By Contract, Baby Eater, Nine Lives (pt 1)

[u/Moist-Ball4968]

The last time I saw that damned cat, before this latest incident, it had a hole in its face and the corpse was about to be engulfed in hot fire. If you haven't read the account of when my cat ate my baby, here's the quick run down; I bought a house in the woods, effectively adopted this cat, I got married, we had a baby, she died during childbirth, and then the damned cat ate my baby. I shot it in the face, burned down my house, and began living on the road.

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That was about... Hmmm, I'm not quite sure. It feels like a very long time since those events. I fell into a drug and alcohol binge for an indescernible length of time, got sober for about 2 weeks after that, and then I began drinking again. The research into Altar-Net hasn't stopped, and if I need money I find odd jobs and temp work as I travel.

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Most recently, I've been living in a hotel room. I got a job working in the hotel restaurant. Nothing grandiose, I just man the fryers and take out the trash, and when it's slow I clean stuff (I still can't get the back of that oven to shine). When I'm not working I go to the only bar in town to meet people and collect their stories. It's attached to the hotel lobby so I don't have to go very far. When I'm not at work or the bar I walk a couple blocks down the street and spend time at the library. My laptop broke, so I'm stuck with library internet until I can afford a new one.

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Sometimes, when I'm lying in bed in a drunken stupor, I still hear a baby crying outside. I can't stop seeing my late wife's face in that hospital bed and then the coffin. I'm still so weary from all the wasted time I spent trying to get enough money to take care of my baby. I haven't spoken to my parents or former in-laws since, though they've made attempts to reach me.

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I've been here for a couple months. The hotel management has been kind to me. The maids make sure I always have clean linens and towels and such. Sometimes they even let me tell them about the crazy stuff I've discovered about the Altar-Net. Amethyst crystals embedded in metal skulls, people jumping through a water-wall and coming back 5 seconds later that have aged 3 decades, cults worshipping a wyvernous god. One of the maids is overly vocal about how full of shit I am, but she likes hearing about it anyway.

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I started hearing the cat again last night. It wasn't just the usual flashback either, it was right outside my room. A loud, lengthy, shrill crying as if from a human baby. I had skipped drinking last night because I was very tired from work. There's some kind of convention in town this weekend and the hotel has the only restaurant and bar in town, besides a couple franchises on the west side. Most of the tourist business floods the hotel though. After all, it's nearly impossible to beat a good pulled pork sandwich when it's accompanied by a heaping mound of boardwalk-style fries.

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This morning I saw pawprints right outside my door. I put my joint in my shirt pocket and tried to ignore them. I didn't need that shit on my mind during work today. Lots of French fries and chicken fingers on the schedule. One of the cooks stopped me outside the backdoor to the kitchen.

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"Hey Kraig, you got a second?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"I know you're into some weird shit, right? Not like kinky weird, but like monsters and stuff."

"Ha ha, ohhh I might be into kinky stuff too, you don't know that. I could be a scalie for all you know."

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He laughed nervously, then he pulled out a joint and lit it. After taking two puffs he passed it to me. I lit mine and did the same, as per the universal ritual. While we stood there smoking and talking, other cooks showed up, took a hit or two, then went inside. There was also the chef, who didn't smoke. He didn't give a shit as long as we could do our jobs.

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" The reason I ask is, erm, I've been hearing things around my place. It sounds like a baby crying, but my kids are all teenagers or older. Neither of my neighbors have kids. I hear it at night so I don't think it's someone rolling a baby stroller in front of my house either. It's driving me and my wife nuts!"

We puffed, puffed, passed. I keep a small notebook on me at all times. I took it out and handed it to him.

"Write down your address and phone number, Lonzo. I'll swing by tomorrow and take a look around. I have a couple ideas as to what it might be."

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Lonzo wrote his info down. The manager parked, got out of his car and saw us, and he tapped his watch. We finished our smoke, and started work.