But as Java said later, he and Watson didn’t get anywhere near Maryland, not even to Harrisburg.

After tearing down the mountain, Watson hid in the barn and Java scratched frantically at the kitchen door. Susan rushed across the room fussing at Java, “Stop picking at the screen! Look what you’re doing to it, Java. Why don’t you learn to open doors the right way—

like RIDLEY does!”

Boing!

Nerves on edge, Java muttered to himself:

“Always Ridley, Ridley, Ridley, Ridley !

Such a smart and clever cat.

All right all ready, I’ll never pick at the screen again,

One day you won’t see me at the door anymore.

Then you’ll be sorry.

You’ll find out how much you miss Java !”

When Susan slid the screen open, Java rushed inside, harboring feelings of bitterness.

“You’ll weep sorry tears when I don’t come back,” he meowed, “and you’ll cry, Oh where is my sweet Java now?”

But of course being a person, all Susan heard the cat say was, ‘meow, roww, roww, rrrrr, yoww, rowl,’ punctuated by trills, which always melted her heart, so she could forgive him of anything.

“Oh Java, you feel sorry.” She patted him lovingly on the head. “But what about your foot? Your bandage is dirty and it’s coming loose again.” Susan reached for Java, but he shot up the back stairs like a rocket, afraid to get the lampshade again.

Java padded lightly down the second floor hallway to find a bed for his afternoon nap. The doors were closed, so he climbed up the third floor stairs when he heard music coming from Bill’s radio room at the end of the hall. The workshop was on the north-east corner of the house and had a very fine view of the barn and the mountain beyond.

Bill taught physics at the university, but fixing antique radios was his favorite hobby. He fitted the back cover on a 1949 Philco table radio he was taking to the antiques mall where he had a booth. He had fourteen other table and console radios for sale, plus a stock of special parts people called for from all over the country. Bill even had a rare 1948 National TV with a 10-inch screen that showed episodes of Kukla, Fran and Ollie, which Java adored.

Bill gave Java a loving rub between his ears, along with the assurance he was the most handsome cat in the entire world — something Java already knew but never tired of hearing.

Java and Bill walked downstairs to Susan’s sewing room, at the end of the second floor hall, so Java could visit with his sister Rose. She was almost Grace’s twin, but a lot sweeter. When Bill opened the door for Java to slip inside, the cat froze at the sight of Susan’s antique radio.

At the time Bill first gave the radio to Susan, all the cats had been strictly warned about the dangerous electric fields lurking inside old radio cabinets, and especially not to stick their paws around back. But like some cats, Java needed to find out why. The highly charged electric current around the radio tubes had made Java’s fur tingle. At that point he should have know better and stopped, but curiosity got the better of him so he reached inside.

The lightning bolt knocked Java clear across the room. He never stopped running until he reached in the back woods, a good safe distance from the house.

Afraid to come inside, Java had slept out in the barn for two weeks, taking his meals by the kitchen door. Rose and Grace finally convinced their brother to come back, after promising they would protect him if the sewing room demon ever threatened him again.

With its attractive maple veneer, the 1939 console radio boasted a mysterious green “magic eye” tube that winked when you tuned to a station. Back in the day, it had been the wonder of its age, but the winking green light looked to Java like a hypnotic eye drawing him into its spell. What was worse, he could feel all his guard hairs rising toward the cabinet, attracted by the powerful electricity vibrating inside.

Before Java could run away, he heard his sister Rose saying, “Hey, big brother, I’ve been waiting to hear about your adventures.”

With racing heart and a wary eye on the radio cabinet, Java hopped up next to Rose, who was nestled in a cozy blanket. Java groomed his little sister’s head, remembering how in younger days they liked to wrestle and run together down by the barn. Now Rose could only spend her days resting, while people tried to find out how to make her better again.

Java told his sister about how he’d seen a real flying saucer just that very morning. He told her how MeMe and Ridley had been abducted by strange extraterrestrial lizard-creatures and had actually visited outer space. He even told her some of the cats thought Ridley might have come from outer space.

However, as Rose said, even though Ridley was quite a bit different from the other cats, being from outer space was highly unlikely.

Rose hung onto every word, grateful to have such a brave big brother. She said she was happy he and Ridley were getting along better now, which made Java growl silently to himself thinking about the other cat.

Stretching out next to his sister, holding her paw as she gently fell asleep, Java watched her tenderly for a long time before dozing off himself.

Later, Bill brought Java his supper and fed Rose by hand from a jar of baby food. Bill said, “Keep Rose company tonight, Java. She needs her big brother with her.”

So Java and Rose talked for a while more until they both fell asleep.

MONDAY EVENING

Java slept like a cat without a conscience. When he finally woke up, it was after nine. Bill had carried Rose down to the master bedroom for the night and Java was alone. Moonlight flooded the room with the sweet sound of nighttime bird songs, cicadas in the trees, frogs peeping down in the ditch, and the cry of a lonely fox.

What’s more, the menacing radio had temporarily lost its life so Java was safe, for the time being.

But there were strange sounds down the hall. Java could hear thumps and bumps coming from the floor above, the crash of glass breaking, furniture scraping on the floor, and the sounds of excited metallic chirps.

Instantly he was out of the room, on the alert.

Looking up the stairs, Java had the shock of his life. Climbing down a step at a time, were three purple metal cats, each about two feet tall. They stood upright like little people wearing red boots, they had cat ears and metal tails. Moreover, they were clutching Bill’s precious radio parts in their little red gloves.

Something had to be done.

First Java growled, but the little invaders ignored him as they cautiously lowered themselves down the stairs a step at a time. Java was a courageous cat, so he did the thing cats do to strange new objects, he ran up the stairs and gave the closest one a good hard whack with his paw.

The electric shock slammed him into the wall. Java fell down the stairs, over and over, bump bump bump as the metal cats shot purple rays at him from their eyes.

He ran for his life, wildly slipping and rolling all the way down the front stairs, bumping his head on the front door. Tearing the back way down the hall, claws screeching across the kitchen floor, he skidded on little muddy footprints tracked in through the open door, and ran outside into the night.

At the same time, Grace and I had been enjoying the warm night, chasing lightning bugs, while MeMe chased after us to make sure none of them got hurt. Suddenly Java ran out of the house with his fur puffed out, like a cat struck by lightning.

Grace tilted her head curiously, as her brother ran across the lawn.

“Don’t tell me you stuck your paws inside that old radio again!”

At that moment, three metal cats ran out the kitchen door chasing Java with bolts of electric fire. MeMe and I stared frozen in horror, certain now they’d followed us home from the mountain.

Meanwhile, over at the other side of the yard, Watson was lying on his back pleasantly rolling in the dewy grass on top of something that recently died. Hearing the commotion, Watson languidly turned his head with half-lidded eyes, wondering why his friend was running a foot race with a team of metal cats. It seemed to Watson like they were gaining on Java, so Watson thought he’d run around the back of the barn to cheer him on. Watson was quick on his feet, but what he had in speed, he lacked in control.

As Java cleared the west corner under the apple tree, Watson galloped through the back garden. Tripping over a melon, Watson slid under Java and the Bengal cat went down hard. The metal cats rear-ended them both, and they all tumbled under the tree in an electric splash of Golden Delicious applesauce raining down from above.

The three androids were having a sticky fit, chirping and clicking, trying to find their stolen loot among all the squishy apples covering the ground. Out of the blue, MeMe steam-rolled into everyone like a furious furry cannon ball.

They must have thought she was our secret weapon because, along with everything else, the thieves grabbed up MeMe in their sticky red gloves and headed for three sinister-looking saucers hovering darkly near the edge on the woods.

Racing with Java and Grace in a mad dash to stop them, I yelled out to Watson to run for help. The metal cats sprinted across the back field ahead of the three of us. At the doorway of the middle saucer, they tossed MeMe through the hatch and jumped inside after her.

We dove inside to rescue her, but we were too late. The hatch slammed down behind us, and MeMe, Grace, Java and I found ourselves prisoner in a sinister trap.

Down in the north canyon, the rush of a waterfall and the songs of frogs penetrated the humid night. Farther up came hoots of an owl, the graak graak of a nighthawk, and trilling coos that sounded like exotic jungle birds, but they were only the baby cries of a nursery of raccoon kits.

One of the trio of flying saucers hovered beside a wide ledge on the shadowy side of the ridge. A long nano-carbon bridge unfolded from the ship to the ledge, with a noise like angry bees.

When the ship’s hatch whirred up, three edgy androids looked out with impatient chirps. The frogs ceased their singing as the metal cats shoved their four prisoners across the gap to where Sona’s crippled saucer lay silent and dark. Only after the bridge folded back and the ship glided away did the passionate love songs of a thousand frogs rise again from the stream banks below.

As Watson told me later, around the same time we were over the ridge being herded into Sona’s ship, he’d finally rounded up a posse. Mira, Mercury, Chocolate, his brothers JJ and Big Eddy, along with a few of the neighborhood cats and young Jeffery, thundered around the barn eager to battle the strange invaders.

Sullen clouds slowly drifted over the empty field, letting down moonbeams that scanned the furrows like searchlights looking for their missing friends. Watson ran up and down fruitlessly calling out our names.

Everyone was impatient for something to fight, so Eddy called his brother back to explain it all again.

“Hey, Watson, exactly what did you say happened here?”

Watson searched his mind. “Let’s see, Java was running with purple cats from some kind of track team . . . and there were these three giant Frisbees out in the field . . . then Ridley told me to go get help.”

“RIDLEY!” they all said at once. “That explains it,” and they turned away.

Jeffery wanted to tell the cats how Ridley had saved his life, but they were already walking back toward the house.

“No, wait,” Watson protested. “They were in real trouble. Like I said—”

Chocolate looked back. “You mean like Ridley said,” and walked on.

Standing at the edge of the empty field, Watson wondered where the purple cats had taken his friends.

But Jeffery had a pretty good idea because he’d already been there. Every night he felt them grabbing around his bed trying to snatch him back again, to dark corners inside his nightmares.