that in the past has just been put down to rare and isolated cases. It's frightening to consider, but I wouldn't be surprised if these mutants have deliberately been keeping a low profile regarding their raids.'
'It's a little hard to believe.'
'What's happening now is a little hard to believe. One thing we do know for sure: their restraint has gone. They're out to kill anyone or anything.'
Apercello, who was some distance ahead, turned and waved at them. His words through the plastic grille were hard to catch, but he began pointing towards the ground quite near his feet.
'Looks like Joe's found another opening,' said Fender, hurrying forward.
The hole the rat catcher colleague was standing over was much larger than the one they had just plugged. Its sides were smooth, as though used by many bodies.
'Christ, that's one all right,' Fender muttered, bending low and examining the hole. 'It's the right size. Captain, let me have the torch, will you?'
Captain Mather passed the square-shaped torch over to the rat catcher who shone its powerful beam into the tunnel.
'Nothing there,' Fender said, straightening. 'Let's get some powder down fast. The sooner it's plugged, the happier I'll be.'
They went through the process of laying the cyanide and sealing the exit again, Fender helping Apercello pack the cement.
'Okay. Number six done. Mark it...' He didn't know what had made him look up into the trees at that moment, but Fender suddenly felt even more uneasy than before. Had he seen something move? The other men regarded him curiously.
'What is it, Mr. Fender?' Captain Mather enquired.
Fender studied the nearby trees for a few seconds longer before replying. 'Nothing. I thought I saw ... heard something, that's all.'
The officer looked around nervously. 'Perhaps we should be moving...'
There's something up there!' It was Apercello's voice. 'I saw it move. It was darting along a branch.'
The soldiers who were nearer to the trees began to back away apprehensively, their firearms pointing into the foliage overhead.
There's another!' shouted Vie Whittaker pointing to a different tree.
All eyes swivelled. They saw a swaying branch, but nothing else.
A sudden rustle to their right had everybody spinning in that direction. A flurry of dead leaves fluttered to the ground, but the tree's branches were still too full of brown foliage for the men to see what had caused the downfall.
'Keep still, everyone,' Fender ordered. Now scan the trees around us.
If you see any movement, don't shout, just point.'
Their heads turned slowly as they studied the treetops, each man scarcely daring to breathe. Fender kept an eye on the men, occasionally, irresistibly, glancing upwards. His eyes riveted on a soldier who suddenly began gesticulating towards an overhead branch.
'Captain,' Fender said quietly. 'One of your men has spotted something.' He nodded towards the pointing man. The others became aware of their companion's excitement.
There it is!' someone shouted. 'Creeping along that branch! It's one of 'em, one of the rats! Jesus, there's another!'
It became too much for the soldier. He raised his rifle and aimed into the tree, his gloved finger pushing its way awkwardly though the trigger guard.
The explosion and consequent high-pitched squeal seemed to act as the signal for the rats to attack. They fell from the trees almost as one, dropping through the air on to the men below, the forest suddenly alive with their screeching squeals and flying black bodies.
FOURTEEN
Fender rushed forward, crashing through the brittle undergrowth, making towards a fallen soldier who was desperately trying to push away a rat clawing at his chest. All around, the soldiers were struggling with vermin that had landed on their shoulders and heads, several of the men on their knees, others running wildly in circles, completely unnerved by the attack.
The rat catcher pulled at the creature on the fallen man's chest, grasping its twisting neck and tugging and squeezing at the same time.
A sudden weight on his back sent him tumbling forward over the soldier.
He kept rolling, hoping to crush the creature, but it clung tenaciously. The pain was excruciating as the rat bit into the tough material of the protective suit, the teeth not piercing but pinching the skin together. As he tried to roll his body free, Fender realized there was not just one, but two rats attacking him. He lay on his back, endeavouring to still their movements with his own weight, reaching behind to grab at their scrabbling legs. He was conscious of the screams around him, the sharp reports of gunfire, the thrashing of bodies both human and animal. More black shapes were dropping from the trees, leaping from the branches, running down the rough bark, filling the forest glade with their numbers.
He tried to rise, but a rat landed on his chest and for a brief moment he found himself staring through the plastic screen into the monster's slanted eyes. It was almost as if the rat were studying him, looking deep into his mind, a cold hate stabbing its way through. The creature's jaws opened and Fender stared in fascinated horror at the cruel, yellow teeth, the deformed an dover-large incisors honed razor-sharp from constant gnawing. Spittle smeared the plastic visor as the mutant hissed at its prey. The pointed head snapped forward and Fender jerked his head back in a reflex action. The teeth skidded across the plastic, leaving deep grooves and a trail of saliva. The rat catcher forgot about the struggling bodies beneath him and began to pummel the creature on top with his fists. The rat staggered sideways but recovered, the blows driving it to a new fury. Its powerful jaws locked around one of Fender's wrists and he screamed at the intense pain, the thickness of the gauntlet gloves saving him from serious
