Above His Station by Darren Craske

shoved down my gob.’
    ‘Fifty-fifty odds,’ I said.
    ‘Which are not as much in my favour as I’d like,’ said the rat.
    ‘Agreed. So…how are you going to know which is the right wire?’
    ‘Only way I can,’ said the rat. ‘Pick one and cross my fingers.’
    I hastily crossed mine. ‘Good luck.’
    The rat offered me a salute that was in no way sarcastic. ‘If this goes badly, it’s been an honour serving with you, sir. Promise me you’ll see this thing through to the end, no matter what…or my ghost is going to come back and haunt the fuck out of you.’
    ‘I promise,’ I said, feeling a lump rise in my throat at the prospect.
    I certainly hoped that the rat was joking, because I couldn’t do this on my own. As useless as the thing was in almost all worthwhile capacities, it did offer one positive contribution – it had saved me from talking to myself all this time. I had already experienced losing it as my travelling companion once that day and I had no urge to return to that dark place. In short, as surprising as it might sound (not least of all to me), I needed my friend far more than it knew; far more than I was prepared to let on.
    Scratching at the plastic shielding covering the junction where the wires joined the control panel, the rat sang a little rhyme just prior to making its choice: ‘Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Moe…pick the wrong one and bang you go.’
    I couldn’t see from my position which wire the rat had chosen, but I saw what came next only too well. It began screaming in agony, every one of its hairs stood on end as a violent fit seemed to course through every vein, liquefying every muscle, shattering every bone. I screamed out too, cursing the metal cage as I pounded my fists against it. The rat dropped to the floor, using its last ember of life to lift its tiny paw towards me; our contact denied by the cage. I fell to my knees, felt my spine bend, felt tears flood my eyes. At full stretch, almost dislocating my wrist in the process, I managed to squeeze two fingers through the cage and touched the rat’s still warm body. Words felt inadequate, yet I experienced the need to vocalise my loss.
    ‘You were a fine companion, rat…and a brave one too,’ I mumbled, bargaining with my clogged throat to allow me to speak. ‘Far braver than I am, that’s for sure. I don’t know how I can carry on without you, I really don’t. Why did you have to die just when I need you the most, hmm?’
    ‘You’re so gay.’
    I lifted my head to see the rat’s shoulders quivering with laughter. I frowned at the rodent; the instinctive thing to do in my confused state.
    ‘The look on your face!’ guffawed the creature. ‘Fucking priceless!’
    ‘You mean were just… pretending? ’ I accused it, grabbing hold of the bars to the cage to elevate me to my feet. ‘That’s a bit callous, don’t you think?’
    ‘I couldn’t resist it! Do you really think I’m brave? Shit, man, I’m touched.’
    ‘You bloody will be when I get my hands on you, you little-!’ I felt my whole body lurch forwards, and if I had to describe the sound I would probably say that it was a bit like someone loading a clay pigeon into a mechanical launcher. But the sound itself wasn’t as important as what had made it, which was the reason why I found myself looking directly into the rat’s eyes.
    ‘How did you get so tall?’ was the basis of my initial line of enquiry, but then as I slowly pieced together what had happened, my surprise turned into gradual elation.
    The rat had only bloody done it! The door to the metal cage had swung open the moment that I’d pushed against it, and now I was in the embarrassing situation of being flat on my stomach on the ground with a rather nasty bump to my chin.
    ‘In case you’re still unclear…yes, I chose the right wire,’ said the rat. ‘But save the high fives until after we’re done here. The clock’s ticking and we’ve still got a mountain to climb and only