'But that will be bloody hours, man! We'll never last that long!'
'It's all we have! So move. Get up there!'
Fender could see the gap above the door was now empty; the rat had dropped down, was among the debris. Two more shadows appeared in the opening, then these, too, disappeared from view.
They're in here, Whittaker! Climb up or, by Christ, I'll leave you to hold the barrier!'
Whittaker ran across the rotted floor, avoiding a large hole near its centre, leaping over debris, a trail of blood streaming from his injured hand. He began to climb, brickwork crumbling away under his touch as he pulled himself upwards, using hands, feet, knees. The broken wall was irregular in shape, sometimes steep, sometimes a more manageable slope. Fender gave him a chance to reach a good height, knowing the tutor would only block his own path if he broke too soon.
The appearance of three rats scurrying around the wreckage of the next room made him decide it was now or never. He sprang away from the barricade and sprinted towards the makeshift stairway to the upper level, hearing the sound of tearing metal behind, knowing the rats were pouring through.
He leapt over the gaping, black hole in the centre of the floor and when he landed on the other side, the rotted boards cracked and gave under his foot. His impetus carried him forward and he was fortunate not to fall into the cellar below. He scrambled to his feet and ran on, praying he wouldn't trip on all the loose rubble. The mutants in the next room were scurrying towards him, leaping over obstacles in their way, skirling round the larger objects. Behind him the rats were swarming through the ever-widening gap in the metal barrier.
He reached the foot of the broken brick wall a second or two before the lead rat approaching from the opposite direction, and leapt onto the first easy step, immediately moving upwards, pulling away loose bricks as he went, blindly throwing them down in the hope they would deter the vermin from following. The lead rat went with him, scurrying up his back, making for his exposed neck. Fender twisted his body, almost falling from the precarious perch, bringing his elbow around sharply to hit the rat's side. The mutant had no firm grip on Fender's clothing and the blow sent it tumbling down into the rubble again.
Fender climbed and when he looked up saw that the tutor had reached the next floor level. He was sitting astride an even outcrop of wall, a large chunk of masonry held above his head, ready to be thrown down. He was staring at Fender and their eyes locked.
For one dreadful moment, Fender thought the tutor was about to hurl the brickwork down into his face, his jealousy over Jenny erupting into violence. His fears were unfounded; Whittaker's arms heaved forward and the heavy weight sailed over Fender's head to land squarely on the back of a climbing rat. Within seconds he was beneath the tutor's feet.
He turned to look down at the swarming rats and kicked one away from his heels. It slid back, then fell, taking a companion with it. Fender was relieved to see only one rat at a time could advance up the incline, and its steepness in parts made their ascent difficult. The floor below seemed alive with the creatures, those at the base of the wall on their haunches, stretching their bodies upwards, leaping and tumbling back when their claws could not gain purchase. The sounds of their strident screeching echoed around the immense, stone cavern, rebounding off the walls, magnifying the noise. He saw others had found another source of entry near the back of the house and were filing through, joining the throng on the floor below. It seemed they were no strangers to the deserted ruin.
He was thankful that the ceilings of the old house had been high, for the further away he was from those slashing teeth and claws, the safer he felt.
Where have they come from, Fender?' Whittaker yelled down at him. They should be dead!'
'It looks like they weren't all in the sewers,' Fender replied, aiming a swift kick at the twitching snout of an advancing rat. 'Get onto that ledge over there. There should be room enough for both of us.'
The tutor eased himself up slowly then stepped over to the outcrop, the corner remains of the first-floor level. He tested its strength before resting all his weight on it and when satisfied left his crumbling perch completely. Fender scooted up after him.
Will it hold us both?' he asked before stepping across.
'I think so. It seems strong enough,' came the reply.
There wasn't much room on the small platform and both men clung to the wall it jutted from for support.
'I can reach any rat that gets to the top of the wall with my boot from here,' Fender said. They'll find it difficult to get over that last stretch anyway; it leans out at an angle.'
As if to prove his claim, a rat tried to scramble over the projection, easy enough for a man to do, but difficult for a smaller animal. Some of the brickwork crumbled and the rat went crashing down to the floor below. It rolled over and came to its feet again, shaking its body as if stunned.
'We should be safe here,' Fender said.
'For how long? What happens when it gets dark?'
The Centre will send out a search party before then. Well be okay.'
Fender wished he could put some confidence behind the statement. 'How's your hand?' he enquired to change the subject.
Whittaker brought the injured hand away from the wall and Fender frowned when he saw the deep rent above the knuckles.
'I still can't move it! God, it hurts!'
Fender's worry was that the tutor might faint with the pain. A fall into the vermin below would be fatal.
Try to hang on,' he said, feeling helpless. They know where we are; they'll get us out.'
He eased his body round on the platform so his back was against the wall, giving him a better all-round view.
'How many of them down there, Fender?' said Whittaker, his teeth clenched against the pain.
'Maybe a couple of hundred. They've stopped coming in now; I don't think there are any more.'
