‘Close all windows,’ he ordered, quietly. ‘Johnson, Barney, Smith; go round to all the other classrooms and ask the teachers to close all windows. Scalley, go to the Head- master’s study and ask him to look out of his window - no, I’d better go.’ If a boy went, the Headmaster would probably think it was some kind of prank, and valuable seconds would be wasted. ‘I don’t want anybody to move from this room.
And no noise. Cutts, you’re in charge.’ The tallest boy in the class stood up. The boys were excited now, the girls becoming more and more nervous.
He hurried out of the room and made towards the Principal’s study. As he walked down the corridor, several of the teachers’ heads popped out of various doors.
‘What’s going on?’ he was asked nervously by Ainsley, one of the old-timers of the school.
He told him quickly and hurried on. There was a strange hush throughout the school, a hush that could be entirely ruined if only one girl became hysterical.
Barney dashed from one of the classrooms.
Harris caught his arm and told him: ‘Steady, Barney.
Take it slowly and calmly. Don’t frighten the girls. We don’t want panic, do we?’
‘No, sir,’ was the breathless reply.
As Harris approached the stairs leading up to the next floor and the Headmaster’s study, he looked down the short flight to the main doors. Naturally, they were open.
He crept slowly down, his hand on the rail to steady himself. As he reached the bottom, he heard a soft noise on the stone steps outside. Springing quietly to the side of the double-doors he glanced out, ready to slam both sides shut instantaneously. On the wider top step he saw a small boy looking back into the playground where about thirty of the rodents had now gathered.
Jesus Christ, Harris thought in horror. He must have walked right past them!
He stepped outside and swiftly scooping the small boy up, dashed back into the building. He dumped him on the floor without ceremony and turned back to close the doors. The rats hadn’t stirred. He shut the heavy doors quickly but quietly and bolted them, then breathed out for the first time in nearly two minutes.
‘There’s animalsin the playground, sir,’ the seven-year-old boy told him with wide eyes, but no trace of fear. ‘What are they? What are they doing there, sir?’
Ignoring the question because he didn’t know what to tell him, Harris picked the boy up and raced back up the stairs. Putting him down at the top he told him to run along to his classroom. He heard the murmur of voices as teachers began to gather in the corridor. He ran up the next flight of stairs, three at a time, and almost collided with the Headmaster as he emerged from his office.
’Please phone the police, Mr Norton.’ Harris said urgently.
‘I’m afraid we’ve got trouble.’
‘I already have, Mr Harris. Have you seen what’s in the playground?’
‘Yes - that’s the trouble I mean. They’re the giant ones, the killers.’
They went back into the study and looked out of the window. The rats had multiplied it seemed to a couple of hundred.
‘The playground’s black with them,’ the young teacher said in disbelief.
‘What do they want?’ The Headmaster looked at Harris as though he would know.
‘The children,’ said Harris.
‘It won’t take the police long to get here - but what they’ll do about the situation is another matter. Let’s make sure every door and window is shut tight. All the children must go up to the top floor and barricade themselves in. I still don’t quite believe it’s happening but let’s not waste any time on pondering over the situation.’ The Headmaster strode briskly to the door.
‘Now you check every possible opening, Mr Harris, I’ll get the staff organised.’
Harris followed the gaunt figure of the Headmaster down the stairs where the buzz of conversation was beginning to build up. He heard him clap his hands and order silence.
Harris brushed past the throng of teachers, looking into every room, making sure all the windows were firmly closed.
Thank God all the lower windows had iron grilles over them to prevent broken window panes from boisterously kicked footballs. Good.
All seemed tight. Now the staffroom.
As he entered he saw one of the windows was open, and because it faced the narrow passage between the building and the outer wall, it had no grille to protect it. And on the floor before it, sat one of the creatures.
How it had scaled the wall was something Harris would never know, but there it was, as though it were a scouting party for the others. It looked to and fro, sniffing the air, its pointed nose twitching. It saw Harris and rose on its haunches. It stood at least two feet from the ground. The teacher stepped inside and slammed the door behind him.
He had to close that window.
This particular rat spent no time studying its victim – it sprang forward, straight off its haunches and into the air, aiming itself for Harris’s throat. But the teacher was just as fast. He reached for a chair even as the creature’s muscles tensed for the leap and swung it before him. The chair struck the rat’s body in mid-jump, like a cricket bat meeting a ball, and threw it to one side, the wood splintering.
The rat landed on its feet and sprang towards Harris again, who brought the chair crashing down on its back. It was stunned for a few seconds, but still not severely hurt. However, it had gained the teacher time enough to reach for the heavy poker lying in the hearth of the unlit fire. He brought it down viciously, more in hate than fear, on the rat’s thin skull with a sickening thud. Then again. And again. He turned towards the window in time to see another claw its way on to the sill. Without hesitation, he lashed out with the poker, knocking the rat back down into the narrow passage-way below. He pulled the window shut and leaned against it, gasping for breath and trying to control his trembling knees. The window was a type with fine wire mesh set in the glass to prevent it shattering.
‘It should hold them,’ he said aloud.
Then he went to the staffroom door, took the key from the inside, stepped out and locked it. But not before taking a close look at the creature lying on the threadbare carpet.
Its body must have been at least two feet long, its tail another nine or ten inches. The bristly fur wasn’t exactly black, but very dark brown, with lots of black speckles mottling it. Its head was larger in proportion to the ordinaryrodent’s and its incisors were long and pointed. Its half-lidded eyes had the lifeless glaze of the dead, but its partially-covered teeth seemed to grin wickedly. Even in death, the body seemed deadly, as though the disease it bore could be passed on by mere touch.
Once outside in the hall, Harris saw that the children were being herded towards the stairs.
‘Are you all fight, Mr Harris?’ the Headmaster came striding towards him.
‘Yes. I’ve killed one of the monsters.’ Harris realised he still held the blood-stained poker.
‘Good man. Well, the place is sealed off and the police will soon be here, so I don’t think we’ve anything to worry about,’ the Headmaster said reassuringly, his smile disappearing instantly at Harris’s next remark: ‘What about the basement?’
They both turned towards the cellar flairs and broke into a run as they neared them. They stopped at the top and peered down into the gloom,
‘I think we’ll be all fight,’ said the Headmaster. ‘Mr Jenkins, the caretaker, will probably be down there checking the boiler. It always takes him a while to get it going on Monday mornings. Heaven knows, I’ve complained about the cold water on Mondays enough...’ he broke off, slightly annoyed at the young teacher who had carried on down apparently not listening to a word he was saying.