Saul continued walking at the same pace as the street erupted into pandemonium behind him. People snatched themselves away from the hole in the ground.
“Who the fuck left that open?” came one yell, along with a mass of Arabic.
Saul slid into the darkness at the edge of the street. The rats had disappeared now and public-spirited citizens were gingerly shoving the metal cover back into position. Saul turned slowly and leaned against a wall, ostentatious, if only for his own benefit. He inspected his nails.
A few feet away to his right was a mass of bins, some tumbling into each other and spilling bags, the whole smelling faintly of baklava, sullied of course by filth. There was a rustling from the bags. A honey stained head poked up from the black plastic mass. More heads appeared around it.
“Got yourself some food, then?” hissed Saul out of the corner of his mouth. “That’s good.”
There was a faint screeching from the bins in reply.
A few feet away, in the world of the patisseries, those who had collaborated on resealing the sewers were laughing, unsettled. They were sharing cigarettes and looking around nervously, in case the rats came back.
Saul moved over to the dustbins.
“Alright, squad,” he said quietly. “Show me what you can do. First alley on the left, quick march, quiet as…mice? Fuck it, I suppose so. Rank yourselves nice for me.”
There was a sudden explosive burst and a hundred brown torpedoes bolted from cover. Saul watched as they disappeared up drains, behind walls, into the darkness which dribbled down from the eaves of the buildings, into the holes between bricks. The bins were suddenly vacant and still.
Saul turned slowly on one heel in a deliberate motion. He dragged his feet, picking them up, dropping them, walking ponderously along the street. He looked down at his chest as he moved. Saul was thinking.
He felt as if he had lost all capacity for urgency.
Saul wondered what he was trying to achieve. Was this revenge? Boredom? A dare?
He was becoming King Rat. Was he? Was that what he was doing? He was not sure at all. He had not asked the rats to follow him, but he wanted to see what he could do with them.
He was aware that he should fear the Piper, that he should think, form a plan, but he could not, not now. He felt untrustworthy, confused, full of betrayal. He would show King Rat. King Rat who had not chased him, not tried to stop him, not urged him to come back.
He did not know what he was about to do, he did not know where he would go, when he would return. But then the very emptiness he felt was a liberation. For a long time he had felt full of guilt about his father, full of his father’s disappointment. Then he had been full of King Rat, full of trepidation and amazement.
Now he was empty, all of a sudden. He felt very alone. He felt light, as if he might evade gravity with every step. As if he had pissed after a day holding it in, or had put down a massive burden he had forgotten he carried. He felt he could blow away in the wind, and he had to keep moving. And each movement, for the first time he could remember, the first time ever, was entirely his own.
There was a screaming from the alley just ahead of him, and he swore and rushed to the corner. He swung around the edge of brick and stared into the shadows. A few feet from the Edgware Road a young woman was lying in the delivery entrance of a shop. She had a dirty face and dirty brown hair. She sat huddled in a greasy blue sleeping-bag, pulling it up tight around her. Her face was shot through with horror, her mouth stretched as if it would split her cheeks. Her voice had run dry. She did not see Saul. She could not take her eyes from the wall before her.
A cascade of rats spewed and bubbled over the edge. The stream was almost soundless, marked only by a low white noise of scratching.
The sleeping-bag slipped slowly from the woman’s hands, and they stayed as they were, frozen, framing her face. Rats simmered around her, looked up at Saul, made sounds of supplication, sought approval. They parted as he strode towards the terror-stricken woman.
She did not look at him, still unable to look anywhere except at the deluge of scuttling bodies. There were more rats there than Saul had seen in the sewers. They had been joined by compatriots from the houses around them. Saul glanced up at them, then turned to the woman.
“Hey, hey,” he said gently, and kneeled before her. “Don’t panic, shhhhh…”
The woman’s eyes flickered briefly to him and she found her voice.
“Oh my God do you see them they’re coming for me Jesus Christ…”
She spoke in a strangled screech. It sounded as if there were no air in her lungs, as if it were only fear that was giving her a voice.
Saul grabbed her face in both hands and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were green and open very wide.
“Listen to me. You won’t understand this, but don’t worry. Shhh, shhh, these rats are mine. They won’t hurt you, do you understand?”
“But the rats are here to get me and they’re going to get me and…”
“Shut up!” There was silence, for a second. “Now watch.” Saul held her head still and slowly moved his aside, until the woman could see the rats which waited in the shadows and, as her eyes widened again and the muscles around her mouth went taut, Saul threw his head back briefly and hissed, “Disappear!”
There was a flurry of feet and tails. The rats vanished.
The alley was silent.
Bewilderment crept into the creases on the woman’s face. She looked from side to side as Saul moved away from her. She craned her neck and peered nervously around her. Saul sank to his haunches next to her, sat back against the door. He looked to his right and saw the lights of Edgware Road, only ten feet away. Again he thought: these things take place so close to the real city, and no one can see them. They take place ten feet away, somewhere in another world.
Next to him the woman turned. Her voice quivered.
“How did you do that?” She spoke too loudly still.
“I told you,” he said. “They’re my rats. They’ll do what I tell them.”
“Is it like a trick? Like trained rats? Don’t they scare you?”
As she spoke her eyes wavered from side to side. Her voice was unnaturally loud and abrupt. Her panic was over too quickly. She spoke to him as though she were a child. Saul suddenly understood that this woman was probably mentally ill.
Don’t treat her like a child, he thought warily. Don’t patronize her.
“The rats don’t scare me, no,” he said carefully. “I understand them.”
“They frightened the shit out of me. I thought they were out to get me!”
“Yeah, well I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know anyone was here when I sent them into the alley.”
“It’s amazing that you can do that, I mean make rats do what you want!” She grinned quickly.
There was silence. Saul looked around him but the rats remained hidden. He turned back to his companion. Her eyes were darting around like flies.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Deborah.”
“I’m Saul.” They smiled at each other. “Now that you know the rats are mine,” he said slowly, “would you still be scared of them?”
She looked at him questioningly. Saul sighed for a long time. He did not know what would happen next. He did not really know what he was doing. He was enjoying his words, rolling every one around his mouth. It was the first time since meeting Kay that he had spoken to a human being. He revelled in every sentence. He did not want the conversation to end.
“I mean, I could bring them out again.”
“I don’t know, I mean, aren’t they dirty and stuff?”
“Not my lot. And if I tell them not to, they won’t touch you.”
Deborah twisted her face up. She was grinning, a sickly frightened grin.
“Oh you know I don’t know I mean I don’t know…”
“Don’t be scared, now. Look. I’ll call them out, and show you they do what I want.” He turned his h
ead slightly. He could smell the rats. They waited just out of sight, quivering. “Heads up,” he said firmly, “heads only.”
There was a stirring in the debris and a hundred little heads poked up, like seals in the waves, sleek skulls under greased-back fur.
Deborah shrieked and put her hand over her mouth. Her head shook, and Saul saw that she was laughing.
“It’s amazing…” she said through her fingers.
“Down,” said Saul, and the heads disappeared.
Deborah laughed delightedly.
“How do you do it?”
“They have to do what I say,” said Saul. “I’m the boss, as far as they’re concerned. I’m their prince.” She looked at him in consternation. Saul felt irresponsible. He wondered if he was damaging her further. What she needs is reality, he thought, but the realization came firmly to him that this was reality, whether anyone liked it or not. And he wanted to keep talking to her.
“Are you hungry, Deborah?” She nodded. “Well, why don’t I get you some food?” He jumped up and crept into Edgware Road, returned some seconds later with two pastries, intricate things encrusted with pistachios and icing sugar, which he put in Deborah’s lap.
She bit into one, licked her lips. She was obviously hungry.
“I was asleep,” she said, honey muffling her voice. “I heard the rats in my sleep and they woke me up. Oh, it’s OK. I’m glad I’m awake. I wasn’t sleeping very well, actually, I was dreaming horrible things.”
“Wasn’t waking to a plague of rats a horrible thing?”
She laughed jerkily.
“Only at first,” she said. “Now I know they do what you tell them I don’t mind so much. It’s very cold.” She had finished the pastries. She had eaten very fast.
There was a faint scratching. The rats were becoming impatient. Saul barked a brief order to be quiet and the sound ceased. It feels so easy, he thought, so simple to take control like this. It didn’t even excite him.
“Do you want to go to sleep, Deborah?”
“What do you mean? Her voice was suddenly suspicious, even afraid. She almost whined in her trepidation, and bundled herself up into her sleeping-bag. Saul reached out to reassure her and she shrank away from him in horror and he realized with a sinking feeling that she had heard such a line before, but spoken with different intent.”
Saul knew that the streets were brutal.
He wondered how often she had been raped.
He moved his hands away, held them up in surrender.
“I’m sorry, Deborah, I didn’t mean anything. I’m just not tired. I’m lonely, and I thought we could go for a wander.” She still looked at him with terrified eyes. “The won’t… I’ll go, if you want.” He did not want to leave. “I want to show you around. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
“I don’t know I don’t know what you want to do…” she moaned.
“Don’t you want to do something?” he said desperately. “Aren’t you bored? I swear I won’t touch you, won’t do anything, I just want some company…”
He looked at her and saw her wavering. He put on a silly expression, a clownish sad face, sniffed theatrically, nauseating himself.
Deborah laughed nervously.
“Please,” he said, “let’s go.”
“Oh… OK…” She looked pleased, even though nervous.
He grinned at her reassuringly.
He felt ill at ease, shockingly clumsy. Even the simplest mannerism cost him huge effort. He was relieved that he had not frightened her away.
“I’ll take you up to the roofs, if you want, Deborah, and I’ll show you the quick way of getting around London on foot. Can I…” He paused. “Can I bring the rats?”
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Bring them, bring the rats, she said, after a little persuasion. It was obvious that, despite her fear, she was fascinated. Saul gave a long whistle and the rats appeared again, eager to show willing.
He did not know how it was he commanded them. It seemed to make no difference what words he used, or if he whistled, or gave a brief shout. He could not think an order for it to be obeyed, he had to make a sound, but the rats seemed to understand him through an empathy, not through language. He invested the sound he made with the spirit of an order for it to be obeyed.
He made the rats line up in rows, to Deborah’s delight. He made them move forward and backwards. When he had shown off and made the rats ridiculous, taking away Deborah’s fear, she would even touch one. She stroked it nervously as Saul murmured deep in his throat, held the rat in thrall so it would not panic, bite or run.
“No offence or anything, Saul, but you smell, you know,” she said.
“It’s where I live. Smell it again; it’s not as bad as you think at first.”
She leaned over and sniffed him, wrinkled up her nose and shook her head apologetically.
“You’ll get used to it,” he said.
When she had lost her fear he suggested that they move. She looked nervous again, but nodded.
“Which way?” she said.
“Do you trust me?” Saul said.
“I think so…”
“Then hold on to me. We’re going up, straight up the walls.”
She did not understand at first, and when she did she was terrified, refused to believe that Saul could carry her. He reached out to her gently, slowly so as not to intimidate her, and when he was sure she did not mind being touched, he lifted her easily, held her with his arms outstretched, feeling his muscles snap hard with rat-strength. She laughed delightedly.
He felt like a superhero.
Ratman, he thought as he held her. Doing good with his bizarre rat-powers. Helping the mentally ill. Carrying them around London faster than shit through a sewer. He sneered at himself.
“See. I told you I could carry you. Let me put you on my back.”
“Mnnnn…” Deborah swung her face from side to side like a flattered child, smiling a little. “MnnnnOK.”
“Great. Let’s go.” The rats scampered a little closer, hearing the dynamism in Saul’s voice.
Deborah still looked at them nervously every time they moved, but she had forgotten most of her fear.
Saul bent down and offered her his back. She stepped out of the sleeping-bag.
“Shall I take this?” she said, and Saul shook his head.
“Just hide it. I’ll bring you back here.”
Deborah gingerly clambered onto Saul’s back, and he was struck once again by the fact that it was only her tenuous grip on reality that meant she would do as he suggested. Approach most people with the offer to piggyback them across the roofs and he would not have met with such a willing response.
The irony, of course, being that she was right to trust him.
He rose to his feet and she shrieked as if she was on a fairground ride.
“Gentle, gentle!” she yelled, and he hissed at her to keep her voice down.
He strode into the passage, and all around him he heard the pattering of hundreds of rat feet. This is bow I changed worlds, he thought, carried to my new city on the back of a rat. What goes around comes around.
He stopped below a window, its sill nine feet above the pavement.
“See you up top,” he hissed at the rats, who disappeared in a flurry, as before. He heard the scrape of claws on brick.
Saul jumped up and grasped the window, and Deborah shouted, a yell which did not die away but ballooned in terror as her fingers fought for purchase on his back. His feet swung above the ground, the toes of his prison-issue shoes scraping the wall.
He called for her to shut up, but she would not, and words began to form in her protest.
“Stopstopstop,” she wailed and Saul, mindful of discovery, hauled himself at speed up into the space by the window, flattened himself against the glass, reached up again, determined to p
ull Deborah out of earshot before she could order him down.
He scrambled up the building. Not yet as fast as King Rat, but so smooth, he thought to himself as he climbed. Terror had stopped Deborah’s voice. I knew that feeling, thought Saul, and smiled. He would bring this to a close as fast as he could.
Her weight on his back was only a minor irritation. This was not a hard wall to climb. It was festooned with windows and cracks and protuberances and drainpipes. But Saul knew that to Deborah it was just so much unbreachable brick. This building had a flat roof contained by rails, one of which he grasped now and tugged at, raising himself and his cargo up onto the skyline.
He deposited Deborah on the concrete. She clawed at it, her breath ragged.
“Oh now, Deborah, I’m sorry to scare you,” he said hurriedly. “I knew you wouldn’t let me if I told you what I was going to do, but I swear to you, you were safe, always. I wouldn’t put you in danger.”
She mumbled incoherently. He dropped to her side and gently put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched and turned to him. He was surprised at her face. She was quivering, but she did not look horrified.
“How can you do that?” she breathed. All around them on the roof the concrete began to swarm with rats, struggling to prove their eager devotion. Saul picked Deborah off her side and put her on her feet. He tugged at her sleeve. She did not take her eyes from him but allowed herself to be pulled over to the railing around the roof. The light was entirely leached from the sky by now.
They were not so very high; all around them hotels and apartment blocks looked down on them, and they looked down on as many again. They stood at the midpoint of the undulations in the skyline. Black tangles of branches poked into their field of vision, over in Regent’s Park. The graffiti were thinner up here, but not dissipated. Here and there extravagant tags marked the sides of buildings, badges pinned in the most inaccessible places. I’m not the first to be here, thought Saul, and the others weren’t rats. He admired them hugely, their idiot territorial bravery. To scale that wall and spray BOOMBOY!!! just there, where the bricks ran out, that was a courageous act. It’s not brave of me, he thought. I know I can do it, I’m a rat.