Stephen grabbed the rat’s throat with his hands and squeezed with all his strength but still it clung to him.
He felt another as it landed on his back and bit into his coat which he quickly shed without thinking, dropping it and the rat into the row behind him. A man in front saw his plight and bravely grabbed at the rat clinging to his leg and pulled.
Abruptly, the creature released its grip and turned on the man, biting into his face.
He went down screaming in agony.
The boy looked over the seats and saw there was nothing he could do to save his rescuer. He looked around but seeing no clear line of exit, he jumped up on to the back of a seat and carefully began to walk along the rows, using peoples’ shoulders where he could, but mostly depending on luck to keep his balance, He slipped a few times but managed to spring upright again, the fear inside him giving him the extra strength he needed to keep going. The holocaust around him became unreal. It was a nightmare, the strange light from the screen heightening the unearthly effect.
A man in front lifted a rat above his head and threw it away from him, hitting the boy with its long body and causing him to slip between the rows again. He landed heavily on his back and lay there stunned for a few moments. Someone stumbled and fell across him, struggling with something in his arms. The rat was pushed into Stephen’s chest causing him to shout out in anguish. He beat at both rodent and man with his fists, cursing and crying at the same time. The weight was lifted from him as the man regained his feet and staggered on, the rat still clinging to his arms, another around his shoulders, chewing at his neck.
The boy got to his feet and climbed on to the seats again, continuing his hazardous journey across the sea of helpless people. Many were in the aisles now, their panic pressing them together in the confined space, preventing the use of speed as a means of escape. The doors were blocked with scrambling bodies and those that managed to get through were being chased into the foyer by the vermin.
An elderly couple near him clung together in a last desperate embrace, the vermin biting at their legs and buttocks, finally bringing them down to their .knees.
Another man sat rigid in his seat, eyes still on the screen as though watching the film, hands clenching the seat-arms.
A rat sat on his lap gnawing a hole into his stomach.
A group of teenage boys had formed a circle, back to back, and were slowly making their way up the aisle, kicking out at the vermin with their heavy boots. Unfortunately they could get no further than the thronging mass of people around the exit.
The people in the balcony above were no better off; they only had two exits of retreat and rats were pouring through these. They were forced back by the bodies of others and many were toppling over the rail into the theatre below.
Stephen went on, sobbing with fright, and at last reached the front stalls. It was comparatively empty of people and vermin, the sides and the exits of the cinema now being the main points of disorder. He leapt on to the floor and headed towards the stage. He managed to get one leg on to it, quickly finding his feet again. A stream of black, furry bodies emerged from the curtains at one side making straight towards him. He turned to run in the opposite direction but slipped in his own blood from the torn leg. The vermin were on him in an instant, smothering his body with their own foul smelling forms, biting into him, pushing each other aside to get at his flesh. His arms beat at them growing weaker and weaker at every effort until he finallylay them across his face for protection, allowing the creatures to gorge themselves on his body.
Raising one arm from his eyes, he stared up uncomprehendingly at the huge coloured screen above him.
His eyes read the words, and his voice spoke them faintly, but his brain did not understand. He whispered ‘The End’.
George Fox had worked at the zoo for twenty-odd years now. Unlike many of his comrades he had a deep regard for the animals in his care; he worried when one of his lions was unwell, pampered his pet gazelle when it was off its food and once even spent a sleepless night at the side of a dying snake.
When hooligans had broken into his bird-house and for no other reason than sheer bloodlust had slaughtered thirty of his exotically coloured winged friends, he’d broken down and cried for three days.
He had a deep sympathy and understanding of his animals, big or small, ferocious or docile.
Even when a monkey had bitten off half his ear a few years back he hadn’t reprimanded it, but gently put it down, ignoring the pain, and quietly left the cage clasping a blood soaked handkerchief to his injured part.
And tonight, he felt the zoo was restless. There wasa stillness in the air, a quietness unnatural toLondon’s large animal estate - but the animals weren’t sleeping. As he made his rounds he noticed the beasts prowling to and fro in their cages, the monkeys huddled together staring out nervously into the night, the birds silently blinking on their perches.
Only the lunatic laugh of the hyena disturbed the uneasy silence.
‘Easy now, Sara,’ he soothingly reassured Iris favourite cheetah in the large cat-house. ‘Nothing to be nervous of ?
Suddenly, the screeching of birds broke through the night.
Sounds like the aviary, he told himself, making for the door and running towards the tunnel that led under the public road to the canal where the fantastic bird sanctuary stood.
He was joined by another keeper at the entrance of the underground passage.
‘What’s up; George?’ the man gasped.
’Don’t know yet, Bill. Something disturbed the birds, sounds like they’re going mad.’
They plunged into the dark tunnel using their torches for added light. As they emerged on the other side they heard a squeal from the giraffe section. To their horror they saw one of the graceful creatures racing round its enclosure with large black creatures clinging to its trembling body. It plunged into the water acting as a moat around its paddock and thrashed about crazedly.
‘Oh my Gawd - what is it?’ asked Bill, unsure of what he’d seen in the night light.
‘I’ll tell you what it is,’ cried George. ‘It’s those bloody rats. The ones that are supposed to have been exterminated the giant rats!’ He took several steps towards the helpless animal but then turned back to Bill. ‘Back to the office, quick. Get on the phone to the police - tell them it’s an attack on the zoo by the rats! Tell them we need every avail-able help we can get! Hurry!’
He ran towards the giraffe again, knowing there was nothing he could do for the poor creature, but going on anyway. He turned as he heard a human scream coming from the tunnel and saw Bill emerge, swarming with black shapes and what must have been blood gushing from his head. He saw him go down, half rise and slump forward again.
‘God Almighty,’ he breathed. He had to get to the telephone. There was another ticket office in this section but would mean passing the rat-filled tunnel and crossing the bridge over the canal. And the canal must have been where they came from. Those bastards said they’d cleared out the rats, they were all dead or dying. But the vermin are killing my animals. My poor animals!
He moaned aloud, not knowing what to do. Finally, he decided on a plan of action, trying to ignore the cries from the rat-besieged animals in that section. He ran towards the fence protecting the zoo from the dividing road and scrambled over it in hurried clumsiness. He fell over on to the other side and as he sprawled there he saw the lights of an approaching car. Scrambling to his feet, he ran into the road, waving his arms frantically. At first it seemed as though the car was going to drive on, but the driver must have seen his uniform in the glare of his headlights. It screeched to a halt causing George to jump to one side to avoid being hit.
The excited keeper was shouting instructions even as the driver was winding the window down. At the uncomprehending look on the motorist’s face, George began again: ‘Call the police, tell them rats, hundreds of them, are attacking the zoo. If they don’t get here soon, the bastards will slaughter my animals! Move, man,
move!’
As the car sped off a horrifying thought struck George.
When the police and the soldiers got there, the only weapon they’d be able to use would be gas. And gas would be just as lethal to his animals as it would be to the vermin. He cried out in despair and ran across the road to the main entrance of the zoo. Climbing the turnstile, he saw the figures of two other keepers on night duty approaching him at a run.
‘Is that you, George?’ one of them shouted, shining a torch into his face.
‘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 outblindly, 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 onSheba,’ 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 jammedWhitehall. 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 inLondonnow, 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 couldbe 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 inLondonzoo 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.
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