The Great Lab Escape (The Kitten Files, #0), page 1
The Kitten Files #0
The Great Lab Escape
Perry Elisabeth Kirkpatrick
For Molly, a very good tabby.
Copyright © 2018 Perry Elisabeth Kirkpatrick. All rights reserved.
Cover by PerryElisabethDesign.com with images from depositphotos.com.
Website: PerryKirkpatrick.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
The Great Lab Escape (The Kitten Files, #0)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Other Kitten Files Books
The Case of the Tabloid Tattler
The Case of the Missing Hero
The Case of the Cereal Robber
The Case of the Very Bad Cat
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Chapter 1
The lab assistant named Janet was watching cat videos again, and I was watching with her. She tapped the pen she was supposed to be using to record details about our morning feeding and laughed as a cat in the video miscalculated his jump and slid off the side of a comfy-looking piece of furniture.
Someone in the video shrieked with laughter and exclaimed, "You missed a jump onto the couch?"
I twitched my whiskers. Couch. That's what the furniture was called. It looked very nap-worthy.
Janet chuckled.
The handle on the heavy door of the cage room turned, and she hurriedly smashed a button on her keyboard, shutting off the video.
Jordan, another assistant stuck his head into the room. "Hey, Janet, Dr. Creighton says we're moving the maze run up an hour. He wants you to have the mice ready in the next 30 minutes."
"Got it," Janet said too quickly.
The assistant ducked out, and she heaved a sigh. "That was a close one, guys," she said to us.
The cat who lived in the cage next to mine ignored her as usual, but I meowed softly. Janet was always kind to us, so I tried not to ignore her rambling completely.
She clicked around on a few things on her computer. In a moment, the theme song of her favorite detective show played from the speakers.
Janet moved around the room, gathering the mice's charts and loading them onto the cage cart used to transport us to the testing room. She half-watched the show as she worked.
I positioned myself so I could see it better between the bars of my cage. Something about the stories, although a bit cheesy at times, never ceased to hold my interest.
The detective, Ace Paxton, was a very cool guy. Always thinking, very smart, and always on top of his game. He was able to find case-cracking clues from the smallest, most insignificant detail.
I settled down further, wrapped my tail around myself, and gave the story my full attention.
It's the neighbor. It has to be, I thought, excited that I knew the solution to the case before Ace . I don't care if the serum Dr. Creighton and Dr. Skinner are always arguing about is truly making me smarter or if I was just born like this. It's a good, good feeling to solve the case.
If I were a human, I'd want to be a detective—no doubt about it. Unfortunately, I was a cat.
And nobody would take a cat-detective seriously.
At least not until humans got smart enough to understand cat-speak. Maybe they're the ones who need the serum.
Ace Paxton stopped speaking mid-sentence, and I realized Janet had paused the video. The white mice were loaded into the cage on the cart, and they were squeaking annoyingly.
Across the way, a dog paced in his cage and barked at the squeaking rodents.
"Hush," Janet commanded pleasantly, and the dog obeyed, sitting down. "That's a good boy," she said. "Okay, y'all, I'll be back in a bit!"
She dimmed the lights, left the room with her cart, and closed the door firmly behind her.
I stared at the computer screen, wishing the video would turn itself back on. It was pure torture to have it stopped right in the middle of the story. I wanted so badly to see if I was right about the neighbor being the culprit.
I paced.
The cat next door continued snoozing.
I eyed the small pet bed in the corner of my cage. Taking a nap wasn't such a bad idea. I gave one last, forlorn glance at the paused video, and then curled up on the cushion.
I felt myself dropping off to sleep. I hope Janet picks back up at Episode 14. I hope she doesn't skip the end and start a new episode.
Awhile later, I blinked sleepily and shook my head. I could hear several sets of footsteps and rapidly-talking voices approaching our room. That must have been what woke me up, but something else niggled at the back of my brain.
How did I know that was Episode 14?
I finally remembered my last waking thought. Just then, in a flurry of white coats, the scientists and their assistants burst into the room, rolling the mice's cart with them.
Dr. Creighton and Dr. Skinner were talking rapidly, and the assistants were scrambling to take notes of everything they said.
"The mice showed an ability to recognize the letter 'A' in order to find the food reward," Dr. Creighton dictated. "Even when presented with multiple doors, bearing different letters and symbols, in an unfamiliar maze, a majority of them chose door 'A' and reached the food reward. The usual precautions were taken to prevent the subjects using their sense of smell to locate the food."
"You little freaks figured it out," Dr. Skinner said, bending down and staring in at the white mice lounging in the cage on the cart.
I yawned. I'd known the letter "A" and its 25 friends for weeks now. I knew they made sounds, too. But I didn't particularly care for the scientists or the injections, so I'd conveniently forgotten to let them in on this fact.
"Remarkable, remarkable!" Dr. Creighton rubbed his hands together. "We've done it!" After a brief pause, he said to Janet, "Okay, everyone else gets tested again after tonight's serum injection. We'll begin bright and early tomorrow morning. Make a note that all the mice in this group will be moved upstairs for Phase 2. After the testing tomorrow, any other test subjects who don't show the same signs of improvement will be cut from the program."
He turned to the other assistant. "Notify the technicians downstairs that we'll be sending some work their way after the tests. It's too much to hope that every subject will respond equally well. Tell them to have spots ready for the ones we cut."
Janet bit her lip. She must already be missing those of us who would be sent downstairs. She was nice like that.
Now, all I had to do was figure out how to ensure I was "cut from the program" so I could get out of this lab and live a real life like the cats in the computer videos.
Oh, and I had to figure out how I knew I'd been watching Episode 14.
Chapter 2
I was wide awake when Janet came in early the next morning and began prepping us each for our tests. She put me into one of the cages on the rolling carts. Next to my cage, she laid a clipboard with a form to log my progress.
I glanced at the paper. Who on earth was "Subject 6-Alpha"?
Where had that thought come from? I drew back to the other side of the small cage and flattened my ears. Then, in slow motion, I put one paw in front of the other until I could again stick my nose between the bars.
Oh. The thought had come from the paper. Somehow. It was right there—plain as day—on the clipboard.
Subject 6-Alpha.
Tabby cat. Female. Green eyes.
I backed up and sat down hard. I had known the differences between the letters for a while now (unlike the white mice who had apparently just caught on yesterday), but this... this was something entirely different.
Just like in the videos the scientists made us watch three times a day, these letters were forming words and conveying information to me.
I have green eyes, I thought. I didn't know that until right this moment. I'm—I'm reading!
Then it dawned on me: reading would allow me to find out all sorts of interesting things.
I glanced down at the clipboard again. Like magic, the words jumped off the page and into my mind.
At the top of the page it said, "Caput Laboratories"—that must be the name of the lab I lived in. There was a box for writing "Test Findings" and a checkbox for "Pass" and another for "Fail".
I glanced across the room at Janet. She would be so proud of me if I showed her that I could read, but on the other hand... I'd get moved to Phase 2 like the white mice and never have the chance to live a real cat life.
I turned my back on the clipboard. My mind was made up. I couldn't let anyone catch me reading. I had to convince them to "cut me from the program". I had to fail the test.
I felt almost giddy thinking about all there was to read out there in the world. Books! I could read books! I knew about them because Ace, the detective in Janet's show, was a reader. He read so much he knew almost everything about everything, and this helped him solve cases.
I couldn't help but take a peek over my shoulder at the clipboard again. Janet had filled in the date at the top of the form, and the sight of her rounded hand-writing made me wonder if I could write as well.
***
I tuned out the techno-babble of the scientists as they placed me into the testing environment. It was a cle
ar box with door flaps that led to clear tunnels with more door flaps. I had figured out this was called a maze and that they used a smaller version of it with the white mice.
Someone had smeared a tiny bit of bacon flavor onto the left-most door which bore the letter "A".
Because I knew I was supposed to, and because it smelled yummy, I moved forward and licked the bacon flavor. It was amazing.
I suspected that somewhere, at the end of the path marked with the letter "A", there was an actual piece of bacon. I was so tempted to dash through all the doors and eat it.
But that would guarantee me a spot in Phase 2 and lifetime of captivity in the lab.
Telling myself I could find an owner who would feed me bacon once I got out of the lab, I pushed through the door and headed for one boldly marked "B".
Just before I got to it, though, I paused to lick my paw and clean my face. It's the polite cat thing to do after eating. It also meant I got to waste Dr. Creighton's and Dr. Skinner's time.
After a slow, nonchalant face-washing, I pushed my way through the door marked "B". I casually made my way through the maze, being sure to choose mostly wrong answers and the very occasional right one. I wanted it to look truly random.
When I got to the end, Janet was waiting to scoop me out of the last box. She scratched behind my ear as she carried me back to the cage on the cart. As we passed Dr. Creighton, he looked at me with a scowl.
"I had higher hopes for this one. She seemed decently intelligent to begin with," he complained.
"Bah. Cats." Dr. Skinner had never liked me.
Dr. Creighton tapped his pen against the clipboard in his hand a few times before scribbling on it and placing it on the cart beside my cage.
"Janet, prep the next subject. I'll be in my office. Page me in 10 minutes."
"Yes sir," Janet said, sounding a little sad.
I tried to feel sorry for her, but I was too excited. I could read and I was going to get to leave the lab! I was going to be a free cat!
As Janet pushed the cart with my cage on it, I took a sneaky glance at the clipboard beside me.
Dr. Creighton's handwriting was messy and much harder to read than printed type, but I could make out the words, "Subject failed test, exhibiting even worse results than last time. No further testing is needed with Subject 6-Alpha. She should be eliminated from the program and can be sent to the basement level to be put down at the earliest opportunity."
I cocked my head.
Doesn't put down mean to either set something down or to rudely tease someone?
For some reason, I really didn't like the sound of it.
Sounds very final. Ominous.
I read every word I saw on the way back from the testing room to the cage room. Each door was labeled, and tiny maps hung next to some of them. I studied the maps on the way by. The layout of the building reminded me of one of the mazes in the testing room.
Janet put me back into my usual cage. After she'd latched the door, she bent and peered in at me. "I wish they'd let me adopt you all instead of putting you down," she said with a sigh.
I didn't understand it either. Living with Janet sounded rather fun. We could spend time watching videos of other cats doing silly things, and I could keep watching the Ace Paxton show with her.
She sighed again and moved away from the cage, "I guess this is goodbye for good, kitty."
I twitched my ears. That sounded awfully final again. I began to grow worried.
Perhaps "put down" didn't mean a rude remark when it came to cats. I wondered if I had made a mistake by intentionally flunking the test.
Chapter 3
The more I heard as various animals returned from their tests, the more I became convinced I was in serious trouble. Being cut from the program wasn't going to mean I would get a normal cat life outside these walls.
If I was going to go live an exciting life, read all the books and signage and maybe learn to write, I was going to need to make my own escape.
I didn't know when they planned to move those of us who had failed the test, but I knew from what I saw of the building maps on the walls in the hall—it would be much easier to escape before they took me to the basement level.
Dr. Skinner stuck his head into the room at the end of the day. "Janet," he said, "we'll finishing testing the last few subjects tomorrow. I want you to get started moving all the failed subjects downstairs in the morning."
She nodded, looking almost as miserable as I felt. Moving Day was coming much sooner than I'd hoped. I stayed up most of the night formulating a plan.
The next morning, Janet didn't even bother turning on her computer when she came into our room. There were no humorous cat videos playing, no detective adventures for her to half-watch. She started at the far end of the room and began transferring animals from their cages into sturdy cardboard boxes.
She was unusually silent, and I thought I heard her sniff a few times.
When she came to my cage, she double-checked the notes on the clipboard hanging on the side of it. I hoped for just a moment that she would find a mistake on the paperwork, something that said I was actually quite smart, but that I should be set free to live a great life.
With a sigh, she slowly unlatched the door of my cage. I stepped forward as I always did. She reached in and picked me up.
It's now or never. Sorry, about this, Janet.
I waited until she'd moved me halfway down to the cardboard box on the floor. Then, with a sudden, sharp twist, I flipped myself out of her grasp and over her arm. I hit the ground running.
In my observations of humans, I had come to realize they're not very good runners. Most of them, at least. (Janet had once watched a video about some unusual people who had run more than 26 miles in one go.) Cats, on the other hand, we can basically keep moving as long as we need to.
My plan was simple. Play keep-away and chase with the people in the building until somebody slipped up and opened the door to the cage room. Getting through that door would be the hardest part, according to what I remembered of the tiny maps in the hall outside.
"Kitty, no!" Janet gasped.
But I was already half-way across the room. She stood and stared at me as I scampered to the first point in the room I'd located as a good spot to pause but not get trapped. I was under a table between two banks of cages.
I cocked my head, slightly confused. Why wasn't she chasing me?
My plan relies on people chasing me the whole time. What will I do if they all just stop and stare at me? What, is there something on my fur?
"You've never done this before," she whispered. She approached slowly and then squatted down to look at me under the table. We stared at each other for a long moment (I won, by the way, because I stared without blinking even once).
"I wonder..."
A strange look came over her face—almost as if she knew my secret. But that was impossible. Glancing at me once more, Janet headed to her desk and reached for her radio. She cleared her throat and paused for just a moment. Then, looking back at me, she keyed the mic and said—panting suddenly as if she had been running—"Jordan, we've got a little problem in here."
She set the radio down and drummed her fingertips on the table for a moment. Jordan's voice squawked over the radio. "What's going on? I'll be right in."
Janet didn't reply, but instead began jogging in fast circles around the room. "Gotta look the part," she panted.
I realized what Janet was doing for me, and I was determined to make the best of it. I wriggled, re-positioning my hind feet and calculating the distance to the door.
The minute the door handle turned, I shot forward. Jordan sauntered in, and then faltered when he registered Janet's appearance and my open cage. By then I was threading between his feet.
He tried to rewind, to quickly back out the door and close it.
Unfortunately, my presence caused him to do a strange jig before finally falling, face-first, into the cage room. I streaked down the hallway.
Recalling the map on the wall, I took a left and then a right and successfully found the stairs. I also found another person. She was dressed nicely—no lab coat—and carried a stack of papers.
She wasn't someone I'd seen before, and I think the surprise I felt was mutual, for she gave a little shriek and a jump, and then tripped all on her own—without my help. A cloud of loose papers flew up in the air and slowly rained down around her as I bounded down the stairs to the ground floor.
