The Christmas Rat Read Online Free Page B

Anje said.
    I looked where he pointed. The bolt was sticking right out of the wall. I mean, it had gone into the cement about an inch. Awesome.
    At the same time, I began to feel a little sympathy for the rat. I mean, Anje was right, that shot would have turned him into a bunch of nothing. All I said, though, was, “What do we do now?”
    Anje yanked the bolt from the wall and put his crossbow back in his box.
    â€œTraps,” he said. “Traps will bust his back. Or maybe poison, which is cleaner. Look here.” He pointed to the floor. “That rat found a weak spot and was trying to dig a hole.”
    â€œMaybe there’s cement under the dirt.”
    â€œNothing stops a rat. Come on, let’s inspect some more.”
    He led the way, his powerful beam poking and probing like a light sword into dark corners. I came along cautiously, looking around him, trying to see what he was seeing.
    When we reached the elevator again, he paused.
    â€œDifficult terrain,” he said. “But not impossible. Got the flashlight I gave you?” he asked.
    â€œIn the apartment.”
    â€œHey, you want to keep it with you at all times. If you don’t have the right equipment—we call them assets in the military—you never can win.”
    â€œWin?”
    â€œGot to get our Christmas rat, don’t we?”
    â€œI suppose . . .”
    â€œThe thing is,” he said, fixing me with an angry glare, “you tell someone he’s dead, and if you don’t follow through, he’s gonna live forever.”
    â€œSomeone?”
    â€œThe rat, bud. Who’d you think?” He looked around, waved his flashlight. When he caught sight of the door marked ELECTRICAL , he pulled at it. It was locked but that didn’t bother him. He dipped into a steel box again and pulled out a big ring of maybe a zillion keys. He studied the lock, flicked through his keys and had the door open in seconds.
    â€œSee,” he said, “I can open anything.”
    I looked up at him.
    â€œYeah,” he added, with the closest thing to a smile I had seen from him. “Even your apartment.”
    Inside the electrical room—which was small—there were three walls covered with switch panels.
    Anje probed them with his flashlight beam. “Okay, here we are. See,” he said, pointing to a label that read BASEMENT LIGHTS . He reached out and flicked the switch. The basement lights went on.
    â€œWhat you need to do is turn the overhead stuff off,” Anje explained. “Rats like darkness. So, make the enemy think you’re meeting them on their terms. Then overpower them where they think they’re strong. It doesn’t just flatten them, it demoralizes them. Get it?”
    â€œI think so.”
    â€œFine. Okay, Eric—do I have the name right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œStill with me?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œBored?”
    â€œNot now.”
    â€œHere are your orders. Get yourself down here in the middle of the night. Say, two A.M. Rat time. Turn off the lights. Here.” He touched the right switches. “Head back into that dead end area where the rat was digging and set yourself up. Keep that flashlight I gave you at hand. Then wait. Be patient. Make sure he’s really trying to dig in. Report back and, trust me, that rat’s standing in front of his god awaiting judgment. Remember our mission: a dead rat by Christmas. We together on that, dude?”
    â€œYes . . . sir,” I said, a little unnerved.
-7-
    In the apartment again I sat at the kitchen table and ate my lunch, a ham sandwich, soda, and a bag of chips. I could still smell some of that poison fog. Even a whiff of it made my nose itch. The exterminator’s white flashlight was on the table before me. When I picked it up it started to glow like it had before. I put it down and the glow faded. Loose connection, I figured.
    As I ate, I thought about