The captain flushed behind his plastic screen. You, get it back on immediately!"
The startled soldier hastily began to don his hood. "Sorry, sir, it's so bleedin' hot in here," he said lamely.
Captain Mather glared at the small squad which formed a protective semicircle around Fender, Whittaker and Aper-cello. An army truck stood waiting in a clearing nearby, its engine idling, ready to move at the slightest hint of trouble.
You all know the danger," the captain said, 'so let's not have any more silliness. Clear?" He neither expected nor received an answer as he turned back to the rat catcher "Sorry, Mr. Fender, it won't happen again."
That should do it, Luke," came Apercello's muffled voice as he patted down the fast drying cement. "No bugger'll get out of there."
"Right," Fender said, picking up the container of cyanide powder.
"Let's move on."
The senior tutor fell in beside him as they trampled down foliage with heavy boots, helmets bent in constant examination of the ground before them, searching for signs. The soldiers fanned out on either side, also searching the ground but keeping a wider alert for any impending danger.
You were saying we have to be ready by tomorrow... ?" Whittaker prompted.
We can't risk holding them inside any longer," Fender continued. We drilled probes with microphones attached, so we know they're there. I listened in myself it was bedlam. They seem to know they're trapped and they're panicking."
"But we know these mutants can burrow why don't they dig their way out?"
"Oh, they will. That's why we have to move fast. At the moment hysteria is preventing them from using whatever sense they possess.
Pretty soon, though, they're going to get the notion to tunnel their way out. Fortunately, these sewers have been firmly constructed they'll hold the rats for a while."
"And these holes we're sealing? Why haven't they come pouring through?"
"Don't tempt providence: they could do just that. My guess is that the rats are afraid. Remember, their ancestors were virtually wiped out in London. Call it race-memory, or sheer instinct, but they know they're under attack from their worst enemy: man. They're just plain terrified at the moment, too scared to come out and show themselves. How long they'll remain in that state is anybody's guess."
They trudged on, both men lost in their own thoughts. It was Whittaker who finally broke the silence.
"I don't understand why the other animals haven't been slaughtered by the vermin. I mean, if they're so ferocious and there are so many of them, why haven't they overrun the forest?"
"Firstly, we don't know exactly how many there are. My guess is that there are a thousand or so they haven't reproduced like the normal rodent. It would still be enough to make them aggressive."
"A thousand? My God, that's terrible."
"Not really, not in an area this size."
"What makes you so sure? There could be several thousand."
Fender shook his head. "I'm not sure, but I don't think so. If there were, they'd have been seen sooner. They would almost certainly have begun slaughtering the other wildlife. I'm sure their build-up has been gradual. Remember, compared to the normal rodent they're giants, and Mother Nature isn't keen on allowing her bigger creatures to have large litters."
They're no bigger than dogs. Even pigs ..."
"In the vermin kingdom, the mutants are as big as elephants. Anyway there's the other side of the argument: these are freaks, mutants their genes have been altered in some way. Maybe the ultrasonics used on their ancestors did it, maybe not, but their difference could easily have changed their reproductive cycle."
"But there were many thousands in London!"
They were mating with the normal species of Black rat. It's all theory on my part, but here, I think, we have the pure strain. I'll bet they're even stronger and more cunning than the first. They've been clever enough to keep out of sight -until now."
"It makes you wonder if we really are going to beat them."
We will." Whittaker could not see the grim determination on the rat catcher face.
"All right, if there really are as you say just a thousand or so, it still doesn't explain why they haven't attacked the local wildlife before now."
"Rats can survive on practically anything. You can be sure they've killed other animals, but on an unnoticeable scale. Their main supply of food has obviously been scavenged from other sources: houses, farms, allotments, the countryside itself. I bet if we were to check now, we'd have reports of all sorts of vermin trouble that in the past has just been put down to rare and isolated cases. It's frightening to consider, but I wouldn't be surprised if these mutants have deliberately been keeping a low profile regarding their raids."
"It's a little hard to believe."
"What's happening now is a little hard to believe. One thing we do know for sure: their restraint has gone. They're out to kill anyone or anything."
Apercello, who was some distance ahead, turned and waved at them. His words through the plastic grille were hard to catch, but he began pointing towards the ground quite near his feet.
"Looks like Joe's found another opening," said Fender, hurrying forward.
The hole the rat catcher colleague was standing over was much larger than the one they had just plugged. Its sides were smooth, as though used by many bodies.
"Christ, that's one all right," Fender muttered, bending low and examining the hole. "It's the right size. Captain, let me have the torch, will you?"
Captain Mather passed the square-shaped torch over to the rat catcher who shone its powerful beam into the tunnel.
"Nothing there," Fender said, straightening. "Let's get some powder down fast. The sooner it's plugged, the happier I'll be."
They went through the process of laying the cyanide and sealing the exit again, Fender helping Apercello pack the cement.
"Okay. Number six done. Mark it..." He didn't know what had made him look up into the trees at that moment, but Fender suddenly felt even more uneasy than before. Had he seen something move? The other men regarded him curiously.
"What is it, Mr. Fender?" Captain Mather enquired.
Fender studied the nearby trees for a few seconds longer before replying. "Nothing. I thought I saw ... heard something, that's all."
The officer looked around nervously. "Perhaps we should be moving..."
There's something up there!" It was Apercello's voice. "I saw it move. It was darting along a branch."
The soldiers who were nearer to the trees began to back away apprehensively, their firearms pointing into the foliage overhead.
There's another!" shouted Vie Whittaker pointing to a different tree.
All eyes swivelled. They saw a swaying branch, but nothing else.
A sudden rustle to their right had everybody spinning in that direction. A flurry of dead leaves fluttered to the ground, but the tree's branches were still too full of brown foliage for the men to see what had caused the downfall.