Moonlight streamed in through a gap under the bedroom window blind, bringing Matt to wakefulness gradually. His wife and daughter slept soundly close by, snuggled together and thankfully undisturbed. Moving carefully to avoid a loud creak from the bedsprings, Matt rolled upright and gingerly stepped to the window.

  Scanning the visible gardens, no movement could be seen, and the night was blessedly free of the chorus of terror and pain that had epitomised the last couple of nights. Quietly, Matt opened the window to enjoy the cool night air.

  Maybe the rats have been culled back somehow. He thought, before his expression darkened. Or maybe there isn’t any more ‘food’ around this area for them to scavenge. He didn’t imagine that many households were prepared to fight off monstrous intruders, and looking out over the neighbourhood, he wondered how many other people were surviving – let alone thriving as their small group seemed to be.

  Their mix of talents, enhanced by the bonds they had developed with the various items, put them in a good place to adapt to the changes. Alan was finally getting some practical use out of his fascination with martial arts, when situations had required boot being put to posterior. Carry’s calming influence had maintained their mental state through the early trauma, and the miraculous new capabilities of her traditional first aid meant that the probable breakdown of regular healthcare would not hit them as hard as it would others.

  Arlee’s bag was probably the least initially impressive, but that one trip to the garden centre had demonstrated the amazing utility of being able to carry almost unlimited volumes of smaller items. Scavenging would likely become an important part of their future activities, and she vastly increased the potential yields of these activities.

  The patches that were coming from his weaving could supplement existing functions or outright replace technology such as the fridges. He had only scratched the edges of what was possible and the eternal optimist in him was eager to experiment more. The devil on the other shoulder reminded him that he would probably start discovering limits as well as awesome new powers though.

  Kira though, he had the most wonder for, and the most anxiety about. Her book – he refused to even think of it as his anymore – had provided essential information to get started with his magical weaving, and seemingly had the answers to whatever she cared to research. Not just about the specifics of animals or processes, but potentially why all this… weirdness was happening in the first place.

  He shivered at the concern Alan had raised the previous day.

  “People are going to be desperate for anything which can show the way to get through this, and desperate people in the movies always do terrible stuff to get what they want.”

  Their life in Twyford before the Event had been good. It was a mostly quiet and friendly area, with easy access to the larger towns and cities if needed. There was an abundance of local clubs, sports teams and organisations running activities, woodland and farmland to walk through, and several business parks in the area provided good employment opportunities. Arlee and Matt had both pursued their own hobbies and made time for each other, continuing this culture after Kira had been born, though with all the restrictions which growing children unknowingly generate for attentive parents.

  Society had irrevocably changed though, and if humans wanted to stay the dominant species on the planet, they would have to adapt – and organise – fast, before new predators emerged to push them down the food chain. If even rats had changed to become a serious threat to life, Matt was sure that there were greater threats out there, yet to reveal themselves locally.

  A low mumble emerged from under the bedcover, and Matt turned back to regard the two people who were the centre of his universe. His love with Arlee was a solid foundation which had resisted arguments, family bereavements and serious priority differences in the importance of decorating and tidying the house. They talked through disagreements and never left worries or hurt unsaid, facing their challenges and defeating them together.

  Kira, although she shared very few personal interests with her Father, had been a joy to raise and get to know. Inquisitive by nature, the joint love of reading had given their family a truly effortless way to spend time together, and grow together.

  As with any twelve-year-old, she was coming to a stage of her life which would constantly challenge her – physically, culturally and emotionally. Matt sighed, considering that he and Arlee had been carefully preparing for all the regular teenage parental challenges, now had a completely new set to deal with as well. Of less concern now was the looming entity known as ‘The Talk’, replaced by “don’t tell anyone that you have the answer to life, the universe and everything.” He was pretty sure that it wasn’t 42 anymore.

  I wonder what other people will have connected to, he thought absently. Around the world, some would have been asleep, would they not connect to anything, and face the new reality with a serious disadvantage? A huge number of people would have been holding mobile phones – what would they be capable of now that technology had failed?

  We need to find other people and try to preserve what we have left.

  He yawned drowsily, sleep finally beckoning once more, so he turned, closed the window and drew the blind back down, cutting off the silvery radiance gently bathing the room. He lay back down, stroked Kira’s hair as she mumbled a complaint in her sleep, closed his eyes and soon after, gentle snoring filled the room.

  The scene before Matt was familiar from a known information point of view, while being something he had never personally experienced. Soft, cushioned feathers were under his hands as he sat astride a huge, red-brown bird of prey, looking below at the village of Twyford. He could make out the roads he knew, larger buildings like the schools, surgery and supermarket, the playing fields where he had spent many weekends kicking balls of one shape or another.

  Absent were any signs of the weirdness – no crashed cars on the roads, smoke from fires, or signs of monstrous activity. Cars were moving as normal, and tiny figures could be seen walking along the roads, running around the parks. The wind tickled his face, surprisingly lightly considering the speed of the bird’s flight and the great height they soared at.

  So this is how the birds see us, he mused, a feeling of freedom filling him as the great wings tilted and they banked around, heading to the other side of the village from their home. Recognising the area easily, Matt saw that one corner of the housing estate was shrouded in shadow, obscured from clear view. The houses backed onto an area of woodland.

  That’s where Lara lives, he thought absently, rubbing his face as the tickle grew more pronounced. Why can’t I see that, when the rest of the village is so clear?

  The tickle of the air changed, taking on a rough, raspy quality. He raised his hands to protect his eyes, feeling the sensation move to the backs of his hands and forearm. Clumsily, he laid his head down on the birds plumage, pulling the feathers over this head…

  Matt awoke with a start, batting ineffectually with his hand at the tickling and raspy sensation. His eyes opened and snapped wide to see a huge feline face only inches away, whiskers brushing against his face as a large tongue travelled from chin to forehead. Struggling to contain a shriek of surprise, Matt blundered up to a seated position and pushed the cat back, before remembering himself and scratching Nala behind the ears to appease any feline notions of nibbling on the human.

  Arlee and Kira were still asleep, and the low light filtering around the closed blind indicated that it was still early. He grumpily rubbed his eyes and gave the looming feline about ten percent of an evil eye, still extremely conscious of the teeth and claws that his newest nemesis possessed. Nala sat and yawned, unmoved by this unmagnificent display of dominance, before turning back toward the window and pawing at the blind, switching her gaze between the stiff cloth and Matt.

  “What is it Skippy? Little Billy is stuck down the old well?” Matt grumbled to himself in a quiet, bad Australian accent. He carefully got out of bed, moved to the window and inched aside the blind to look outside. Wondering as he did why he had dreamed of Kira’s friend’s house.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  He froze.

  They were back.

  Across the double row of back gardens, he saw a group of the enormous rats huddled around something on the floor, jostling each other as they fought to get their cruel teeth into… something. He couldn’t make out any detail in his early-morning, bleary-eyed state, but he was also certain he didn’t want to know. This fervent wish was shattered a moment later, as another one of the large beasts struggled its way backward out of the smashed door, dragging something…

  It's a kid. A dead kid.

  A horror came over him, nausea rising and he struggled to choke it back. Before tearing his eyes away, he saw the new arrival drag the thankfully dead weight out the door, limbs flopping about as it was jerked along, past the feasting group and out of sight.

  Matt screwed his eyes closed, and collapsed to sit on the floor, lungs heaving as he fought back tears and bile from the pit in his belly. He was vaguely aware of a pair of light arms wrapping around him as he sat, rocking in place as he tried to force the horrific images away, seared as they were on the inside of his eyelids.

  “What is it Dad?” Kira’s voice asked softly, with the scared tone of a child who never expected to see a parent so overcome.

  “Don’t look out the window. The rats are back. They’re… feeding. We don’t want to let them know we’re here.”

  “Feeding? On wha….”

  “Don’t look out the window Kira.” Matt interrupted, his voice like stone, shutting down her question abruptly.

  Matt loved that his daughter was curious, and smart enough to figure out things that many of her peers still struggled with, but it was a curse at this moment. Looking up he could see the realisation in her eyes, her small mouth gaping in horror, imagination winding up into a visual that she should never be exposed to…

  “They’re eating…people….”

  He gathered her in his arms and held her tightly, neither speaking or moving, just trying to shut out the sight and thoughts scratching at their sanity. They stayed like this for many minutes, before Nala nuzzled Kira’s neck, drawing a sobbing, involuntary giggle, breaking the awful tension. She reached over and stroked Nala’s large head, starting a rumbling purr.

  Matt took his daughter’s face in both hands, looking in her eyes and steadying himself.

  “I… We won’t let them keep doing this Kira, we won’t let them hurt you, or anyone else. We need to figure out together what to do about them, and we’ll need your help to do that. Your book has all the answers – I need you to find out all you can about them. Where they nest. How many in each nest. Weaknesses and anything special that we need to know about before we go after them.”

  She nodded slowly, opening her mouth to reply, but Matt cut her off again.

  “And your mother and I need to know that we can trust you to stay safe, not run off alone – or with cats! Not do anything which means taking an unnecessary risk. We – can’t – lose – you!” He bit off these final words, trying to etch them into her memory.

  “Matt, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” Arlee’s voice mumbled from the bed.

  “We’re safe Arl, but there are some rats on the next road over, so we’re staying quiet.” Matt looked over at his daughter – don’t tell her what they did – he mouthed silently. She nodded gravely, before burying her face in his chest again and clinging onto him.

  “As long as we’re safe, I love you.” Arlee’s sleepy voice faded away once more.

  Matt grabbed a tissue and wiped his eyes, dabbing Kira’s cheeks as well to dry the tear tracks. Kissing her on the forehead, he rose to his feet and pulled her up.

  “I’m going to stay awake and get some more patches made. You keep your Mum safe and snug for me?”

  “Sure Dad. And Dad…?”

  “Yes?”

  “I promise. I’ll be safe, I’ll be sensible, check things with you, not run off, not go off alone. You tell me what you need to know, and I’ll find it out. That way, I can help to keep us all safe as well, right?”

  “You sure will youngster, you sure will. Sleep now.” He leaned over and stroked her hair. “It will help this old man sleep better to know you’re safe.”

  “Old, grey and wrinkly. With a big tummy!” Her response was well-practiced and a source of constant amusement. Matt rubbed his tummy in mock outrage.

  “I’ll have you know that I’m a fine figure of a modern man, young lady. Less of your cheek now!”

  “Yes Mr Big Bum.” Her giggle was smothered in the blanket, and Matt smiled as the familiar ribbing erased some of the tension from what he had just witnessed. He walked quietly around the bed and was about to leave the room when an itch flicked his brain. He looked around, focusing as the familiar sensation grew. Eventually he could make out the edges of another distortion – another locus? – rising from the bed right where Arlee lay sleeping. He started, brain not yet fully up to speed as it tried to take in the incongruity of his wife and the locus partially occupying the same space.

  She didn’t seem to be in any discomfort and hadn’t been woken in the night. But clearly she was sharing a space with – if it was what he thought – another source of energy which appeared open to him. There was a very different feeling to the locus downstairs though, more soothing – more ‘right’ - he thought.

  Rather than risk waking his wife and now sleeping daughter, he backed away and left the room. Plenty of time to investigate when they were both awake, and he absolutely was not going to experiment with anything while they were close by. Grabbing a robe from the back of the door, he shrugged on the warm garment and headed downstairs.

  He noticed the residual warmth from his latest patch, still present in the kitchen, though the wooden floors now had a slight early morning chill to them. This served to banish the last dregs of sleep from him as he moved to the fridge. Opening the door, he reached inside and tapped the cold patch, restarting the cycle of light and frigid pulses. The fridge thermometer still read six degrees, so it had retained the cold well overnight. He made a mental note to start recording how long the effects of the various patches would last. That could be vital knowledge – life-saving even.

  Grabbing an apple and bottle of water, he sat down at the table, moved the new heat patch off to the side, and carefully nudged the untested fire patch away with a pen as well. No point risking setting it off inside with a careless touch, he thought, although he did look forward to finding out what it could do when the sun was high and the local aggressive fauna had retreated to their nest.

  A loud crunching bite of the apple had him cringe momentarily, but it didn’t seem to have disturbed the sleeping duo upstairs. Grinning wryly, he took another bite as he read down the list on this notebook, thinking what might be of immediate help, or would give them an edge against the rats.

  If we have to go into a nest, we’ll need light. Some way to keep them back from us – more fire? Anything to slow them down, freeze them, paralyse them. If we have to fight, some way for weapons to be more effective, poison maybe…

  Rat poison.

  Matt had spoken to vermin exterminators a couple of times in the course of their business. One had played in the same football team some years back and had a bunch of interesting stories about the various nests he had dealt with. There was a small hardware shop in the village behind the rail station, which would probably have a stock of various vermin extermination materials. If that was a bust, there was a farm nearby which would be another possible source, though much larger and more difficult to find anything in. Another trip to the garden centre and its smashed stone guardian might be an option as well – they usually sold anti-vermin products.

  The poison would likely need to be massively overdosed to have any effect on the much larger creatures, but could it maybe be incorporated into a patch, attached to a weapon? Was that possible? This felt like hopeless optimism, but hey, it’s magic, isn’t it?

  Matt tapped the table as he finished the last of the apple, before leaning over and grabbing the transcribed notes Kira had prepared. Scanning them, he found the passage that had tickled his mind.

  “The magnitude of the imbued essence is determined by the degree of power the creator has achieved through connections to significant loci.”

  Re-reading this, he could only assume that the more loci he connected to, the more power he would be able to channel into his… what was the phrase, he thought, scanning another page. Oh yes, arcanic creation. Maybe if he could find some more loci, he would be able to ramp up the power of his patches.

  In fact, he thought, I can test it today, after connecting to the locus upstairs. He got out the reels of thread and other weaving implements and got to work. By the time Arlee and Kira emerged from their warm cocoon, Matt had prepared another light patch, using the radiance from his first ever magical success. He felt the full energy of the locus at work when guiding the gentle light into the threads, fully recharged from the drained feel it had upon finishing the previous day’s weaving.

  After finishing the light patch, which he viewed as essential for any forays against the rats, he had started incorporating water into the next creative process, pouring some of his bottle into a bowl, wiping droplets from the rippling surface each time his fingers passed the thread around one of the pins on the loom. Carefully maintaining a mental image of his desired outcome – a stream of water – he responded in a distracted fashion when Arlee laid a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle ‘good morning’.

  Finishing off the patch as the others moved around him, making breakfast and stretching out the morning stiffness, he had thought of this yesterday, but in true fashion had forgotten while revelling in the protective force he had managed to imbue into an ordinary item of clothing.

  The taps were only trickling now, the breakdown of technology having no doubt shut down the treatment and distribution plants supplying their water, so all that was available now was what was in the pipes, and that would only last while there was sufficient pressure behind it to push it out to the houses. They were going to need alternate sources, and while the rain barrels were a good start, even a week without any rain would seriously restrict their supply.

  Matt was hoping that magic… arcanic creation, get it right… would solve this, and many other problems. Crossing his toes (his fingers were busy), he sealed the edges of the patch and set it aside for testing later on. Today they were due to start planting what would hopefully turn into their food supply, and it looked like enforced vegetarianism was on cards.

  First we get our food supply setup. Then we test the fireworks.