The Claws of the Kitten
The Claws of the Kitten
PART THREE - Still on Patrol
Author's notes: Many thanks to those who have read and commented on Part Two: CajunBear73, CaptainDeadpool, Michael Howard, ScreamingPhoenix and Waveform. Speculation on where the story is going and what will happen is appreciated and encouraged. Disclaimer: All characters, locations and situations drawn from the TV series Kim Possible are the property of Disney. All other stuff in this story, and the plot, belong to me. The Lazy C Ranch, Montana, The Next Day
Joss Possible was only five feet from the telephone when it rang, so she jumped to answer it, while shouting, "I've got the phone, Daddy!" She picked up the telephone handset, answered it, and at once heard a familiar voice.
"Howdy, this-here's the Lazy C Ranch. Oh, hi, Uncle Jim. Daddy? Sure, just hold on." Joss covered the mike end of the handset, and shouted again. "Daddy, telephone! It's Uncle Jim."
Turning back to the handset, Joss lowered her voice to 'normal' and asked, "Uncle Jim? When you get done talkin' to Daddy, could Cousin Kim talk to me for a couple o' minutes? Please?"
"Oh? Well, that's okay, I reckon. Oh, here's Daddy."
Taking the telephone handset from his daughter, 'Slim' Possible greeted his younger brother as he usually did. "Howdy, Squirt. What's the good word?" As he heard the answer, Slim's face lost its smile, and some of its color.
"No! Are you sure, Squirt? Couldn't she be - I see. Sure, I'll open the e-mail right away and read it. Yeah, I agree, we better not tell Nana just yet."
Joss watched and listened to her father's end of the conversation with a growing concern. She could tell when something was wrong, and now all the signs said 'Trouble' to her.
"Now, listen, Jim, if you need help with anything I'm ready to come to Middleton and give you a hand. Just say the word. How's she taking it? Yeah, just what you'd expect. Well, okay, Jim. I'll check the e-mail for your letter, and if I've got any questions I'll send 'em back, pronto. Okay. Goodbye Jim, and, I'm more sorry than I can say."
When Slim started calling his younger brother 'Jim' instead of 'Squirt,' Joss raised the sitch level from 'Trouble' to 'BIG TROUBLE!' Something really, really bad must have happened. Maybe, like what had happened to Joss's mother?
"Daddy? Is something wrong with Aunt Ann?" Joss suddenly noticed that tears were running down her father's checks. She'd only seen him cry twice before in her life, and to do it after a telephone call from Uncle Jim . . . "Daddy, what's wrong?! Tell me!"
Slim turned to his daughter, swallowed hard, and said, "Annie's okay, Joss. But, well, Kim ain't all right." He went down on his knees and took Joss in his arms. "You see, Joss, there was an accident at this oceanography place they're visiting. Somebody sabotaged the little submarine that they were testing, and there was an explosion."
"Was Cousin Kim hurt, Daddy? Is that it?" Joss felt as if a lump of ice had started growing in her stomach.
"No, Joss, she . . . she was inside the submarine when it exploded, an' now, she's . . . missing."
"Missing? Shucks, that's nothin', Kim's been missing before, but she always turns up again, Daddy."
"No, Joss. Kim was in the explosion, and Jim says it looks like . . . she's dead."
"But, Daddy, you said she's 'missing!' How do they know . . . "
"The submarine was blown to bits, Joss, an' Kim went with it. Jim says she's . . . gone."
Joss Possible stared at her father for a full minute. Cousin Kim? Gone? Dead?
That couldn't happen, Kim Possible could handle any sitch, she always came home from a mission!
"But, Daddy, she just can't be dead, I mean, it's gotta be a mistake!"
"It's not a mistake, Joss. I'm afraid that your cousin Kim is gone for good."
Joss Possible's Bedroom, One Hour Later
Joss sat on her bed and gazed at the posters and pictures she had on the walls. Pictures and posters of her cousin, and idol, Kim Possible. Kim in her mission clothes . . . Kim with her sidekick Ron . . . Ron by himself, with Rufus sitting on his shoulder . . . Joss with Kim when she visited the Lazy C . . . dozens of pictures of her famous cousin. Joss knew each picture by heart, which was good, because her eyes were awash with tears. Missing. Blown to pieces. No more Kim Possible. The e-mail her father had received from Uncle Jim said that there was no hope of ever finding Kim's body . . . there would be nothing to bury, no way to have a place to mourn for Kim or remember her.
Joss wiped her eyes, blew her nose, got off her bed, and stood in front of a life-size picture of Kim, herself, Kim's sidekick Ron Stoppable and his pet naked mole rat. She gazed directly at the image of Kim in the picture, and then spoke in a very serious voice. "Cousin Kim, I want you to know that I'm gonna find the varmints who did this to you. If it takes me the rest of my life, I'll find 'em. And once I've found 'em, they'll be a long time diein', I promise you."
Then Joss looked up at the ceiling, but her eyes seemed to be focused on something several miles above her. "Momma, take care of Cousin Kim. Show her the ropes, up there, an' do what you can to make it easy for her." Joss closed her eyes and added, with great intensity, "Please, Momma! Help her all you can!"
A Florida Retirement Community, Early July, Two Days Later
After an e-mail and telephone exchange with Slim, James and Ann had decided to stop off in Florida on their way back to Middleton, to tell Kim's grandmother the bad news about Kim in person. Nana was surprisingly tough for her age, but the shock might be easier to bear if Kim's parents were there when she heard the news. At the same time, they wanted Nana to go to stay with Slim and Joss for a while, just to be sure someone would be close by if Nana had a delayed-reaction attack of grief and sorrow.
When the Possible family arrived at Nana Possible's home, they were prepared to have Kim's grandmother react with horror, shock, hysterics or fainting, in any combination, upon being told that Kim was dead. What they were not prepared for, however, was the reaction they got.
"James, I know that things look bad, but you can't give up on Kimberly just yet," said Nana. "That girl has more lives than sixteen cats, and if there was a way to get out of that pocket submarine, she'll have done it."
"Nana, we have to face the facts," Ann said sadly. "Kim was in the minisub. The minisub was vaporized. Kim must have been - "
"Don't you think it, Ann! My late husband always said that you can't consider a Possible as dead until you see their bleached bones lying in the sun. And even then, you're probably wrong." Nana regarded her daughter-in-law, her son and her two grandsons sternly, as if she was reprimanding a group of children for making too much noise at a family function.
"Well, will you go and stay with Slim and Joss for a couple of weeks, at least?" James finally asked. "Slim and I would feel better about it if you were with family for a time."
"Certainly. The way Joss idolizes Kim, she may need a shoulder to cry on for a bit. I can spend a month away from here if I have to." Nana looked thoughtful for a moment. "But I'd like to be back by September. I always sit in on the Labor Day Texas Hold 'Em poker tournament each year."
"Do you ever . . . " Jim began.
" . . . win anything, Grandma?" Tim finished.
"I do pretty well, boys." Nana leaned forward and dropped her voice into a 'confidential' tone. "There's always plenty of pigeons to pluck at the tables."
The Stoppable Home, Middleton, Mid-July, Twelve Days Later
"Oh. Hi, Ron." Wade seemed to be momentarily flustered at seeing Ron on the Kimunicator wavelength, but he recovered quickly.
"Hi, Wade. I was glad to hear that Doctor Wimsey was able to convince the Navy that she was responsible for your breaking into the Sonar Warning System. They might have locked you up forever!"
Wade nodded. "Yeah. I could have spent the rest of my life in one small room."
Ron grinned weakly. "So, how would that be different from the way you live now? Anyway, what I called about was this. I was just talking to Kim's folks on the phone. They can't hold a funeral for Kim, 'cause they haven't got something to bury, or a death certificate." Ron paused and Wade immediately asked, "Why is that, anyway?"
"The authorities in the Bahamas say there's no solid proof that anybody died, so they can't issue a certificate." Ron swallowed before he continued. "So, Kim's folks are going to have a gravestone made for Kim, and put it in the Middleton cemetery. Once it's in place they'll have a little prayer service, with the whole family and some of Kim's friends."
"Are you going, Ron?"
"Yeah, me and Rufus." Ron glanced at his mole rat friend, who was curled up in his little bed, but not asleep. Rufus was gazing at Ron with a melancholy expression, and clearly felt just as sad as did Ron. "I can take the Kimunicator along and turn it on so you can watch, if you like," Ron went on. To his surprise, Wade shook his head sharply.
"No! No, I won't do that, Ron. I can't." Ron was both surprised and hurt by Wade's curt refusal.
"You and Kim were good friends, Wade! How can you say - ?" Ron's question was cut short by Wade's answer.
"I want to be there in person, not just watch by Kimunicator."
"But, Wade, you hardly ever leave your computer room - " Ron protested, but again, Wade cut him off.
"I want to be there in person, Ron! Kim'd do the same for you or me, and I'll do that for her."
"Okay. Just call Kim's folks and ask," Ron replied. "I'm sure they'll be glad to have you come." For a few moments they were both silent.
"Its been two weeks, now, Ron," Wade said sadly.
"Fifteen days, actually," Ron remarked. They both knew what the other meant. Fifteen days since the Simon — and Kim — had been vaporized.
"When you called, just now, I almost thought it'd be Kim calling me, when I answered the Kimunicator," Wade remarked, with a sad and sheepish grin.
"Yeah. Talking to Kim's mom I kept getting the feeling it was KP talking to me, and just changing her voice." Ron let his eyes unfocus, and though he was facing the Kimunicator screen he seemed to be looking at something a hundred yards away in the same direction. Wade looked back at Ron with growing concern.
"Ron? How are you managing?" Wade asked. "Are you getting enough sleep? You look a little tired."
"One day at a time, Wade. But I've had the same dream, three times, about being with Kim inside the Simon, and trying to talk her into bailing out . . . but she doesn't." Ron blinked a couple of times.
"I think I've got something in my eye, Wade. Talk to you later, okay?"
"Me too, Ron. Bye now."
After shutting off the Kimunicator, Ron leaned back in his desk chair and mentally gazed at his future. A lonely, empty future without Kim Possible in it. She'd been a part of Ron's life since their first day at Pre-School, and he'd come to believe that Kim would always be with him, but now she just wasn't there anymore. She wasn't anywhere. KP . . . just . . . wasn't . . . All that she had been to Ron, all that she was, and all that she might have been in the future, had been taken away.
"Oh, Kim! Why didn't you let me go with you?" Ron moaned. "Or let me take that sub out and dive it, instead of you?" Tears started running down his cheeks, but he made no effort to wipe them away. Rufus left his bed, scurried over to Ron and swarmed up his big pet and on to his shoulder. Then he stretched his forepaws around as much of Ron's neck as he could, and gently hugged him, while shedding some tears of his own.
Someplace, Sometime
Opening security-coded doors used to be thrilling for Professor Dementor, but this time it seemed almost dull. Somehow the fact that there was absolutely no chance that Kim Possible would show up to foil his plans took away much of the fun. Of course, the Quarklet Stabilizer would be very useful to him. This time he might well take over the world, or at least a reasonable portion of it. And, since with this device he would be better set to succeed than ever before, it was time to execute the classic evolution of 'grab it and get out of Dresden!' Followed by his six henchmen Dementor crossed the laboratory to the armor-glass dome over the device. A simple application of his computerized code-changing equipment and the dome was lifted off by two henchmen.
As he gazed at the Quarklet Stabilizer with a fiendishly-pleased expression, Dementor was suddenly interrupted by a female figure clad in black that dropped out of the shadows twenty feet overhead! A rope stopped the figure's fall barely inches above the device, which she snatched away from his outstretched hands. Then the rope contracted, the figure twisted, flipped over Dementor's head, and landed on her feet behind the very surprised mad scientist.
"'Merci beaucoup, M'sieur," the figure said, with an insousant bow. She turned to leave, only to be surrounded by the six henchmen. At once the black-clad figure fell into a combat posture, ready for some serious bone breakage. Somebody else's bones, and not hers.
"Just hand it over, Fraulein, and you may leave unhurt," said Dementor. "I want that device, and I mean to have it!"
The main lights of the laboratory snapped on, while the side doors all swung open and four or five tough-looking men came in from each door. Professor Dementor could see that each of the new arrivals was armed with a Thompson submachine gun, which was pointing directly at him and his henchmen. A moment later a heavy-set, scar-faced man in a perfectly-tailored suit came in, and walked over to the group of gunmen.
"Herr Albert K. Trazz, I presume," Dementor said through gritted teeth.
"Call me 'Big Al,' Dementor," Trazz growled. "Just take your boys and back off! That gadget is mine, now. If you want it, you've gotta pay big money for it."
"How much do you want?" Dementor inquired, testily.
"Oh, I'd say, about . . . a million."
"WHAT!? That's five times what it would go for on Evil-Bay!"
"You want it, you gotta pay for it," Trazz said sharply. "If you don't wanna pay, do without, Kraut."
After a tense moment, Professor Dementor ordered his henchmen to leave quietly. As they filed out, Al Trazz walked up to the cat burglar and took the Quarklet Stabilizer from her. "Thanks, Kitten," he said. "You do good work."
"So, La Chattone is working for you, now? Interesting," Dementor observed. "I understood that you didn't have any females in your organization of minor criminals."
"She's the first one. She's a full member of 'The Mob,' now," Al Trazz replied. "I like her style, and besides, she did me a real big favor by eliminating a possible problem for me." He grinned as if there was some joke hidden in his words.
Chuckling, Al Trazz left the room, with La Chatonne following him. The machine-gun armed thugs smoothly withdrew as silently as they had come. Finally, Professor Dementor made a violent statement in German, and stalked out of the laboratory, muttering, "This sort of thing never happened to Otto von Bismarck!"
The Possible Home, Middleton, Late July
"Tim! Jim! Where do you think you are going?!" Ann Possible spoke sharply, and her twin sons looked around from the steps up to Kim's loft room with guilty expressions. Ann strode over to the foot of the steps and regarded the boys very sternly.
"Boys, you know that I don't want anything taken from Kimmie's room, and nothing in it is to be disturbed!" She gazed at both of her sons intently as she spoke. "If you take anything from Kim's room, she won't like it. And neither will I."
The two boys choked up, and looked almost ready to cry. With difficulty, Tim said, "We weren't going to take anything, Mom, honest!" Jim held up a polished piece of wood that had some words and a color picture on it, all coated with a clear protective layer, and said, "We just wanted to put this in Kim's room."
The picture showed Kim, in her mission clothes, looking proud, self-assured, and ready to take on the world. Above the picture were the words, 'Kim Possible, our big sister.' Below the picture were the words, 'We miss you, Kim. The Tweebs.'
"Oh, boys . . . " Ann bit her lip for a moment to hold on to her composure. "Come on, we'll all go up and you can leave it on her bed."
They went up the steps to the room, which was filled with things that reminded them of the missing girl. Tim and Jim walked up to the bed, and with both holding on to it, gently placed the plaque on the bed so that the pillow propped it up. For almost a minute they stood there, gazing at the plaque, then turned back to their mother, and all three quietly left the room.
At the foot of the stairs, Ann went down on her knees and put her arms around her sons.
"That was very kind of you, boys. I'm . . . sorry . . . I . . . shouted . . . " Her voice choked off for moment, and then burst out again. "Oh, Kimmie!" Ann broke down, while Tim and Jim clung to her and cried. For several minutes mother and sons simply held each other, and mourned for the one who had meant so much in their lives, but was no longer there.
End of Part Three
Historical Note: To the officers and men of the U. S. Navy's submarine service, U. S. submarines and their crews that never returned during World War Two are regarded as "Still on patrol."