The Moonlit Junkyard

*****

Old Gus had a hidden space to himself near the theater, where he always slept...he was always well-cared for and fed by an old attendant of the building, who lived in a flat nearby.  But if one was looking for him whenever the other cats were active, he could always be found in the old ticket booth, right next to the main doors of the great building on the outside.

In his youth, before and after performances, he would sit in the large glass window and watch people coming in and out.  He’d revel in the attention they gave him, the theater’s prized mascot cat, knowing that he would later hop on stage and give the performance of his life...whether he had his own part in the spotlight or he would simply be helping rid the theater of rodents.  Any and every part he was given, he gave back more.

Now, with the building long abandoned and left to ruin, preserved only as a landmark of the city, he could still be found there in that ticket booth...on a desk that was no longer cluttered with the box office clerk’s personal effects, in a chair that was no longer occupied but for layers upon layers of dust.  His stare would be long and vacant, for in his mind he was back and reliving those happy days, imagining a line of people awaiting the next big show.

So there he was still, when Jellylorum led Demeter and Quaxo up to meet him.  The kitten was bouncing on his little feet along the way, still wobbly, but more or less able to keep upright while holding onto his mother’s paw and giggling whenever he wavered.

“I am certain my dear father would love to tell his stories to the little one…” said the cream tabby queen with a soft smile.  “To be honest, I’ve been worrying about him.  His mind is still sharp, but all he does most times is stare out that cloudy old window until someone reminds him to eat.  To be honest, if Grizabella hadn’t needed it more, I feel he would have been chosen for the Heaviside Layer.”

Demeter nodded in agreement.  “I suppose he just likes to spend time reliving his memories.  From what I’ve seen he’s had an exciting life...one can’t blame him.”

“I suppose...still,” she sighs.  “It gets painful to watch.”

“Aun’ie Jel’m?” Quaxo suddenly piped up, tilting his head and pawing at the older queen’s tail.  He looked at her with curiosity and a little frown, as if wondering why she seemed to be sad.

“Oh, I am fine dear, don’t worry,” she smiled and ruffled his head, causing him to giggle. “Auntie Jelly just thinks a lot, is all.  At any rate, we are here...you get to meet Gus!”

The cats easily found their way into the door of the ticket booth from the inside of the foyer, and there sat the withered old ginger tom, still staring outward, every so often running a paw down the front of his scarf.

“Gus?” Jelly called as she hopped up and patted his arm.  “Gus?  Hello, are you awake?”

“Oh, tut, I always am,” he said with a bit of a start, holding her paw in his shaky one.  “Do not be so loud, we may have a nice crowd forming soon, we must wait for them.”

“Of course we must…” the cream-colored queen hummed with a soft, sad smile.  “But it will be a while...why don’t you say hello to the tribe’s newest kitten? You haven’t met Demeter and Munkustrap’s little son yet.”

His ears perking, the elderly cat sat up further and turned around to face the smiling queen with her paws on the shoulders of a kitten whose head tilted a little at him.  “Well, bless my soul!” he chuckled and turned to sit more comfortably on the desk.  “A charming little tom he is, at that! Congratulations, m’dear!  Always good to see fresh new faces in this old place...and yours and little Munk’s, eh?  Heh, knew that boy would be good for makin’ them.”

“Oh, shush,” Jellylorum lightly swatted his shoulder as he cackled breathily.  “Demeter came in the hopes that you could tell little Quaxo some of your stories.”

A light seemed to brighten the old cat’s eyes.  “Quaxo eh?  Ohohoho, now that is a name that I haven’t heard in...oh...summers and summers.  What a name to give a new kitten.  He has much talent to live up to!”

“That is what everyone tells me,” Demeter gave a little laugh and patted the kitten on the back. “Go on, say hi to old Gus.”

“Ol’ Gus!” the kitten echoed as he waddled up to where he sat, pawing playfully at the end of the scarf.  “Hi!  M’ Caxo!”

“Well now, what a cute face,” Gus said with a wide smile, his shaky paw patting the kitten’s head.  He seemed to have gained quite a bit more clarity as he regarded him.  “Oh, I do wonder if you’d like to hear a story about the Quaxo I knew, back in the old days.  Do you like stories, boy?”

“St’ry!” the kitten echoed, clapping his paws.  “St’ry peas!”

“He means ‘please’,” Demeter clarified with a smile, sitting down behind him.  “Actually, we would both love to hear about the great magician, if you would be so kind.”

“Mag’shin?” the kitten looked up at his mother.  “Mib’s mag’shin!”

“Yes, Misto is a magician,” she replied, poking him in the nose and making him giggle.  “We’re about to hear about another one.”

The kitten gasped dramatically and turned his wide eyes back to Gus.  “Mag’shin, Ol’ Gus!”

Smiling, the old cat settled back in his seat and gazed upwards, as if sifting through his fond memories.  His voice barely had a shake to it, and even Jellylorum made herself comfortable to hear the tale, ever happy and relieved when Gus could come back to himself.  “Ahh, yes...Quaxo, your namesake, was perhaps one of the greatest magicians known in this tribe’s history.  He could do many great things, m’boy, many great things, some even that young talent Mistofelees couldn’t fathom.  There were some who said that he was even fluent in the dark arts of the ancient magic of cats, but he always used his powers to help others and make them smile.  He could make his black fur shine like the sun, and his eyes glow like the stars...or he could become a literal shadow, disappearing into one place and coming out into another.  A magnificent talent; I’m honored to say one of the best to share my stage.”

Demeter looked down at Quaxo as he stared enraptured at Gus’s gesturing and aged, but melodious, voice weaving a tale out of a distant memory.  She wondered how much of it he was going to remember...as a kitten, surely he was just watching this new cat, whom he’s never met, wave his paws and finding it fun...but a part of her liked to think that he was absorbing this tale.  If he was reborn...maybe the original was in there somewhere, enjoying this praise, knowing that he’d done something marvelous.

“Do you...happen to know the full extent of his powers?  Or, at least from what you are able to tell?” the young queen inquired.

Gus thoughtfully reached up to stroke the little “beard” of fur on his chin.  “Well...not entirely, my dear...I have only ever seen him perform stage magic, really...oh, maybe a spell here or there that would help close a wound, or forms of hypnosis, things of that sort,” he waved his quivering paw dismissively.  “Why so curious?”

It was Jellylorum who answered for her.  “The lot of us are thinking that perhaps this young one is reborn from the great Quaxo.”

“Ohhh, hah,” Gus practically scoffed, “Even if that were the case, he is still just as a brand new cat.  Maybe this Quaxo will master something else altogether...you just never know, aye?  Take my advice, young lady, and do not dwell on what he was...but look forward to what he could be.”

“Well, I do…” Demeter softly argued, hugging the kitten close and eliciting a giggling “Ma!” from him, “But...there is another reason I wanted to know more about his powers.  A reason that concerns me greatly.”

Jellylorum looked up, her brow furrowed.  “Whatever would that be, dear?”

Demeter hesitated a moment, before taking a breath and standing up, distracting the little one with her flicking tail (a blessing it was at that moment to have an easily distracted kitten).  “I’ve heard that the great Quaxo…might have trained Macavity in his magic,” she relayed more quietly, nervously rubbing her paws together.  “And…”

“Nonsense,” Jellylorum suddenly barked.  “Macavity is a monster who uses trickery for his own nefarious ends; there is no good in speaking about him, and he surely couldn’t have been involved with one such as Quaxo.”

“But...I-I would just feel safer, and about my kitten, if I just knew even a little about his history with the Jellicles…” Demeter nearly stammered; and while Gus just seemed to stare off in thought again, Jellylorum just huffed.

“He has no history,” the cream tabby queen insisted.  “He is a bully and a charlatan, nothing more...now, please, let us switch this topic of conversation; poor old Gus looks overwhelmed now, and we don’t want to upset him…”

“JellyLORUM,” the ginger tom suddenly interrupted with a voice that made the queens (and even Quaxo) swivel their heads to him and stand at attention, stronger than what he normally conjured.  “I admit that I may be a tad long in the tooth, but I shall tell you straight away that I still have the constitution of a cat a fourth of my age. Now,” he shifted in his seat and whipped his tail, “though that scalawag is a topic of contention, this poor young queen has asked a question that seems important, and while I am still here to offer this tribe’s tales to new cats, I will answer it, to put her mind at ease.  Now, please, do keep the little one busy whilst I set the record straight, won’t you?”

The tabby queen, her brow still raised, could only sport a small smile and shake her head, pleasantly surprised at the energy that he’d summoned; enough to make her feel like a youngster being admonished again.  “Of course.”

“Of course what?” Gus barked, in what Demeter could describe a voice like that of an army sergeant.

It had an immediate effect on Jellylorum, who straightened up.  “Of course, Father.”

“That’ll do,” Gus calmly hummed, and then turned his head to face the young tortie again as Quaxo was ushered happily toward the other queen.  “Where was I, then?”

“The great Quaxo and...and Macavity,” Demeter reminded him, though with a bit of hesitation.

“Ahh, yes.  Make yourself comfortable, dear.  This is a tale true as the sun, but fit to boil one’s blood.

“What you have heard—however you did, as nobody here would wish to sully Quaxo’s good name—is true.  Macavity did learn his magic from a Jellicle.  I can remember as if it were yesterday, when a young juvenile ginger tom would stay on the edges of our tribe and watch us, never daring to come closer, even when invited.  We’d figured that he had a rough beginning of things, and so he was cautious, never having a connection to other cats...his fur was never groomed, he was scrawny, and very distant...but from what I hear, sharp as a whip and quite loquacious...an extensive vocabulary, in a manner of speaking.  But because he stayed so distant, no Jellicle extended a paw to him.

“Well, nobody really knows how it happened...perhaps that young ginger tom was dealing with some latent skills that needed help, and he came to the magician...or perhaps it was Quaxo who offered first...but however it went, he’d seen potential in that young one.  A protege, someone to carry on his magical legacy.  At just out of the prime of his age, Quaxo began training Macavity...and he was proving to be a prodigy.

“He grew up in the great magician’s shadow, ever studious and dutiful in his learning.  He still barely spoke with many of the Jellicles...but he was seen as charming and quite intelligent, a perfect student.  Nobody really suspected anything malicious of him.  After all, then as now, every cat was given a chance.

“Then it was old Quaxo’s turn to bid farewell to the mortal coil for the Heaviside Layer.  And when he did...that is when Macavity began showing his true colors...whether he was malicious all along, or the thought of all the things he could now do was now churning in his head, too tempting to bear...he was set on going against his mentor’s creed, and ours.

“It was a slow thing to happen.  He had a respectability about him, a charm that some cats liked, and he gained a following through his magic and his personality.  Honeyed words, promises, secrets...who knew if he even used some of his hypnotism…?  And slowly, he was rallying some support behind him for a bigger plan.

“You see, the previous caretaker of the tribe, chosen by Old Deuteronomy, was a sailor cat who preferred to go by the name of Morgan.”

“He was a pirate,” Jellylorum interrupted, and her unimpressed tone made Demeter smirk. “A pirate turned guard, no less.  Gruff and stern old git.”

“Yes, but he was leader nonetheless, and he was quite respected.  At any rate,” Gus waved his paw and went on, “He was soon talking about nominating someone to replace him as caretaker, as his time was coming.  Well, that upstart Macavity...he stepped up and had the gall to suggest himself.

“But, Morgan was smart, and he could see past the magician and his sugary manners.  He refused him the position, even though there were cats arguing for the youngster’s side, he did not budge.  Incensed, Macavity raised a paw and attempted to cast a devilish spell.

“Yet...yet, not only was Morgan smart, he was tough.  A life at sea does that to a cat...and he knew how to fight.  He shook it off and soundly knocked the brat off of his perch...and then, he called for his banishment from the tribe...to which all were agreed.  Even Macavity’s supporters were appalled by his behavior, for their loyalty to their leaders was stronger.  He was run out, back to the streets...though now armed with terrifying magic skills.

“Some were worried about what he could do in his anger...but life went on in relative peace.  Why, he wasn’t even seen again...until…” Gus seemed to waver at this part.

Jellylorum picked up the story with a sigh.  “The next time he was seen, was the day before last year’s Ball, when Morgan announced his choice for a new leader, to be confirmed the next night by Old Deuteronomy.  One of her own sons, a youngster who was showing outstanding loyalty and compassion, and a keen sense of leadership.”

“Yes,” Gus chuckled, his eyes sparkling as he looked back at Demeter.  “A silver-coated young lad with stripes of bold, noble black.  I believe you know him.”

Demeter couldn’t help but smile, as always, at the thought of that particular tom. “Munkustrap...oh, such a story.  I never knew he was actually nominated; I thought he inherited it.”

“I’m quite surprised you haven’t asked him about that yourself,” Jellylorum hummed with her head tilted, as she cradled a sleepy Quaxo in her lap.

“Well…” Demeter sighed shyly, her gaze to her paws as she rubbed her arm.  “He did say that I could ask anything of him...after all, I’ve offered all I could tell of myself.  But a part of me feels that I’d be nosy if I did ask about his past.”

“Oh, tish tosh,” the cream queen chuckled.  “I’m sure he would love to tell you anything, dear.  He wears his heart on his proverbial sleeve, and you have more than earned his trust, I’m sure.”

Demeter smiled and nodded thoughtfully, but after a pause, turned back to Gus.  “So, then...what happened?  The last time that Macavity was seen?”

His thick brow furrowed, and his wizened gaze became dark.  “Macavity appeared with a throng of followers...cats that he’d gathered from the streets, ferals with nobody to turn to but someone like him, who could promise them the backbone of London in their grasp...to show how vindictive he’d become toward us.  It seemed he’d been spying, because he knew that Munkustrap was to be the next leader...and out of sheer spite, he made him a target.

“But, see...Morgan was still smart, and still tough.  He’d taught quite a few of the able-bodied cats in the tribe how to fight...including his successor. Because a leader does not just care for his charges...he must be able to back it up.

And the young silver boy...if he hadn’t proven his worth before that day, he did then.  The throng of cats descended on the tribe, and a battle was begun.  Macavity did not get his claws dirty...he only watched as his followers were beaten soundly, and either driven back, or cowed into submission. Munkustrap, in self-defense, killed his first attacker...and injured another, but as he begged for his life, he allowed him to keep it. The rest of us were a wall of claws and teeth...for as you’ve seen at the Ball, and as ever, no one cat is ever left to fight. We all fight.

“Old Deuteronomy declared that never should he try to come up against the Jellicles again...for he would never win against such unwavering unity.”  Gus finished with a long sigh.  “So...now you know the history.  That Macavity, when shown kindness, made his choice to take advantage of it.”

“And after the battle at the Ball, I highly doubt that he’d keep trying anything,” said Jellylorum with a note of determination in her voice.  “He can have his underground empire, whatever he’s been doing out there with his abilities.  You can rest assured that you and your kitten are safe with us.”

Demeter nodded, again feeling that warmth in her heart, of finally belonging somewhere.  “I never doubted that for a moment.  I suppose...I just wanted to make sure that I could stay at ease.  To have a clearer picture.  Gus, I thank you for telling me all of this.”

“I make it a personal quest that no queen comes to me with sadness in her eyes and leaves without a smile,” he said with a chuckle.  “I am happy to still be of use in my twilight days.  When my time comes, I will go to it with no burdens to bear.”  His smile wavered.  “Unlike Quaxo, I suppose. I dare wonder if he decided to be reborn to wipe the slate clean of the disappointment in his past.”

The tortie queen sighed.  “He shouldn’t feel disappointed.  It was Macavity’s choice.  Quaxo probably did not know what he would do; he only wanted to pass on his knowledge.”

“Well, regardless, the past is where it is,” Jellylorum said dismissively, her voice lowering as she heard the kitten’s light snore, showing that he’d drifted off.  “But I do hope you got what you wished for, dear.”

Demeter smiled softly.  “I did...and then some.”  Although...there still remains the question of just HOW extensive Quaxo’s powers went.  And thus Macavity’s teachings.

But, the young mother decided to set aside those thoughts.  She enjoyed the rest of the evening in the theater cat’s company, listening to more light-hearted tales about the tribe and his days within it.

* * *

“So, how did your visit with Gus go?”

Demeter looked up at Munkustrap with a smile, watching as he held little Quaxo up by his arms to help him stand and walk better.  The kitten was having fun with it, even trying to stand on one leg as his Papa kept him steady.  Seeing how gentle the silver cat was, it was hard to remember sometimes that when necessary, he could be dangerous.

“It was...quite enlightening,” she replied as she finished straightening out the bed in her nest; she’d be moving back to her den with Quaxo to the junkyard soon enough, once he could walk without help.  “I heard a few stories about this tribe’s past.  About the caretaker before you, as well.”

Munkustrap snickered with a crooked smile as he remembered.  “Ah, yes, Morgan.  He was a cranky old sod...but, he was a good leader.  Old Deuteronomy never chooses wrong.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Demeter chuckled back, standing up to join the two.  The kitten noticed her and gave a little mew.

“Ma?  Hungy, miwk peas?”

The parents both giggled as she took him.  “Of course, sweetheart.”  As he began to nurse, she looked back to her mate.  “But yes...I also heard that Morgan taught you how to fight?”

Munkustrap leaned against her and nodded with a hum.  “He wanted to make sure that his successor could stand up to anyone as well as he could, if need be.  I was happy to learn how...though I do not like to hurt anyone, it is good to have the ability to defend if needed.  This little scar here,” he pointed to a line of fur that had grown white on his left shoulder, hardly visible through the silver of his coat, “I got from him.  He said to take it as a badge of courage, as I succeeded in my training.”

“Huh!” the tortie queen blinked in surprise, reaching her paw up to lightly run over the scar.  Then, she pointed to the notches in his right ear.  “What about that?”

“Ah, well…” he sighed lightly, running his pads over that mark, “I got that from my first real fight.  Gus does not pull punches, so...I’m sure you’ve been told…”

“About when Macavity tried to have you killed...yes,” Demeter nodded, letting herself lean back against him.  “I imagine it must have been harrowing.”

He took in another deep breath and let it out, and she felt him wrap his arm around her shoulders, holding her closely and warmly, his scent enveloping her and the kitten.  “I did what I had to...I am not proud, at all, of having killed someone.  But, the other attackers were smart enough to either run or beg forgiveness.  One even ended up joining; the one who goes by Bill Bailey.”

Demeter remembered the tom from when she first became acquainted with the tribe, a tabby with mottled gray stripes and large white spots; he was a little scraggly and scratched up, but he was always friendly and talkative.  She hummed and nuzzled against her mate’s neck.  “I never doubted for a minute that you would not do anything if it weren’t very important to do so.  Morgan...and Old Deuteronomy...made a very good choice in a new caretaker.”

She felt his body quiver as he huffed one of his quiet, shy laughs which so endeared him to her...one of the many things that did.  “I certainly try...I’ve made sure to train my own young protectors in the same way (sans the scars), and anyone else who wishes for it...and my successor will be no less carefully trained and chosen.  Still...it intimidates me sometimes...I have big paw-prints to fill.  But if everyone feels safe and happy, then I suppose am doing the right thing.”

“I’m certain they do...I know I do.  And…” she sighed, placing a paw on his knee, “Since you’ve been so very candid with me all this time...I think I should let you know the real reason I went to Gus.”

He looked at her curiously as she sat up again.  “The real reason?”

Her voice started to lower to a whisper, knowing that soon the kitten would be drifting off, as she cradled him more comfortably with one arm.  “Well...I did want to introduce Quaxo to him...but moreover, I wanted to ask him about...well, about the great magician.  Because, as it turns out...he trained Macavity.”  She turned her gaze back downward, where she still saw his free paw staying by hers.  “Everyone wants that to be secret, of course, nothing to sully the memory of a good cat, and I’ll abide by that...but my dream keeps haunting me, it was too real.  That Macavity claims he could visit me in sleep and taunt me.  It sounds so absurd, but at the same time, I...I felt that I couldn’t truly feel safe unless I know the full extent of his power.”  She sighed harshly.  “You must think me silly.”

“Of course not,” he softly argued, and he brought her eyes back to his with his paw cupping her chin.  His eyes were patient, clear, and understanding.  “Macavity’s powers are terrifying...and you’ve been there to see him use it.   You’ve been victim to it...your fears are valid, nothing to dismiss.  Of course, I have my doubts that he is powerful enough to invade dreams, but...thinking about it, I do believe that he may still spy on us.  That in itself is disturbing...though he’s been shown thrice over that the Jellicles can’t be defeated...he is stubborn and ruthless.  So...if it is so important that you find out, I will help...and we do have one more cat to ask.  Old Deuteronomy herself.”

She nodded, placing her paw in his as he lowered it.  “Still...where would we even begin to look for her?  Everything I’ve heard of Deuteronomy is that she tends to find us.”

“I know that she lives out in the country somewhere, in an old village…” Munkustrap thoughtfully flicked his ear.  “Not too far out if she walks to the Ball, or just shows up whenever she wants, but it is still far.”  His brow quirked up.  “We could ask Skimbleshanks. He’s traveled the countryside too many times to count...and is a cat more acquainted with her than most.  Surely he’d have a guess.”

Demeter smiled.  “A grand idea!  And I know he’d love to meet little Quaxo.”  She ran her paw gently down the kitten’s back; he was once again fast asleep, as usual after a fill of milk.  “We’d...just have to catch him when the Night Mail comes by again, yes?”

“More than likely,” Munkustrap nodded, leaning down and giving her a reassuring head-bump.  “I’ll have someone send a message there for him to receive.  Meanwhile...let us just live as usual, with each day as happy as possible.  Try not to worry about your dreams, love, alright?”

She sighed.  “I shall try, darling.  If not for me, then for Quaxo.”

“I know you will,” he murmured and placed a lingering, soft kiss against her brow.  “My courageous queen, each time I see you fight your fears, I fall further in love.”

“Just how much further in love can you fall?” she asked with a small laugh, feeling her heart thunder in her chest.

“Through the very earth, to the other side, and into space,” he purred, and when he held her and the kitten close against him, she could also hear his pulse, rhythmic and soft and steadfast.

She shook her head lightly in his fur, but couldn’t find the strength to playfully mock his overtly-romantic gestures as she usually did.  It hit her how much she owed him her happiness...she fell in love with him more and more every day, herself.

“Thank you, Munk…” she breathed.  “For believing me.  And for absolutely everything you do.”

He tended to say that no thanks were ever necessary, especially not from her...but from the heartfelt way she said it, he knew that it was important for her to say.  He squeezed her ever tighter.  “You make my life here all that much happier, Deme.  You and this little bundle of fuzz,” his paw reached down to stroke his son’s sleeping form, “For that I thank you.”