10

Chapter 6

When Chris reached the emergency room of the hospital, it was almost seven in the evening. Even from a distance, he could see the lights of the police cars parked on the premises. He also recognized the van that belonged to the animal rescue organization he worked with. He braced himself for the worst and stepped out of his car.

Inside, two cops were talking to Elaine. As Chris walked in, she turned to look at him with distress in her eyes, the same distress he had heard in her voice when she called him. He also noticed a few rescuers talking to the vet technicians.

"Oh, thank god you're here," she said to him nervously. "The cops brought in 93 cats and kittens a while ago. You know them, right?" she pointed towards the rescuers.

"Hey, doc," Peter came forward and hugged him. The other rescuer, Arlene, did the same. Chris had been associated with the organization for almost ten years, often accompanying them to rescue operations. In the past month, they had saved dozens of dogs and cats, an injured raccoon, a fawn, and a couple of bats. Most of them were usually brought to Chris's hospital for treatment.

"What's going on?" he asked, slightly perplexed. "Where did you find 97 cats?"

"Actually, we found 300," one of the officers said. "But nearly 200 were already dead."

"Wait...What?" he shook his head. "Where did you find 300 cats?"

"At a hoarding house," Peter said. "It's like the Jackson Park house we raided last year and found over 30 cats."

"I adopted one of them," Clara chipped in from the hallway. "But this... It's ten times the number."

"Chris, most of the kittens are barely days old," Elaine gripped his arm with both hands. "I'm not sure we can save them."

"Don't say that, please." He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, feeling something collapse inside of him. "I had to let Cleo go just a few days ago. You think I can let that happen again and again?"

"We wouldn't be able to save Cleo even if we tried," reasoned Dr. Caitlin Munroe, one of the resident veterinarians. "She would only suffer for the next few weeks."

Chris looked away, his nostrils flaring. "I'm going to make sure we save all 97 of those cats," he breathed, already taking off his jacket as he turned to go in. "Dr. Munroe, Dr. So, Clara, Jane, come with me. Elaine, complete all the formalities. We have no time to lose."

They put on their protective suits and headed to the secluded area in the hospital were the felines had been kept. About a third of them were neonates, weighing under four ounces. All of the cats -- young and adult -- had fleas and upper respiratory infections, besides broken teeth, skin infections, and infected wounds. As Chris and his team worked on administering them vaccinations and flea treatments, they could hear the police talking to Elaine in the hallway. And what they heard left them sick to the pit of their stomachs.

The police had been informed of suspected animal hoarding and neglect by the rescue organization, and when the cops arrived, they found multitudes of felines living in horrific conditions. The rescue team had spent the entire day removing the cats and kittens from the property, either living or dead and stored at multiple locations around the house.

After the cats had been cleaned, given their shots and had their blood drawn, they were given more food. Although afraid at first, they promptly fell asleep in their new, clean, safe condos. Peter and Arlene talked to Chris about the conditions they witnessed in the house and the precautions they had to take to be able to rescue the felines.

"The stench was overwhelming even from the corner of the street," Peter said, shaking his head. "I can't believe no one noticed it two years ago, when the hoarding supposedly started."

"And that's not all," Arlene added. "When we arrived, we found dozens of cats pressed up against open windows, trying to get fresh air. We were required to wear respirators and protective suits because the air quality inside the house is so toxic."

"Yeah, it was like a cat concentration camp," scoffed Peter. "Spend 30 minutes there and you're a goner."

Chris didn't say anything, his gaze focused on Jane and Clara and the kittens they were bottle feeding. The youngest ones had been placed in incubators in their neonatal ICU to regulate their body heat. They weren't sure if any of the females could nurse.

Outside, the cops were still talking to Elaine, about the several feet of feces they had discovered in the house, and dead cats that occupied refrigerators and freezers, alongside the owner's own food. Chris felt slightly nauseous. He left the room, pulling off his mask, almost ready to ask the cops to shut up.

"Who's the owner?" he asked instead. "Is he mentally deranged?"

"Apparently, he is," the officer said. "He's classified as a dependent adult, so whoever was supposed to take care of him didn't do their job."

"I hope you arrested him," he said. "If you need someone to beat the shit out of him, give me a call."

"Chris!" hissed Elaine.

"What?" his eyebrows shot up. "Am I 215 pounds of solid muscle for nothing? My 18-inch biceps are enough to make mincemeat out of anyone."

"Actually, Dr. Benson," the officer cut in. "We have arrested him. He seems to be a victim of dependent adult neglect and abuse."

"Dr. Benson!" They looked around to find one of the junior vet technicians rushing towards them. "You wouldn't believe this."

"What?" he and Elaine asked in unison.

The girl took a deep breath before saying the next words. "They found another 90 cats in that house. All alive."

Chris closed his eyes, as if sending a prayer to someone somewhere for help. The cops rushed out as the remaining cats were brought in and the nurses promptly whisked them away for vaccinations and flea shots. Elaine grabbed his arm, her hand freezing.

"I don't believe this," she murmured, "I've never seen anything like it."

"I have, but this is probably the worst." He put a hand on hers. "All of them will survive, don't worry."

"And then?" she asked. "Peter said their shelter can accommodate up to 50 of those cats. They are full."

"There are several shelters that I know of," he assured her. "We are sending out emergency messages on social media to help find shelters and homes for them."

When the cops returned, Chris thanked them for their efforts. They warned him that the numbers may keep climbing until the rescuers finished searching the property, which could take several days. He assured them that his hospital was always open.

"I'm going to start a cat-naming poll on Facebook," said Clara as she cleaned one of the kittens. "We are going to need about 200 names."

"I'm bad at names," Larry said, drawing blood from an orange tLu with an infected eye. "I wouldn't be able to come up with a single one."

"That's why I'm not asking you," Clara rolled her eyes. "Dr. Benson, do you have any name in mind?"

Chris looked up from the chart, where they were assigning a number to each cat and kitten and listing the problems they had. With so many cats and no names, they had to rely on numbers.

"Ehm...no," he said, clearing his throat. "I admire your optimism, team. I'm glad you can think of names at a time like this."

"I hope they find no more dead cats," Jane flinched as she said the words. "What kind of sick person does that?"

"Really sick," Larry added. "These people operate at another level."

"Can we please not talk about it anymore?" Chris demanded. "We don't have to discuss it, alright?"

"Yes, doc," they replied in unison, the room suddenly going quiet, except for the tiny mewling of the kittens. Chris focused on the paperwork at hand, filling in the chart while taking turns to see how each kitten was doing.

A little later, Elaine entered the room, looking less worried than she had been a few hours ago. She came over to his side, staring at the chart in his hand.

"The kittens in the incubator are doing fine," she said, getting a nod from him. "Are you performing Troy's ACL surgery tomorrow?"

Chris nodded again. "It's at seven in the morning, right?" he asked.

"Yes." Elaine looked around the room, inspecting each kitten. There had been a rush, treating 200 felines at once. But because they had enough staff members, they had been able to manage. "He likes you a lot," she added.

"Who? Troy? Yeah, it's because of the jerky treats I give him. The way to a dog's heart is jerky treats. It's true."

Elaine laughed, so did the others in the room. "I think the Feldmans are bringing in Josie the bunny tomorrow," she said. "Does she have an ear infection again?"

"Uh-huh." He picked up the chart and walked out of the room, to the area at the back of the hospital where they had made a safe sanctuary for the rescued cats and kittens. Since the mother cats were too weak to nurse their kittens - if they could at all - the staff were bottle-feeding them every few hours. Chris went over to one of the nurses with a tiny gray kitten in her arms and stroked its head.

"Aren't they beautiful?" she smiled. "My son will be driving me crazy if I tell him there are 200 cats here."

"Yeah?" he chuckled. "He might ask you to bring them home."

"Actually," she hesitated before saying the next words. "Are you giving up any of them for adoption from the hospital?"

"They have to get better and stronger first," he stated. "After that, if you want to take any home, it's fine."

The nurse beamed. "My son's been asking for a cat for two years now," she said. "Maybe I can make it a Christmas present."

Chris nodded with a smile. "We need more people like you," he told her.

"We need more people like us," Elaine clarified as she walked over to him. "I can't believe you don't have a pet of your own. You're a blessing."

"Oh, stop it," he gave a dismissive wave. "I'm a veterinarian. It's my duty."

"Yes, but still." She shrugged, folding her arms. "Is Luciana still around?"

Chris nodded, flipping the pages of the chart. Elaine placed a hand on his arm.

"How is she?"

"Pretty bad from what I've seen," he replied without lifting his eyes from the clipboard. "She's clearly not eating and she's losing weight."

"She's depressed," Elaine observed. "Can we do anything to help her?"

"I don't know. We just have to give her time to get over it."

"I feel bad for her," she sighed, "Chief Russo is one of our donors. He's been very helpful to us, both as the police and in his personal capacity. To think that his sister is going through such a loss..."

"He's been very worried about her too," Chris nodded. Elaine raised her eyebrows.

"And you?" she asked.

"What about me?" he frowned, handing the chart to one of the technicians and instructing them to save it on their system.

"You care about her, don't you?"

"She's grieving, Elaine," he said. "Any human will be concerned about another bereaved human. It's nature."

"Do you talk to her?"

"I try. She talks sometimes. Most days, she wants to be left alone."

"When do you think she will be ready for another pet?" she asked.

"I'm not sure she even wants another pet," he said, walking back to the treatment room. "Both you and I know it takes time to get over such a loss."

"But the emptiness will not help her heal," she reasoned, following him. "There has to be something to distract her."

"Like what?"

Elaine seemed to ponder over it for a few minutes, rubbing her chin with two fingers. When she spoke again, her voice was low and contemplative.

"When my sister's dog died," she said. "The only thing that helped her get over it was spending time with other dogs. Maybe it's true for Luciana too."

Chris stared at her face, waiting for an explanation. Elaine smiled.

"You should take her to one of the shelters you work with," she added. "It isn't like only these 200 cats need a home. There are so many lonely cats at shelters that aren't easily adopted. Maybe one of them will want to come home with her."

Despite knowing that Luciana wasn't in the best health -- physical or emotional -- he still decided to give it a thought. He hoped it would work, and maybe, just maybe he'd get to see the real person behind the sadness.

---

Chapter 7

Luciana was absently switching from one TV channel to another when she realized it was 11 in the night. She had slept most of that morning and late into the day, unaware of Elijah leaving for work. Although she usually went to bed early, all the sleep that day had ensured she remained up till late. She sank low in the couch, her hand involuntarily traveling to the spot next to her, only to realize it was empty.

Her heart flipped as she withdrew her hand. It was strange to not have anyone to feed or play with or talk to. She still had no idea how she was going to survive without Cleo. Ever since she'd got him as a kitten, Cleo had craved human companionship. She had slept in bed with her all her life, either next to her or curled on her belly. Whenever she was sitting around, Cleo would come to cuddle and eventually fall asleep on her. If she wasn't around, she would still be hanging out in her bed, sprawling out and rolling all over, leaving her fur everywhere. Luciana didn't mind cleaning up after her. After all, she was always with her, watching her work, watching her eat, and even watching her in the bathroom. Luciana had spent so much of her life with her that she didn't remember what it was like without her around.

She didn't want to cry anymore. Elijah had called the doctor when her blood pressure had dropped and she had taken a tumble in the bathroom. A part of her left arm was still swollen and dark because of the fall. Elijah had told her that she needed to eat one large pizza every day to get back the calories she had lost.

Elijah worried about her, so did Matt. She hated how her life had turned out. To forget her sorrow, she had been staring at the television mindlessly for the last two hours. When she heard the sound of a car, she longingly stared at the door, waiting for it to open.

"Wow, still awake I see," Elijah gave her a surprised stare as he walked in and shut the door. "I assume you're feeling better, considering you're not in bed."

Elijah was without uniform, and she didn't fail to notice that he looked like an entirely different person in civilian clothes. Luciana was proud of what he had achieved. From an orphaned teen to the chief of police of one of the biggest cities in the US, his success was a story of grit and determination. She wasn't nearly half as successful and knew would never be, but she took pride in being the sister of a self-made man.

"Yes." She turned off the TV and put the remote aside. "It's too quiet around here."

"Yeah. People go to bed by 9:30." He came up to sit next to her, lightly touching her forehead. "Did you eat the food in the fridge?"

She nodded quietly, her gaze low. Elijah smiled warmly, crossing his legs.

"Did you decide when you want to go back home?" he asked.

Luciana shook her head. "Matt said he'd rearrange my apartment, to help prevent the memories as much as possible."

"What about your clients?"

"I haven't taken up new work in almost a month," she said. "I finished the last project I was working on three weeks ago."

Elijah remained silent for a moment, lost in thought. He then gently held her hand.

"I just wanted to let you know that you are welcome to stay here as long as you like," he said to her. "It's a big house, I'm hardly around to take care of it, and you barely visit a few times a year. I know this isn't the best situation but I'm kind of glad you're staying."

"I have to go back, you know."

"Yes. But you should visit more often." He cast a sidelong glance at her. "Just so you know, I'm not the protective older brother anymore. You're a grown-up now and I realize that."

"And your point is?"

"That you don't have to stay away from me. I promise I won't stifle you."

"What makes you think you stifled me?"

"Because you're ten years younger than me and I was your guardian." He patted her knee. "When you were younger, I used to feel protective of you. You couldn't blame me, I had lost every other member of my family. You were all I had. I wasn't comfortable with the idea of you having relationships, despite how kind and caring your foster parents were towards you. I always thought men were going to hurt you, disappoint you. And I couldn't bear to see you go through any of it. I know that's part of the reason why you moved away from Chicago, because you didn't want me interfering with your life."

"Elijah—"

"No, listen. I'm glad you moved away and built your own life, met men, had relationships. Now when I see you, I realize you're a grown woman, not the four-year-old I had the primal instinct to protect. I won't deny it, I almost feel paternal towards you. But you're your own person. And if you find someone good enough to spend your life with, I'll be happy for you."

"Shouldn't I be saying this to you?" she frowned. "I'm the reason why you never got married or had a serious relationship."

"It wasn't you. I was too busy trying to build my life, going from one job to another. I had no one and nothing to fall back on. If I didn't work hard, I would be broke and homeless today."

"What was the name of the girl you used to bring home whenever Uncle Jack was away?"

Elijah looked surprised for a moment, not expecting that abrupt turn in the conversation. He sighed, looking away.

"Michelle," he said softly. "Michelle Parker."

"Michelle," she repeated. "Now when I look back on it, I think you two used to have sex up there while I watched cartoons downstairs."

"Please," he rolled his eyes. "That was ages ago. It's ancient history."

"So you really used to have sex up there?" Luciana raised an eyebrow. Elijah gave her a look.

"We had just turned 16 when we met," he tried to sound nonchalant.

"It was definitely something," she nodded. "When did you last see her?"

He shrugged, without looking at her. "I don't remember."

"You were into each other. You would go to her house and she often came to our house after school." She stretched her legs and played with the buttons on the remote. "I was too small then, but now when I think about it—"

"You think about it? Why?"

"Because you were in love."

"On my part, I guess." He sighed, sounding tired. "Why are we talking about it at this ungodly hour?"

"You don't think she was in love with you too?" she asked.

"She wasn't strong enough to resist her parents."

"You were the one who walked away from what you had with her."

"It wasn't my decision," he said. "When her parents found out we were in love and it was getting serious, they did everything within their means to distance her from me. She was rich and I wasn't. I didn't have a home, a family, no one liked me at school because I had no time for friends."

"But—"

"She was too timid to stand up to her parents and there was nothing I could do without them calling the cops on me."

"I thought you let her go because you didn't want to jeopardize her future," she squinted at her brother.

"I did. What else could I do? And besides, we were just kids and it didn't mean anything."

"It...didn't?"

"No." He looked at her with a dejected expression. "What's the point of being in a relationship when I hardly have the time? I come home to a woman who's lonely, frustrated and miserable. Just look at what happened to Chris."

Luciana frowned, staring at her brother. Chris was the last person she would expect to come up in a conversation about his past. "What about him?" she asked.

Elijah obviously didn't want to talk about it. He sighed and leaned back in the couch, looking up at the chandelier above him.

"He's divorced," he finally said. "When it happened, I thought 'that's why I'm not married'."