The rats have probably been feeding off them since they were killed.'
He paused, then added wryly, Their own private supply. Jesus.' He surveyed the area in disgust. 'Come on, I think we'd better get out of here.'
But Whittaker's eyes were transfixed on something ahead of him.
'Fender, one of them is breathing. It's still alive.'
That can't be.' Fender looked in the direction of the tutor's gaze and saw that the body, unlike most of the others, was still grossly swollen. And there was a slight movement from it.
We can't help it now,' he said. 'Let's go.'
Wait, wait. We can at least put it out of its misery. Let me have the gun.'
'No. The sound would arouse anything else that might be lurking around here. Leave it be.'
But Whittaker was insistent. 'Please, I can't leave it like this.'
Fender reluctantly undid the flap of the holster and handed Whittaker the Browning. Tush it into its neck try to muffle the sound. And make it quick.'
He watched anxiously as the tutor removed his glove and curled his finger through the trigger guard, making towards the unfortunate animal. The mystery was how the pig had managed to survive all this time.
Tender, look at this.' Whittaker was crouched over the pink, bloodstained body. The rat catcher quickly joined him, eager to be away from the place. He frowned when he saw the long, gaping tear in the bloated belly.
'It's dead. Nothing could survive that,' he said.
'But look, the lungs are moving. It's breathing.'
Fender bent forward. The skin was undulating, yet the rest of the body was stiff with rigor mortis.
He realized what the movement was just before the sleek, black head pushed its way through the jagged slit in the pig's stomach.
Whittaker screamed as the rat scrabbled its whole body through the opening, leaping at the tutor as he fell back into the straw. Fender, too, fell back in surprise and for a moment could only watch the struggling bodies in frozen horror. Then he was on his knees shouting at Whittaker, trying to be heard over the man's screams.
The gun! Use the gun!'
But the weapon was no longer in the tutor's hand; it was hidden somewhere in the straw, released in shock. Fender quickly searched for it, but it was no use, the gun had disappeared.
Whittaker had a hand clamped inside the rat's mouth, his fingers curled round the lower jaw, and blood was flowing down his wrist as the creature's teeth sank in. Claws were frantically raking his chest, scoring the suit's material, threatening to penetrate at any moment.
Fender crouched, then leapt forward, grabbing the giant rat at the back of the neck with one hand, the other going beneath its jaw. He pulled back with one mighty heave, trying to snap its neck, but the mutant twisted, spoiling the leverage. It momentarily released Whittaker's hand and the tutor pulled it clear, his head swimming with the pain.
Fender lifted the rat, keeping his arms outstretched, using all his strength, holding the squirming body with its lethal teeth and claws away from him. He lost his balance, the struggling weight too much for him. He crashed down into the muddy yard between the facing stables, falling on top of the rat, crushing it with his own weight. He clung desperately to the thrashing creature's neck, pushing the head down into the ooze in an attempt to suffocate it. The wet earth flew furiously in all directions as the rat panicked and Fender knew he did not have the strength to hold it there for long.
'Find the gun!' he yelled at the tutor who still lay in the straw moaning in pain. 'Shoot the bloody thing!'
Whittaker scrambled around on hands and knees, but could find no sign of the weapon.
'It's not here! I can't find it!' he screamed.
The mud was making Fender's gloved hands slippery and he could feel the creature forcing its way loose, pushing its haunches down and pulling its neck up. Fender squeezed, trying to choke the rat to death.
Then Whittaker was slivering in the mud next to him, something held in his uninjured hand.
'Hold its head out, Fender! Hold it where I can reach it!'
Fender allowed the creature to raise its head from the well it had created in the mud, and Whittaker struck down hard with the brick he had found, bringing it down on the small, pointed skull. The rat squealed but continued struggling, almost breaking free of Fender's grasp.
'Again!' Fender shouted. 'Again!'
Once more the brick descended, but the mutant's struggling became even more frantic.
'Again!' Fender was almost screaming now. The heavy weight struck.
'Again!'
The rat stiffened momentarily.
'Again!'
They heard the crunching of bone. Yet still it moved.
Fender leapt to his feet, dragging the limp body with him and, without pause, swung the rat by the neck against a stout wooden beam supporting the stable roof. He felt the snap in the creature's neck and let it fall to the ground, its body twitching in death throes.
Fender collapsed on to one knee and drew in deep gasps of air. His face and body were caked in mud, but that was the least of his concerns. Whittaker sat hunched in the slime, clutching his injured hand in his lap.
