--and heard a movement above his head. No doubt that time. His head snapped up and his eyes stretched as wide as they would go, straining to see through the brownish gloom, which was the only illumination provided by the buried light. Something up there near the ceiling. Watching. Waiting. Ready to spring.
In his hasty grab for the flashlight he managed to bury it deeper among the cardboard and paper. His scalp seemed to contract and pull the skin tight on his skull as if in anticipation of the thing hurling itself down upon him from above. He was on his knees, both hands thrusting frantically into the litter and throwing it aside, steeling himself for the crushing impact, and as his hand found and closed around the grooved metal casing, he heard footsteps on the stairs and Ruth's voice calling his name, uneasy at the lack of response.
"Stay there, don't come up!"
"What's wrong? What is it?" She was already in the doorway, one hand gripping the jamb, staring into the room with the myopic reluctance of someone who wants to look and yet not to see.
"Don't move, Ruth. Stay right there." Chase got a firm grip and directed the beam upward. It moved across the crude plaster and lath ceiling, changing shape from a circle to an ellipse as the angle became steeper, and then the two of them heard the sound--a slow raking scratching.
At once Chase swung the beam toward it, and caught full in the cone of light were ten elongated and unblinking yellow eyes.
Ruth gasped as if she'd been punched in the stomach.
"Keep still! For God's sake don't move," Chase muttered, his voice thick and low. "The light usually mesmerizes them."
"Them?" Ruth sounded puzzled and far away. "What are they?"
"A rat pack."
Her reaction was understandable. The rats were giants. As big as Alsatian dogs, they crouched tightly together, pointed black noses between their paws, watching from the ragged hole where the ceiling had fallen through, or been gnawed away perhaps. Behind their narrow heads with the slitted eyes and flattened leathery ears, their backs rose fat and smooth under a light covering of gray dust.
This pack must have scavenged on anything and everything they could sink their razor-sharp teeth into, living or dead, to have achieved such monstrous size. But feeding alone wouldn't have done it. Genetic changes over several generations had developed this superior breed, each generation getting bigger and fatter and more voracious as their chief enemy, man, deserted his habitation and had to fight a rearguard action against the natural world he had perverted and destroyed. The rats were among the first to take advantage, but other species would soon follow.
As somebody had once said: Nature bats last.
One of them was pawing the broken edge of the plaster, sending a fine trickle of dust onto the top shelf of the metal racks. They hadn't altered position since the moment Chase put the light on them. Their yellow lidless eyes simply stared, snouts wrinkling as they scented the air (something moving meant food), mouths salivating as their appetites sharpened.
Chase didn't have the spit to swallow. If they came together, in a rush, neither he nor Ruth stood the remotest chance. A normal-size rat could leap yards, so these outsize bastards could clear the length of the room and take the pair of them without trouble.
Snap. Crunch. Finished.
So why were they waiting? A thought occurred to him that turned the marrow in his bones to water--these weren't the only rats in the building. The walls might be full of them. Even now there might be others sneaking from the bedroom next door and the rear stock room, creeping up the stairs, coming through the ceilings, slyly cutting off their retreat. Did rats think that way? Weren't they just greedy rodents who wanted everything for themselves and didn't like sharing with their fellows? They were cunning, yes, but he'd never heard of an altruistic rat before.
Chase carefully transferred the flashlight to his left hand, keeping the beam steady. Then with his right he took out the Browning automatic. When they came he might get one, or two, possibly three if he was lucky, but not all five. The odds were heavily in their favor.
But first get Ruth out of the way. Practically mouthing the words, he said, "Step back slowly. Don't make the slightest noise. When you're out of sight go downstairs, get the rifle, and wait there."
