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were on? I think the main power has been cut. Is there a train in the station?'

'No.'

Then the trains are probably stuck in the tunnels; I think we can assume the tracks are dead.'

You assume it. I'll walk between the lines.'

Take me to the tunnel entrance. To the, er, left, the east. We have to go back down the line.'

'Look, I'm not so sure. Those people seemed pretty scared of whatever was in there.'

"We've been through all that.'

'People were running from the other platform too, the one below this. How do you explain that?'

'I don't need to. We have no choice but to find the shelter.'

We could stay here. It's deep enough underground to be safe.'

'Not necessarily. It isn't sealed; there are openings, vents, all along the tunnels where radiation can penetrate.'

'Are you always so pessimistic?'

'I'm sorry, but it's pointless pretending optimism under these circumstances. From now on, we must consider the worst possibilities if we're to live.'

'How far into the tunnel is this entrance?' Culver looked towards the round arch of the dark tunnel, his brow furrowed in anxious lines.

'Eight to nine hundred yards. It won't take us long.'

'Let's get on with it then.'

The platform entrance was not far from the tunnel itself and the two men approached the black gaping hole cautiously. Culver stepped close to the platform's edge and shone the flashlight into the darkness.

'It looks clear,' he called back over his shoulder to Dealey.

'If there was anything in there the crowds probably scared it off long ago.'

'Let's hope you're right.'

Dealey had felt his way along the side wall and had caught up with Culver. 'How do your eyes feel?'

Culver asked him.

'Bloody sore, but not as bad as before. The stinging is slowly fading.'

Culver nodded and pointed the beam straight into his face.

'Can you see anything at all?'

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?

He moved the light back a few feet.

It came to rest on a figure standing in one of the openings dividing the two tunnels.

She was perfectly still, eyes staring directly ahead into the brickwork of a column opposite the one she leaned against. Her clothes were torn, dirt-smeared; her hair matted, unkempt. She did not appear to be breathing, but she was alive. Alive and shocked rigid.

'Dealey,' Culver said, keeping his voice low. There's a girl on the other side of the track. Just standing there, too scared to move.'

He tensed as a black shape appeared in the opening, at the girl's feet. Its pointed nose twitched in the air before it leapt off the small ledge to be among its gluttonous companions.

'Find the door, man, that's more important.'

Culver grimaced, a smile without humour. You're all heart,' he said.

'If we find the shelter, then we may be able to help her.'

'She could collapse at any moment, and if she does she'll fall right into them. She'd have no chance.'

There isn't much we can do.'

'Maybe not.' Culver began to rise, his back scraping against the brick wall, the movement slow, easy.

'But we're going to try.'

'Culver!' A hand grabbed his sleeve, but he shook it off. He began to move away from the slaughter, backing off in the direction they had come.

'Stay there, Dealey,' he whispered. You'll be okay. They're not ready for dessert just yet.' His black humour did not amuse even himself.

When he felt he was at a safe distance - although a few hundred miles would have felt safer - Culver crossed the track. Then began the cautious, deliberate walk back, keeping the beam low, not wanting to disturb the unholy feast. His footsteps light, Culver stepped through one of the openings onto the adjacent track, hoping none of the creatures was lurking there. Less intimidated by the bloodletting because now it was out of view, he made faster progress.

The girl scarcely blinked at the glare as he reached her from the other side of the opening. He stepped up onto the small ledge and faced her.

'Are you hurt?' he asked, raising his voice a little when there was no response. 'Can you hear me? Are you hurt?'

A tiny flicker of life registered in her eyes, but still she gave no acknowledgement of his presence.

'Culver,' came Dealey's hissed voice from the other side of the tunnel, twenty feet or so back from the opening Culver and the girl stood in. 'I can hear them getting closer. You've got to help me. Please find the shelter.' He sounded desperate, almost tearful, and Culver could understand why. The sucking guzzling of the vermin was nauseating as well as terrifying, and the cracking of small, brittle bones cruelly accentuated the horror.

Becoming impatient with his own caution, Culver quickly swung the wide beam along the opposite wall, starting at a point further down the tunnel. There was more than one recess set in the brickwork, but none held a doorway, until -there it was\ Almost opposite. A goddam iron bloody door! Unmarked, but then it would be!

'Dealey! I've found it!' It was difficult to keep his voice low. 'It's just a little ahead of me, about thirty yards from you. Can you make it on your own?'

The other man was already on his feet. He began to inch along the wall, feeling with his hands, his face almost pressed against the rough brickwork. Culver turned his attention back to the girl.

Her face was smeared with blood and dirt, although he could see no open cuts, and her eyes remained wide and staring. She might have been pretty, he couldn't tell, and her shoulder-length hair might have looked good with the sun reflecting highlights, but again, it was hard to tell and not the uppermost consideration in his mind. When his hand touched her shoulder the air exploded with her scream.

He staggered back from her thrusting arms, his head striking the column behind. His eyes closed for just an instant, but when they opened she had gone. He swung the

torch and found her again. She had fallen among the half-eaten bodies, startling the black vermin so that they scurried away. And now he saw just how many of the creatures there were.

Hundreds! My God, more. Many more! 'Dealey, get to the shelter! Move as fast as you can!' The girl was trying to rise, trying to crawl away from the glare, and the rats had stopped, were turning, were watching her, were no longer afraid.

He jumped, slipped, lay sprawled, the flashlight gone from his grasp. His hands were in a sticky mess and he quickly withdrew them, afraid to see what they had touched. The girl was only a few feet away and he lunged for her ankle to prevent her moving any further, for the beasts were waiting for her just beyond the circle of light.

She screamed again when he gripped her leg and pulled her back. His other hand scrabbled around for the torch, ignoring the wet, mushy things he touched in the darkness. He grabbed the handle, but the girl was fighting against him, kicking, turning and beating at him with her fists. The taste of blood was in his mouth and he turned his head aside to avoid the blows. A weight thudded against him and he felt something tear at his thigh.

He cried aloud and brought the heavy flashlight down hard on the rat's spine. It squealed, high-pitched, piercing, but its teeth would not release their grip. The flashlight came down again, harder, harder, again, and the creature's claws scrabbled at the dust beneath it. It released its hold, squealing, the sound of a baby in pain. Culver struck again and it staggered sideways. But it did not run.

Culver jumped to his feet, the fear overcoming his exhaustion; he stamped on the creature's skull, his boot crunching bones, squashing the substance beneath. The rat writhed,