Chomp

Chapter III

It took Jim, the electrician 20 minutes to get to the Greggs house. Peter was already asleep. The medication that he took for the migraine made him feel drowsy; also the lack of sleep from last night helped him to instantly drift away.

Rose answered the door and greeted Jim as he examined the old bell system. It sure did rain last night but the weather was warm and with moisture in the atmosphere he felt in even hotter in his blue uniform. He rubbed his scruff as he took one last look at the bell before entering the house.

'The unit's downstairs and the basements a mess, sorry.'

'AHAHA, think I've been in worse. Don't worry about it.'

'I had told my husband to clean it so many times but he's a bit absent minded ya know.'

'When did the lights go?'

'Around 8 – 8:15.'

'Do you'll have frequent outages?'

'No, maybe... just once or twice a year. We have a generator but that's gone for repairs. Something was wrong with the cooler or the heater, I'm not good with these machines,' she said. Her eyes fell on the propane gas cylinder that was next to the shoe rack. It came in yesterday and she had told Peter to keep it in the garage. Rose clenched her fists.

'Alright, I'll run a check first and then see what I can do.'

'I'm gonna be in the kitchen. Once you're done come in and have some orange juice.'

'Oh no Mrs. Gregg you don't have to, my stomach still feels heavy from breakfast,' he lied. Jim would always wake up late and gobble down a small bowl of cereal before going to work.

'No No... I insist.'

Jim thanked Rose and she showed him the door to the basement which was partially open. A crowbar sat straight on the left side of the door and pieces of the handle were scattered in front of the door. The site made Rose feel embarrassed and she was livid. She kept her cool and picked up the pieces, her knees hurt and it made her even angrier.

'Do you have a flashlight with you? cuz it's dark down there.' she asked Jim.

'Yeah I've got one in my toolbox,' he replied with a smile and opened his toolbox. He pulled out the flashlight and flashed it once to check if it were working fine.

Rose slowly walked back to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She pulled out an orange juice tetra pack, poured it into a glass and kept it on the counter. She then grabbed her phone, the only device with life in her house at the moment, plugged in her earphones and watched the news. The Presidential election was the most talked about topic in the country and Trump was going to go up against Joe Biden. Rose felt Bernie Sanders would've made a better candidate as Biden had already been in office for 47 years and hadn't done much.

Jim focused the light on the stairs as he descended into the basement. The air smelt funny but Mrs. Gregg stated that it hadn't been cleaned for a while and hence the smell. When Jim reached the bottom he heard the scampering of little feet.

'Ah! rats of course!' he exclaimed.

The old cabinet that divided the basement into two was the only thing separating Jim from the horror that he was about to witness. The smell got stronger.

'This place reeks,' he said clenching his nostrils.

He pushed a few cans away with his arm and kept the toolbox and the torch in the space he made. The table was right under the power unit and was caked in dust and some stains. The brain fluid had trickled down and dried but Jim didn't know that. Jim though that it was paint. He opened the unit and saw that the paint had also entered inside the box which may have led to the outage.

Something ran across the table and startled Jim who took a jump back. His leg hit a box that was kept under the table. The torch spun lighting the room like a lighthouse while making the sound of a coin that is rolling on its rim before settling down.

'Relax Jim! It's just the rats... it's just the rats,' he calmed himself.

The flashlight was now facing him. He reached out to turn it towards his right and something huge pounced on it and went the other away. The flashlight fell to the floor making a huge thud revealing dark stains. There were several strokes of the stain spread non-uniformly. Some of the strokes merged and entered the other section of the basement. He grabbed the flashlight; his palms felt sweaty as if the flashlight were going to slip from his hand and followed the stains into the other section.

The electricians eyes grew wide. What was that? Jim's chest expanded as he tried to take in what he saw. Bones with little chunks... of red meat? flesh? spluttered across the floor. The skull and the rib-cage were enough for him to tell that it belonged to a human child.

Jim held his stomach with his free hand but his stomach couldn't hold it, setting last night's dinner and this morning's cereal in a reverse peristalsis motion. The electrician puked all over the bones which would later give the forensics a tough time. It left a sour taste in his mouth.

SQUEAK-SQUEAK!

Jim flashed the light in the directions of the sound and his eyes bulged out of his sockets. Tens of huge rats sat inside of the boxes that had a wide opening. Their fur looked rough and scruffy; a few of them had strips of fur missing. Jim was unsure whether it was his flashlight that made the retina of their eyes look red or it was just... natural. No. This couldn't be natural, in fact it was unnatural. Rats of this size didn't exist.

While Jim's brain was trying to comprehend the anomalies of nature, a few rats begin making their way to him rushing on the pipes that ran across the wall. They often slipped as they were so huge but they couldn't let lunch slip away from their claws.

The rats jumped on to him almost falling to the floor but they hung by their nails on to the uniform, ripping it a little. They pulled their selves up as Jim realized what was happening. He tried to brush them away but they were too heavy. Rats dangled on his back making Jim lose his balance and fall crashing to the floor. All the other rats, hidden in the corners, inside boxes, in between little openings in the cabinet scurried towards the big man in blue. Jim's screams would go unheard, as the rats tore into his flesh, chewing him alive. CHOMP-CHOMP-CHOMP! He tried to crawl towards the stairs but every inch that he covered, he was losing parts of himself. By the time he reached the other section of the basement, the rat had already ripped his neck apart, cutting the nervous connection from his brain to rest of the body. Jim lay flat on the floor; paralyzed, screaming in agony, of course he couldn't shout.