As he was about to run along the iron fence on their side of the canal to find an opening, his eyes caught more movement in the water. This time coming from the opposite direction of the first three, he saw a bigger group of black shapes gliding through the water. He registered at least seven before he began running after Ferris, whose reaction to the fear-some pack was immediate.
As he ran, Harris glanced back to see the furry, wet bodies scurrying through the same hole in the fence that the other three had used.
When the two shaken men reached the road once again,
Harris pulled the little exterminator to a halt.
‘Look, get on to the police,’ he said, his lungs gasping for air. ‘Get them to contact your people and get them over here as fast as possible. I’m going around to the flats, you follow when you’ve phoned.
There’s a small road bridge across the canal not far in that direction, so follow me as fast as possible, for Christ’s sake. I don’t want to come up against that lot on my own!’
‘Look, mate, rats are my business,’ Ferris answered back fiercely. ‘You go get the police. I’ll find out where they’re going to and I’ll know how to handle them when I do. I’m no hero, but it’s bloody commonsense, ain’t it?’
Without waiting for a reply, the little man set off at a jogging pace.
Who’s arguing?thought Harris to himself and began to look around for a phone box.
The rats sped swiftly through the undergrowth, joined now by groups of the smaller variety. They reached another wooden fence that separated the council tenements from the wasteland. They flowed under through its many gaps and made towards the large waste-disposal bunkers that stood at the bottom of each block of flats. Food and litter of all kinds were emptied down the chutes from all floors of the block by its residents into a huge round bin that was cleared by the council’s sanitation department each week. Many a family pet was buried in this way when their lives ended either by accident or from old age. Potato peelings, egg-shells, stale food, paper, anything that could fit into the chute was disposed of in this way, and allowed to mix and rot for a week before being emptied into and then churned up by the grinding dust-cart. By the end of the week the smell was always abominable and residents warned their young to stay away from the rotting doors of the bunkers.
It was the first time a large group of rats had visited the site during the day. Usually there were too many children laughing, screaming, fighting, making noise because of the sheer delight of making noise, for the people- shy beasts. The night was their ally.
But now they had a new boldness. Led by the bigger, blacker rats, a species that had suddenly appeared amongst them, to dominate and intimidate, they had found a new courage. Or at least, a new driving force.
So far unseen they sped along the walls of the buildings in single file until they reached a bunker where many nights before, they had gnawed holes in the doors to provide access for their ever-hungry bodies.
They hurriedly passed through and then into the holes, again made by themselves, beneath the vast cylinder of rubbish, and so into the heap itself, gnawing, eating anything that could be chewed.
The big rats were the first to know it was there. Somebody had deposited their weekend joint into the chute. Perhaps it had been rotten, perhaps a husband, tired of being chastised for not being home from the pub on time for his Sunday lunch had thrown the whole joint away in a fit of rage: But there it was, and the rats’ lust for meat was aroused to a frightening degree.
The smaller rats tried to get at the meat, but were instantly killed and then devoured by their superiors.
Ferris heard the squeals of the lesser rats as he ran past the bunker. He stopped dead and listened intently, his sharp little face turned to one side. Then he realised where the noise was coming from.
Slowly, and very quietly he walked towards the seemingly solid doors. The smell of stale food assured him of the worst. He spotted the holes at the bottom of the doors and carefully got down on one knee.
He listened again. Silence, now. He cautiously lowered his head towards the larger of the black holes and tried to peer into the dark-ness. Nothing moved. He was down on both knees now, his right ear almost touching the ground.
The huge rat flew out at him without warning and bit deep into the flesh of his cheek. Ferris screamed and fell back, beating wildly at the creature on his face. With all his strength he pulled the rat away from him, tearing a gaping hole in his cheek, but he couldn’t hold the powerful, wriggling body and it fell upon him once more. The other rodents came streaming through the holes at the little man,whose screaming had started to bring people to their doors and windows.
When the residents saw the whiteoveralled figure on the floor, surrounded and covered with dark, furry bodies, they could not quite believe what was happening. Some, once they realised, slammed their doors, and for some reason bolted them, as though they thought the strange creatures could pick locks. Others -
they were mostly women, their husbands being at work - screamed or fainted.Some who had phones, rang for the police. Many just stared in horror-struck silence. One old pensioner, a stout but active woman, ran forward brandishing a broom above her head. She brought it down heavily on the nearest bodies to her, these being the smaller rats on the outer fringes of the circle around the struggling man. As they scattered, a larger rat stopped its gorging and turned a menacing eye towards her.
The first phone box Harris found had been wrecked by vandals. Knowing other boxes in the area would probably have been tamperedwith, he decided to waste no more time but to try the nearest shop or pub.
He founda tobacconists and hastily asked the proprietor permission to phone for the police. The shopkeeper was a trifle wary at first but the teacher’s earnestness convinced him that the young man was on the level.
When the call was made and directions given, Harris thanked the tobacconist.and left the shop at a run.
He soon reached the spot where he and Ferris had split up and headed in the direction that the little rat- exterminator had gone. He crossed the canal bridge and saw the council ‘flats before him.
He heard the commotion seconds before he came upon the ghastly scene. As he ran into the grounds and turned a comer he saw an old lady, furiously waving a broom in the air, being dragged to the ground by several large rats. Harris was frozen to the spot until her pitiful cries for help spurred him forward, only too aware of the lethal disease the rat-bites carried, but knowing he couldn’t just stand by and watch the old lady be torn to pieces. Fortunately for Harris, a group of workmen from a .nearby building-site had heard the screams, and were now advancing on the rats armed with picks, shovels, anything that had come to hand in their rush to the buildings.
Again the large rat that had observed the old pensioner now looked up and furtively studied the approaching men.
The other, biggerrats, also stopped their frenzied attack.
This did not deter the workmen. Theyadvanced, shouting and waving their assorted weapons.
Suddenly, as though in one body, the rats turned and fled, leaving their smaller companions to the merciless onslaught of the enraged men.
Harris backed up against the wall as he saw the creatures fleeing in his direction. They scurried past him, one actually running over his shoe, causing him to shudder involuntarily.
Another stopped before him, eyed him coolly for a fraction of a second, and then sped on its way. Harris almost collapsed with relief as the last horrifying shape disappeared beneath the fence of the wasteground. It looked as though two of the workmen were about to climb the fence to follow them, but Harris managed to find his voice in time to stop them.
As they walked back the teacher was able to turn his gaze back towards the carnage the rats had caused. The old lady was on the ground, her chest heaving in sharp, uneven movements, covered in blood, still feebly holding on to the broom.
It was only then that Harris saw the shredded, blood-stained overalls of little Ferris. It was only the now barely recognisable uniform with its ‘Ratkill’ logo emblazoned on the chest that made him realise it was the little rat exterminator, for the crumpled body no longer had a face.
‘Get an ambulance, quickly,’ Harris said weakly to one of the workmen, knowing already it was too late for the old woman.
‘There’s one on the way,’ one of her neighbours came forward. The others now began to slowly emerge from their homes and tentatively walked towards the bodies, keeping a wary eye on the fence.
‘What were they?’ someone asked.
‘Rats,weren’t they,’ another replied.
‘What - that size?’ the first person again.
