'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.