Rat Trap Read Online Free

safest place for Rat. Now she could not stay here.
    Leave the boy? Who would sign with her and play chess with her and stroke her from the tip of her nose to that itchy spot between her ears?
    Silly Rat. Soft Rat. What kind of thoughts were these? She could rub her head against a warm pipe. It had always been good enough before …
    The room seemed to spin. Rat felt as if she was falling. As if the space station had suddenly let her go. She vomited up the bits of insulation.
    â€œHey! Are you okay?” The boy’s hot hand scooped her away from the edge of the bed. He grabbed a book and fanned her with it. “How’s that?”
    The pulses of cool air felt wonderful.
    The boy stroked her gently. “Better now?”
    Actually, it did not bother Rat to throw up. She was trained to swallow things and regurgitate them at will. A useful skill. It gave her a secret pocket, perfect for hiding things. Small bombs, for instance.
    â€œAll better,” Rat signed, nosing the boy’s hand away. The boy set her on the floor. The cast forced her to sit lopsided. She braced a forepaw on his knee for balance.
    â€œOh, Rat, what are we going to do?”
    The shock of the news had worn off. Everything was clear now. Rat must stay with the boy. And not for any silly reasons. The boy meant food and shelter. He was the way back to Earth.
    The scientists had taught her more than just how to run away, how to hide. It was time to use those things.
    She signed, “Rat will kill the investigator.”

C HAPTER S IX
    R AT’S L AW
    Jeff stared into the glass-bead blackness of Rat’s eye cocked so confidently up at him. Echoes of campfire horror stories about rats killing babies in the night came to him. Not Rat. No.
    He said, “You can’t do that!”
    â€œCan,” Rat signed, finishing the motion with an almost too-fast-to-see swipe at his knee. Jeff jerked the knee away, but it was already too late. There was a pop, then a slicing spike of sharper pain.
    â€œYee-ouch!” He circled the knee with his fingers, pressing hard against the sting. Five tiny beads of blood welled up, shiny and dark as Rat’s eyes.
    â€œHey, what’s the idea?” Rat had hurt him before by mistake, but this swipe had been on purpose!
    â€œSharp toes. Sharp teeth.” Rat splayed her toes and bared her four long, curved teeth for inspection. “Good for fighting.”
    A misunderstanding, Jeff realized. Rat thought he was questioning her fighting abilities, so she demonstrated them.
    â€œToes, teeth, no use.” Rat gestured at the broken leg. “Need gun.”
    â€œA gun?”
    â€œSpecial gun. For spyvest.”
    Rat spread the homemade spyvest flat. She smelled it all over, checking each pocket and strap. Rat tapped the jetpak canister. “Needs gas.”
    She nosed the flashlight. “Needs batteries.”
    Jeff leaned forward. He brushed his finger slowly up the long length of Rat’s head from the tip of her nose to between her ears. She pressed hard into the stroke, then went back to business.
    â€œGun here.” Rat pointed to a three-inch sleeve on the right side of the spyvest. “Thin like tail. Burn holes in vents. Burn people.”
    â€œRat, you can’t just shoot someone. It’s murder.”
    â€œScientists kill rats,” she signed. “Rat kills scientists. Fair.”
    â€œFair?” Oh, boy.
    â€œPeople sent sniffers; sent Nanny; sent you to kill me .”
    Jeff looked away, feeling queasy. Once, he himself had hunted down and almost killed Rat just to get Mom and Dad’s attention.
    â€œWe were wrong. Killing the investigator would be wrong, too.”
    Rat pointed at the computer.
    Jeff slipped a hand under her belly. He lifted her, then settled her good leg in his other hand. The velvet-skinned toe pads pressed warm and wonderfully alive against his palm. A fierceness bloomed hot all through his chest. He hugged Rat to his