'Are you okay?' Fender asked.
'I can't... move ... my fingers. I think all the tendons ... are gone.' His face was screwed up in agony, tears running freely down his face into his beard.
Fender staggered to his feet and put a hand beneath the tutor's shoulder. 'Come on,' he said, pulling him up. We'd better move fast.
No telling how many others are around here.'
The two men stumbled from the stable yard, helmets forgotten, fear giving them impetus, the mud making them slip and hold on to each other for support. They rounded the corner and made for the track leading from the house to the car on the other side of the field. As they reached the front of the building, Fender now half-supporting the injured man, they bolted down the gentle slope leading away from the house towards the open fields. And something made Fender pause to take in the peculiar circular tree copse in the middle of the nearest field.
The trees seemed to be quivering with hidden life, the branches moving, shedding leaves, trembling as though shaken by a swirling wind. It seemed to be almost thrumming. A coldness gripped him as he saw the hundreds of black shapes pour from the copse and come streaming up the slope towards them.
EIGHTEEN
'Run! Get moving!' Fender shouted as Whittaker stood mesmerized by the advancing horde. The tutor stumbled forward, intending to run towards the parked car, but Fender caught his arm and swung him round.
'No! Towards the house! We'll never make it to the car -they'll cut us off.'
He pushed Whittaker towards the old building, giving one last look at the black vermin streaking across the field. The two men soon reached the piled bricks and rubble which sloped up the side of the house, and they clambered over it, the rat catcher slipping and rolling back down, the heavy clothing preventing any severe damage. He clawed his way up to the top again and saw Whittaker pushing against the iron sheeting that covered one of the large ground-floor windows. The rat catcher added his weight, using his shoulder to push against one corner of the corrugated iron.
He turned to see the black shapes darting beneath the two-strand wire fence that bordered the field, their bristling bodies momentarily lost in the undergrowth, then bursting forth, racing across the widened track that formed the frontage to the ruin. He stooped and picked up a brick, throwing it at the leading rodent, which swerved to avoid the missile.
Then it seemed as though every square foot of the frontage area was covered in black bodies, the air filled with their high-pitched squeals. Fender began using his boot on the metal barrier just as the first rat reached the bottom of the slope.
Whittaker saw the creature and managed to lift a fair-sized portion of brickwork from the rubble, hurling it down at the rat as it began climbing. The rat was crushed, killed instantly, but its companions were now at the base of the rough slope.
The corrugated sheet began to give and Fender redoubled his efforts. It came away from the top with a grinding tear and he squeezed an arm through, creating a triangular gap big enough to allow them entry.
'Get inside!' he yelled at Whittaker, pulling him roughly. The tutor complied without hesitation, squeezing his frame through the gap, grunting with the effort. Fender turned in time to give a rat that was only inches away a hefty kick, sending it hurtling back down to its companions. He wasted no time in pushing his way into the building's interior, gasping in pain as he felt strong teeth bite into his calf, one leg still on the other side of the barrier.
Whittaker was already pushing at the metal sheet, trying to close the gap in an effort to keep the attacking vermin out. Fender dragged his leg through, the rat still clinging to it. He pushed his foot down towards the floor once it was inside, the rat's shoulders becoming trapped at the narrow end of the triangle between wall and metal sheet.
Whittaker had managed to close the gap at the top and was pressing against it with his shoulder. Fender forced his leg down even further, the edge of the metal sheet pressing into the rat's neck, choking it.
The suit material tore under the strain and suddenly Fender's leg was free. He turned and brought his boot crunching down on the rodent's skull, forcing its neck further into the wedge shape. It struggled to pull back, the metal edge now cutting into its throat and Fender, in a furious, hate filled madness, rained kicks upon the trembling head. At last the eyes became glazed and the head slumped, but Fender could not be sure it was really dead.
He could see other mutants through the small opening left above the rat's body, climbing on its back trying to push their way through, and he joined Whittaker, his back pushing against the corrugated iron. They could hear the vermin leaping at the barricade, their claws scrabbling at the surface. They winced at every thud, the metal shaking with each blow.
Fender looked around the interior of the ruin, seeking a means of escape. Many of the inside walls had caved in and he could see through to the rear of the building, the windows there also covered in metal sheets. He wondered what chance they would have if they made a break for it and tried to get out the back way, but realized that by the time they had forced an opening, the vermin would be through on this side and swarming all over them. He looked upwards to see if there was a way to reach the upper levels. The blueness of the peaceful sky seemed to mock him, for there were no floors above; the upper levels had been completely gutted. Even the staircases had gone. There was one way of getting above ground level, though. It was dangerous, but their only chance. And what he saw next told him there was no choice anyway.
Not far from where they stood, through the half-collapsed wall to the hallway, he could see a black body perched on top of a metal barrier.
It was the section blocking the main entrance, a curved gap left between the doorway arc and the corrugated iron barrier. The rat waved its pointed head in the air, its nose twitching.
'It's no good,' Fender cried out. They've found another way in!'
Whittaker followed his gaze and drew in his breath.
Fender nudged him and pointed to a jagged rise of brickwork, the remains of a wall which had once divided that room from the next.
'If we can get up there, we may have a chance!' he yelled over the clamour of squealing rats and thudding sounds. There's just a small corner section of flooring up there. If we can get to it we may be able to hold them off until help comes!'
'Help? What help?' came the frantic reply.
They know our location at the Centre. They'll send someone out when we don't return.'
