The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents

out of this. Running around and squeaking won't work any more!'
    'You're doing fine so far, boss,' said the dancer, patting him on the shoulder.
    'It's all going wrong,' said Darktan, trying to keep his voice down. 'We need him! I need him!'
    'I'll get some squads together, boss, if you show me where to start looking,' said Sardines meekly.
    'In the drains, not far from the cages,' said Darktan. 'Maurice was with him,' he added.
    'Is that a good thing or a bad thing, guv?' said Sardines. 'You know what Hamnpork always said: "You can always trust a cat-" '
    '"-to be a cat". Yes. I know. I wish I knew the answer to that, Sardines.'
    Sardines stepped closer. 'Can I ask a question, guv?'
    'Of course.'
    'What was it Hamnpork whispered to you just before he died? Special leader wisdom, was it?'
    'Good advice,' said Darktan. 'Good advice.'
    Maurice blinked. Very slowly, his tongue wound itself back in. He flattened his ears and, legs moving in silent slow motion, crept along beside the gutter.
    Right under the grating there was something pale. The red streak was coming from further upstream, and divided in two as it flowed around the thing, before becoming one swirling thread again.
    Maurice reached it. It was a rolled-up scrap of paper, sodden with water and stained with red. He extended a claw and fished it out. It flopped on the side of the gutter and, as Maurice gently peeled the paper apart, he saw the smudged pictures drawn in thick pencil. He knew what they were. He'd learned them, one day when he had nothing better to do. They were stupidly simple.
    'No Rat Shall…' he began. Then there was a damp mess, down to the bit that read: 'We are not like other Rats'.
    'Oh, no,' he said. They wouldn't drop this, would they? Peaches carried it around as though it was a hugely precious thing-
    Will I find them first? said an alien voice in Maurice's head. Or perhaps I have…
    Maurice ran, skidding on the slimy stone as the tunnel turned a corner.
    What strange things they are, CAT. Rats that think they are not rats. Shall I be like you? Shall I act like a CAT? Shall I keep one of them alive? FOR A WHILE?
    Maurice yowled under his breath. Other, smaller tunnels branched off on either side but the thin red streak led straight on and there, under another grating, the thing lay in the water, the red leaking gently from it.
    Maurice sagged. He'd been expecting-what? But this… this was… this was worse, in a way. Worse than anything.
    Soaked in water, leaking the red ink from Ratty Rupert the Rat's red waistcoat, was Mr Bunnsy Has An Adventure .
    Maurice hooked it out on claw-tip, and the cheap paper pages fell out, one by one, and drifted away in the water. They'd dropped it. Had they been running? Or… had they thrown it away? What was it Dangerous Beans had said? 'We're nothing but rats'? And he'd said it in such a sad, hollow voice…
    Where are they now, CAT? Can you find them? Which way now?
    It can see what I see, he thought. It can't read my mind, but it can see what I see and hear what I hear and it's good at working out what I must be thinking…
    Once again, he shut his eyes.
    In the dark, CAT? How will you fight my rats? The ones BEHIND YOU?
    Maurice spun around, eyes wide. There were rats there, dozens of them, some of them nearly half the size of Maurice. They watched him, all with the same blank expression.
    Well done, well done, CAT! You see the squeaky creatures and yet you don't leap! How did a cat learn not to be a cat?
    The rats, as one rat, moved forward. They rustled as they moved. Maurice took a step backwards.
    Imagine it, CAT, said the voice of Spider. Imagine a million clever rats. Rats that don't run. Rats that fight. Rats that share one mind, one vision. MINE .
    'Where are you?' said Maurice, aloud.
    You will see me soon. Keep going, pussy-cat. You have to keep going. One word from me, one mere flicker of a thought, and the rats you see will take you down. Oh, you might kill one or two, but there are always more rats. Always more rats .
    Maurice turned, and edged forward. The rats followed. He spun around. They stopped. He turned again, took a couple of steps, looked behind him. The rats followed as if they were on string.
    There was a familiar smell in the air here, of old, stale water. He was somewhere near the flooded cellar. But how close? The stuff stank worse than tinned cat food. It could be in any direction. He could probably outrun the rats over a short distance. Bloodthirsty rats right