Dealey blinked. 'No. It hurt even more for a moment, though. Did you shine the light at me?'
'Straight into the pupils. They shrank.'
'It could mean nothing.'
Yeah, keep up the pessimism. Grab my shoulder, and keep your left side against the wall; we're going down.'
The air was cool, clammy, in the tunnel, and they could see the emergency lights stretching one after the other into the blackness, their dim glow barely making an impression. It felt to Culver as if they were descending into a void, an emptiness that was itself threatening. Perhaps it was just the unnatural stillness after the turmoil above; or that he felt an unseen presence, eyes watching him from the shadows. Perhaps his nerves were just stretched to breaking point. Perhaps.
The tunnel curved slightly, the single chain of lights ahead disappearing. The dim glow from the platform behind vanished as they rounded the curve, leaving them in total isolation. Their footsteps echoed hollowly around the arched walls.
Culver noticed there were gaps in the wall to his right; he shone the beam in that direction and light reflected back from another set of tracks.
'I can see another tunnel,' he told Dealey, his voice strangely loud in the confines of the shaft.
'It must be the westbound. Keep your torch to the right -I'd hate to miss the shelter.'
Dealey's weight dragged against him now and he knew the man was near to exhaustion. His eyes must have hurt like hell and the mental agony of not knowing if he was permanently blinded couldn't have helped much. Again, he wondered who the man was and how he knew about the shelter. Obviously he—
Something had moved in the darkness ahead. He'd heard it. A scurrying sound.
Why have you stopped?' Dealey was clenching his arm tightly.
'I thought I heard something.'
'Can you see anything?'
He swung the torch around in a wide arc. 'Nothing.'
They went on, their pace quickened despite the tiredness that dragged at them, their senses acutely aware, a sudden, awful foreboding growing within. Culver frantically searched for the opening, the doorway that would lead them to safety. There were recesses in the wall, but none held the magic door.
Surely they must be near. They'd walked more than eight hundred yards. It felt like eight miles. They had to find it soon. Jesus, let them find it soon.
He fell. Something was lying across the line. Something that had tripped him.
'Culver!' Dealey shouted, suddenly alone. He stumbled forwards, arms outstretched, sightless eyes wide, and he, too, fell over the something that lay across the line.
His hands touched metal and quickly recoiled. At least they were now certain of one thing; there was no power in
the line. His hands scrabbled around in the darkness. Felt something. Soft. Sticky soft, a head, a face.
'Culver? Are you all right?'
His guide's voice came from further away. 'Don't move, Dealey. Don't touch any more.'
But it was too late. His groping fingers had found the eyes. But there were no eyes. Just deep, viscous sockets that sucked at his fingers as he withdrew them. He fell back and his hand touched something else. It was warm, and it was abhorrent. It was something slippery and it belonged inside a body, not outside.
'Keep still!' Culver's voice commanded again.
Dealey's throat was too constricted to allow speech.
Culver, lying sprawled across the outer track, shone the flashlight around them. Bodies littered the tunnel. Black shapes moved among them, feeding off them.
They crouched, eluding the beam. Or scuttled away, back into the shadows.
'Oh, no, I don't believe it.' Culver's voice was a moan.
Tell me what's there, Culver. Please tell me.'
'Keep still. Just don't move for a moment'
Slowly, very slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position. The light flashed across a bristle-haired humped back; the creature tensed, fled.
He half rose, the flashlight held before him. Its beam fell upon a human foot, a leg, a torso, the wicked yellow eyes of the animal squatting on the man's open chest. The creature plunged its bloodied snout deep into the wound, pulling flesh free with huge incisor teeth.
It stopped eating. It watched the man with the torch.
'Dealey.' He kept his voice low, but could not control the tremor. 'Move towards me - slowly - just move slowly.'
The other man did exactly as he was told, the fear in Culver's voice all the warning he needed.
Culver carefully reached for him, remaining crouched, avoiding any sudden movement. He drew the crawling man to him, then moved back so that they were both against the tunnel wall.
What is it?' Dealey whispered.
Culver took a deep breath. 'Rats,' he said quietly. 'But like I've never seen before. They're big.' He wondered at his own understatement.
'Are they black-furred?'
'Everything's black down here.'
'Oh God, not again, not at a time like this.'
Culver glanced at him curiously, but could not see his expression in the darkness. He did not want to take the beam away from the dead bodies or the shapes that moved among them. His eyes narrowed.
Wait a minute. There were a couple of outbreaks of killer Black rats some years ago. Are you saying these are the same breed? We were told they'd been wiped out, for Christ's sake!'
'I can't see them, so I can't say. It's hardly the time to discuss the point, though.'
Teali, I'm with you there. But what do you suggest - we shoo them away?'
'Can you see the shelter door? We must be close.'
Reluctantly, and very slowly, Culver swept the beam across the carnage. He winced when he saw the tangle of torn human forms and fought back nausea as the creatures steadily chewed at their victims. He had never before realized that blood had such a strong odour.
He froze when he saw one rat stealthily creeping towards them, its long body kept low, its haunches hunched and
tensed. The torch beam reflected in its eyes and the creature stopped. It moved its head away from the glare, then moved back a few paces. It slid back in the darkness, unhurried and unconcerned.
'Have you found the doorway yet?' Dealey hissed urgently.
'No. I got distracted.'
The light resumed its slow journey, revealing too much, each new horror chilling him to his core, causing the hand guiding the torch to tremble so that the very cavern seemed to quake. He deliberately aimed the beam along the wall he and Dealey rested against; Dealey had said the doorway was on the right-hand side of the eastbound tunnel. He hated the idea of allowing darkness to conceal the gorging creatures once more, for he felt somehow it was only the light holding them back, as if it were a force-field of sorts. Deep down, he knew he was wrong. They had not been attacked because the vermin were content with their kill for the moment; their hunger could be satiated without further effort.
But if they felt threatened the slaughter would start again, and this time, he and Dealey would be the victims.
Oh Christ, where was that bloody shelter?
The slow-swinging beam came to a halt. What was that?
