The white cat slipped through the crowd, following that familiar smell. Fast. Two guards chased close behind.
A dozen or so rows of seats, then it stopped.
The boarding gate was nearly closed. Emma's back was disappearing beyond it.
It gave a thin cry and ran. Emma turned, as if she'd sensed something, and saw the small shape racing toward her.
She couldn't have named the feeling. But there was happiness in it. Being chosen, so utterly and without hesitation.
She bent as though to tie her shoe. The captain had called the flight attendant away. The cat leapt into her arms. She unzipped her coat and tucked it inside.
Heavier than it looked. She found her seat. Not many passengers on this flight home. The whole row was hers.
A piece of a packaged sausage stick from her space. She peeled it open. Big eyes watched. "Go on. Eat."
Did it understand? It looked hungry enough, belly flat. Hadn't it been licking snow when she'd found it?
A few bites, and the sausage was gone. She opened another, studying the animal. A bigger head than most cats. A very long tail.
Faint gray spots, if she looked closely. What kind of cat was this?
Cabin door closed. Takeoff. Hours later, a flight attendant woke her. There and back in one day. It was dark when she left the airport.
Ten p.m. She called a cab and gave the Crown Heights address, warmth tucked against her chest.
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Five sausages had put the little thing to sleep.
Up to the twenty-second floor. She opened the keypad lock with a little anticipation. Its beep woke the cat. A head emerged from her coat, turning to inspect its new surroundings.
She set it down. Two circles around her feet, then it sat. She bent to stroke its head.
Behind the apartment's original wooden door stood an iron one with a viewing window. Solid iron. Behind that, another iron door, sealed completely, without a window.
She used her key and went in. Four latches on the inner side, operable only from inside.
Two iron doors. That felt secure. The cat followed her in and sniffed around, as though making sure her scent was there.
One closed bedroom caught its attention. It flattened itself and tried to squeeze under the door. She laughed softly and opened it.
Underfloor heating in place. A new outlet on the wall, connected to the solar panels. She drew the curtain back. New soundproof glass too.
They'd cleaned up. Behind her, the cat gathered itself to jump on the bed. She caught it by the scruff.
"Bath before bed." She took it and a change of clothes into the bathroom.
No experience washing pets. A video fixed that. Wet the fur, wash, rinse away the suds. No pet dryer, so more than half an hour with her hair dryer instead.
At least it cooperated. Dry at last, it jumped onto the bay window and stared outside, apparently wondering why it wasn't cold here.
She left it to look while she searched for what cats ate. Her supplies were all for her. She hadn't planned on bringing a pet home.
It sprang onto the bed, pressed its head to her neck, and licked. She jerked at the sensation and pulled it in front of her.
"You need a name. Buster, maybe? Or Lucky? You choose." Buster twice. No response.
Then Lucky. Its eyes settled on her face. "Lucky. Lucky. Lucky. That's you from now on." Understood or not, it couldn't talk back.
Her phone rang. Jordan. They really were relentless.
Alarm set, phone off. Lucky burrowed beneath the covers and settled beside her. Once her breathing evened out, it slept too.
The morning alarm woke her. She washed up, ordered breakfast, and called the fitness-equipment company. Delivery today.
The next room was empty now, its contents stored away. Ready for the equipment. She still needed growing containers and soil.
Three days before the long fight began.
Lucky followed every step. Sometimes she glanced down and found it sitting neatly between her feet.
A call from the delivery driver. "Leave it outside the door."