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their way into the shelter. Ellison's breathing was coming in short, sharp gasps; with every step it felt like someone was jabbing his ribs with a knife. He needed to rest but, although he was sure the worst was over, he refused to consider the possibility while still in the confines of the damp passageways.

Perhaps when they reached the next level they could take a break. Perhaps not. Dealey was last in line, constantly casting his eyes around the pitch blackness behind as though expecting the shelter door to be flung open and hordes of squealing rats to burst through. His imagination, thoroughly aroused by now, conjured up further, grotesque visions: in his mind's eye he saw the corpses inside the shelter stirring, gathering up their scattered pieces, moulding them back into grotesque, barely-human forms, rising, many without heads, for they were lost forever, stumbling through the complex, bumping sightlessly into one another, scrabbling their way to the exits, humps of rotted flesh falling from them, staggering out into the dark corridors fringing the underground bunker, searching for those who still lived, seeking revenge for their own deaths on those who had survived...

He moaned aloud and tried to wipe the fatigue-induced visions from his mind with shaking hands. He had never thought it possible to experience a nightmare while still awake, for a dream to come so alive when one's eyes were not closed. Sometimes, though, reality created the worst living nightmares.

Running footsteps ahead, coming towards them. A blinding light, freezing them in its glare like fear-struck rabbits paralysed by on-coming headlights.

Fairbank almost ran into Culver.

The engineer leaned against the wall, shining the light back in the direction he had come. He was gasping for

breath. They're ahead of us,' he managed to say. 'I heard them squealing, moving around. They're above us, too, take a listen!'

They waited and the noise grew. Slithering sounds. Scratching. Squealing. Coming from the corridor ahead of them. And then, just faintly, they heard similar noises overhead. They became louder, exaggerated by the acoustics of the passageways.

'Back!' Culver said, pushing at Kate to make her move.

'Back where?' Ellison shouted. We can't get back into the shelter! We're trapped here!'

Culver and Fairbank, shoulder to shoulder in the narrow confines, pointed the Ingrams and flashlights into the tunnel ahead, waiting for the first sighting. It soon came.

They swarmed from the darkness just beyond the range of the beams, a squealing thronging multitude of black-furred beasts, scurrying forward into the glare, eyes gleaming. The vermin filled the corridor, a flowing stream of darkness.

Culver and Fairbank opened fire at the same time, bringing the rush to a sudden, screeching halt. Rats twisted in the air to land on the backs of others, who were themselves in death-throes. Yet more took their place, more advanced, bodies snaking low to the floor, powerful haunches thrusting them forward.

Culver stopped firing for a moment to yell at the two men and the girl.

'I told you - move back!'

They did, slowly, still watching over Culver's and Fair-bank's shoulders.

The advance stopped momentarily and the two men rested their weapons. Bloodied creatures wriggled on the floor no more than fifty yards away.

'Steve!' Kate was near to breaking. There's nowhere to go! It's hopeless!'

'Find the drain,' he said to them. 'It can't be far behind us. Find it quickly.'

More shadows rushed forward and the two men opened fire again. Bullets ricocheted off the walls, showering sparks, creating a bedlam of flashes and leaping animals.

'Give us one of the lights!' Ellison was screaming in panic.

Without pausing, Culver handed his flashlight over. Ellison grabbed it and stumbled away, aiming the beam into the puddles at their feet. The shooting stopped. The group continued their retreat.

'Here they come again,' Fairbank warned. The rats were relentless in their attack, jumping over the backs of their injured companions, only the narrowness of the passageway itself preventing the group of survivors from being overwhelmed. Both Culver and Fairbank had the same question in mind: How much ammunition did they have left?

'It's here, I've found it!' Ellison called out.

The rats were still huddling together in the full glare of the torches, hemmed in by the rough walls, neither retreating nor advancing. Culver told Fairbank to raise the beam above ground level for a moment. The two men drew in sharp breaths when the light travelled over the quivering humped backs, for the black creatures stretched far away into the tunnel, well beyond its curve.

'Oh, shit, beam me up, Scotty,' Fairbank said in hushed awe.

'Culver, we can't get it open. It's stuck!'

The pilot turned and saw Ellison and Dealey struggling with the drain cover, Kate holding the light for them. He reached for the axe tucked into Fairbank's belt and said, almost in a whisper, afraid anything louder would encourage the vermin to continue their attack, 'Start firing the moment they break.'

Fairbank did not risk looking at him; he merely grunted affirmation, finding the advice totally unnecessary.

Culver knelt beside the two men and handed the Ingram to Ellison. 'Help Fairbank,' he said, then examined the edges of the drain. 'How far down are the sewers?' he asked Dealey, still in a low voice.

'I've no idea,' Dealey's reply was equally quiet. 'I think there are channels below us, running into the main waterways, but I don't know how far down they are, or even if they'll accommodate us.'

Culver bent low and listened, but although he could hear the water trickling down the walls he could not tell whether it was running into a stream. He inserted the sharp side of the axe head into the gap between the grating and its surround. Before trying to lever it up, he scraped out mud.

Fairbank's whisper was harsh. They're coming forward again! Taking it slow this time, just creeping along. The bastards are stalking us!'

Culver shoved the blade in as far as it would go. 'Dealey,' he hissed, 'push your fingers through on this side of the drain. Pull when I give you the word.'

'Hurry it up!' Ellison's voice was a frantic whisper.

The light Kate was holding shook madly.

'Okay, now!' Culver leaned on the blade with all his weight and Dealey heaved upwards. For two dreadfully long seconds nothing happened. Then Culver felt something beginning to shift. The drain cover came up with a squelchy sucking and water ran more freely into the widening gap. After the first few inches it swung up more easily and Culver grabbed at its edge pulling it wide. The lid clanged against the passage wall, the signal for all hell to break loose again.

He snatched the flashlight from Kate and shone it into the

opening. The drain was roughly two foot square, large enough for them to climb into. About ten feet below he saw sluggish moving water.

Culver had to shout to make himself heard over the cacophony of muffled bullets and screeching rats, and even then the others could only guess at his meaning. He tugged at Dealey.

'There are no rungs! You'll have to drop down into the water - it shouldn't be too deep! Help Kate when she follows!'

Dealey needed no second bidding. He was horrified at having to jump into such a black, unknown pit, but even more horrified at the idea of being eaten alive. He lowered himself onto the edge, then sank his overweight stomach into the hole, using elbows to hold himself in that position. There was little room to spare, but he managed to scrape through. With an intake of breath, he slid down, hanging onto the edge with his fingertips. Closing his eyes, Dealey dropped.

His belly and chin scraped against rough brickwork and the fall seemed to last an eternity. He cried out as his feet plunged into cold wetness, but the sound was abruptly cut off when he touched the slimy channel bed. He found himself on hands and knees in flowing water, the level just reaching below his hunched shoulders. His figure was bathed in light from above.

'It's all right!' he shouted upwards, almost laughing with relief. 'It's shallow! We can make it through here!'

He thought he heard a shout from above and then another body was blocking out the light. Rising, Dealey realized the roof of the channel was arched, rising to no more than four feet at its apex. He now stood inside the drain shaft through which he had dropped. Loose chippings and water fell onto

his upturned face as Kate's feet slid towards him. He reached up and took her weight, endeavouring to lower her gently, the effort almost too much.

Above, one of the guns had stopped firing.

Culver looked anxiously at the two men and saw Fairbank throw his Ingram away.

That's it!' the engineer shouted. 'Empty!'

'Get back here!' the pilot told him, tucking the small axe into his own belt. 'Dealey, here comes the flashlight! For God's sake, don't drop it!' He let the torch fall and was relieved when it found safe hands.

Ellison came with Fairbank, still firing along the tunnel. Fairbank dropped to one knee beside Culver and leaned close. We can't hold them back any longer! One more rush and that's it!'

'Give me the light!' Still pointed towards the vermin, the flashlight was handed to him. The firing had become more sporadic, the rats advancing, then stopping, Ellison having the sense not to waste bullets.

We'll get Ellison down there first, then you,' Culver said to Fairbank, keeping his voice low in between bursts of fire. 'I want you to stay inside the drain to support me when I come through. I'm going to have to pull this cover shut before I come down.'

That's not going to be easy.'

What the fuck is these days?'

Fairbank grunted and stood with Culver, who reached around Ellison and took the gun. 'Get in the hole!'

Ellison could not take his eyes off the sprawl of dark, inert bodies and their more lethal companions -

those who still crept forwards. They know. They know they can take us. Look at them! They're getting ready for the final attack!'

It was true; Culver sensed it. The bristling, quivering motion among the packed bodies was building to fever pitch.

Instinct, cunning, maybe just determination - something told these creatures that their enemy had become more vulnerable.

'Get into the drain,' Culver said evenly and Ellison moved away. The pilot faced the rats, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other. 'Is he down yet?' he called quietly over his shoulder.

'Nearly,' Fairbank replied.

‘You next.'

'Okay, but first back up until you're on this side of the hole. It'll make things easier for you.'

Hands reached out and guided Culver around the opening. Fairbank clapped his shoulder and wriggled into the drain.

'Make it quick,' he said before dropping from view. ‘Ill be waiting.' He was gone and Culver was alone.

Alone except for the creeping mutants.

He gently eased himself into a sitting position, gun and flashlight held chest-high, then slid his legs over the edge. Now comes the tricky part, he thought.

The rats sensed their prey was escaping. The squeals rose to high-pitched screeches as they surged forward.

Culver squeezed the trigger, knowing he would never contain this charge. Bullets thudded into rushing bodies, spinning them over, ripping them apart. But still they came, splashing through the water, a solid, heaving mass.

With a cry of fear, Culver pushed himself off the edge, his elbows catching his weight before he dropped down completely. He kept firing and the rats kept coming, pushing past those that fell, brushing aside their wounded, pure fury storming them forward.

Culver's feet scrabbled around below him until firm hands grabbed his ankles and guided them. He triggered one last

spray of bullets, then knew he had no choice. He dropped the flashlight, grabbed the drain cover and ducked.

He felt the support beneath him dropping too, giving him room to manoeuvre in the confined space. He stayed crouched just beneath the grating, knowing it had not sunk properly into its home.

Take the gun!' he called down, lowering the weapon as far as he could. Someone, probably Fairbank, took it from him. The drain was brilliantly lit by torchlight.

Culver lifted the cover just a little, pulling his fingers from the opening immediately when something sharp brushed their tips. Using the flat of his palms, he tried again. The weight above him was tremendous and he knew the vermin were swarming over the cover. He could hear their squeals only inches away from his face. He felt talon-like claws through the slits of the drain cover, tearing into his hands, and he ignored the pain, using all his strength to lift and slide the lid round. Fairbank's shoulders trembled beneath him, but the stocky engineer held firm, assisting him as much as he could.

The cover closed with a firm, satisfying thud. The rats frantically scraped at the other side, their screeching reaching a crescendo. Culver could not see them, but he felt their hot, fetid breath on his face.

He allowed himself to slowly collapse and Fairbank sensing it was all right to do so, gently lowered him.

Other hands supported him and he gratefully sank into the running water.

He rested there, head back against the slimy brick wall of the channel, brownish water flowing over his lap, his hands clasped around his knees, breathing in deep lungfuls of stale air, his eyes closed. The others sprawled in similar positions, too exhausted to care about the soaking. They listened to the scrabbling, the frustrated scraping above them while trying

to regain their breath, their composure. The squeals from the enraged vermin sent shivers running through them.

Presently, Dealey voiced what they all knew. They'll find other ways into the sewer.'

Culver opened his eyes and was relieved to see the flashlight he had dropped had been saved.

Fairbank held the Ingram above water level, his face a taut mask, eyes staring and particularly white against the contrast of his dirt-grimed face. Kate's head was against her knees, loose, bedraggled hair falling around her face. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch her, knowing there was precious little time for comfort. Ellison and Dealey held the torches, the latter also clutching the Browning automatic; there seemed to be barely any strength left in either of them.

Culver stretched out a hand. 'Let me have the gun.'

Dealey hardly had to move to give it to him, so close were the walls of the channel. 'It got wet when I fell into the water; I had it in my pocket.'

Culver took the gun, praying it would still fire. 'Ellison -the flashlight.'

Without argument, the engineer passed it over.

'Any idea which way we should go?' Culver asked Dealey. The sound of his voice sent the squealing above their heads into a new furore.

'No. I don't have much idea of the sewer network and I'm completely disorientated anyway.' He glanced up nervously into the opening above.

Then we'll move in this direction,' Culver indicated with the Browning to his left. That's the way the water's flowing, so it must lead somewhere.' He rose, crouching because of the low ceiling, and climbed over the others. ‘Ill lead. Kate, you stick close to me. Fairbank, you bring up the rear.'

They all scrambled to their feet, desperately tired and