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Again he was surprised when Dealey refused. We'll wait for you,' the older man said, taking the gun.

We'll be better off if we all stick together.'

You're crazy!' Ellison erupted. 'Look around you! Those bloody rats have been here, and they can get to this place again! We've got to leave now!'

He made as if to grab the gun from Dealey, but Fairbank's hand clamped around his arm.

'I've had all the shit I'm going to take from you, Ellison.' The stocky engineer's eyes blazed angrily. You always were trouble, even in peacetime, bitching, whining, never happy unless you were complaining about something. Now if you want to leave, leave! But you go on your own, and with no flashlight and no gun. Just don't go stumbling into any hungry rats in the dark.'

Ellison appeared ready to attack the other man, but something in Fairbank's glacial smile warned him off. Instead he shook his head, saying, You're all insane. You're all fucking insane.'

Culver gave Kate the flashlight. 'Keep it shining into the floor opening - we're going to need all the light we can get.'

Her quietness disturbed him, but he turned away. 'Ready?' he said to Fairbank.

Muttering something about 'another fine mess', the engineer eased his way through the gap they had created.

Both men paused on the other side, Fairbank shining the light downwards. Apart from rubble, the room looked empty. The light beam reflected off black pools of water in the debris.

'Can you hear me down there?' Culver called out, aware that it was impossible not to be heard.

The kid may be too scared to answer,' Fairbank sug-

gested. 'God knows what the poor little beggar's been through.'

They thought they heard a shifting sound.

‘You want the gun or the flashlight?' the engineer asked.

Culver would have preferred the Ingram. 'Let me have the light.'

With backs to the wall they eased themselves around the overhang, fearful that it might collapse beneath them. Streams of dust trickled into the darkness below. Kate, standing just inside the gap, one leg still in the outer room, helped guide them with her light.

Culver came to a halt. 'Okay, this is where we go down.' They had reached a corner, the flooring wider and seemingly more solid there. He could just make out the iron beam projecting beneath the overhang.

'Hold the torch for a moment,' he said, then lowered himself into a sitting position. He turned onto his stomach and lowered himself, his feet finding the angled beam. He let himself go, boots sliding down the joist, the descent to the heap of rubble not long. Steadying himself, he looked up.

Throw me the torch, then the Ingram.'

Fairbank did so and clambered over the edge himself. They were soon standing side by side.

'Easy,' acknowledged the engineer, retrieving the weapon.

Culver swept the torch around the room. There's nothing here,' he said. 'Nothing.'

He moved forward and something gave way beneath him. Fairbank tried to grab him as he fell, but was encumbered by the gun. Culver toppled, rolling in the debris, the axe in his belt digging painfully into his side. The sound of sliding masonry echoed around the damp walls. Fairbank went after him, and fell also, cursing as he went

And the crying began once more, high-pitched and fearful, the voice of a terrified child.

Both men looked towards the direction of the cries. They saw a dark doorway, another room. A familiar nauseating stench came from that room.

Dust settled around them as Kate's voice from above called out, 'Are you okay?'

"Yeah, we're all right, don't worry.'

The two men picked themselves up and noticed that, yet again, the crying had stopped.

'Hey, kid,' Fairbank yelled, 'where the hell are you?'

They heard what sounded like a whimper.

'She's in there,' Culver stated what they both knew.

That smell...' said Fairbank.

We have to get her.'

'I don't know.' Fairbank was shaking his head. 'Something—'

We have to.'

Culver led the way, sloshing through the puddles, stepping over debris. After a moment's hesitation, Fairbank went after him.

The next-door chamber was wide and long, its ceiling, fallen in many places, low. Parts of the walls had collapsed, too, creating deep, impenetrable recesses. In the distance they could hear a faint rushing, gurgling noise, the cadence of the sewers. Long cobwebs, like soot-filled lace, drooped everywhere.

Scattered on the broad expanse of floor before them were humped shapes, yellow-grey in the gloom.

Smaller white shapes glowed almost phosphorescently. Dark, less discernible forms lay between.

Both men took a step backwards, Fairbank raising the weapon, Culver reaching for the axe in his belt.

The urge to run, to flee from this stinking, horror-strewn cellar, was

almost irresistible. Yet it held a peculiar, paralysing fascination. And the distressed whimpers could not be ignored.

They're not moving,' Culver whispered urgently. They're dead. Like the others in the shelter, wiped out by the plague. They must have crawled back here, their lair, to die.'

'All those skulls. Why all those skulls?'

'Look at them. They've been broken into. Through the eye sockets, between the jaws. Look there -

holes bored straight through the top of the cranium. Don't you see! They eat the brains. That's why so many corpses we found were headless. The bastards brought them back here to feed off.'

Those other things...'

Culver singled out one of the bloated, yellowish-white shapes. Its form seemed peculiarly blurred, indefinable.

•What the hell is it?'

Culver had no answer to the engineer's question. He moved closer, fascinated, despite himself.

'Oh, sweet Jes ...' The words faded on his lips.

The bloated creature barely resembled a rat. Its head was almost sunk into the obese body, long withered tusks emerging from the slack jaw. Under the strong light they saw there was a pinkishness to the fine, stretched skin, a smattering of wispy white hair its only covering. Dark veins streaked its body, blood vessels that had hardened and stood embossed from the skin. The twisted spine rose to a peak over its rear haunches; the tail curved round like a lash, its surface hard with scales. There were other projections about its body, these resembling malformed limbs, superfluous and hideous in shape. The slanted eyes glinted under the torch glare, but there was no life in them.

"What is it?' Fairbank repeated breathlessly.

'A mutant rat,' said Culver. 'Of the same strain as the Black, but ... different.' Dealey's words came back to him.

He had said there were two breeds, born of the same altered gene. 'A grotesque', Dealey had called it.

It was an inadequate description. He had implied they were undergoing some genetic transformation. Oh Christ, so this was the result!

There was a rustling, not far away.

Nerves taut, ready to snap, both men whirled around, the light beam stabbing at the darkness.

'Over there!' Fairbank pointed.

Shapes were moving. A mewling sound to their left made them turn in that direction. Other movements, scuffling in the darker corners.

'It's like before,' Fairbank said in dismay. They're not all dead.'

Culver swept the light over the sluggishly heaving forms. They can't harm us. Listen to them. They're weak, dying. They're frightened of us!'

A black shape disengaged itself from the mass. It tried to crawl towards them, hissing as it came, but it could hardly move. Fairbank aimed the gun.

Before he could fire, a squealing scream came from a far corner. The two men looked wide-eyed at each other, then towards its source.

The kid!' exclaimed Fairbank.

The torch beam reached the far corner, but too many other objects were in the way for a clear view.

'Let's get her and then get out!' Culver urged. He held the axe ready. 'Shoot at anything that moves, try and clear a path!'

They set off, both men determinedly keeping panic in check, making for the corner where the piteous crying had resumed. Only now the sound was different, more shrill... less like a child's ... more like ...

A hail of rapid phuts overshadowed the other noises as

Fairbank fired at the obscenely bloated bodies. He could not be sure that they moved, but was taking no chances. The creatures seemed to pop with small explosions.

A Black rat rose up in front of Culver, standing on its haunches so that it looked immense. It snarled and hissed at him, blood-flecked foam dripping from bared teeth, but Culver could see the animal had no strength, only instinctive hatred driving it on.

Blood splattered Culver's hand as he brought the axe down on the thin skull.

The two men kicked ground bones aside as they made their way towards the crying child, scuffing up white powder and looking away from dismembered human parts. As Fair-bank stepped over an inert pink form, the creature raised its sinister, pointed head, toothless jaws attempting to snap at his ankle.

The engineer stamped down hard and felt bones crunch beneath his foot.

The mewling increased in pitch, became an intense swell of squealing, of helpless ululation ... infantile wailing...

Childish crying...

The realization struck Culver like an icicle dagger. He almost stumbled, almost fell among the fearful writhing bodies. He tried to reach out and bring Fairbank to a halt, but it was already too late. They were there. They had reached the far corner. They had reached the Mother Creature's nest.

'Oh ... my ... God ... N0\' Fairbank sobbed as they looked down at the throbbing, pulsating flesh and its terrible spawn.

'It can't be,' Fairbank moaned. 'It ... just ... can't ... be...'

In another section not too far away, from a hole in the crumbled brick wall, came the sounds of scuffling, of scampering clawed feet.

Kate, Dealey and Ellison flinched when they heard the gunfire. Kate stood perilously close to the edge of the collapsed floor, attempting to shine the flashlight into the doorway through which Culver and Fairbank had disappeared.

'Steve!' she called, but only heard more soft gunfire. And in the pauses, an awful ululation, a strident, piercing screeching. She turned to the others. We must help them!'

There's nothing we can do,' Dealey told her. His throat was dry, he could barely speak; the hand gripping the Browning would not keep still. 'Keep ... keep the light... on the doorway as a ... as a ...

guide for them,' he stammered.

Ellison remained on the other side of the broken boards, inside the darkened room, listening to the dreadful sounds, the trembling in his legs making it difficult for them to support his body. His hands were clawed against his face, his eyes staring and seeing nothing but blackness. They were crazy, crazy to stay here, crazy not to run, to get out while they had the chance, crazy to think they could defend themselves against so many. Culver and Fairbank were finished. Nothing could save them! The rats would rip them to pieces and then come searching for the girl, Dealey and himself! Why hadn't they listened to him? The stupid, bloody fools!

He looked towards the source of light, seeing Dealey's

silhouette, the man leaning forward into the opening, clutching the gun. The gun! He had to take the gun! And the flashlight - he would need the flashlight!

Ellison moved quickly.

Dealey turned as the Browning was snatched away, tried to protest, but was pushed back against the doorway, shards of splintered wood digging into his back.

Gun held forward, Ellison made a grab for the flashlight. 'Give it to me? he screamed as Kate tried to pull away.

He caught her arm, yanking her inwards. She fell, tried to kick out at him, but a hand smacked her viciously across the face. She cried out, falling backwards. The flashlight was taken from her.

Dealey tried to intervene and Ellison pushed him away once more. He levelled the gun at him. Tm leaving!' The engineer's words were spat out. ‘You can come with me, or you can stay. But I'm getting out now!'

The others ...' Dealey began to say.

We can't help them! They've had it!'

Ellison began to back away, keeping the weapon pointed at the two figures, who were blinded by the flashlight. Then he turned and began to run, heading for the door at the other end of the room, away from the mayhem below, away from his companions. And, he foolishly thought, away from the vermin.

Fairbank shouted his abhorrence, screamed his fear, as he fired at the huge swollen mass before them.

The creature screeched, the sound of a hurt, terrified child, and attempted to lift her obese body, tried to protect herself, her two jaws snapping ineffectively, her useless limbs thrashing the ground, trampling and scattering the tiny offspring that had suckled at her breasts.

Bullets ripped into her, explosions of blood spurting out in dark jets, drenching the two men, soaking the earth around her, covering the blind, squealing things beneath her with its sticky fluid. In a paroxysm of agony, she rose up, exposing her sickening, fleshy underbelly, several of her brood still clinging to the many breasts that dangled there. A frenzied hail of bullets tore her open, a waterfall of blood gushing out, carrying with it internal organs that steamed in the dank atmosphere. Still she moved, still she writhed, falling again, but incredibly shuffling her way towards the two men.

Fairbank's howling cry mingled with the muted crackling of the weapon, his face lit up with the bright flashes, his eyes demented with loathing, with revulsion for the monstrosity coming towards them. The massive, throbbing body began to come apart, the rising curved spine shattering into splinters, bursting outwards like shrapnel; flesh ruptured and

parts pulverized as bullets tore through; one barely raised claw was shredded to pulp. Yet still it advanced.

The pointed head, its incisors like curled tusks, the eyes white, sightless, weaved in front of them; a strange stump protruded from her shoulder next to the head, an opening within it which could only have been another mouth, spitting blood-specked drool.

Culver sank to his knees, strength draining from his legs. He stared at the heinous deformity, the misbegotten grotesque, horrified, his muscles numbed. But as her foul breath and her spittle touched his cheek, the shock was punctured.

The flashlight at his knees, he raised the short axe with both hands and, with a screaming roar, brought it down with all his force.

The pointed skull before him split cleanly in two, grey-pink substance inside falling loose, liquid from the opened throat jetting out.

The piercing screech came from the stump next to the cloven head, the toothless jaws wide with the creature's pain, her scaly purple tongue stabbing frenziedly at the air.

Culver struck again, cutting through this other skull, the axe head sinking into the shoulder, into the body itself.

The squirming abomination suddenly went rigid, became frozen just for a few moments. Then slowly, agonizingly slowly, it began to slump, nerve ends twitching, torn, bloated body quivering.

But Culver was not finished. His eyes were blurred and his face dampened by tears as he attacked the litter, the smaller more obscene - much more obscene - creatures that the monster had given birth to. He hacked their pink bodies, ignoring their faint cries, striking, pummelling, crushing their tiny bones, making sure each one was dead, beating any