– From Mr Bunnsy Has An Adventure
WHY AM I doing this? Maurice asked himself, as he squirmed along a pipe. Cats are not built for this stuff!
Because we are a kind person at heart, said his conscience.
No, I’m not, thought Maurice.
Actually, that’s true, said his conscience. But we don’t want to tell that to Dangerous Beans, do we? The little wobbly nose? He thinks we’re a hero!
Well, I’m not, thought Maurice.
Then why are we scrabbling around underground trying to find him?
Well, obviously it’s because he’s the one with the big dream about finding the rat island and without him the rats won’t co-operate and I won’t get paid, said Maurice.
We’re a cat! What does a cat need money for?
Because I have a Retirement Plan, thought Maurice. I’m four years old already! Once I’ve made a pile, it’s me for a nice home with a big fire and a nice old lady giving me cream every day. I’ve got it all worked out, every detail.
Why should she give us a home? We’re smelly, we’ve got ragged ears, we’ve got something nasty and itchy on our leg, we look like someone kicked us in the face … why should an old lady take us in instead of a fluffy little kitten?
Aha! But black cats are lucky, thought Maurice.
Really? Well, we don’t want to be first with the bad news, but we’re not black! We’re a sort of mucky tabby!
There’s such a thing as dyes, thought Maurice. A couple of packets of black dye, hold my breath for a minute, and it’s ‘hello, cream and fish’ for the rest of my life. Good plan, eh?
And what about the luck? said the conscience.
Ah! That’s the clever bit. A black cat that brings in a gold coin every month or so, wouldn’t you say that’s a lucky cat to have?
His conscience fell silent. Probably amazed at the cleverness of the plan, Maurice told himself.
He had to admit that he was cleverer at plans than at underground navigation. He wasn’t exactly lost, because cats never got lost. He merely didn’t know where everything else was. There wasn’t a lot of earth under the town, that was certain. Cellars and grating and pipeways and ancient sewers and crypts and bits of forgotten buildings formed a sort of honeycomb. Even humans could get around, Maurice thought. The rat-catchers certainly had.
He could smell rats everywhere. He’d wondered about calling out to Dangerous Beans, but decided against it. Calling out might help him find out where the little rat was, but it’d also alert … anyone else to where Maurice was. Those big rats had been, well, big, and nasty-looking. Even an idiot dog would have trouble with them.
Now he was in a small square tunnel with lead pipes in it. There was even a hiss of escaping steam, and here and there warm water dipped into a gutter that ran along the bottom of the tunnel. Up ahead was a grating leading up to the street. Faint light came through it.
The water in the gutter looked clean. At least, you could see through it. Maurice was thirsty. He leaned down, tongue out—
There was a thin, bright red streak curling gently in the water …
Hamnpork seemed confused and half asleep but he knew enough to hold on to Sardines’ tail as the rats made their way back from the stables. It was a slow journey. Sardines didn’t think the old rat would manage the washing lines. They skulked along gutters, and along drains, hiding in nothing more than the cloak of night.
A few rats were milling around in the cellar when they finally arrived. By then Darktan and Sardines were walking on either side of Hamnpork, who was barely moving his legs.
There was still a candle burning in the cellar. Darktan was surprised. But a lot of things had happened in the last hour.
They let Hamnpork sink to the floor, where he lay, breathing heavily. His body shook with each breath.
‘Poison, guv?’ whispered Sardines.
‘I think it was just too much for him,’ said Darktan. ‘Just too much.’
Hamnpork opened one eye. ‘Am … I … still … the … leader?’ he said.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Darktan.
‘Need … to … sleep …’
Darktan looked around the circle. Rats were creeping towards the group. He could see them whispering to one another. They kept looking at him. He stared around, trying to spot the pale figure of Dangerous Beans.
‘Nourishing … tells me … you saw the … tunnel … of the … Big Rat …’ said Hamnpork.
Darktan glared at Nourishing, who looked embarrassed. ‘I saw … something,’ he said.
‘Then I shall dream there and … never wake up,’ said Hamnpork. His head sagged again. ‘This isn’t … the way a … an old rat should die,’ he mumbled. ‘Not … like this. Not … in the light.’
Darktan nodded urgently at Sardines, who snuffed out the candle with his hat. The damp, thick underground darkness closed in.
‘Darktan,’ Hamnpork whispered. ‘You need to know this …’
Sardines strained his ears to hear the old leader’s last words to Darktan. Then, a few seconds later, he shivered. He could smell the change in the world.
There was movement in the darkness. A match burst into life and the candle flame grew again, bringing shadows back into the world.
Hamnpork was lying very still.
‘Do we have to eat him now?’ said someone.
‘He’s … gone,’ said Darktan. Somehow, the idea of eating Hamnpork didn’t feel right. ‘Bury him,’ he said. ‘And mark the place so we know he’s there.’
There was a sense of relief in the group. However much anyone might have respected Hamnpork, he was still a bit on the whiffy side, even for a rat.
A rat at the front of the crowd looked uncertain. ‘Er … when you say “mark the place”,’ it said, ‘do you mean like we mark other places where we bury things?’
‘He means by widdling on it,’ said the rat beside him.
Darktan looked at Sardines, who shrugged. Darktan had a sinking feeling inside. When you were the leader, everyone waited to see what you said. And there was still no sign of the white rat.
He was on his own.
He thought hard for a moment, and then nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘He’d like that. It’s very … ratty. But do this, too. Draw it on the ground above him.’
He scraped a sign on the ground:
‘ “He was a rat from a long line of rats and he thought about rats”,’ said Sardines. ‘Good one, boss.’
‘And will he come back like Darktan did?’ said someone else.
‘If he does, he’ll get really mad if we’ve eaten him,’ said a voice. There was some nervous laughter.
‘Listen, I didn’t—’ Darktan began, but Sardines nudged him.
‘Word in your ear, guv?’ he said, raising his charred hat politely.
‘Yes, yes …’ Darktan was getting worried. He’d never had so many rats watching him so closely. He followed Sardines away from the group.
‘You know I used to hang around in the theatre an’ that,’ said Sardines. ‘And you pick up stuff in the theatre. And the thing is … look, what I’m saying is, you’re the leader, right? So you got to act like you know what you’re doing, OK? If the leader doesn’t know what he’s doing, no one else does, either.’
‘I only know what I’m doing when I’m dismantling traps,’ said Darktan.
‘All right, think of the future as a great big trap,’ said Sardines. ‘With no cheese.’
‘That is not a lot of help!’
‘And you should let them think what they like about you and … that scar you’ve got,’ said Sardines. ‘That’s my advice, guv.’
‘Something happened, didn’t it? You were going to set fire to the place. I watched you. Something happened to you in the trap. Don’t ask me what it was, I just do tap-dancing. I’m just a little rat. Always will be, boss. But there’s big rats like Inbrine and Sellby and a bunch of others, boss, and now Hamnpork’s dead they might think they should be the leader. Get my drift?’
‘No.’
Sardines sighed. ‘I reckon you do, boss. Do we want a lot of scrapping amongst ourselves at a time like this?’
‘No!’
‘Right! Well, thanks to chattery little Nourishing, you’re the rat that looked the Bone Rat right in the face and came back, aren’t you … ?’
‘Yes, but she …’
‘Seems to me, boss, that anyone who could stare down the Bone Rat … well, no one is going to want to mess with him, am I right? A rat who wears the teethmarks of the Bone Rat like a belt? Uh-uh, no. Rats’ll follow a rat like that. Time like this, rats need someone to follow. That was a good thing you did back there, with ol’ Hamnpork. Burying him and widdling on top and putting a sign on him … well, the old rats like that, and so do the young ones. Shows ’em you’re thinking for everyone.’ Sardines put his head on one side, and grinned a worried grin.
‘I can see I’m going to have to watch you, Sardines,’ said Darktan. ‘You think like Maurice.’
‘Don’t worry about me, boss. I’m small. I gotta dance. I wouldn’t be any good at leadering.’
Thinking for everyone, Darktan thought. The white rat … ‘Where is Dangerous Beans?’ he said, looking around. ‘Isn’t he here?’
‘Haven’t seen him, boss.’
‘What? We need him! He’s got the map in his head.’
‘Map, boss?’ Sardines looked concerned. ‘I thought you drew maps in the mud—’
‘Not a map like a picture of tunnels and traps! A map of … of what we are and where we’re going …’
‘Oh, you mean like that lovely island? Never really believed in it, boss.’
‘I don’t know about any islands, I really don’t,’ said Darktan. ‘But when I was in that … place, I … saw the shape of an idea. There’s been a war between humans and rats for ever! It’s got to end. And here, now, in this place, with these rats … I can see that it can. This might be the only time and the only place where it can. I can see the shape of an idea in my head but I can’t think of the words for it, do you understand? So we need the white rat, because he knows the map for thinking. We’ve got to think our way out of this. Running around and squeaking won’t work any more!’
‘You’re doing fine so far, boss,’ said the dancer, patting him on the shoulder.
‘It’s all going wrong,’ said Darktan, trying to keep his voice down. ‘We need him! I need him!’
‘I’ll get some squads together, boss, if you show me where to start looking,’ said Sardines meekly.
‘In the drains, not far from the cages,’ said Darktan. ‘Maurice was with him,’ he added.
‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing, guv?’ said Sardines. ‘You know what Hamnpork always said: “You can always trust a cat—”’
‘“– to be a cat”. Yes. I know. I wish I knew the answer to that, Sardines.’
Sardines stepped closer. ‘Can I ask a question, guv?’
‘Of course.’
‘What was it Hamnpork whispered to you just before he died? Special leader wisdom, was it?’
‘Good advice,’ said Darktan. ‘Good advice.’
Maurice blinked. Very slowly, his tongue wound itself back in. He flattened his ears and, legs moving in silent slow motion, crept along beside the gutter.
Right under the grating there was something pale. The red streak was coming from further upstream, and divided in two as it flowed around the thing, before becoming one swirling thread again.
Maurice reached it. It was a rolled-up scrap of paper, sodden with water and stained with red. He extended a claw and fished it out. It flopped on the side of the gutter and, as Maurice gently peeled the paper apart, he saw the smudged pictures drawn in thick pencil. He knew what they were. He’d learned them, one day when he had nothing better to do. They were stupidly simple.
‘No Rat Shall …’ he began. Then there was a damp mess, down to the bit that read: ‘We are not like other Rats’.
‘Oh, no,’ he said. They wouldn’t drop this, would they? Peaches carried it around as though it was a hugely precious thing—
Will I find them first? said an alien voice in Maurice’s head. Or perhaps I have …
Maurice ran, skidding on the slimy stone as the tunnel turned a corner.
What strange things they are, CAT. Rats that think they are not rats. Shall I be like you? Shall I act like a CAT? Shall I keep one of them alive? FOR A WHILE?
Maurice yowled under his breath. Other, smaller tunnels branched off on either side but the thin red streak led straight on and there, under another grating, the thing lay in the water, the red leaking gently from it.
Maurice sagged. He’d been expecting – what? But this … this was … this was worse, in a way. Worse than anything.
Soaked in water, leaking the red ink from Ratty Rupert the Rat’s red waistcoat, was Mr Bunnsy Has An Adventure.
Maurice hooked it out on claw-tip, and the cheap paper pages fell out, one by one, and drifted away in the water. They’d dropped it. Had they been running? Or … had they thrown it away? What was it Dangerous Beans had said? ‘We’re nothing but rats’? And he’d said it in such a sad, hollow voice …
Where are they now, CAT? Can you find them? Which way now?
It can see what I see, he thought. It can’t read my mind, but it can see what I see and hear what I hear and it’s good at working out what I must be thinking …
Once again, he shut his eyes.
In the dark, CAT? How will you fight my rats? The ones BEHIND YOU?
Maurice spun around, eyes wide. There were rats there, dozens of them, some of them nearly half the size of Maurice. They watched him, all with the same blank expression.
Well done, well done, CAT! You see the squeaky creatures and yet you don’t leap! How did a cat learn not to be a cat?
The rats, as one rat, moved forward. They rustled as they moved. Maurice took a step backwards.
Imagine it, CAT, said the voice of Spider. Imagine a million clever rats. Rats that don’t run. Rats that fight. Rats that share one mind, one vision. MINE.
‘Where are you?’ said Maurice, aloud.
You will see me soon. Keep going, pussy-cat. You have to keep going. One word from me, one mere flicker of a thought, and the rats you see will take you down. Oh, you might kill one or two, but there are always more rats. Always more rats.
Maurice turned, and edged forward. The rats followed. He spun around. They stopped. He turned again, took a couple of steps, looked behind him. The rats followed as if they were on string.
There was a familiar smell in the air here, of old, stale water. He was somewhere near the flooded cellar. But how close? The stuff stank worse than tinned cat food. It could be in any direction. He could probably outrun the rats over a short distance. Bloodthirsty rats right behind you can give you wings.
Are you planning to run to help the white rat? said his conscience. Or are you thinking of making a dash for the daylight?
Maurice had to admit that the daylight had never seemed a better idea. There was no point in lying to himself. After all, rats didn’t live very long in any case, even if they had wobbly noses—
They are close, CAT. Shall we play a game? Cats like PLAYING. Did you play with Additives? BEFORE YOU BIT HIS HEAD OFF?
Maurice stopped dead. ‘You are going to die,’ he said softly.
They are getting closer to me, Maurice. So close now. Shall I tell you that the stupid-looking kid and the silly-sounding girl are going to die? Do you know that rats can eat a human alive?
Malicia bolted the shed door.
‘Rat kings are deeply mysterious,’ she said. ‘A rat king is a group of rats with their tails tied together—’
‘How?’
‘Well, the stories say it just … happens.’
‘How does it happen?’
‘I read somewhere that their tails become stuck together when they’re in the nest, because of all the muck, and they get twisted up as—’
‘Rats generally have six or seven babies, and they have quite short tails, and the parents keep the nests quite clean,’ said Keith. ‘Have the people who tell these stories ever seen rats?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe the rats just get crowded together and their tails get twisted up? There’s a preserved rat king in a big jar of alcohol in the town museum.’
‘A dead one?’
‘Or very, very drunk. What do you think?’ said Malicia. ‘It’s ten rats, like a sort of star, with a big knot of tail in the middle. Lots of others have been found, too. One had thirty-two rats! There’s folklore about them.’
‘But that rat-catcher said he made one,’ said Keith firmly. ‘He said he did it to get into the Guild. Do you know what a masterpiece is?’
‘Oh course. It’s anything really good—’
‘I mean a real masterpiece,’ said Keith. ‘I grew up in a big city, with guilds everywhere. That’s how I know. A masterpiece is something that an apprentice makes at the end of his training to show the senior members of the Guild that he deserves to be a “master”. A full member. You understand? It might be a great symphony, or a beautiful piece of carving, or a batch of magnificent loaves – his “master piece”.’
‘Very interesting. So?’
‘So what sort of master piece would you have to make to become a master rat-catcher? To show that you could really control rats? Remember the sign over the door?’
Malicia frowned the frown of someone faced with an inconvenient fact. ‘Anyone could tie a bunch of rat tails together if they wanted to,’ she said. ‘I’m sure I could.’
‘While they’re alive? You’d have to trap them first, and then you’ve got slippery bits of string that are moving all the time and the other end keeps on biting you? Eight of them? Twenty of them? Thirty-two? Thirty-two angry rats?’
Malicia looked around at the untidy shed. ‘It works,’ she said. ‘Yes. It makes almost as good a story. Probably there were one or two real rat kings … all right, all right, maybe just one – and people heard about this and decided that since there was all this interest they’d try to make one. Yes. It’s just like crop circles. No matter how many aliens own up to making them, there are always a few diehards who believe that humans go out with garden rollers in the middle of the night—’
‘I just think that some people like to be cruel,’ said Keith. ‘How would a rat king hunt? They’d all pull in different directions.’
‘Ah, well, some of the stories about rat kings say that they can control other rats,’ said Malicia. ‘With their minds, sort of. Get them to bring them food and go to different places and so on. You’re right, rat kings can’t move around easily. So they … learn how to see out of the eyes of other rats, and hear what they hear.’
‘Just other rats?’ said Keith.
‘Well, one or two stories do say that they can do it to people,’ said Malicia.
‘How?’ said Keith. ‘Has it ever happened, really?’
‘It couldn’t, could it?’ said Malicia.
Yes.
‘Yes what?’ said Malicia.
‘I didn’t say anything. You just said “yes”,’ said Keith.
Silly little minds. Sooner or later there is always a way in. The cat is much better at resisting! You will OBEY me. Let the rats GO.
‘I think we should let the rats go,’ said Malicia. ‘It’s just too cruel, having them packed into those cages like that.’
‘I was just thinking that,’ said Keith.
And forget about me. I am just a story.
‘Personally, I think rat kings really are just a story,’ said Malicia, walking over to the trapdoor and raising it. ‘That rat-catcher was a stupid little man. He was just babbling.’
‘I wonder if we should let the rats out,’ Keith mused. ‘They looked pretty hungry.’
‘They can’t be worse than the rat-catchers, can they?’ said Malicia. ‘Anyway, the piper will be here soon. He’d lead them all into the river, or something—’
‘Into the river …’ muttered Keith.
‘That’s what he does, yes. Everyone knows that.’
Obey me! Don’t THINK! Follow the story!
‘Rats can what?’
‘Rats can … rats can …’ Keith stammered. ‘I can’t remember. Something about rats and rivers. Probably not important.’
Thick, deep darkness. And, somewhere in it, a little voice.
‘I dropped Mr Bunnsy,’ said Peaches.
‘Good,’ said Dangerous Beans. ‘It was just a lie. Lies drag us down.’
‘You said it was important!’
‘It was a lie!’
… endless, dripping darkness …
‘And … I’ve lost the Rules, too.’
‘So?’ Dangerous Beans’ voice was bitter. ‘No one bothered with them.’
‘That’s not true! People tried to. Mostly. And they were sorry when they didn’t!’
‘They were just another story, too. A silly story about rats who thought they weren’t rats,’ said Dangerous Beans.
‘Why’re you talking like this? This isn’t like you!’
‘You saw them run. They ran and squeaked and forgot how to talk. Underneath, we’re just … rats.’ … foul, stinking darkness …
‘Yes, we are,’ said Peaches. ‘But what are we on top? That’s what you used to say. Come on – please? Let’s go back. You’re not well.’
‘It was all so clear to me …’ Dangerous Beans mumbled.
‘Lie down. You’re tired. I’ve got a few matches left. You know you always feel better when you see a light …’
Worried in her heart, and feeling lost and a long way from home, Peaches found a wall that was rough enough and dragged a match from her crude bag. The red head flared and cracked. She raised the match as high as she could.
There were eyes everywhere.
What’s the worst part? she thought, her body rigid with fear. That I can see the eyes? Or that I’m going to know they’re still there when the match goes out? ‘And I’ve only got two more matches …’ she mumbled to herself.
The eyes withdrew into the shadows, noiselessly. How can rats be so still and so silent? she thought.
‘There’s something wrong,’ said Dangerous Beans.
‘Yes.’
‘There’s something here,’ he said. ‘I smelled it on that keekee they found in the trap. It’s a kind of terror. I can smell it on you.’
‘Yes,’ said Peaches.
‘Can you see what we should do?’ said Dangerous Beans.
‘Yes.’ The eyes in front were gone, but Peaches could still see them on either side.
‘What can we do?’ said Dangerous Beans.
Peaches swallowed. ‘We could wish we had more matches,’ she said.
And, in the darkness behind their eyes, a voice said: And so, in your despair, you come, at last, to me …
Light has a smell.
In the dank, damp cellars the sharp sulphur stink of the match flew like a yellow bird, rising on drafts, plunging through cracks. It was a clean and bitter smell and it cut through the dull underground reek like a knife.
It filled the nostrils of Sardines, who turned his head. ‘Matches, boss!’ he said.
‘Head that way!’ Darktan commanded.
‘It’s through the room of cages, boss,’ Sardines warned.
‘So?’
‘Remember what happened last time, boss?’
Darktan looked around at his squad. It wasn’t everything he could have wished for. Rats were still trailing back from their hiding-places, and some rats – good, sensible rats – had run into traps and poisons in the panic. But he’d picked the best he could. There were a few of the experienced older ones, like Inbrine and Sardines, but most of them were young. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, he thought. It was the older rats who’d panicked most. They hadn’t been so used to thinking.
‘O-K,’ he said. ‘Now, we don’t know what we’re going to—’ he began, and caught sight of Sardines. The rat was shaking his head slightly.
Oh, yes. Leaders weren’t allowed not to know.
He stared at the young, worried faces, took a deep breath and started again. ‘There’s something new down here,’ he said, and suddenly he knew what to say. ‘Something that no one’s ever seen before. Something tough. Something strong.’ The squad was almost cowering, except for Nourishing, who was staring at Darktan with shining eyes.
‘Something fearful. Something new. Something sudden,’ said Darktan, leaning forward. ‘And it’s you. All of you. Rats with brains. Rats who can think. Rats who don’t turn and run. Rats who aren’t afraid of dark or fire or noises or traps or poisons. Nothing can stop rats like you, right?’
Now the words bubbled up. ‘You heard about the Dark Wood in the Book? Well, we’re in the Dark Wood now. There’s something else down there. Something terrible. It hides behind your fear. It thinks it can stop you and it’s wrong. We’re going to find it and drag it out and we’re gonna make it wish we’d never been born! And if we die … well,’ and he saw them, as one rat, stare at the livid wound across his chest, ‘death ain’t so bad. Shall I tell you about the Bone Rat? He waits for those who break and run, who hide, who falter. But if you stare into his eyes he’ll give you a nod and pass right on.’
Now he could smell their excitement. In the world behind their eyes they were the bravest rats that there ever were. Now he had to lock that thought there.
Without thinking, he touched the wound. It was healing badly, still leaking blood, and there was going to be a huge scar there for ever. He brought his hand up, red with his own blood, and the idea came to him right out of his bones.
He walked along the row, touching each rat just above the eyes, leaving a red mark. ‘And afterwards,’ he said quietly, ‘people will say, “They went there, and they did it, and they came back out of the Dark Wood, and this is how they know their own”.’
He looked across their heads to Sardines, who raised his hat. That broke the spell. The rats started to breathe again. But something of the magic was still there, lodged in the gleam of an eye and the twitch of a tail.
‘Ready to die for the Clan, Sardines?’ Darktan shouted.
‘No, boss! Ready to kill!’
‘Good,’ said Darktan. ‘Let’s go. We love the Dark Wood! It belongs to us!’
The smell of light drifted along the tunnels and reached the face of Maurice, who sniffed it up. Peaches! She was mad about light. It was more or less all Dangerous Beans could see. She always carried a few matches. Mad! Creatures that lived in darkness, carrying matches! Well, obviously not mad when you thought about it, but even so …
The rats behind were pushing him in that direction. I’m being played with, he thought. Batted from paw to paw so Spider can hear me squeak.
He heard in his head the voice of Spider: And so, in your despair, you come, at last, to me …
And heard with his ears, far off and faint, the voice of Dangerous Beans. ‘Who are you?’
I am the Big Rat That Lives Underground.
‘You are? Really. I have thought … a lot about you.’
There was a hole in the wall here and, beyond it, the brilliance of a lighted match. Sensing the press of the rats behind him, Maurice sidled through.
There were big rats everywhere, on the floor, on boxes, clinging to the walls. And, in the centre, a circle of light from one half-burned match held aloft by a trembling Peaches. Dangerous Beans was standing a little in front of her, staring up at a stack of boxes and sacks.
Peaches spun around. As she did so the flame of the match blew wide and flared. The nearest rats jerked away as it did so, bending like a wave.
‘Maurice?’ she said.
The cat will not move, said the voice of Spider.
Maurice tried to, and his paws wouldn’t obey him.
Be still, CAT. Or I shall command your lungs to stop. See, little rats? Even a cat obeys me!
‘Yes. I see you have a power,’ said Dangerous Beans, tiny in the circle of light.
Clever rat. I have heard you talk to the others. You understand the truth. You know that by facing the dark we become strong. You know about the darkness in front of us and the darkness behind the eyes. You know that we cooperate or die. Will you … CO-OPERATE?
‘Co-operate?’ said Maurice. His nose wrinkled. ‘Like these other rats I smell here? They smell … strong and stupid.’
But the strong survive, said the voice of Spider. They dodge the rat-catchers and bite their way out of cages. And, like you, they are called to me. As for their minds … I can think for everyone.
‘I, alas, am not strong,’ said Dangerous Beans, carefully.
You have an interesting mind. You, too, look forward to the domination of rats.
‘Domination?’ said Dangerous Beans. ‘Do I?’
You will have worked out that there is a race in this world which steals and kills and spreads disease and despoils what it cannot use, said the voice of Spider.
‘Yes,’ said Dangerous Beans. ‘That’s easy. It’s called humanity.’
Well done. See my fine rats? In a few hours the silly piper will come and play his silly pipe and, yes, my rats will scamper after him out of the town. Do you know how a piper kills rats?
‘No.’
He leads them into the river where … are you listening? … where they all drown!
‘But rats are good swimmers,’ said Dangerous Beans.
Yes! Never trust a rat-catcher! They will leave themselves work for tomorrow. But humans like to believe stories! They would prefer to believe stories rather than the truth! But we, we are RATS! And my rats will swim, believe me. Big rats, different rats, rats who survive, rats with part of my mind in them. And they will spread from town to town and then there will be destruction such as people cannot imagine! We will pay them back a thousandfold for every trap! Humans have tortured and poisoned and killed and all of that is now given form in me and there will be REVENGE.
‘Given form in you. Yes, I think I begin to understand,’ said Dangerous Beans.
There was a crackle and flare behind him. Peaches had lit the second match from the dying, flickering flame of the first one. The ring of rats, which had been creeping closer, swayed back again.
Two more matches, said Spider. And then, one way or another, little rat, you belong to me.
‘I want to see who I am talking to,’ said Dangerous Beans, firmly.
You are blind, little white rat. Through your pink eyes I see only mist.
‘They see more than you think,’ said Dangerous Beans. ‘And if you are, as you say, the Big Rat … then show yourself to me. Smelling is believing.’
There was a scrabbling, and Spider came out of the shadows.
It looked to Maurice like a bundle of rats, rats scampering across the boxes but flowing, as if all the legs were being operated by one creature. As it crawled into the light, over the top of a sack, he saw that the tails were twisted together into one huge, ugly knot. And each rat was blind. As the voice of Spider thundered in his head, the eight rats reared and tugged at the knot.
Then tell me the truth, white rat. Do you see me? Come closer! Yes, you see me, in your mist. You see me. Men made me for sport! Tie the rats’ tails together and watch them struggle! But I did not struggle. Together we are strong! One mind is as strong as one mind and two minds are as strong as two minds, but three minds are four minds, and four minds are eight minds and eight minds … are one – one mind stronger than eight. My time is near. The stupid men let rats fight and the strong survive, and then they fight, and the strongest of the strong survive … and soon the cages will open, and men shall know the meaning of the word ‘plague’! See the stupid cat? It wants to leap, but I hold it so easily. No mind can withstand me. Yet you … you are interesting. You have a mind like mine, that thinks for many rats, not just one rat. We want the same things. We have plans. We want the triumph of rats. Join us. Together we will be … STRONG.
There was a long pause. It was, Maurice thought, too long. And then:
‘Yes, your offer is … interesting,’ said Dangerous Beans.
There was a gasp from Peaches, but Dangerous Beans went on, in a small voice: ‘The world is big and dangerous, indeed. And we are weak, and I am tired. Together we can be strong.’
Indeed!
‘But what of those who aren’t strong, please?’
The weak are food. That is how it has always been!
‘Ah,’ said Dangerous Beans. ‘How it has always been. Things are becoming clearer.’
‘Don’t listen to it!’ Peaches hissed. ‘It’s affecting your mind!’
‘No, my mind is working perfectly, thank you,’ said Dangerous Beans, still in the same calm voice. ‘Yes, the proposition is beguiling. And we would rule the rat world together, would we?’
We would … co-operate. And Maurice, on the sidelines, thought: yeah, right. You co-operate, they rule. Surely you can’t fall for this!
But Dangerous Beans said: ‘Co-operate. Yes. And together we could give the humans a war they won’t believe. Tempting. Very tempting. Of course, millions of rats would die …’
They die anyway.
‘Mmm, yes. Yes. Yes, that is true. And this rat here,’ said Dangerous Beans, suddenly waving a paw towards one of the big rats that was hypnotized by the flame, ‘can you tell me what she thinks about this?’
Spider sounded taken aback. Thinks? Why should it think anything? It is a rat!
‘Ah,’ said Dangerous Beans. ‘How clear it is now. But it would not work.’
Would not work?
Dangerous Beans raised his head.
‘Because, you see, you just think for many rats,’ he said. ‘But you don’t think of them. Nor are you, for all that you say, the Big Rat. Every word you utter is a lie. If there is a Big Rat, and I hope there is, it would not talk of war and death. It would be made of the best we could be, not the worst that we are. No, I will not join you, liar in the dark. I prefer our way. We are silly and weak, sometimes. But together we are strong. You have plans for rats? Well, I have dreams for them.’
Spider reared up, quivering. The voice raged in Maurice’s mind.
Oh, so you think you are a good rat? But a good rat is one that steals most! You think a good rat is a rat in a waistcoat, a little human with fur! Oh yes, I know about the stupid, stupid book! Traitor! Traitor to rats! Will you feel my … PAIN?
Maurice did. It was like a blast of red-hot air, leaving his head full of steam. He recognized the sensation. It was how he used to feel before he was changed. It was how he used to feel before he was Maurice. He’d just been a cat. A bright cat, but nothing more than a cat.
You defy me? Spider screamed at the bowed form of Dangerous Beans. When I am everything that truly is RAT? I am filth and darkness! I am the noise under the floor, the rustling in the walls! I am the thing that undermines and despoils! I am the sum of all that you deny! I am your true self! Will you OBEY ME?
‘Never,’ said Dangerous Beans. ‘You are nothing but shadows.’
Feel my PAIN!
Maurice was more than a cat, he knew. He knew the world was big and complex and involved a lot more than wondering if the next meal was going to be beetles or chicken legs. The world was huge and difficult and full of amazing things and …
… the red-hot flame of that horrible voice was boiling his mind away. The memories were unwinding and whirling into the darkness. All the other little voices, not the horrible voice but the Maurice voices, the ones that nagged at him and argued amongst themselves and told him he was doing wrong or could be better, were getting fainter—
And still Dangerous Beans stood there, small and wobbly, staring up into the dark.
‘Yes,’ said Dangerous Beans. ‘I feel the pain.’
You are nothing but a rat. A little rat. And I am the very SOUL of ratdom. Admit it, little blind rat, little blind pet rat.
Dangerous Beans swayed, and Maurice heard him say, ‘I will not. And I am not so blind that I can’t see darkness.’
Maurice sniffed, and realized that Dangerous Beans was widdling himself in terror. But the little rat didn’t move, even so.
Oh, yes, whispered the voice of Spider. And you can control the dark, yes? You told a little rat that. You can learn to control the dark.
‘I am a rat,’ whispered Dangerous Beans. ‘But I am not vermin.’
VERMIN?
‘Once we were just another squeaking thing in the forest,’ said Dangerous Beans. ‘And then men built barns and pantries full of food. Of course we took what we could. And so they called us vermin, and they have trapped us and covered us in poison and, somehow, out of that wretchedness, you have come. But you are no answer. You are just another bad thing humans made. You offer rats nothing except more pain. You have a power that lets you enter people’s minds when they are tired or stupid or upset. And you are in mine now.’
Yes. Oh, yes!
‘And still I stand here,’ said Dangerous Beans. ‘Now that I have smelled you, I can face you down. Even though my body is shaking, I can keep a place free from you. I can feel you running round in my head, you see, but all the doors are closed to you now. I can control the dark inside, which is where all darkness is. You have shown me that I am more than just a rat. If I am not more than a rat, I am nothing at all.’
The many heads of Spider turned this way and that. There wasn’t much left of Maurice’s mind to do any thinking now, but it looked as though the rat king was trying to reach a conclusion.
Its reply came in a roar.
THEN BE NOTHING!
* * *
Keith blinked. He had his hand on the latch of one of the rat cages.
The rats were watching him. All standing the same way, all watching his fingers. Hundreds of rats. They looked … hungry.
‘Did you hear something?’ said Malicia.
Keith lowered his hand very carefully, and took a couple of steps back. ‘Why are we letting these out?’ he said. ‘It was like I’d been … dreaming …’
‘I don’t know. You’re the rat boy.’
‘But we agreed to let them out.’
‘I … it was … I had a feeling that—’
‘Rat kings can talk to people, can’t they?’ said Keith. ‘Has it been talking to us?’
‘But this is real life,’ said Malicia.
‘I thought it was an adventure,’ said Keith.
‘Damn! I forgot,’ said Malicia. ‘What’re they doing?’
It was almost as if the rats were melting. They were no longer upright, attentive statues. Something like panic was spreading through them again.
Then other rats poured out of the walls, running madly across the floor. They were much bigger than the caged ones. One of them bit Keith on the ankle, and he kicked it away.
‘Try to stamp on them but don’t lose your balance, whatever you do!’ he said. ‘These are not friendly!’
‘Tread on them?’ said Malicia. ‘Yuk!’
‘You mean you haven’t got anything in your bag to fight rats? This is a rat-catchers’ lair! You’ve got plenty of stuff for pirates and bandits and robbers!’
‘Yes, but there’s never been a book about having an adventure in a rat-catcher’s cellar!’ Malicia shouted. ‘Ow! One’s on my neck! One’s on my neck! And there’s another one!’ She bent down frantically to shake the rats loose and reared up as one leapt at her face.
Keith grabbed her hand. ‘Don’t fall over! They’ll go mad if you do! Try to get to the door!’
‘They’re so fast!’ Malicia panted. ‘Now there’s another one on my hair—’
‘Hold still, stupid female!’ said a voice in her ear. ‘Hold quite still or I’ll gnaw you!’
There was a scrabble of claws, a swish and a rat dropped past her eyes. Then another rat thumped onto her shoulder and slid away.
‘Right!’ said the voice at the back of her neck. ‘Now don’t move, don’t tread on anyone and keep out of the way!’
‘What was that?’ she hissed, as she felt something slide down her skirt.
‘I think it was the one they call Big Savings,’ said Keith. ‘Here comes the Clan!’
More rats were scrambling into the room, but these moved differently. They stayed together and spread out into a line that moved forward slowly. When an enemy rat attacked it, the line would close up over it quickly, like a fist, and when it opened again that rat was dead.
Only when the surviving rats smelled the terror of their fellows and tried to escape from the room did the attacking line break, become pairs of rats that, with terrible purpose, hunted down one scurrying enemy after another and brought them down with a bite.
And then, seconds after it started, the war was over. The squeaking of a few lucky refugees faded in the walls.
There was a ragged cheer from the Clan rats, the cheer which says ‘I’m still alive! After all that!’
‘Darktan?’ said Keith. ‘What happened to you?’
Darktan reared up and pointed a paw to the door at the other end of the cellar. ‘If you want to help, open that door!’ he shouted. ‘Move it!’ Then he darted into a drain with the rest of the squad pouring in after him. One of them tap-danced as he went.