RATS
One
Warren snuck a glance through the boards covering the living room window. The dead were everywhere, at least three dozen of them wandering up and down the street in search of their next meal. He doubted very much that they would find one. They didn’t seem intelligent enough to search the houses on their own, and the monster wasn’t here to lead them anymore.
The thing had just up and left an hour ago after it had guided the dead into the Petersons’ home. Warren supposed it had thought they were the last ones hiding on this street, and he was glad the thing was gone. The dead he could deal with, but that monster had been something beyond his comprehension.
It was what they called a demon, and it looked like a rat, with four razor-sharp primary teeth and beady black eyes that reflected moonlight, only the thing stood on two legs, seven feet tall. Just like a man, though there was nothing human about it. It reminded him of some kind of fairy-tale demon. He could’ve sworn it had hissed in frustration when it left the neighborhood without prey.
“Daddy,” Emily said, placing her tiny hand on Warren’s hip.
He looked down into her sad blue eyes. “What is it, honey?”
“Mommy wants you to come back to the basement.”
Warren nodded. He picked up his P-90 from where he’d propped it near the window and followed his daughter downstairs into the candlelit room. As he entered, he made sure to shut and lock the heavy door behind him.
Jessica was staring at him, her green eyes bloodshot from a seemingly endless flood of tears that she cried every time they managed to get Emily asleep.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Warren said. “The dead can’t get in here and that thing is gone. It’s not up there now. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Emily wandered over to Jessica, who scooped her up. Warren could tell Jessica wanted to scream at him for locking them into this tiny basement to die, but she was holding her tongue for their daughter’s sake.
“The worst of it’s over,” Warren tried to assure her. “It’s just a matter of time until the dead wander off and we can make a break for it.”
Jessica nodded, trying to force a smile.
A scratching sound filled the room.
Warren frowned. “What the hell is that?”
“I don’t know,” Jessica said. “It started while you were upstairs. It starts up and then dies down every few minutes.”
“Why didn’t you come and get me before now?” Warren asked, holding in his rage.
“I… I think it’s coming from behind the washer,” Emily said. “It’s not the monsters trying to get in, is it, daddy?”
“No, I don’t think so. The monsters are all up on the street.” Warren moved over to the washing machine and slid it away from the wall. The second he did, he knew he’d made a terrible mistake. The whole section of wall behind it had been scratched away, and a mass of rats came pouring into the basement.
“Oh God!” Jessica yelled.
Warren sprayed the rats with his P-90 on instinct, and the gun boomed in the small space. He fought helplessly to stop the rodents, realizing that he was the only thing standing between them and his family. Trying to get a better aim at their center mass, he backed away from the wall and smashed one of the rats beneath his heavy boot. Emily squealed behind him and Jessica cried out in pain as the rats raced their way up her legs, eating holes into her flesh as they went.
“No!” Warren screamed.
And then the walls gave way and the entire room flooded with rats, so many that he drowned in them as their teeth ripped and tore into his skin.
Warren awoke in a shower of glass as a bullet blew out the window above his head. At first he could feel the rats all around him, but he managed to shake off the nightmare as he rolled from the car’s backseat onto the floorboard, taking his M-16 with him. His family had died long ago, but he was still alive and wasn’t going to die if he could help it.
“What the hell is going on?” he shouted, not quite ready to hazard a look outside.
Matt slammed into the side of the car near the shattered window. He was panting and nearly out of breath. Warren glared up at him, silently demanding an explanation. Outside the car, the gunfire had stopped.
“Are you okay, sir?” Matt managed to ask.
Warren stepped out of the car and, brushing chunks of glass off his clothing, took a look around. The sun was just beginning to stir in the morning clouds. Jenkins and Scott stood out in the field, well beyond the camp perimeter. Behind Warren, inside the large circle of vehicles which made up the convoy, the camp was a flurry of activity as people started their day. Clearly, they weren’t under attack, which left Warren more than a bit pissed off at the rude awakening. Only a single body lay between him and his men in the field.
“Jenkins didn’t mean to, sir,” Matt said, sensing Warren’s anger. “I was relieving them from their watch and somehow one of the dead slipped—”
Warren started marching towards the two men in the field, and Matt fell in behind him without another word.
“Mornin’, boss,” Jenkins said, grinning. Scott stood at his side, looking like a child who knew he was about to be dragged to the principal’s office for a spanking. “You sleep well?”
Warren punched him, and Jenkins staggered backwards, spitting out a bloody tooth. He recovered quickly, but not fast enough to dodge the butt of Warren’s rifle; it hammered his stomach, and he collapsed to his knees.
Warren shoved the barrel of his M-16 into Jenkins’s face. “I’m only going to ask you once. What the fuck happened?”
Before Jenkins could reply, Scott said, “One of the dead was headed into camp. We didn’t see it until it was long past us. Jenkins took it out, but he missed with his first shot. It took two to hit it.”
Warren gritted his teeth. He had lost count of how many times he’d given this same talk to the sentries. “Didn’t I teach you that if it was only one or two or a handful, you reposition yourself between them and the convoy before you start shooting? The things are too damn slow to be a threat in small numbers.”
Scott and Matt nodded, but Jenkins spit another mouthful of blood onto the ground and looked up at Warren as if ready to tear out the man’s throat with his bare hands. “I got the fucker, didn’t I? Isn’t that what counts?”
“And you nearly got me in the process. If your shot had been a bit lower, we would not be having this conservation and the convoy would be another man down. There are so few of us left already, do you really want to see somebody else die from you being stupid? I, for one, have seen enough death to last me a lifetime.”
Jenkins didn’t answer. He got to his feet and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You’ll be more careful next time,” Warren informed him, then glanced at Matt. “You sure that corpse is the only one?”
“Pretty sure. The gunfire will draw any more in the area to us, but I don’t think we’re in any danger. This area was mostly deserted even before the rats.”
“Jenkins, stay with him. You’re going to be pulling double duty today. Scott, go and get some rest. If any of you need me, I’ll be trying to find some damn breakfast before the next round of shit hits the fan.” Warren turned to look toward camp.
Almost fifty vehicles, ranging from a beat-up Dodge Shadow to a tank and two APCs, formed the defensive circle around what could be the last of the human race. There were less than one hundred and fifty people in the convoy, but right now that small number seemed like a whole city to him. Every one of them had their own tales of
