Free Re-Animator by Jeff Rovin

this blatant invasion of sovereignty had placed matters well beyond arbitration.
    “Meg, what the hell are you doing in here?”
    West shouldered his way around him. “Never mind that. Would you please leave now!”
    “Easy, Herbert, I’ll take care of this. Meg? C’mon, hon, let’s go.”
    “Dan—” She began to sob. “Dan, it’s . . . it’s Rufus!”
    “Rufus? Where?”
    Pointing, she replied, “In the fridge!”
    Dubious until he noticed the sudden timidity in West’s eyes, Cain strode over. There, stuffed flat between a jar of yellow liquid and something swaddled in paper toweling, was the cat. It was stiff and unmoving, its tail dangling from the shelf, its black coat uncharacteristically ragged.
    “Daniel, I was going to show you—”
    “Shut up!” Cain cut him off, bending and putting two fingers to the animal’s neck. There wasn’t a trace of life. Sniffing back tears, he rose and faced his boarder.
    “What happened?”
    “What do you think? It was dead when I found it.”
    “That’s a lie,” Meg charged through clenched teeth. “You killed him. He hated you.”
    “Don’t be absurd! It suffocated. It knocked the garbage over, and it got its head stuck in a jar. You weren’t home so I put it in the icebox. I certainly didn’t think you’d want to find it just lying there. And frankly, I did not want to stink the place up leaving it anywhere else.”
    “Then why didn’t you call . . . or write a note?”
    West grew agitated. “Forgive me, but I was busy pushing bodies around, as you well know. And what would a note have said? ‘Cat dead, details later’?”
    “West, please,” Cain complained. His voice cracked with emotion, and his throat began to itch, reacting to something in the room, in the air.
    “The point is, Daniel, I knew you were fond of it, and this seemed like the most sensible thing to do.”
    “You’re lying.” Megan’s eyes blazed. “You killed him, I know you did.”
    “That’s ridiculous, and also highly insulting, Miss Halsey. As much as I don’t care for people in my room, I care even less for unfounded accusations!”
    “It isn’t unfounded. Rufus was afraid of you.”
    “Was he? And when did he tell you this?”
    “He didn’t, not in words—”
    “Telepathy, then?”
    “All right,” Cain interrupted, “that’s enough. We’re talking about my poor cat.” Megan turned away from them both, and Cain glanced back at the refrigerator.
    Seeing Rufus still and cold, he was still unable to accept his death. Cain was an infant when his parents were killed in a car accident, and no one else close to him had ever died. He felt as he had when they’d lost the young aerobics instructor. It wasn’t like old age, where the biological machine wore down; the body had died, the system crashed, because one part had failed. It didn’t seem right or fair.
    Bending to smooth down Rufus’s fur, Cain noticed the yellow liquid. He’d never seen anything quite like it, neither medicine nor bodily fluid. His hand grew still, and West hastened forward.
    “Daniel, Miss Halsey—you’re both upset, and I think it would be a good idea if you left . . . now.”
    Cain retrieved the vial. “What the hell’s this?”
    “That is none of your business.”
    West’s indignation surprised him. “If it’s in my house, it’s my business.”
    “I think not.” He sneered at Megan. “Just as it’s none of my business that you’re sleeping with Dean Halsey’s daughter.”
    “You bastard!” she snarled.
    West ignored her. Grabbing the jar from Cain, he slipped it into his pocket and wagged a menacing finger. “You know, Daniel, I would not want to see a fellow student, especially one as promising as yourself, be thrown out of school, out of the profession, on moral grounds.”
    “Really? Well, for your information, I think Dr. Halsey just might understand.”
    West smiled mirthlessly. “You may be right. But the question is, are you sure you want to find