The Rats (16 page)

‘Yes, it’s me,’ he answered, shielding his eyes with his arm.

‘Get out, George, come on. The whole place is swarming with rats! Those giant ones. They’re after the animals.’

‘No, we’ve got to let them out, turn them loose–we can’t let them be slaughtered.’

‘Not bloody likely, we’re getting out, there’s nothing we can do. And you’re coming with us!’ So saying, he grabbed the old keeper’s arm and tried to pull him back towards the turnstile. George struck out blindly, knocking the torch from his colleague’s grasp and ran off towards the main office.

‘Leave him-, Joe,’ the other man said. ‘We’ll only get ourselves killed chasing him. Let’s get out of here.

George ran, his lungs bursting, ignoring the dark shapes that were streaming from the tunnel, and tore up the short flight of steps that led to the office where all the keys to the cages were kept. By now, the zoo had erupted into an explosion of sound. Roars, shrieks, squawks, bellows–all combined to create tumultuous pandemonium. He snatched as many key bunches from their racks as he could carry, knowing exactly which belonged to each section, and ran from the office.

He stopped aghast at the sight of the mighty gorilla, the old man of the zoo, recapturing its ancient primitive majesty, pulling the rats apart with its great hands, crushing their bones with its immense strength, tossing them away like limp rags. But even its might had to succumb to the unlimited number of razor-toothed vermin. They swarmed over the gorilla, enraged by its strength, and brought it crashing to the floor where it still fought bravely on..

George watched the impressive creature’s death-struggle in fascinated silence but movements around his legs brought him to his senses. Looking down, he saw the wretched-looking dark bodies flowing past him, inexplicably ignoring him. In a rage, he kicked out at them, but still they sped on, eager to fill themselves on the trapped animals.

The keeper ran with them, unlocking cages and swinging their doors open wide as he went. Many of the unfortunate animals merely crouched at the rear of their abodes whilst others saw their chance for freedom and hurled themselves through the open doors. The birds were the luckiest – they could take to the air. But for the other creatures, their only means of escape was speed. The prouder ones stayed to fight and killed many of the vermin before they themselves fell, but the majority chose to flee. When they reached the outer fences of the zoo, they threw themselves at it, going mad with the frustration of being trapped. Some managed to clear it–the apes or the more fleet-looted–but the others either cringed against it or raced around its perimeter.

The old keeper found himself at the big cat-house. Still he hadn’t been attacked by the vermin; his mind never questioned it, he was too distressed over the plight of his beloved animals to worry about his own safety. The roars were deafening as he ran for the iron cages, the cats snarling both in fear and defiance.

He reached the lions and unhesitatingly unlocked the metal doors.

‘Come on, Sheik, come on Sheba,’ he called to them softly, urging them to come out. He raced along, unlocking all the cages, oblivious to the danger. The lion sprang forward with an angry roar as it saw several dark shapes coming through the doors of the cat house. It tore them into shreds, tossing them into the air with its jaws, ripping their bodies with its claws. As more poured in, the other cats joined with the lion in the slaughter of the vermin; the tiger, the leopard, the panther, the puma, the jaguar, and the cougar all joined in the fight against the common foe. Only the cheetah remained in its cage.

‘Come on now, Sara, you must come out,’ pleaded George, but the cautious animal merely snarled from the back of the cage, baring its teeth, raising a claw.

‘Please, Sara, there’s a good girl. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’ve got to come out.’ In desperation, he began to scramble into the cage. ‘Come on, girl, it’s only old George. I’ve come to help you.’

He slowly advanced on the cheetah, hand outstretched, talking soothingly all the time. The animal crouched away, snarling more ferociously.

‘Only me, Sara, George, Good old George.’

The cat sprang at the old keeper and within seconds reduced him to a bloodied carcass, dragging the dead body around its cage in triumph.

Then it sprang from the cage and streaked towards the fight between cat and rodent, but instead of attacking the rodents, it leapt upon the back of the panther, sinking its teeth into its shoulder. Still the vermin poured in and the battle between might and multitude continued to its bitter end.

Chapter Sixteen

Harris drove through the clutter of military and police vehicles that jammed Whitehall. He was waved down several times by the police and asked to show his pass. When he did, they briskly waved him on, saluting curtly. He threaded his way through to the granite-grey Ministry of Defence building, now the operations’ headquarters. The drive through the deserted streets had been eerie to say the least; the only times he’d experienced anything like it had been in the pre-dawn hours, returning from a late-night celebration, when London’s concrete canyons seemed virtually devoid of life and the noises of traffic and people were something unreal, hard even to imagine. But even then, there had usually been the sight of another lonely car or perhaps a man on his bike returning from night work. But today there had been nothing. He hadn’t even seen any army scout cars that he knew were patrolling the streets, checking that the city was empty, that no unauthorised person remained. For the past two days, there had been a lot of trouble with looters–scavengers who saw the chance of a lifetime to fill their pockets without hindrance.

They had been wrong; security had never been tighter. To be in London now, without authorisation, meant immediate arrest and the whole area was concentrated with police and army personnel with the express task of enforcing the government ban.

‘Will it work, darling?’ Judy interrupted his thoughts.

He turned towards her, smiling tightly, unable to hide his unease. ‘It’s got to, hasn’t it?’ he said. Stopping to allow an army lorry to pull out from a row of other brown vehicles all filled with soldiers wearing heavy protective suits and each carrying gas masks balanced on their knees, he reached out and squeezed her hand. As part of the newly reorganised ‘action committee’ he’d been able to use some influence to keep Judy with him instead of being shipped off to the country for five days. Not that he’d wanted her to stay, the danger involved today (and possibly the next couple of days) to anyone still in the city could be great.

The whole operation was unpredictable to a certain extent. But she’d insisted on staying with him and he had managed to get her dispensation from the ban, having her conscripted into the large administration organization necessary for ‘Operation Extirpate’.

‘Operation Extirpate’, as it was named was based on a simple plan put forward by Harris, and the idea that had placed him back on the committee. It was the sort of inspiration that could only have come from someone not used to or bogged down by the intricacies of a scientific mind, so bold and uncomplicated was its concept. After the initial shock of the rats’ counter-attack, the members of the original team had sunk into a state of confusion and despair; the vermin had swiftly become immune to the virus although the disease they carried had been considerably weakened. But they, themselves, had become stronger, almost as if they had a burning desire for revenge, and they wreaked havoc, not just in East London, but all over the city, leaving a trail of’ bloody slaughter wherever they emerged from then’ lairs.

There had been many attacks that fateful Tuesday night; a cinema, a hospital, an old people’s home–even a public house. The animals in London zoo had suffered a terribly vicious onslaught, many escaping to the surrounding park and those that couldn’t be captured had to be shot. There had been mass individual attacks, people alone having no chance against the overwhelming vermin. Reports had come in throughout the night of destruction and bloodshed.

An emergency meeting was held between the committee and government officials. Foskins didn’t attend–he had been dismissed from office by the P.M. instantly the news broke and wasn’t seen again in the hectic days that followed. New members were added to the original team but the new plan had been devised before the change had had time to take effect.

When Harris had thought of the idea, he’d blurted it out almost immediately without giving himself time to think. If he had, he reflected later, he would probably have held his tongue with the notion that it was too simple, too broad in concept, and that if it had any merit, then one of the shrewder, more scientific members of the team would have produced it.

The idea, stemming from a previous team meeting, was basically this: as gas was the only proven method of destroying the vermin, they had to be lured into the open for the gas to be effected upon them; this could be achieved by the use of ultrasonic sound beams set up at strategic points all over the city sending out sound-waves to the widest area possible, luring the rats into the open where the gas could be used.

To Harris’ amazement, the idea was agreed on in principle with only slight reservations; a few refinements to be thrashed out. London would have to be evacuated. It was drastic, but then the consequences would be fatal if the necessary steps were not taken. Londoners would have to leave their homes and migrate to the surrounding countryside if they were to escape the effects of the vast quantity of gas that had to be used. Evacuation was essential anyway to avoid the attacks from the rats. Safety could not be guaranteed any more. Huge enclosures would be built in the parks, as many as possible in the time, and the transmitters placed inside where the high-frequency sound waves would be sent out. The right pitch could easily be found by testing captive black rats. Once inside the enclosures, the entrances would be blocked and the deadly gas poured in. Because of the danger to anyone on the ground, helicopters would be used to hover over the enclosures to drop the gas into them, and ground troops would stand by outside in heavily armoured trucks armed with water-cannons, flame throwers and more gas. The building of the compounds and the complete evacuation of London(save for those people vital to the running of the city’s essential services) would have to be achieved within six days at the most–otherwise the risk of the fast multiplying rodents completely overrunning the city would be too great. It was no time to ponder over the very existence of the vermin; their size, their strength, where they’d originated from, how their numbers had grown despite the virus, why they were so much more cunning than the smaller of their species (what gave them the instinct to lie low while the infection was taking effect on their companions). All these questions would have to be answered later. For now it was a question of survival.

That day–the plan had to be created, devised and put into action throughout the night–the city was declared to be in a state of emergency. The inhabitants were informed they were to be evacuated in sections, although thousands left without any urging at all on hearing of the night’s events; village halls, churches, schools–all public buildings were to be used as temporary shelters; huge marquees and tents were to be erected in fields; people were asked to stay with relatives if they had any in other parts of the country; an order was made known that looters would be shot on sight; any unauthorised person found in London after the sixth day would be arrested (it was known that all the people living in the city would never be cleared but at least the emergency laws would keep them indoors and hopefully away from harm).

Mercifully, the area south of the river had not been affected as yet, but it was decided to clear the inner boundaries of the sprawling suburbs as an extra precaution.

Many people protested; they didn’t want to leave their homes, they weren’t afraid of the vermin. But they were given no choice–if they wouldn’t leave peacefully, then they were forced, there being no time for politeness or argument. The period of exile would be two weeks from the day of the first gas onslaught.

Time would be needed to ensure that every last rodent was exterminated; the sewers would be completely and utterly filled with gas; basements, tunnels, ruins–any possible place that could harbour the vermin would be cleared and thoroughly cleansed.

Whether the shame and the disgrace in the eyes of the world would ever be erased was another matter.

The barricades around the parks went up in remarkably swift time, then’ use being more to confine the gas in a more concentrated area than to contain the rats. The roads out of London were jammed with cars and coaches, and trains ran non-stop services into the neighbouring provinces. Troops poured in to patrol the streets and to train for the emergency. More protective clothing was mass-produced in a very short time for the police and army. Any public demonstration was quickly broken up and dealt with, peacefully if possible.

At first, it looked as though the city would never be ready for the oncoming battle but miraculously–and mostly due to the co-operation, caused by fear, of the public–on the fifth day the stage was almost set.

Last minute conferences were held, revisions to existing plans made, final instructions to helicopter crews and the army given, and then the long vigil through the empty night, waiting for the dawn and the deciding climax it would bring.

Harris and Judy had laid awake most of the night, making love, talking–trying to push thoughts of the on-coming day’s events from then’ minds. They’d finally fallen into fitful sleep as the grey dawn forced the night darkness aside, the sun slowly rising upon a strangely still city.

When they awoke, their tiredness evaporated instantly as thoughts of the day flooded then’ minds. Judy cooked a breakfast which was left almost untouched and they made ready to go out into the deserted streets. As they opened their front door they saw a black rat scurry across the road into the small square park opposite. They hurried to their car and drove off, Harris glancing into his rear-view mirror, almost expecting to see the road behind him filled with vermin.

They finally reached the Ministry of Defence building, parked beside a shining Rolls Royce, and made their way into the gloomy entrance showing their passes. On their way down the endless corridors to their respective operations rooms they encountered a beaming Howard.

‘Good morning! All set for the big day?’ he clapped his hands together enthusiastically.

‘Ready enough,’ smiled the teacher.

‘I’ve been here all night. Spent a few hours on a camp bed.

Everything’s set for the big operation. ‘Good.’

‘I’d better get to my room,’ said Judy ‘Locating sewer entrances from those old maps and positioning them on new street maps isn’t my idea of fun, but if it all helps the cause.’

They all turned at once as a familiar figure came striding towards them from the other end of the corridor, waving his arm at them. As the figure drew nearer they realised with shock that it was Foskins. Tieless, badly in need of a shave, but with an excited look in his eyes.

‘Good Lord, what are you doing here?’ asked Howard, looking incredulously at the ex-Under-Secretary.

‘I’ve been around since last Tuesday,’ he said, the excitement giving way to a look of bitterness. He pulled at his open shirt collar and buttoned his jacket. ‘Before our last,er , unsuccessful operation, I ordered a search through records of anyone entering the country within the past two to three years who’d come from a tropical zone.’

‘You mean the sort of country that would breed this type of rat–or at least something like it?’ said Howard. ‘Exactly. But unfortunately, because we thought the virus operation would be so successful, it was rather pushed aside.

I–I must admit, I forgot all about it in the excitement that followed.’

There was a slightly embarrassed silence which Harris broke: ‘So?’

‘So, after my dismissal, I gathered the information I’d asked for and began sifting through it myself.’

‘Why?’ asked Howard coldly.

‘Because, well... ‘

‘Never mind,’ Harris cut in, glancing at Howard disdainfully. ‘What did you find?’

‘There were many entries from the tropics, of course, but only a few that fit the bill for our purposes. I made enquiries

I still have friends in Civil Service departments and came up with one man.’ His hand shook as he held up a piece of paper.

‘This man. Professor William Bartlett Schiller–zoologist.

He’d spent several years in New Guinea and the surrounding islands apparently investigating reports of mutant animals seen by the locals. It seems quite feasible, for an island in that area had been used for a nuclear test and some of the inhabitants had been affected by radiation. Of course, it was all hushed up, but somehow Schiller got wind of it and decided to do some investigating.’

‘All right,’ said Howard impatiently. ‘But what makes you think this professor has anything to do with the rats?’

‘Well obviously the fact that he’d been in New Guinea and he’d been involved in the study of abnormalities in animals.’ In his irritation, Foskin almost became the man he’d once been–been in public anyway.

‘Added to that,’ he continued, ‘he took up residence in

London. Near the docks. In a house by a canal.’

‘The Canal!’ Harris exclaimed. ‘Of course I’ve been trying to remember. In the beginning, that’s where the rats were seen. Keogh saw them. I saw them! Near the old lockkeeper’s house. I used to play there when I was a kid but they closed the canal down and the lock-keeper moved on.

I bet it was his house the professor took over.’

‘This is the address,’ said Foskins, thrusting the piece of paper at him, ‘That’s it.’

‘Oh, come now,’ broke in Howard. ‘What does it matter how? So this lunatic professor smuggled in one of his mutant species and took it to his home to study... “And allowed it to breed...’ ‘Yes, allowed it to breed. But that knowledge doesn’t help matters now; the operation goes on as planned. Maybe later we can investigate...”But why not now?’

‘Because, Mr Foskins, there are too many more important things to contend with today. Or haven’t you heard of

“Operation Extirpate”?’

‘Yes, of course I have, but if you’re going to root them out..’

‘I’ve got no more time for this sort of discussion, Mr Foskins, so if you’ll excuse me...’

‘You bloody fool! You soon sink into the background when your last idea didn’t work.’

‘Huh! You were busy taking all the credit for it–I didn’t see why you shouldn’t take all the blame.’

Foskins paled and then his whole body seemed to lose its tautness.