She slumped to the bottom of the stairs, her knees high, feet held by the mass of bodies in the hallway, her head now rolling sideways, mercifully breaking the spellbinding gaze on him.
The farmer ran forward, his anger finally breaking forth, the one boot he wore stomping down on the vermin's backs. He slipped, for there was no firm footing, the floor a moving carpet of bristling fur, and his hands clutched desperately at the walls for support. He was on his knees, trying to crawl forward through the creatures, but they struck out at him with sharp incisors, clinging to him as their companions had clung to his wife.
The farmer moved forward, slowly, painfully, his exposed foot already torn and shredded. He tried to keep them away from his face, but his hands were weighed down by bodies and he was unable to even lift them from the floor. He became motionless, resting there in the hallway on hands and knees, unable to see his wife beneath the sea of black creatures. Soon the weight of the rats on his back crumpled his body into a heap and he too disappeared beneath the ever-moving mass.
NINE
Fender looked into the open grave and shuddered. The remains of what were once two human beings lay down there, their bones stripped almost clean. The identity of the skeletal corpse still half-inside its coffin was known to the group of people in the graveyard it was an old woman who had been buried the day before but they could only guess the identity of the second. It was an educated guess though, for the vicar of the Church of the Holy Innocents could not be found.
Blood had soaked into the walls of the grave giving the soil a rich viscous quality; the shattered wood of the coffin lid was stained red.
Fender wondered how it had happened. Had the vicar, on his way to his early morning devotions inside the church, heard the noises coming from the graveyard and gone to investigate? Had he fainted when he had seen what was happening and fallen into the grave? Or had he been pushed into it? Could rats, no matter how large, have caused this? Fender shook his head in disbelief. Rats were not burrowers; they wouldn't dig into the earth to reach a corpse. At least, normal rats wouldn't.
A voice broke into his thoughts. "Mr. Fender? I'm told you can throw some light on this."
Fender almost smiled at the policeman's solemn optimism. "I'm not sure," he said. He turned away from the grave and walked towards the single, foot-high railing that bordered the church grounds, the uniformed policeman following. Fender squatted on the iron bar and ran a hand across his rough chin. He could see the group of people near the entrance to the graveyard, all eyes turned away from the open grave. Whitney-Evans was there, so was Alex Milton, both deep in conversation. Denison was talking to Eric Dugdale, the safety inspector, obviously making a report of their fruitless questioning that morning. There were several other figures that Fender did not recognize but assumed were staff from The Warren offices. Jenny was being consoled by the senior tutor from the Centre, Vie Whittaker, who had an arm around her shoulders and was talking to her quietly. Why didn't he get her away from this bloody place, Fender asked himself.
"Can you help, sir?" the policeman hovering over the rat catcher prompted.
Fender looked up at him and shrugged. We think it was rats," he said.
The uniformed man paled visibly. "Do you mean Black rats? The ones that were in London?"
Fender nodded. "It seems likely."
He stood once again and faced the policeman. "Look, I think you'd better get whoever's in charge of your station down here right away.
Things are going to start happening and the sooner the local police are involved the better."
"I'll get on the radio now. But is there any more you can tell me before I do?"
"Only that I'm from Ratkill and at the moment investigating evidence of Black rats in the forest. I think this confirms it beyond all doubt."
"Bloody hell! Why weren't we informed?" The colour had returned to the policeman's face with his anger.
Fender held up his hand in apology. "Sorry, but nothing was confirmed until now. We didn't want to cause a panic."
The policeman turned away in disgust. "All the bloody same, you lot,"
Fender heard him say as he stomped off.
"Just a minute," he said, bringing the policeman to a halt. "You're not to mention what I've told you to anyone."
"If you think..."
"Not to anyone. I'll speak to your inspector when he gets here.
Clear?"
The policeman's answer was unintelligible, but it was obvious he understood.
"Now," Fender went on. "Who discovered the ..." the word was hardly appropriate but he used it anyway'... bodies?"
The policeman pointed towards an elderly man standing uneasily on the fringe of the group near the gate. The old boy over there. He maintains the grounds around the church. It's frightened the life out of him."
"I'm not surprised. Where did he report it from?"
The rectory. He went there to tell the vicar. Fortunately, Mrs.
Paige, the housekeeper, was in. She told us she hadn't seen the vicar all morning that's why we think it could be him down there." He nodded towards the freshly dug pit.
"Okay. You'll have to keep them both quiet for the moment."
"Are you kidding? Half the forest knows by now. Mrs. Paige has probably been on the phone all morning. The bloody forest superintendent was up here almost as soon as we were."
"All right, but they don't know about the rats yet, do they?"
"Of course not'
Then that's the way it has to stay for the moment."
"Until when?" The policeman's tone was belligerent.
Fender sighed. "Until we start moving the people out. Look, I know how you feel. I'd like to get this out into the open right now, myself; but things have to be organized first'
Recognizing the frustration in the rat catcher words, the stiffness left the policeman's voice. "Fair enough, Mr. Fender. We'll do our best." He strode off towards his patrol car.
Fender walked over to Jenny and Whittaker, conscious of the shock they were in. The girl managed a weak smile as he approached.
Will they do something, Luke?" she asked. "Will this make them act?"
Yes, Jenny, they'll do something more constructive now. They'll have to."
What happened, Fender?" asked Whittaker. "Could rats really have done that?"
"I think the Black rat could. It's obvious they were after the dead body, although how they knew there was a fresh corpse down there beats me. The other person if it was the vicar presumably disturbed them and they got him too."
"But, rats digging?"
"I know. I've never heard of it either. But it sure as hell wasn't the vicar digging the body up no spades around."
"Fender, may we have a word?" It was Whitney-Evans' voice calling.
"Be right there," Fender answered. Then he turned back to the two tutors. Why don't you take Jenny back to the Centre," he said to Whittaker. "She should rest after a shock like this."