The rat slipped out of the black light and became a white shadow. It disappeared through a crack in the wall. Not a crack. A door. Alix pulled it open. The room beyond was pitch-black. She stepped inside cautiously. The music’s volume lessened, replaced by a ringing in her ears.
Flashes of light from the dance floor threw her shadow across bare concrete. The rat was sitting in the center of the dark room, up on its hind legs. It seemed to be sniffing the air, gazing at something.
What the—?
A wall of rats.
A whole huge wall of caged rats.
She turned in a slow circle, stunned at the sight. The cages were everywhere, she realized. They rose from floor to ceiling, disappearing into the darkness above. The smell was now so clear and obvious that she couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it immediately, the musky scent of wood shavings and urine. Thousands and thousands of rats, poking their noses through the wires of their cages, nipping at the metal, reaching through with tiny claws, staring down at her, all of them struggling to get free.
Out on the dance floor, the hammering chimes rose and blurred into an electronic wail. Alix stared up at the rats, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.
Am I going crazy?
And then suddenly it hit her. Rats. Thousands of rats. Stolen from a testing lab. 2.0. Right here. They were right here. She was inside their lair.
Cynthia. I’ve got to find Cynthia.
A shadow blocked the door, dimming the room. Alix spun.
A girl with blue hair and the feral kid who had taken money at the door were standing in the doorway. They were both shaking their heads and moving to block her exit. Their expressions were murderous. “Glad you could make it to the party, Alix,” the girl with the blue hair said.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Alix said, or at least thought she said, because she was already charging. Their hands raked her, snagged her shirt, and dragged her back, but fear gave Alix strength. All her self-defense lessons came flooding back. Fight like hell. Alix punched and elbowed and bit and screamed, and abruptly broke free of their grip.
Alix plunged into the seething crowd with the pair pursuing, but the swamp and surge of bodies threatened caught her. She couldn’t move. Sweaty bodies smashed into her, pushing and shoving her and making her stumble. In the strobing light and darkness, everything was fragmentary and horrific. The great spinning iron wheel. The frenzied bodies and caged dancers.
Alix squeezed through the press, but it was like fighting against the tentacles of a monster. Everyone seemed to be grabbing at her, slowing her. The music shrieked demonically, and the pulse strobe of light and darknesss increased. The dancers became blurred traceries of color and shadow and reaching, clutching hands.
Alix tried to make her mind sober, to control the horror of her high. Find Cynthia. Just find Cynthia.
Behind her, the feral kid and the punk girl with the blue hair had disappeared, but she knew they were out there, hunting her, just as she was hunting Cynthia.
There!
Alix clawed her way toward her friend, shouting. Cynthia was dancing with some girl and totally unaware of anything. Their faces were close, almost kissing. Alix stopped short, confused. Was Cynthia gay? She hesitated, embarrassed to be interrupting her friend, suddenly unsure if she would be welcomed.
Fear pushed her on. “Cynthia!” she shouted.
Cynthia whipped around, looking pissed. “What do you want?”
The girl was glaring at Alix, too. Alix broke off, feeling even more uncertain, embarrassed to have shattered their moment. She scanned the dancers, terrified her pursuers were about to emerge from the crowd and grab her once again.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” she shouted over the roar of the music. “I have to leave!”
“Why?” Cynthia shouted back. “Things are good!”
“They’re here! We’ve got to get out of here!”
“Who’s here?”
Cynthia’s girl was disappearing into the crowd. Cynthia wasn’t even listening to Alix now, she was craning her neck and motioning for the girl to come back. “Wait!” she shouted.
Alix gave up and just grabbed Cynthia’s arm and headed for the exit.
“Hey!” Cynthia protested. “What are you doing?”
Alix ignored her, just kept dragging her drunk, high friend through the crowds. Cynthia pried at her grip. “What the hell, Alix?”
“We’re getting out!”
Finally, Alix found the door. They stumbled out into the chill, late-night air.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cynthia shouted. “I was having a good time!”
Alix ignored her. “Where is the car?”
Cynthia didn’t say anything. She was just scowling. Alix realized she hadn’t actually spoken the question.
Damn, you really are fucked up.
“Where’s the car?” Alix said again, out loud this time. Her voice sounded tinny and distant against the ringing of her ears and the sudden night silence outside of the party.
“Why? What’s going on?” Cynthia’s distant voice replied.
“They’re here,” Alix said. “2.0.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Where did you get that flyer? That party flyer?”
Cynthia shook her head, puzzled. “I don’t know…. I just got it. They were just around. Denise, maybe? Why? Who cares?”
God, the girl was so slow. Put some booze and drugs in her and the IQ went right out the window. Alix realized she couldn’t wait for Cynthia to get off her high. She grabbed her friend again. “Just come on. I’ll explain later.”
“Will you quit grabbing me!” Cynthia dug in her feet. “What the hell’s your problem?” she asked. “Are you tripping? Are you jealous?”
“Jealous?” Alix stared at her with confusion. “Why?” She spied Cynthia’s Dodge Dart and reached for her friend again. Cynthia jerked her arm away, glaring. “Quit grabbing!”
“I saw rats,” Alix explained.
Cynthia started laughing. “Rats? You saw rats? How high are you? What else did you take in there?”
Alix ignored her and headed for the car. The doors to the Dart were locked.
“Where are your keys?” Alix kept looking over her shoulder, expecting the crazy girl with the blue hair and the little feral kid to emerge from the darkness, but they weren’t anywhere around.
“I can’t drive,” Cynthia said, shaking her head fuzzily. “I’m totally fucked up.”
“We’re both going to be fucked up if you don’t hurry! Give me your keys!”
Babysitting drunks was never Alix’s favorite thing, and drunk Cynthia was turning into a huge, floppy pain in the neck. Cynthia wasn’t taking any of this seriously. Now she was looking back toward the party.
“But I met that nice girl,” she said sadly.
Alix went to dig in Cynthia’s pocket herself, but the girl was laughing now and fumbled them out. “Okay, okay. Here.” She offered the keys. Alix reached for them. They fell out of Cynthia’s hand and hit the ground in a jangle of metal.
“Oops!” Cynthia giggled again.
Alix wanted to scream. She got down on her knees, feeling for the keys in the darkness. Trying to spy any gleam of metal. Cynthia stood by uselessly and giggled.
“Did you see that girl I was with?” she asked as Alix searched.
“Yeah, I saw her.” Alix swallowed, trying to focus on her search.
“I really liked her.”
Alix’s mouth was dry, and she was feeling more and more blurry. Why had she drank so much? She wasn’t in any shape to drive. She could barely walk. The ground seemed to be tilting and swaying under her. She felt horribly sick and dizzy. Her hand made slow, blurred traceries when she moved it.