looking for one good opportunity to fire.
The tail disappeared.
Silence.
Then, more shuffling.
Next to him, George became frantic. Grunting, almost screaming.
Ted looked at him, barely visible in the moonlight, followed his friend ’ s gaze up toward the edge of the pit on the north side. Something black was sliding out over the edge. Oblong, moving cautiously, titling downward.
Slowly, a rat ’ s head swam into view, looking down on them. A giant rat ’ s head. Bigger than a human head. More like the size of a horse ’ s head. Damn, that looks real, Ted thought.
He fired, but the shot went wide and missed. The recoil screamed through his back and he damn near fainted from the pain.
The rat ’ s head opened its mouth. Wide. Wider. Its incisors like yellow swords.
Ted was confused. How the hell did the guy get the mouth to open like that? How ’ d he get the tongue and teeth to move? How—
EEEEEEEEEEE!
The rat head shrieked, the nose twitching rapidly, the whiskers dancing, the eyes blinking.
George was crying.
And Ted ’ s mind went a bit numb, because he was putting it all together now.
Not fake, he realized. Real. Oh God. Real. Dear God. How?
The drag marks and claw prints, the squealing noises: a giant rat with giant rat feet, dragging its tail behind. The pieces fell in place. But why the trench coat?
He heard his nephew ’ s bratty voice: Because, stupid, when you ’ re a giant rat in suburbia, survival is all about camouflage. How do you think it ’ s lasted this long? Duh!
The treetops turned blue and red. The rat head looked up, hissed at the lights.
The police cruiser must be here, thought Ted. Oh Christ, hurry.
The giant rat looked back down at them, opened its mouth wide. Wider. As w ide as it could go. And from its mouth, like projectile vomit, spilled forth a rush of brown rats, tumbling over one another as they fell. They poured into the pit and rose like water. Their sharp little nails zoomed over the two detectives lying prone on the ground. Ted Screamed. George screamed. The rats kept coming. One big family spawned from something unexplainable and evil.
Ted ’ s scream became a shriek of sheer terror. The bites came quick. Too quick, according to what Julia Green had said. Uncharacteristically fast. His body lost control and flailed uselessly as it tried to deal with the pain. Where were the damn Cruiser Jockeys? Couldn ’ t they hear the screams? Didn ’ t they see his car? Or had they park ed somewhere else?
Crunching sounds shot up from George ’ s body. He cried incoherently, something that sounded like Mandy. Then his grunting and moaning stopped and only the crunching noises came.
The rats kept biting Ted. Tiny piercing stabs, shredding his flesh. Quick. But not quick ly enough. How he envied George ’ s silence.
Through the blood-thirsty frenzy of putrid pelts on his face, he saw the giant rat above tear off into the woods…right before a pair of one inch yellow incisors sank into his eyeballs.
He felt hot fluid run down his cheek as his vision darkened. He was mad at how wrong they ’ d been this time. He had so many questions. But the pain was everything now.
It took a long time to die.
THE RUNNER AND THE BEAST
Paul couldn ’ t eat; he was too nervous. The potatoes and chicken on his plate were growing colder by the minute, and even though his stomach rumbled, he could not bring himself to touch the food. Instead, he looked out the window to the street, saw two men passing by in a horse-drawn cab. They held hands over their mouths, whispering cautiously, little clouds of warm breath pluming in the cold air.
Rising from the table, he moved to the fir eplace and stoked the small flames . Night was falling and the temperature would only continue to drop. When would the land warm up, he wondered. It was almost spring and yet the maple trees and juniper bushes were still brown and bare. He could not remember a winter so grim. His neighbor
The tail disappeared.
Silence.
Then, more shuffling.
Next to him, George became frantic. Grunting, almost screaming.
Ted looked at him, barely visible in the moonlight, followed his friend ’ s gaze up toward the edge of the pit on the north side. Something black was sliding out over the edge. Oblong, moving cautiously, titling downward.
Slowly, a rat ’ s head swam into view, looking down on them. A giant rat ’ s head. Bigger than a human head. More like the size of a horse ’ s head. Damn, that looks real, Ted thought.
He fired, but the shot went wide and missed. The recoil screamed through his back and he damn near fainted from the pain.
The rat ’ s head opened its mouth. Wide. Wider. Its incisors like yellow swords.
Ted was confused. How the hell did the guy get the mouth to open like that? How ’ d he get the tongue and teeth to move? How—
EEEEEEEEEEE!
The rat head shrieked, the nose twitching rapidly, the whiskers dancing, the eyes blinking.
George was crying.
And Ted ’ s mind went a bit numb, because he was putting it all together now.
Not fake, he realized. Real. Oh God. Real. Dear God. How?
The drag marks and claw prints, the squealing noises: a giant rat with giant rat feet, dragging its tail behind. The pieces fell in place. But why the trench coat?
He heard his nephew ’ s bratty voice: Because, stupid, when you ’ re a giant rat in suburbia, survival is all about camouflage. How do you think it ’ s lasted this long? Duh!
The treetops turned blue and red. The rat head looked up, hissed at the lights.
The police cruiser must be here, thought Ted. Oh Christ, hurry.
The giant rat looked back down at them, opened its mouth wide. Wider. As w ide as it could go. And from its mouth, like projectile vomit, spilled forth a rush of brown rats, tumbling over one another as they fell. They poured into the pit and rose like water. Their sharp little nails zoomed over the two detectives lying prone on the ground. Ted Screamed. George screamed. The rats kept coming. One big family spawned from something unexplainable and evil.
Ted ’ s scream became a shriek of sheer terror. The bites came quick. Too quick, according to what Julia Green had said. Uncharacteristically fast. His body lost control and flailed uselessly as it tried to deal with the pain. Where were the damn Cruiser Jockeys? Couldn ’ t they hear the screams? Didn ’ t they see his car? Or had they park ed somewhere else?
Crunching sounds shot up from George ’ s body. He cried incoherently, something that sounded like Mandy. Then his grunting and moaning stopped and only the crunching noises came.
The rats kept biting Ted. Tiny piercing stabs, shredding his flesh. Quick. But not quick ly enough. How he envied George ’ s silence.
Through the blood-thirsty frenzy of putrid pelts on his face, he saw the giant rat above tear off into the woods…right before a pair of one inch yellow incisors sank into his eyeballs.
He felt hot fluid run down his cheek as his vision darkened. He was mad at how wrong they ’ d been this time. He had so many questions. But the pain was everything now.
It took a long time to die.
THE RUNNER AND THE BEAST
Paul couldn ’ t eat; he was too nervous. The potatoes and chicken on his plate were growing colder by the minute, and even though his stomach rumbled, he could not bring himself to touch the food. Instead, he looked out the window to the street, saw two men passing by in a horse-drawn cab. They held hands over their mouths, whispering cautiously, little clouds of warm breath pluming in the cold air.
Rising from the table, he moved to the fir eplace and stoked the small flames . Night was falling and the temperature would only continue to drop. When would the land warm up, he wondered. It was almost spring and yet the maple trees and juniper bushes were still brown and bare. He could not remember a winter so grim. His neighbor
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