The King of Cats

THE ABYSS : THE KING OF CATS

I never counted days, but I could tell by the shifting seasons that a year had almost passed since me and Alex first met. We had encountered several other people on our aimless journey, some of which were successfully convinced that the Nethron was a holy land of endless prosperity, and that everyone who had gone down there was very much alive. I saw at least three people jumping into it after hearing her tale. I often wondered why she didn't do the same if she believed it was such a nice place to be, but for some reason it felt rude to ask.

We also met Bartholomeow Maximus, the self-proclaimed King of Cats. He lived in a wrecking yard, and his forces had conquered most of the land around it. It was an impressive piece of landmass that hadn't fallen yet, maybe a hundred square meters of connected asphalt and dirt, and a small chunk of a garden was also part of it. Other than in between the rusting car parts of Cat Kingdom, this must have been the cats' second favourite place to hang out. Bart was an obese man, something I found strange considering how hard it was to find food nowadays. His hands and feet seemed tiny in comparison to his large body, and his untidy exterior made him look older than what he probably was. Older than me perhaps, but not by much. Upon meeting him, he was quick to call Alex out as a false prophet, something which angered her greatly, I didn't want to interfere, but she called upon me saying: "Tell him, Trent! Tell him I am right!"

I'm a lousy liar.

Bart took great pleasure in this, "not even your most devout follower believes you," he proclaimed, a terrible grin covering his face. Even if that was true, it upset me that he took such pleasure in harassing Alex, it upset me more to see Alex so hurt by him. So I punched him in the gut. I was never the strongest person in the world, neither was I a violent one, but in that moment I truly believed I was. Bart bent over in pain and gasped for air and Alex looked at me with some sort of joy filled shock. After some minutes of staring into the ground, Bart stood to face us again. I remember his face looked sour. He sort of looked like an angry hamster. His crown, which craftsmanship united different car parts, duct tape and steel wires into an impressively confusing headpiece, had fallen off and he didn't bother to pick it up. Instead he stared into my eyes challenging me just for a moment before he burst out laughing.

"Good! Good!" He said, "You passed with flying colours."
"Really?" I said, seeing through his lie, but playing along.
"I do accept you as my underlings, Trent was it?" He said, then waited for some sort of confirmation that he never got, but continued anyway, "you shall be my knight!"
"I think I'll pa-"
I was interrupted by Alex which suddenly seemed very engaged in this little scheme.
"Oh, oh! What can I be? I know! I'll be the king's oracle!" She said with extreme enthusiasm.

Before I knew it, and because I didn't want to leave Cat Kingdom alone, I had become Sir Trent. I was given a cape which I suspected had been a dog's carpet at one point, and then a badge which displayed my loyalty to the Cat Kingdom. On it was written the word I was to live by. "meow". Alex was given a blanket which smelled like gasoline had leaked onto it and dried, but Bart insisted it was a mystical incense from the east, given to him by foreign traders.

I started wondering if it was me or them who were crazy. Was I unnatural for not thinking the way they did? Even after a year, I could separate what was real and what was not, and maybe they did too, but didn't want to live with that truth. Was I a freak for not desiring that escape? Was I better off to let myself fall into their world, to forget the truth and trap myself in absurdities?

Unable to answer those questions I decided to at least play along. After all, this was the closest thing to a family I could ever hope for in this broken world.