Memories of the first night assailed them both, before they reluctantly dragged themselves apart and Matt hurried downstairs, moving to a window at the back of the house. It was low enough that he could step through it easily, and when pushed closed from the outside it was indistinguishable from the other windows. Gripping his spear in white-knuckled hands, he moved around the side of the house and peered over the gate.
The street was in darkness, but a wobbling glow coming from the right heralded the return of Oswald, and it revealed the pack of rats surging forward toward the Brands' house. A rippling wave of mottled brown fur flowed jerkily over and around the parked cars and into their yard, crashing against the door and living room window. Curiously, the window broke but did not smash inward, shards falling into the writhing mass as they gouged around the window and door. Splintering wood could be clearly heard, probably the front door proving unequal to the manic determination of the rodent pack.
As quietly as possible, Matt unbolted the side gate and cracked it open. The initial rush had stalled against the front of the house, but that would only hold for seconds more against the pack, at least twenty vicious killers. Their push forward was interrupted by a bright glow coming to rest on one of the nearby lampposts, as Oswald settled on the tall metal pole, frisbee still clutched in front claws. The rodent scrum was illuminated as it milled around, heaving against each other in a maddened rush to sink fang into warm flesh. The courageous dragon started hurling insults in an effort to distract the attackers.
"Why, if I were to be observed in such a state of disharmony and ill-mannered behaviour, my name would be stricken from the rolls! For shame uncouth animals, that thy fur be so unkempt and uncared for. Have you no pride, no honour! Thy stench doth befoul the very ground beneath the loathsome feet that bear youwwwoooahhh…"
Oswald's hearty attempt at distraction came to an end as rats launched themselves against the lamppost. Made of sturdy steel, it was nevertheless not designed to withstand the weight of determined vandalism, and the dragon's perch rocked so violently that he lost his grip and fell. Matt almost shouted in shocked denial, but a split second later the small, winged hero had turned his fall into a graceful swooping soar, just out of reach of the desperately snapping jaws and up into the night air, flapping powerfully to alight on the edge of the Brands' roof. Apparently, the experience had shaken some of the bravado from him, as the light clutched between claws wobbled from side to side, and no further insults were forthcoming.
Oswald's arrival had diverted a portion of the pack for several seconds, but their focus was now squarely back on the housefront and their attention was telling. Most of the glass from the window had gone and great tufts of light fluffy material were being gouged and dragged out. They must have wedged the sofa against the window Matt thought. Even as this occurred to him, a final shattering crack signalled the end of the door's resistance, panels falling away and rats clustering around the entrance, straining against each other to force their way in. From his vantage point, Matt could see their frenzied attempts thwarted by a pile of furniture, though this was swiftly diminishing as cruel jaws snatched and gnawed away at the improvised barricade.
Matt kicked himself for not leaving a flame-tube with his friends, but there was nothing he could do about that right now. Steeling himself, he slapped both armour patches and the familiar faint sheen flowed out of them to envelope his whole body, except for feet, hands and face. Next, he took his latest experiment from his pocket and clasped it onto the haft of his spear. Instantly, a sickly green glow grew around the point – not enough to use as light, but noticeable in the dark. Weaving with one hand in a rubber glove had not been easy, but when working with concentrated rat poison, he certainly wasn't leaving anything to chance, and that experiment might make the difference now.
Pulling open the side gate, Matt darted to the line of parked cars on his side of the street and cautiously poked his head up to look around. The activity was all taking place on the far side and he moved cautiously between two cars and into the shadows behind the cars on the other side, pulled up tight against the pavement. He was now only feet away from the pack, and the sounds of splintering wood and ripping upholstery were joined by Alan's shouts, punctuated by the occasional crack as his staff found an angle to strike out through the diminishing barricade. A crash sounded from the living room window and rats started struggling against each other to climb in through the now-unblocked gaping hole. Chittering cries mixed with high pitched yowls and hisses, presumably as Dragon and Lion took exception to the invaders. Matt poked his head up briefly to check his surroundings before acting.
Leaning his spear against the car, he took a flame-tube in gloved hand and rounded the front of the vehicle, lining up the tube with the centre of the mass of heaving bodies. Tapping the patch, the night brightened suddenly as the inferno lanced into the midst of the scrum, a hideous stench of burned flesh and fur rising with clouds of greasy smoke. After the initial burst, he panned the tube across the breadth of the yard to cover the pack in biting fire.
So frenziedly focused on the target of their hunger, for an instant the rats continued their manic assault, but as more of their number squealed in pain and fear they fell back from the doorway and window. The sounds of struggle continued inside, high pitch sounds of aggression and pain mingling into a terrible primal chorus. All across the yard, rodents bit at the flames that ate away at their fur, others rolled in the gravel or fled down the street trying to outrun the fearful bite. They did not have the long, thick hair of the enormous dog though, and although the flames bit at them awfully, they did not fully ignite as that previous horror had. As the flames abruptly ended, there was a brief moment of false calm, before eyes glittering with agonised bloodlust turned on Matt.
He grabbed his spear and ran.
Phase one of his master plan had gone off almost perfectly. Sneak up on the enemy and make rat toasties. Honestly though, he had expected the fire to debilitate more of the mini-horde, whereas now there was a swiftly moving wall of claws and teeth only feet behind him as he pounded over the road and into the side passage between his house and the next door property. Phase two was largely still in planning, but being in a narrow space where they couldn't surround him sounded good, right?
Sprinting into the passageway, Matt spun and set his spear against his back foot as the first rat squeezed past its brethren and launched itself at him. A part of Matt's brain was astounded at the focus he felt, lifting the lightly glowing point of his spear to plunge into the neck of the leaping beast. The thick pole held against the sudden weight on its end, the rat's hindquarters lurching forward as its chest and head jerked to a sudden halt on the tip of the spear. For a moment it scrabbled on the spear shaft and passage walls, then convulsed, limbs jerking spasmodically as it wrenched its body backward off the spear tip and fell to the ground, twitching violently as another rodent clawed over the top of it.
The poison, it’s working! Matt celebrated as his spear returned to a ready position.
Launching itself from atop the twitching body, its jaws lunged forward and Matt could not line up the spear in time, throwing up an arm instinctively across his face. He cried out as those terrible snapping teeth closed over the shielding arm, stumbling and falling to his back as the weight hit his chest but his armour held, the gnashing rat almost comical in its failure to rip into his flesh. Struggling to hold his arm in place, Matt ran his other hand up the shaft of his spear, close to the head as he stabbed wildly like an awkward improvised dagger. It took a couple of tries against the terror of the beast trying to tear his arm off, and the wildly scrabbling claws gouging away at the rest of him, but eventually he managed a solid stab into the rats side. As with the previous rodent it stiffened, then spasmed and fell to the side, seemingly unable to control its jerking muscles.
Matt scrambled to get upright, but would not be fast enough. As the next rodent barrelled toward him down the passage, a whirlwind of flashing claws and furious yowls emerged from the shadows and drove it back, large gashes appearing instantly around the head and shoulders of the suddenly defensive vermin. As if responding to some species memory the rats huddled back, a few of them sporting fresh wounds from the flashing paws of the shadowy feline who appeared suddenly – and just as abruptly faded into the shadows once more and was gone.
Realising the split-second opportunity in front of him, Matt leaped forward yelling wildly. His spear stabbed out in a sewing machine frenzy, aiming for nothing, just stabbing, stabbing, stabbing at the mass of rats, jammed alongside and in some cases on top of each other in the narrow passage. Kicking out with his heavy boots he punted twitching bodies along the floor, just trying to clear some decent footing and inflict whatever damage he could before they recovered from the effect of the poison. The sensation sickened him as foot crushed bone and spear tip plunged into flesh, but he swallowed a tide of nausea and pushed forward. In the dim light he could see feline forms ripping at the back of the group of rats, their demeanour no longer that of predators. Now they huddled back from the attacks from both sides, before finally breaking and fleeing back along the road.
Matt sucked in a huge breath, collapsing to lean against the side of the passageway. Continuing sounds of battle rang out from across the road, rising above it all an anguished cry. That's Carry! Matt realised, adrenaline surging through him as he ran out of the passage and across the road once more.
He paused in the same spot as before, the light in Oswald's claws still shining down on the front yard, illuminating a diminished pack of attacking rats. Several were piled in the doorway; effectively blocking it. The living room was still a battleground, Alan's voice was full of an awful fury – one which Matt would never have thought he would hear from the joking, affable man. He cursed and yelled, horrible invectives drowned out by cracks of bone as his staff dealt death around him, light filtering between struggling bodies.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
The sound of his friend’s rage was drowned out by renewed chittering of the horde in front of the window. Seeing the remaining mass of rats trying to force their way past each other through the smashed living room window, Matt took up his remaining flame-tube and let it rip. He covered the roiling mass in flame and was able to concentrate it far more than his first burst. In the bright radiance, Matt could see the flames biting into bare, burned flesh – most of the hair having been burned away by his first attack.
Squeals of pain exploded once more, then Matt was startled as his flames were followed swiftly by another bright lance from his left, catching the massed group in the side. Head whipping around, he saw Frank dropping a flame-tube and shaking his bare hand in pain, stumbling back away from the contorted bodies of the pack.
Matt let out a choked yell, throat bone dry in the chill night air. Stabbing indiscriminately into the mound of scorched fur and blistered flesh, the sickly glow at his spear tip was doused again and again in gouts of thick, hot blood. One of the beasts let out a pained chittering, turned and fled in a stumbling run, through the next garden and into the darkness. More of the group followed, only a few moving quickly with most suffering from two or more great burns. As they moved out of the circle of light, Matt saw feline shapes step out of the shadows, slashing with lightning-fast claws at tendons and legs. Leaping on the backs of the slowest and dragging them down, jaws closing around necks with awful crunching sounds.
Matt lunged at another rat, scrabbling to drag blistered hindquarters over the windowsill. His spear plunged into its back as an almighty crack sounded and it was flung backward, spinning over to land back in the garden. Alan leaped through the window, face like stone and eyes of pure ice. His staff smashed down on the weakly moving rodent, ending its struggles. Both men frantically looked around, but the only enemies in sight were dead or weakly twitching under the effect of Matt's poison-tipped spear. Their eyes met and Matt's spirit dropped, suddenly feeling the impact of the manic exertion, at the sheer despair reflected there. Without a word, Alan clasped his shoulder, squeezing in thanks before vaulting back through the open window.
Matt looked around, seeing Frank clutching a spear, wincing at the pain in his hand. Stumbling over, he spoke breathlessly. "Thanks Frank, great timing there. Get back inside now. Look after your family, we'll catch up in the morning."
Frank nodded wordlessly, turning and scurrying back into the house as Belinda stood ready at the front door. Not waiting, Matt backed away from the housefront and looked up. Oswald was perched on the edge of the roof, light shining over the front yard and Matt waved him down, still trying to catch his breath fully. With a less than graceful movement, the small dragon stepped off the edge of the gutter and plopped down into Matt's arms.
"Well done Oswald. Without you, there's no way we could have beaten them off. Please go back and check on the girls, let them know that we're clear for now, and to get the airbed setup." He took a deep, cleansing breath before carrying on. "I'm going to check on Al and Carry and come back with them, they can't stay here with a big hole in the front of the house. Leave me the light for now."
Oswald nodded, handing over the glowing frisbee. "There was a cry of great distress from within. I do not know what sorrow this heralds. I will bid my mistress and the others prepare." With that, he kicked up powerfully, spread his wings and flapped up toward the window he had been launched from.
Matt swallowed, dreading what he would find inside as he clambered through the splintered window frame. His light mixed with that coming from the patch on Alan's chest, though this was largely obscured by Carry as she sobbed in his arms. Before them both, Lion lay unmoving on his side, great gashes torn into his neck and flank. A pool of warm blood gently steamed in the chill night air, mingling with blood spilled from numerous dead rats. Everywhere, crushed skulls and torn fur spoke to the ferocity with which Alan and the cats had defended.
By Lion's head, Dragon sat, hunched and statue-like. One paw rested on Lion's head, as if offering a blessing. As Matt stood helplessly by, Dragon raised his head and gave a low, mournful yowl. Quiet, yet heart-rending with loss and sorrow. After a few moments it was echoed outside, before Nala and Oli slunk out of the shadows behind the wrecked sofa and joined him to sit in silent vigil next to their brother.
Minutes passed, Matt keeping a watchful eye outside. As his unease grew, he moved over to crouch next to the grieving pair and laid a comforting hand on Carry's shoulder. Not wanting to interrupt such an emotional moment, he nevertheless needed to get them into a safer place.
"Carry, Al, I'm so sorry, but we need to move. It's not safe to stay here with the window all busted. I have to get back to check on Arlee and the girls, you should stay over at our place until we can fix this hole up." When there was no immediate response, he continued. "Please guys, we need to move."
"He's dead Matt! We can't leave him!" Carry shrieked, tear-streaked face twisted in anger as she lashed out. She crumpled in Alan's arms once again, as he looked down helplessly.
Matt took it stoically, understanding the strain of the situation. "I know Carry, it's not fair but we can't change it. He gave his life to make sure that the rest of you lived. It's up to us to make sure that his sacrifice isn't wasted. We can give him a proper send-off in the morning, but right now we need to move to keep you all safe."
Carry didn't respond, but Alan gently raised his wife to her feet, handing his staff to Matt and nodding toward the window. Matt gave him a small, grateful smile and led the way through the window cavity, as the front door was still blocked with piled chairs. Turning around he helped Carry, Alan vaulting through afterward and they headed back over the road. The cats had not moved, sitting close to Lion's cooling body, so still they might have been carved from stone. I pity the foolish creature that tries to enter there tonight, Matt thought as Arlee ushered them inside, face taking in the grieving couple even as she clasped Matt to her in relief.
"What… who…?" She whispered into his ear in their clinch.
"Lion – the other cats are with him now. The rats are dead or gone, but there were so many, I don't know how the rest of us made it through." His voice shook and he clasped her tighter, the warmth of her body driving some of the chill from his skin, from the ache in his heart. Surprised at the depth of loss that had accompanied the sight of Lion's torn body, Matt realised that the cats had gone from being a cute little distraction to an integral part of the group. Maybe they always had been – particularly for Kira and Carry – but the companionship, security and watchfulness they provided had become a key component of the group's fabric.
He doubted that sleep would have been as easy to come by without the silent statues watching from the windows each night. The worry that every parent felt for a child, exacerbated by the greater danger of their new environment, was significantly less knowing that Nala was always within reach and would not let any harm come to Kira. A pain grew in his core, fully appreciating the loss for the first time, wondering if this was the same sensation Lara felt when she woke each day, that moment when a terrible dream was revealed as reality all over again.
Separating from each other, Arlee turned to their friends and took Carry from Alan's arms, moving upstairs speaking softly to her. Matt moved over to Alan, taking in his bloodstained clothes and only now noticing the state of his own. Both were splattered with sprays and splotches of dark burgundy, their armour enchantments protecting against claw and tooth, but not spurting gore apparently. Wordlessly they fell into a hug, clasping each other tight before breaking apart. Handing Alan's staff back, Matt gestured him through to the kitchen and into a chair.
Taking a bottle of Jim Beam from a cupboard, Matt pulled a couple of glasses and poured some good measures, placing one before his friend before sitting across the table. He raised the glass. "To Lion." He said simply, Alan nodding and reaching forward to clink glasses before both threw back the spirits. Matt poured again in silence, savouring the aroma to clear the residual smell of burned fur and blood.
Alan took a deep breath and held up his glass once more. "And to you mate. I thought we were done when Dragon woke us and we saw them for the first time. Cool trick with the light there."
Matt chuckled tiredly. "Yeah, Oswald was a right little trooper. We should probably give him a medal."
Alan smiled and continued. "It took some serious nuts to come over like that, knowing how many were out there. That first night I only knew that something was going down, and only saw one of the beasties on the way – and that was bloody terrifying. To do what you did tonight…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Steel balls mate."
They finished their drinks and sat back, relaxing in the light bourbon-induced glow. From upstairs they could hear a fresh round of weeping, apparently the girls had been told of Lion's heroic passing. Matt stood, securing the window he had left by before filling a large bowl with water, which he brought back to the table. On a heat-proof board in the middle of the table was one of his heat patches, which he now activated and placed the bowl of water on to warm up.
Matt moved to the back door, spear gripped as he slowly unlocked it and moved outside, light illuminating the whole garden from the glowing frisbee. He took a few steps to the almost full water barrel and hurriedly scooped a bucket before moving back inside. Unlacing his boots, he stripped off the gore-stained hoodie and joggers, submerging them in the bucket to hopefully soak out the worst of the marks.
"I'll grab you some fresh clothes Al, give me a moment." Leaving the light with his silent friend, he moved upstairs and into the bedroom, clad in shorts and t-shirt. Arlee and the girls were snuggled around Carry, who had apparently fallen into an exhausted sleep. There were raised eyebrows at Matt's lack of trousers, but propriety was very low on the priority list right now and he waved to them before rounding the bed to grab some fresh joggers from his wardrobe. Returning back to Arlee's side of the bed, he spoke in a low voice.
"I'll send Alan up once he's changed, best not to move Carry now. Can you crash in with the girls tonight?"
"Sure, but where will you sleep?" She asked in a concerned tone.
"Not sure I will, adrenaline is pumping right now and the cats are all over the other side of the road, so I'll feel better keeping an eye open. I'll catch up tomorrow."
Arlee was about to deny this plan of action, but Oswald chipped in from the top of the wardrobe. "I shall stay with you Mr T. Such valour should not be rewarded with a lone duty."
"Thanks buddy, we couldn't have done it without you though. We would all have been done for without your light." He thought for a moment before affecting a formal tone. "Surely thy bravery is in accord with the highest standards of draconic courage and ideals."
Oswald's plush chest puffed up at this praise, and a tiny spark blew from his nose. "It was my duty, and my pleasure sir! I only wish I could have done more." His little head bowed sorrowfully in acknowledgement of the night's grief.
"Well, you keep me awake until the morning light and we'll call it even, okay?" Matt joked, giving Arlee a kiss before setting the dragon on his shoulder and taking the bundle of clothes downstairs. He handed it over to Alan who was just finishing a quick cloth wash, and directed him upstairs where Arlee would sort out the sleeping arrangements.
Then Matt and his small dragon friend sat and quietly talked the night through, telling stories, exchanging experiences and helping each other bear the sorrow, until the Eastern sky lightened.
I know what's coming next, and Alan is REALLY pissed off right now!
