seemed familiar to him but then he also thought he was sliding down a stripper’s pole, laying his head down on the sidewalk. He was finished and had nothing left; even the cat’s kneading on his chest had a negligible effect.
Kneading, however, sparked a little life back as Jerry looked into a hazy apparition and heard, “Here, my friend, let me help you!”
