The Rats (10 page)

Just then, he heard a scream from upstairs. He picked up the discarded poker and raced upstairs.

The Headmaster was on the floor of the corridor, struggling with the two hideous rats. Mercifully, the door at the end of the corridor had been closed, and the children had all escaped to the floor above. The Headmaster had one of the rats by the throat and was fighting to keep it from his face.

The other was boring a hole in his side.

‘Help me, help me!’ he implored Harris, mining his head to see the teacher.

Sickened, knowing his Principal was already dead, Harris ran forward and brought the poker down with all his might on one of the rats. It squealed, high-pitched, an octave above a frightened child’s, and withdrew its teeth from the struggling man’s side. Its back was broken, but it made an attempt to crawl towards Harris. He brought his foot down on its head and crushed it. He couldn’t hit the second rat for fear of hurting the Headmaster, so he dropped the poker and reached for it with his hands. He grabbed it near its shoulders and lifted, taking care not to let its mapping teeth touch his body. Unfortunately, the Headmaster was too frightened to loose his grip on the squirming rodent.

‘Let go, let go!’ Harris shouted, now lifting the man with the rat.

But the Headmaster was too crazed with terror to hear.

The teacher braced his foot against the Headmaster’s chest and pushed him back to the floor, staggering back as the grip was released and falling, but still holding the rat high.

Its weight and its strength were tremendous, and he felt his jacket and shirt being torn to shreds by the clawing feet.

Holding it from behind, he raised himself to one knee and pushed it against the floor. He saw the Headmaster crawling away from him, his eyes never leaving the squirming monster in his grasp, backing away towards the wall, trying to push himself into it. In the background, Harris could hear the sound of police sirens. Where the hell have they been? What am I going to do with this?

He looked around desperately. The thing was slipping from his grip. He wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.

And one bite from those teeth, even if he killed the bloody thing, one bite and he’d die later. 3c had an aquarium. That was the answer. He’d drown it. But all the doors were bloody shut. He could never hold on with one hand.

‘Mr Norton,’ he shouted. ‘The door to 3c! Open it, quick,

I can’t hold on much longer?

The Headmaster shook his head, dully, never taking his gaze from the rat.

‘Open that fucking door!’ Harris screamed.

The elder man at last tore his eyes away from the rat and looked at the red-faced teacher. He nodded slowly and began to crawl towards 3c’s classroom. ‘Hurry, hurry,’ Harris shouted.

In what seemed an eternity, the Headmaster reached the door and lifted a shaky, blood-soaked hand towards the handle. The blood made his hand too slippery to turn it and he had to reach up with his other. At last, the door opened.

Harris dragged the rat along the ground, his fingers aching, trying to squeeze the life out of the wriggling body, but not having the strength or the grip. The rat dug its claws into the wooden floor, forcing him to hold its head and shoulders slightly off the floor. The small head snapped from side to side, endeavouring to sink its teeth into the man’s flesh. But Harris was careful, so very careful. When he got to the door, the Headmaster uttered a small cry and kicked out, catching his leg and almost causing him to lose his grip.

‘Get out of the way,’ he said slowly, through clenched teeth. ‘Get out of the fucking way!’ Louder.

The Headmaster scrambled aside and Harris was in. He saw the tank on the window-sill. He moved towards it. When he came to the teacher’s desk at the head of the class, he swung the rat up on to it, using all his strength, but never loosening his grip. Then he pushed the desk forward with his body towards the aquarium, holding the rat’s head against the table, his body being raked by the creature’s hind-legs.

At last, the desk butted against the window-sill. He raised one leg and crawled on top of it, then dragged the rat towards the tank full of water.

He rested before he made the final effort. Gathering all his strength, sweat streaming from his face, he raised himself and the rat and plunged the writhing body into the water.

The tank seemed to explode. Water and fish cascaded over him but he held on grimly pushing its head down to the deep bottom, ignoring the pain in his chest and arms. He began to wonder if there would be enough water left in the tank to drown the rat, or whether its flying limbs would crack the glass sides. But gradually, the struggles became weaker, the twists of its body more feeble, the jerk of its head less violent. Finally, there was no movement at all. But Harris still held it there. Just to be sure.

He looked up, through the window. Several police cars had arrived, and many blue-uniformed men stood outside the front gate, not knowing what to do.

He finally released the dead body and wearily climbed off the table. His clothes were torn, and blood covered his shirt-front, but he was fairly sure he hadn’t been bitten. He walked back to the Headmaster, who was still sitting in the doorway with his head in his hands.

‘It’s all right now, sir. The police are here. They’ll soon clear them.’ Harris knelt down beside the trembling man.

‘It was horrible,’ the Headmaster said, raising his head from his hands. ‘Frightful. Those foul creatures were waiting for me. They weren’t running away at aft. They were at the top waiting for me.’

Harris didn’t know what to say. How could you comfort someone you knew was going to die within twenty-four hours?

‘Let’s go upstairs, sir. We’ll be safer there.’ Help the Headmaster to his feet. They walked down the corridor towards the door leading to the stairs.

When Harris tried to open it, he found it was locked.

‘Come on, they can’t turn bloody door-knobs, you know!’ he shouted, banging on the door with his fist.

They heard the sound of footsteps and then bolts drawn back.

‘I’m so sorry, we didn’t realise anybody else was still down here,’ Ainsley apologised, his bald head peeping round the door. ‘Oh, dear, is everything all right?’ he asked, anxiously looking at their bloodied clothes.

They half-carried the Headmaster through, closing the door behind them.

‘Are the children okay?’ Harris asked.

‘The girls are beginning to get a bit hysterical, but the boys still have plenty of swagger in them,’ replied Ainsley, catching his breath under the weight of the Headmaster.

‘They’ll need it,’ muttered Harris.

They took the injured Headmaster to his study and laid him in his armchair.

‘I’ll be all right now. Go and see to the children.’ His face was pale, and Harris wondered if it was imagination or could he actually detect a tinge of yellow in the injured man’s face? And did the skin really look tight or was it just the stiffness of pain?

‘Mr Ainsley will treat your cuts, sir,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and find out what’s happening.’

He left the study, feeling pity for the man he’d never liked, but had at least respected. The sight of him grovelling on the floor like a frightened child would stay in his mind for a long time.

He entered a classroom full of teachers and children and all heads turned towards him. He noticed the door to the adjoining room was open and anxious faces peering in. He beckoned the teachers to gather round him.

‘The Headmaster’s been injured,’ he said quietly, ‘But we’ll barricade the doors just in case the rats get up the stairs. Get all the girls in one comer and away from the windows. The bigger boys can help push the desks and chairs against the door.’

Grimble, a beak-nosed, sparrow of a man, pushed forward. ‘Really, as Deputy-Head, I...’ he began.

‘We’ve no time for internal politics now, Grimble,’ Harris snapped, making some of the younger teachers hide smiles of pleasure behind their hands. Grimble was well-known and disliked for his conniving and petty ways. He turned away huffily.

Harris went over to a window and opened it. He saw many police cars, among them a van-load of dogs.

Some of the police were donning protective clothing. Two fire engines rounded the comer at the end of the road, their frantic sirens adding to the noise. Crowds had gathered in the narrow street.

Below, he saw that the number of rats had thinned out considerably. Then he discovered why. They were disappearing two or three abreast through the small ground level window to the boiler-room. Others were making for the narrow passageway at the side of the building. He assumed the staffroom window was their target.

He heard screaming behind him. Turning, he found one of the girls had become hysterical and was sitting at a desk while some of her classmates and one of the women teachers tried to comfort her.

A voice hailed him through a loudspeaker, sounding mechanical, inhuman: ‘Axe you all right up there? Is anybody injured?’

Harris cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted:

‘Yes, we’re okay so far. One man injured though!’

‘Right. Well, barricade yourselves in. We don’t know what the rats are up to yet, but they may try to reach you.’

Of course they’ll try to bloody reach us, Harris thought to himself. What does he think they’re here for?

A school outing? He fumed impatiently as the policeman turned and waved his arms at the squad cars, instructing them to clear the way for the fire-engines.

He turned back to the school and raised the loudspeaker again: ‘We’re going to set the dogs on them first, and while they’re occupied we’ll try to reach you with ladders from the fire-engines.’ He obviously knew of the lethal bite of the vermin and wasn’t going to risk his men against them.

‘No!’ Harris shouted back. ‘You’ll never get all these children down those ladders. And your dogs won’t last five minutes against those rats!’

‘Do not panic up there. I repeat: do not panic. The experts will soon be here.’

Harris swore under his breath as the voice droned on: ‘We believe they are bringing gas to deal with the problem. Please keep calm. They will not be very long.’

The teacher groaned aloud. How long would it take those monsters to gnaw their way through a door?

They weren’t ordinary rats; they had intelligence, system. It would only take one of those monsters to get through to create havoc amongst these kids.

‘Listen,’ he called out again. ‘The hoses! Flood the basement! Flood the lower classrooms! At least it’ll panic them?

He saw the policeman, whom he assumed was a Chief Inspector conferring with a fireman. The firemen suddenly burst into activity, and began unwinding the long, thick hoses. Meanwhile the dogs were yelping excitedly, straining at their leashes, eager to tackle the black creatures. Two burst loose and streaked across the playground towards the thronging rats. The first, a hefty Alsatian, picked up one of the rats by the neck, shook it violently, and threw it into the air. The second dog, a massive Doberman leapt into the thick of the furry mass, snapping its huge jaws in all directions.

But they were soon covered by the rodents, being pulled down, their coats covered in blood. Several times they rose, but always they were dragged back to the ground. The other dogs were turned loose, about ten of them, and they flew into the melee. One actually trampled over the backs of the rats and scrambled through the small basement window.

Harris, watching from above, shuddered at the thought of its fate.

Although the dogs were brave, they were no match for the vast number of giant rats. Soon they were either lying on the ground being torn apart or trying to hobble back to their grief-stricken trainers. The men themselves had to be ordered back by their Chief-Inspector. He alone amongst them knew the risk involved, of the deadly disease carried by the vermin, and had no intention of allowing his men to lay down their lives until it was entirely essential for the sake of the children.

Suddenly, the hoses came into action. They swept through the playground, icy torrents of water, clearing a path clean through the rats, tossing them against the brick wall of the school building. They scampered in all directions, scrambling over each others backs, fighting amongst themselves to get away. The blood from the dogs was soon washed away by the steady flow of water.

A jet was aimed at the basement window, pushing several rats inside but preventing any more from entering.

The children, who had by now crowded round the windows, cheered at the sight of the disrupted vermin.

As the rats began to disperse, most running towards the coal bunkers, another jet of water was directed at the downstairs windows. The crash of glass as it showered into the classrooms brought grins of delight to many of the pupils.

Harris turned away from the window and walked across the room, gently pushing his way through the throng of children.

‘Where’s the Headmaster?’ he asked Grimble.

‘You should know. He was with you,’ was the curt reply.

‘Pull some of these desks back. He must still be in his study with Ainsley.’

The desks were pulled back allowing him just enough room to open the door and slip through.

‘I’m going to see if they’re okay, then I’ll check the doors in the corridor,’ he said. ‘Push the barricade back after me.

If I come back fast and bang on the door, tell them to get those ladders up here. But don’t open the door

- I’ll go into the Headmaster’s study and get away from that window.’

He closed the door behind him and heard the grating of the desks being pushed against it. He noticed the door of the Headmaster’s room was wide open. Hurrying to it he breathed a sigh of relief when he found old Ainsley still fussing over the injured Principal.

‘He–he seems fine now, Harris,’ Ainsley said, mopping the Headmaster’s face with a wet flannel.

‘Good. I’m going to check all the doors now and I want you to shut this one after me. Stay here, and if there’s more trouble...‘ he paused, not bothering to explain what he meant by ‘more trouble’, but letting the silence do it for him. ‘If there’s more trouble, go to the window and call to the firemen. They’ll get a ladder up to you.’, He didn’t suggest they join the others in the classrooms–the sight of the blood-soaked Headmaster would frighten them too much. Up to now, the children had been remarkably controlled, but the sight of blood could easily push them over the edge.