by Adam Skye
Sam crept up to the next wall, looked at me. His eyes said it: How many rats?
We waited, listening. I could only hear my heart.
Sam looked over. I flicked my tail.
Mid-jump, I scoped just one rat, peeping over the edge of the roof at I couldn’t see what. We landed silently. Sam signalled Wait. He crept low, closer and closer until he was behind the rat, then reached round and clamped his right paw over the rat’s face, pulled him back and hugged him into his belly fur. He reached down his left, ripped across, kept his right tight over the rat’s mouth while the twitches subsided, then quietly dragged the body away from the wall.
Then we lay down, and listened.
Marcus stood, rose on his back legs and sniffed disdainfully. Civility disappeared.
“Thanks, Dom. Ya know I wondered when I was gonna have my say in my own city. Reckon you MOON guys prob’ly got nothin’ to do all day ’cept talk an’ eat cheese. Me, I run a city an’ I live unnerground an’ I don’t like bein’ out in the open, for reasons which should be obvious cos you got brains.”
Then his face changed, and his tone: a part-snarl that carried part-threat.
Sai glanced at Domus, saw him wan, and jittery.
“Least you better have, cos, ya know, I got a few problems with this whole plague thing.”
MOON stared at Marcus: at his violent tics, his neck-writhes, his snorting and the furious circle he paced in front of them, every one of them in turn addressed: MOON, Max, the guards clustered along the walls.
“I got no problem with the bodies an’ the smell an’ that... an’ the pay-off’s good — aw hell, it’s great — but I got questions. I got... concerns. Nothin’ big. I jus’ wanna bit of reassurance.”
Marcus paused and paced, scowling, then finally span round and snapped, “Domus!”
And Domus juddered.
“You’re the rat says where it’s at. You say, we can do ’em all in one go, ba-boom, an’ take over the city. But I figure they gotta be like us, no? Like, they get ill — ow ow ow, that hurts — but then they get better again. An’ then what?”
He stepped closer to Domus.
“I say if we do one, we gotta do ’em all. Cuz if you don’t get ’em all an’ some of ’em figure out where the whammy came from, they’ll be real mad at us. They’re gonna wanna get even. They’ll come for us.”
He stood in front of Domus, half his width, twice his strength.
“An’ I don’t fight what I can’t beat.”
Domus gulped and nodded. Marcus scratched his head.
“For rats now... things are good. This modern life we got? It could be worse. We got the humans throwin’ out food an’ creatin’ all that trash we live off of. But me, I say... it’d be even better wit’ humans outta the way. Now, on that we agree, Domi. But humans? Believe me: they know how to kill. They got dogs, poisons, fire, gas... What’ve you got that’s better’n that? I wanna know. The bug’s been around before, an’ they’re still here. So what is it, smart guy? What’ve you got that’s gonna help me take them all out?”
Domus did not seem so assured, now. The words were confident, the voice not.
“Well. The strain I have genetically-hybridised embodies all the known properties of the plague, but is an improvement. Some strains of P. pestis transmit themselves with greater efficiency, but are not always... fatal. Others transmit less successfully, but, once established, are more certain to kill. My hybrid has both the superior contagiousness of the less lethal, combined with the more lethal virulence of the less contagious.”
Marcus scowled.
“I hate big words. Max?”
His head of security appeared and stepped into the circle, an appalling breach of MOON etiquette, but one which Sai recorded as quite unsurprising, wholly apt to the disgusting company MOON had sought out.
“Boss?”
“Didja get that?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
Marcus scowled deeper.
“Eh. Hey, Domus. You made this stuff, right? How d’you know ya got it right? Like, what if ya got the bottles o’ germs mixed up an’ bred a wuss type instead?”
“I assure you my methodology was rigorous. Genetics was the first science I mastered after...”
Marcus curled his lip.
“Too many long words, pal.”
“Very well, then: in shorter words. If we release the plague in this city, the humans will fall in their millions and the city will fall to us. The humans do not have enough antibiotics to deal with an epidemic of any kind, and they certainly do not have any antibiotics which cure my strain of the plague.”
“And what about the other cities? Like, they won’t come an’ help?”
“They will be fighting their own outbreaks.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that is how I designed it. More certain to spread. More certain to kill. But with a period of incubation. While the bacterium takes hold in its host and before it takes its first victim, a million humans will have travelled into and out of this city and some will become infected. Some of them will fly to every major city on the planet from this city’s airport and be halfway across the world when the incubation period ends, and the bacterium turns aggressive. Once we have infected them, the humans will infect each other, all over the world. I promise you. You will have this city. And we will have the world.”
Marcus turned, half snarling. MOON waited while he paced and thought.
“OK. So. Problem two. This has gotta go the black rats’ way, I mean the bug, an’ the blame. If rats find out I did this... I’m food. Nah, we gotta pin it on the black rats.”
“And what about the unfortunate security breach at the last Convocation? Have you taken care of the problem?” asked Domus.
“I got guys on it.”
“Black rats stay hidden in high places, if I recall. Very hard to reach, even if you know where to look, which I gather you don’t.”
Marcus shrugged it off.
“Nah, not so hard. That black rat? He didn’t get far. He’s up aroun’ here somewhere. I got guys out all over the city lookin’ for him. We’ll find him, find out where they all are, round ’em up and send ’em in with the bug.”
Sai surprised himself and spoke.
“Your own rats will die. There will be nowhere you can hide from the disease. And don’t expect the black rat to tell you where his community is.”
Marcus tossed his head.
“He’ll tell me.”
“What makes you so sure?” persisted Sai, not really knowing why, but simply unable not to challenge the repulsive specimen.
“Because there’s this thing we do.”
“What thing?”
Marcus explained as if to an imbecile.
“We get the guy, we pin him down, pull his legs open, tell ’im, ‘Where are they all? Now! Or I’m gonna eat your balls.’ Then he spills, believe me.”
Five MOONrats flinched, two groaning, softly.
“Then...”
Guard rats tittered. Marcus grinned.
“Ya eat ’em anyway — make sure ya got the truth.”
Athena stole his ugly laugh away, speaking up, softly mocking.
“And have you found this rat yet?”
Marcus snorted.
“Yeah, good question. Max?”
He turned on him.
“I like you, Max. Ya don’t use long words. But soon I wanna hear ya say ‘I found ’im.’ Very soon. Sooner than that’d be better yet. Then ya gonna bring the guy to me, alive, an’ maybe I’ll do the thing myself, but whatever. All of this is gonna happen soon... no?”
“Boss.”
“Good.”
He turned back to Domus.
“I gotta know if this black rat knows about the bug. An’ if he told anyone else. When we get the rat an’ make him talk, you can do your thing. But your thing better work. So... do I vote now or what? See this paw? I’m in.”
Domus beamed. K
aver smiled too. Luxor looked to Domus for some sign that his happiness somehow had room for her and Alvix looked sick. Athena, Libo and Mir were gaping at Domus, and none of them were looking at Sai — eyes wide, utterly still — or at where Sai’s eyes had chanced to glance, where they were now fixed. Up.
Marcus was smiling broadly, pacing around, talking to his guards.
“Hey. We’re goin’ to the top! I’m takin’ you guys wi’ me. We get outta the city while it’s happenin’, come back when it’s done... Whaddyasay, Max?”
“I say, don’t get found out, Boss.”
“Heh, heh, like it, Max. I employ a worrier an’ already I feel safer. Hey, lighten up. Think o’ dead dogs and lottsa lottsa dead cats... Heh heh. Paybaaaaaaack! So rats’re gonna go too? They’d go anyway. An’ hey, think of the fun we’re all gonna have gettin’ back up to strength again, knowwhaddimean? C’mon now, let’s get off this roof. Everybody. Let’s go. Ya can enjoy the view some other time. Yo, Max, hurry up and find that rat guy, huh? I’m starvin’, heh heh. Hey, anybody else hungry?”
A voice came from the darkness above them. All eyes darted upwards. Two points of fire appeared above the edge of the roof and a voice came from them.
“Yeah. I am.”
I stood on the edge of the roof and watched the panicked scamperin’ on the terrace. Muscle rats came unglued from the wall an’ formed a thick cordon around Marcus an’ the fat rats. I sized them up, figured a hand-picked élite tougher than the average rat, the way the average rat was tougher than a duckling. From above, I could see the shiverin’ MOONrats’ terrified faces, and Marcus, lookin’ up at me with I’m gonna eat you eyes. One of the rats, the toughest-lookin’ — ‘Max’, I figured — was hissin’ orders an’ the body of guards started shufflin’, makin’ for the bottom corner and the foot of the wall where I could see a dark square which I figured for an escape tunnel. They were tryna make a break for it.
The mass of rats moved slowly. The bodyguards were upright, facin’ outwards, ringed around the MOONrats. The MOONrats themselves were so clumsy and near-immobile they had to be pushed from behind.
A voice came up from out of the knot.
“Hey, kitty. Whyncha come on down an’ play?”
Marcus. His goadin’, sizzlin’ with menace, cut through the shufflin’ and squeakin’.
“Ya got past the roof guards huh? Listened in on the thing? Didja geddit all, kitty? We’re takin’ over the city, hairball.”
I couldn’t help the low growl that came out.
Marcus squared off, safe in the near middle of the throng, a guard five bodies deep surroundin’ him.
“Ooo, toughguy... comin’ down?”
He stared into my eyes, beckoned.
“Yeah yeah, come on down kitty, do it do it do it... Eh, ya pussy.”
A few of the guards were grinnin’. Max was scowlin’. Marcus was enjoyin’ himself.
“Hey. Cat,” he hissed, “better go home kiss everyone goodbye... all yer kin ’n’ kittens. Take a good look, pal, cos the next time ya see ’em, well, they’ll be kind of... pus-y. Yo, it’s plague-time, folks! Heh heh.”
The body of rats edged slowly nearer to the hole.
“Ya think there’s anythin’ ya can do about it? Miaouw all ya want. Me an’ my fat friends here are down the hole an’ gone an’ you never see us again.”
A minute — a minute or so before they reached the hole.
I looked behind me, down at Sam, saw his blazin’ eyes an’ flattened ears, claws tensin’ in, out, in, out, barely holdin’ it back, his whippin’ tail sayin’ WHAT THE HELL ARE WE WAITIN’ FOR???
I looked back at the terrace, heard Marcus.
“So howja figure the odds, cat? Like a hunnert to one, no?”
I signalled Sam. He jumped up onto the overhang above the hole, a low snarl rumblin’ inside him.
“Less,” I told Marcus, thinkin’ the odds were still too high
Max was shoutin’, “Keep tight! Keep moving!”
But a tremor ran through the rats an’ the rat-heap stopped movin’. As their strength halved, alertness an’ readiness doubled. The guard rats pushed the huddle in tighter, stiffenin’ for a fight.
I looked over at Sam and signalled Go!
One two three.
Sai saw the outline of a springing cat silhouetted against the moon, perfectly balanced, perfectly dark, growing from cat to puma in the time it took to fall off a wall. Two shadows fell heavily on the MOONrats. Front paws landed on Sai, smashing the breath out of him. He felt cat’s claws pinch in, and crush him once more before tearing out and powering the cat away into a long jump.
Sai felt the press of the rat-wall give. Crushed-together MOONrats suddenly filled out again, like sponges. Sai turned his head, saw rats leaping into action, abandoning the MOONrats and rushing at the two cats. The protection around MOON was six rats deep.
The first layer peeled away and attacked.
Schaeffer whined: he could smell rat through the gap at the bottom of the door. He paced the landing, knowing that inside the apartment the city’s Most Wanted rat was negotiating terms with rats from the moon for the murder and takeover of the city.
Next to him, slumped squat on his ass, Rott watched his furious pacing. Schaeffer looked at Rott’s ears: floppy — zero thoughts.
He reared up and put his paws up against the door. It didn’t give by so much as a whisker. Schaeffer’s impatience, desperation and urgency spilled over into a low growl.
“Duh... Schaeffer... ?”
Schaeffer checked the door handle. A round knob: solid metal — no working it with his jaws.
“Schaeffer?”
Schaeffer whimpered, the crime of the century going down behind this door he could not get through.
“Schaeffer?”
Inside was Frr’s canary-killer, and what about Frr himself?
Schaeffer started thinking about how he’d buried his career, his pension, his reputation and years of loyal service only to be stopped from making the case of his life by nothing more than a door...
“SCHAEFFER!”
Rott’s explosive bark boomed in the stairwell, rattling windows and doors, and Schaeffer nearly jumped out of his skin. Shaking, he turned to the massive heap of police dog and noticed that one ear was shyly poking up.
“Dummm... would you like me to... ummmm...”
The ear half-dropped, then rallied.
“Bite the door off?”
Schaeffer’s jaw dropped. He nodded dumbly.
Rott heaved himself up and plodded to the door. His mouth gaped huge and he fastened his jaws around the door knob. Schaeffer watched as Rott’s neck and eyes start to bulge. Rott altered his grip and tightened, snorting. Schaeffer watched in awed silence, fears and hopes dangling.
The rottweiler was straining into the pull — hind legs bent, front legs pushing back, frozen like a statue but for the drool gathering at his jowl-ends. His tail stump twitched like a tic as he snarled and bit. Schaeffer heard tiny tinny creaks. He looked at Rott. His eyes had rolled up into the dark empty spaces of his head, tearing at the handle, violent tugs and jolting shakes sending slobber flying. Schaeffer watched with jaws agape as the door handle creaked, and the screws started to ease out. Rott’s growl rose in pitch as the wood surrounding the doorknob started to squeal. Schaeffer heard high pings of splintering wood, screws bending, metal screeching, wood creaking and moaning. Rott kept the pressure on, rumbling and snarling, until, with a wrenching tug, he tore the door handle out, and dropped it with a clang. Schaeffer stared as Rott backed up to the wall, rear-first. When his tail-stump bumped, he stopped, snarled, waddled his ass and charged.
Schaeffer, sitting, gaped, astounded, as Rott hurtled past and crashed head-first into the quivering door with a crunch that made the alsatian whimper.
Rott backed up and did it again. And again. And again. And again. The door bowed with each blow, staggering back under the onslaught of what Schaeffer was now convinced was solid bone. Rott d
idn’t even blink. If anything, he looked happy.
Schaeffer stared, staggered: there was actually a brain inside that head, issuing instructions to the mound of bone and muscle hurling itself repeatedly at the increasingly less solid-looking door. Order Rott to stop an oncoming truck with his head and he’d obey — and quite possibly succeed. The door looked very wobbly indeed now. Schaeffer still was shaking his head in disbelief when the door finally collapsed inwards.
Rott went absolutely blank.
Schaeffer sat still, stunned.
Two rats suddenly darted out from the corridor now on show, and scampered past, down the stairs, jumping three at a time.
Schaeffer shook, came out if it.
He looked at Rott and got the blank expression. Give me orders, please.
“Rott. Good work, Rott. The Chief will hear about this. Now. Erm... now, try very hard to remember this, Rott, okay?”
“Duh...”
One ear twitched — signs of life. Schaeffer took advantage.
“Good dog. Now: two things. Bite all the rats you can. Don’t bite any cats.”
Two things to remember. Schaeffer scanned Rott’s face: both ears perky — message received and understood. Schaeffer barked, “Let’s go!” and bounded along the corridor.
Ahead... a wide window at head height. Beyond the window... a balcony, night sky and moonlight.
Schaeffer built up speed and jumped for the sky.
More rats than I had ever seen at one time, let alone gone up against: this was a ten-cat job, not a two. An’ whatever edge surprise might have given us I’d blown because I’d let them know I was there. I’d wanted to know if it was all true, an’ had to take a look. I let curiosity get the better of Never Hesitate, even though I knew all about what curiosity does.
We went for the soft landin’, jumped in the centre of the pile, onto the MOONrats, then jumped straight off an’ ran up to the top of the terrace, by the balcony wall, drawing them. Better that they come at us...
The first guys came at me an’ Sam, squealin’. Sam dived straight in.