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smiled her knowing Siamese smile. The hard-hats were scared of the forest. This boded well for her plan. She signaled with her tail to Shredder below: They’re coming!
    â€œAs if that weren’t obvious!” growled Murray the Claw to Jolly Roger. The two cats were huddled together behind the cemetery’s stone wall, keeping a cynical eye on the proceedings.
    â€œIt’s sad, sad how Khalia and Shredder have got everyone believing they can beat the odds,” Murray went on. “Rejects conquer the world! Highway trash fights back! Who would you put your bet on?”
    Jolly Roger grinned his gruesome grin.
    Around them, an extraordinary scene was taking place. Several dozen highway cats were attempting to rig themselves out in what appeared to be, in fact, rubbish. Tissue boxes and cracker boxes, chip bags and burger wrappers, fried chicken tubs and paper cups, takeout food containers and instant cocoa packets were just a few of the items that were being snatched up by the cats and tried on for size. They came from the pile of trash that Murray and Roger had brought up from the highway the night before.
    More than a few cats had already chosen their getups. They were hard at work gnawing eyeholes, a tricky task requiring concentration (and a lot of spitting so as not to swallow) to get the spacing right. Khalia, an expert at this, had shown them the technique. She herself wasn’t preparing a disguise.
    â€œI am frightful enough already,” she pointed out. No cat disputed her. She was outstandingly horrible to look at even at that moment as she climbed down the pine tree to stand among them. One or two cats backed away, still shocked by her appearance, but a larger number crowded around to hear what she had to say.
    â€œOur plan of attack is as follows,” she began. “We’ll lie low until the road crew is just outside the graveyard. When I give the first signal, it would be best if everyone could howl. Can you do that?”
    A few of the younger cats, delighted by this invitation, began to yawp and meowl in excruciating tones at the top of their lungs. The effect was ghastly. The older cats flattened their ears.
    â€œExcellent! That’s just what we want,” Khalia told them. “Much more of the same from you all, please.”
    She went on: “At my second signal, there must be another round of howls with the addition of some wailing screams. Imagine that you are sinking slowly into quicksand or, better yet, being ambushed by coyotes.”
    The cats shivered and glanced over their shoulders at the mention of coyotes. They had lost friends to those awful beasts and didn’t like even to hear them mentioned.
    â€œWatch closely because after this, I will give a third signal,” Khalia said. “It will be the call to rise. We must stand up and move together in our disguises, no one rushing ahead. This is very important. Together, we will terrify the road workers. Singly, we’ll have no effect whatever. Is this understood?”
    It was. By now, most cats had put on their containers and were hardly recognizable as cats at all except for those telltale lengths of fur protruding from beneath.
    â€œAll tails out of sight,” Khalia warned, gazing with satisfaction at the stinking heap of four-legged trash standing in front of her. “We are no longer what we were. We are now what we have never been: an apparition of horror!”
    Jolly Roger was leaning forward in fascination, listening to this.
    â€œWhat’s an apparition?” he whispered to Murray the Claw. “I think I’d like to be one!”
    â€œDon’t be stupid, Stupid! It’s just a fancy name for a ghost. This is all a buildup to catastrophe,” Murray hissed. “Come away with me or you’re sure to get caught.”
    On the other side of the graveyard, Shredder was saying the same thing to the kits. The little scamps were in one of their playful moods. They