Pic: Dire rat
In the morning, Manvreet felt awful. The scene had stayed with him all night, disturbing his sleep. Now his thoughts were somewhat bedraggled. What was he going to tell Doris? She will surely be expecting him to have made a decision. With lumbering limbs, he shifted himself off the bed of bones, knocking off a ribcage and clavicle. Manvreet froze; Doris hadn’t woken up. Once on the ground, Manvreet arched his back and stretched. He tried shaking wildly like a wet dog, but that just made him dizzy, so he stopped doing that. He decided a light snack might unjumble his mind, so he went into the tunnel between the sleeping chamber and the main cavern, banged forcefully on the wall, and watched over a dozen dire rats scurry out from their various hiding places. He waited, keeping extremely still, and the moment a rat came near his foot, he speared it with his toenail, and then, with a flick of his dactyl, he flung the rat into the air and caught it between his teeth. He chewed it thoroughly, but when he swallowed, he choked and lurched violently. “Bleeding rats!” he exclaimed, banging on his chest. “Water! Water!” he shouted as he sprinted out of the tunnel and into the Main Chamber. From there, he headed out through another tunnel and went to the underground stream. He caused such a commotion that he woke both Grandpa and Lester.
“What’s go’n on?” droned Lester, bleary-eyed.
“Hairball,” replied Grandpa, slowly shaking his head. “It ain’t dignified, ain’t dignified at all. See, my boy, that’s why you gots to skin ’em.”
At the stream, Manvreet was guzzling huge amounts water. “Bloody rats,” he muttered between gulps. “Bloody Doris.” He splashed his face and then dunked his entire head in the stream. When they went into exile, Doris chose this specific system of caves for its dire rat population. They’re big and they breed fast, she argued, so food won’t be a problem. And they have so many other uses as well, she argued. The possibilities of these rodents are endless—dire rat fat candles, dire rat fur rugs. And that was only the beginning, she argued. Bah. Rubbish! thought Manvreet. The meat tastes rancid and the candles give off noxious fumes and the rugs always reek. What am I thinking? Am I just looking for an excuse to be angry with her? It’s not her fault… I can’t blame her… she only wanted to do the best thing… She only wanted to make the best choice under the circumstances. Besides, we all hate it down here; she’s right about that. But then again, then again… Manvreet suddenly heard something strange. “What’s that?”
Reverberating loudly through the chamber was an extraordinarily long continuous single-breath scream that rose to a high shrill constricting pitch as the screamer squandered the air in its lungs. Then, splash. Manvreet rushed to inspect. Something had plummeted into the stream and was thrashing about wildly. The thrashing stopped abruptly and was replaced by a muffled gurgle of bubbles and some slight ripples on the surface of the stream. Then, nothing. Not a sound. Manvreet waded into the water, dipped in a cupped hand and scooped out the screamer. Once the water had drained through the gaps between his fingers, Manvreet could clearly see what he had fished out—it was a human, a man, more specifically an unconscious man turning blue. Without a moment’s thought or hesitation, Manvreet placed the little finger of his free hand on the blue man’s chest and pressed down gently once, twice, three times. The man’s chest depressed, and with a sudden spasm water spattered out of his mouth. After the man had expelled the water from his lungs, he slowly opened his eyes, but it took a few moments before his eyes stopped swimming. Blink. The man rubbed his eyes. Blink. He looked strangely puzzled. Blink. Blink. “Aaaah!” screamed the man, his eyes almost popping from his head. All this screaming made Manvreet feel very awkward, so without a moment’s thought or hesitation, he cocked his little finger and flicked the man unconscious.
